{"id":189,"date":"2011-01-19T14:36:00","date_gmt":"2011-01-19T14:36:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/2011\/01\/19\/villains-galore\/"},"modified":"2015-05-23T23:17:13","modified_gmt":"2015-05-23T23:17:13","slug":"villains-galore","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/2011\/01\/19\/villains-galore\/","title":{"rendered":"Villains galore"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>After my post of October 27, 2010, Jenna Royal wrote, <i>Is it important  to make your villains likable? It is common that in a good book I will  both enjoy a villain&#8217;s strategy and understand and relate to their  desires. I never really thought about making my villains likable,  though. They were just the bad guys, nothing more. Would it add more  diversity to my writing to make my villains a little more human and  easier to sympathize with?<\/i><\/p>\n<p>And Silver the Wanderer wrote, <i>I  also realize I might have to do some work on my villain, for I fear his  character is a tad underdeveloped. However, he doesn&#8217;t play a huge role  in my book. He&#8217;s the instigator of events, but we don&#8217;t actually see  him until the end of the book. From hearing about him, we know that he  is smart, devious, and a traitor. He is also no coward. He might be  evil, or he might just have some messed-up moral standards. But  sometimes I wonder if his motives are enough to make his wrongdoings  believable. He can&#8217;t just be evil for the sake of being evil. Does  anyone have ideas on how to craft a believable villain?<\/i><br \/>\nAnd Mya wrote, <i>I  find balancing a villain&#8217;s &#8216;evilness&#8217; rather hard sometimes. More  frequently though, it\u2019s the opposite. I make the villains too nice, and  can&#8217;t help but forgive, or let them be humbled at the end. Are there  ways I can be more awful to them? =)<\/i><\/p>\n<p>There is no one way  villains should be. The villain &#8211; or if not the villain, strictly  speaking, certainly the antagonist &#8211; doesn\u2019t even have to be a  character; it can be a disease (as in my <i>Two Princesses of Bamarre<\/i>) or weather or a cosmological force. In Norse mythology, as I understand it from my ancient <i>Mythology, Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes<\/i>, by Edith Hamilton, evil is destined to win eventually &#8211; not a particular embodiment of evil, like Loki, but evil itself.<\/p>\n<p>The  antagonist can even be a belief. I once worked with a man who believed  himself unlucky, although I didn\u2019t see it; he had a good job, a fine  mind, a sense of humor, a girlfriend. Whenever anything bad happened to  him, he blamed it on his rotten luck. If he were a main character, there  would be no human adversary, only an idea. Political theories can play  the part of the villain. In Ayn Rand\u2019s novels the underlying evil is  Communism.<\/p>\n<p>When your villain is a character, human or otherwise,  it\u2019s okay to make him &#8211; or her or it &#8211; entirely bad. The reader doesn\u2019t  have to like him in the slightest. Sometimes he operates in the  background of the story, as in Silver the Wanderer\u2019s example. The narrator can speculate  about him from his actions, but the reader doesn\u2019t encounter him  directly. Moriarty in the <i>Sherlock Holmes<\/i> series is this kind of  villain. He never becomes a fleshed-out character like Holmes or Watson,  and the reader certainly neither likes him nor sympathizes with him.<\/p>\n<p>When  the reader does come face to face with a villain, however, he should be  interesting, not necessarily likable or sympathetic. In my <i>Dave at Night<\/i>,  the main villain is the superintendent of the orphanage where Dave  lives. He is simply a terrible man. His name is Mr. Bloom, but the  orphans call him Mr. Doom. Here are snippets from his monologue before  he beats Dave up:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMrs. Bloom and I love the finer things in  life, the theater, concerts&#8230;. Mrs. Bloom\u2019s little hobby is following  the doings of high society&#8230;. So one might wonder at my choice of  vocation. I admit it\u2019s a sacrifice, but someone has to do the dirty  work. Someone has to take in children like you&#8230;. Otherwise you\u2019d have  nowhere to go. However, it\u2019s like putting a rattlesnake to your bosom.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He\u2019s  awful, but he has a personality, and the reader hates him even more for  knowing him. At the end when he\u2019s fired, the reader feels no guilt for  rejoicing at his downfall. (I haven\u2019t given very much away; there\u2019s a  lot more to the resolution of the book.) Happiness at the demise of an  all-out villain is fun. In movie theaters we cheer.<\/p>\n<p>Of course, in  order for Mr. Bloom to be understood as evil, Dave has to be  sympathetic. If he\u2019s a young arsonist who\u2019s just burned down an old age  home, Mr. Bloom\u2019s sacrifice may seem real.<\/p>\n<p>Although it\u2019s fine to  create villains who are simply evil, diversifying is always good. Try  your hand at a sympathetic villain. Make her more than likable; make her  lovable. Maybe she takes such delight in her dastardly deeds that we  can\u2019t help but chortle along. Maybe he\u2019s his own worst enemy, and  everyone else\u2019s, but his remorse makes us forgive him again and again.<\/p>\n<p>Believability  may depend on genre. In a superhero story, for example, the reader  checks her disbelief when she opens the book. If the hero can change  from weak and mild-mannered to almost invincible just by changing his outfit in a  phone booth, the villain doesn\u2019t have to have much depth or motivation  either. This kind of hero is born good and the bad guy is born bad. In  some fantasies, evil needs no explanation either. In some thrillers too.  As Kirk Douglas says chillingly in the wonderful old movie <i>The List of Adrian Messenger<\/i>, \u201cEvil is.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Complexity  makes any character more believable, and I\u2019m all for it. One way to  craft a complex villain is through surprises. Your villain Monique is  unlikely to be the main character, so you probably won\u2019t have her thoughts to  make her layered, but you do have all the other tools of character  creation. If any of the story takes place at her house, the reader can  discover that she collects Hummel figurines. If you want her to be  sympathetic, she can bake cookies &#8211; not poisoned &#8211; for a homeless  shelter. She can feed oatmeal cookie dough to her cocker spaniel.<\/p>\n<p>In  dialogue, Monique can be witty. She may be an American history buff or  love puns. When your hero says something that puts him at a disadvantage  she can astonish the reader by letting it slide&nbsp; &#8211; although she may use  the information later.<\/p>\n<p>You can reveal her diary in which she  writes only about her visits to the homeless shelter and nothing about  her cruel impulses. Or maybe she alludes to them in a vague way, like,  \u201cMother scolded me today. I have no idea what she was going on about,  but she was very angry.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Even description can make her more  complicated &#8211; dark eye makeup with pink lipstick. Pudgy face, muscular  body. Terrible posture. An unexplained bandage on her arm.<\/p>\n<p>If you  decide to make Monique sympathetic, which usually involves complexity,  there is the danger that the reader won\u2019t understand when she acts on  her wickedness. He may think, \u201cI identify with Monique, and I like her, I  don\u2019t believe she\u2019d behave so despicably.\u201d The solution is to introduce  her badness as soon as the reader meets her. Show her being awful, or have a  character the reader trusts talk about some vileness she\u2019s committed. Establish  right from the start that she isn\u2019t good.<\/p>\n<p>Mya, I tend to let my  villains off the hook too. Even when Mr. Bloom gets fired, the  information is conveyed in a single sentence in narration. I don\u2019t show  him coming before the orphanage board and being publicly disgraced. I  don\u2019t say what follows, whether Mrs. Bloom has to give up her concert  and theater subscriptions or if she divorces him and he winds up  sweeping a factory floor for a living. I\u2019m not sure it matters. At this  point the story is over and what happens to Mr. Bloom is an  afterthought.<\/p>\n<p>However, if you want to be tougher, try it just as  an exercise. Imagine five ways your baddie can be punished. Imagine the  scenes and write them down. What do you think? If you decide that one of  the grimmer endings is better, use it. (This is a prompt for everyone.)<\/p>\n<p>Villains  can be more fun to write than other characters. They can be over the  top, think the unthinkable, do the unmentionable. So I hope you go all  out with these prompts:<\/p>\n<p>\u2219&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The scene is a social event, could  be a child\u2019s birthday party, a charity benefit, the annual fairy ball.  The villain Sammy (male or female), one of the guests, makes trouble  repeatedly in subtle ways. Show him or her in action.<\/p>\n<p>\u2219&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  Estelle and Joe have been assigned a homework project together in magic  school, and they hate each other. Each plans to make the other look bad.  They meet at Joe\u2019s house to work on the project. As the omniscient  narrator, show how it goes, dipping freely into the thoughts of each  one. They should connive differently. Both are villains, but they\u2019re  differently bad. For extra credit, make us like one and hate the other,  although both are up to no good, and both are fundamentally flawed.<\/p>\n<p>Have fun, and save what you write!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>After my post of October 27, 2010, Jenna Royal wrote, Is it important to make your villains likable? It is common that in a good book I will both enjoy a villain&#8217;s strategy and understand and relate to their desires. I never really thought about making my villains likable, though. They were just the bad [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[208,209,35],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/189"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=189"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/189\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":467,"href":"https:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/189\/revisions\/467"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=189"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=189"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gailcarsonlevine.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=189"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}