Do characters have to be relatable*?

Seems like an unnecessary and controversial question: of course we have to relate to our characters. Otherwise, why would we want to follow their journeys, understand their decisions, or rejoice/mourn with them?

This is certainly true in my own life; books and movies that I like and remember long after are those with characters I can relate to. I latch onto a character--usually the protagonist, and occasionally a secondary one, such as Gogol's' mother in The Namesake--and view the story through their lenses.

I saw a movie recently that challenged this belief.

The movie is Buddha Mountain. Made in China, this is a indie-type film that shows three twenty-something slackers who rent a room from a retired Beijing opera star, who is mourning that death of her son. I can't relate to any of the characters but I found it engaging.

Characters such as those three often turn me off. Their spend their days engaged in irresponsible and inconsiderate behavior. Despite being a more sympathetic character,the landlady wasn't all that relatable either.

This may seem to indicate that I relate only to people who do the "right"--kind, thoughtful, self-sacrificial--things. It's not true. I identify with many flawed characters.

So what is it?

My conclusion is that I don't always have to relate so much as to understand the characters. Relating means I can imagine myself doing some of the same things or thinking the same way as a character. I can insert myself in their shoes and experience the stories just the way they do.

In the movie, the characters steal their landlady's banged-up car for a drive to the mountains, they climb atop a freight train to nowhere, they steal money and replace it with fake bills. I can't relate. I can't imagine doing those things while feeling the way they do: nonchalant, undisturbed. Maybe if they had stolen the car to rescue a wayward younger sister or they climb onto the freight train because they are escaping from some bad guys, I would relate. But they do these things...just because. And I don't get it.

Yet, I watched without any of the annoyance that tend to appear when I find self-centered, indulgent people doing inconsiderate things. Somehow, in this movie, I didn't need to relate. All I needed was to understand. Not so much the reason they chose to travel aimlessly or why they don't feel any remorse, but that they feel untethered, uncertain, and hopeless. I am not sure how any of these actions can soothe or help them deal, but apparently I don't need to.

Or maybe I'm just splitting hairs. What do you think?

*[In case you are wondering if "relatable" is a word, here is an article you may find interesting.]

Just what kind of critiques do we need?

Over the past few months, my critique group has been focusing on how we give and receive critiques. As we have been together for a a few years (some of the members have known one another even longer) we could be open and honest about the fact that we might have fallen short of our potential as critique-givers.

One of the things we have agreed to try, is to ask the person who submits just what type of critique she is hoping for. This has helped guide our discussions so we are not all going at 5 different directions. While it could become restrictive in that a critiquer may not bring up a glaring problem just because the writer didn't ask for it, I am happy to report that it hasn't happened. The group is experienced enough that important issues are brought up, whether or not the writer is aware of them.

For example, in my last submission, I asked my group to focus on two issues--character differentiation between the two main protagonists and the relationship between a character and her father--but as the critique chat progressed, it was clear that two other issues were more pressing--authorial intrusion and unnecessary descriptions--and we were able to discuss those as well.

Over at The Literary Lab today, Domey Malasarn is doing an experiment by offering to critique three samples in one manner, and three other samples in a different manner.

It is interesting to me that most of the readers opted to receive what Domey calls his Tiger Mother critique. (I really hate to give this more publicity but there you are.)

My take? Regular readers there "know" Domey enough to know that his critique, no matter how critical, will never be malicious, and will be truthful and helpful.

His experiment so far has made me think about what most writers need. And here is my conclusion. We need feedback from someone who is:

1. Capable and experienced, so that the areas brought up are in fact worthwhile and not some unimportant side issues or the issue-du-jour of a novice.
   
2. Truthful and willing to bring light to something that the writer may feel insecure about. Glossing over a problem because the writer is known to love his _______ merely helps the writer cover up blind spots.
   
3. Kind, with the intention to help rather than to use this as an opportunity to show off or to subtly put someone else in her place.
   

What do you think?

All is not lost: Resolutions part two

How did I do in my pre-resolutions? Why, thanks for asking. I failed probably half of them.

Writing every weekday at 10
Did it for a few days, then had to juggle the times. I did, however, get much better at sneaking in sentences here and paragraphs there in between opening presents and making crepes and playing Clue.

Practicing every weekday at 2:30
I kept having to change the time for appointments and volunteer schedule

TKD and exercise
Lots of work before my midterm and then there was baking and there were parties and...

Housework
When I reviewed my pre-resolutions mid-month, I realized this was the most neglected aspect and scrambled to make up for the neglect. But like brushing teeth, housework is something that has to be done consistently instead of in bouts of mad activities spaced too far apart.

And here I thought I was choosing things I could succeed in, but I misjudged my ability to not to stick to a plan. Sure I can blame it on December and festivities and having two kids underfoot, but no amount of blaming can change the fact that I didn't do what I thought I would.

What does this tell me? Well, that new habits are monstrous things and that I have an infinitely creative mind when it comes to procrastinating.

But all is not lost. I found a pattern with my procrastinating. And knowing my enemy is the first step at conquering it I say. Here is my weapon:

Every day, I will do something that I really do not want to do.

I am also going to steal Story Queen's resolution, which is

to laugh more.

And, one more, that I started doing for the past few years:

Cut 'em some slack

What do you think? Do you think I'll succeed?

Recipes ain't everything

The pastry shops I love keep going out of business.

The week before Maggie McCullough's closed some seven years ago, I bought all their brioche to put in my freezer. About three years ago, I brought my daughter to Babette's Feast to celebrate with her favorite pear tart as was our tradition, only to find a note taped onto the door. Not long ago, I stopped by the Belgian bakery in town and noticed it was now a bagel store. At least my daughter wasn't with me when I walked into the store.


The store looked more or less the same. The only difference is the food in the display cases. One was filled with bagels and the one that usually tested my willpower the most, the one showcasing beautiful cakes and tarts, was sparse and sad.


I asked for pear tarts, they had none. I looked at my other favorites: the almond croissants didn't have sliced almonds on the outside. The palmiers were thick and not of the right color.

(Rather then posting pictures of sad foods, I thought I'd post ones that reminded me of what used to be.)

"So, how long have you guys been here?" I asked, as nonchalantly and as non-accusingly as possible.

The woman behind the counter regarded me with suspicious eyes. "It's been a while."

I should have come more often, bought more pear tarts, helped them stay in business!

"We bought their business and all their recipes."

I looked up at her. There is hope yet. So what if the baked goods don't look the same. All I need is for them to taste the same. They have the recipes, so all is not lost!

I bought an almond croissant and a palmier and got into the car with my little baggie of hope. It was a while before I took my first bite because I knew my hopes would either be buoyed or shattered by it.

Recipes ain't everything.

The croissant was limp and unflaky and the inside undercooked. The almond paste was the only thing that tasted the same. The palmiers tasted the way they looked: inexperienced.

All those writing rules out there, they can't promise success. All the shows-don't-tells and three-act-arcs and what-the-character-wants will not give us the products that thrill and haunt and satisfy.

What will?

Recipes + experience + well-honed taste buds + desire + working at dawn everyday.

Oh, and maybe consumers who won't practice self-control when encountering our work.