There always comes a moment when we set a goal—whatever it may be—humble or lofty or grand: sure, let’s all lose ten pounds; pay off that credit card debt; buy a house. Goals, we are told, are the sign of a highly ordered life—one that is consciously lead—which also begets best laid plans: that 401K; the house in the Bahamas; a mistress in the city.
Isn’t it interesting how goals engender goals in a chain, a progression, that leads onward—sometimes upward? If I buy that BMW, I will get a girlfriend; if I get a girlfriend, I will feel so much happier and my acne will clear up; if my acne clears up, I will smash my arch-nemesis at our high school reunion…but I’ll never be able to get that BMW if I don’t write this book!
Goals—written ones—are the moments in which we strategize, plan and hold ourselves accountable. Goals—they’re the archetypal moment of plotting: that moment when we rub our hands together and laugh devilishly:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
The rest of the time, we don’t live in the world of plots. We just go about life, pretty much cluelessly, eating free samples at Costco and channelsurfing on Youtube. The rest of the time, we are breaking every diet known to man and frittering away the few moments of our life by watching cats doing the darndest things on the interweb.
But every once in a while, we straighten up: we actually set ourselves into a plot by creating lists of things that have got to get done: call them bucket lists; New Year’s resolutions; empty promises: the most effective lists are the ones we write down—the ones in which we script ourselves into a narrative arc.
Does your character have such a list? Does your character have a goal? I can tell you now: after many years teaching kids who want to write artsy fiction, most probably your characters do not have focused goals. That means your narrative is basically going to suck.
Your characters, they don’t know what they want . They don’t have aim. They don’t have a measuring stick. So they are rudderless. They are walking around the Costco of life, sucking down free samples, bewildered by the selection of wide screen televisions and the many cut-rate diamond bracelets. They will do things without thinking. Ugh.
So, take a moment to give your character a set of goals. They don’t have to fulfill them. In fact, it is best to make those goals lofty…and have your characters fail miserably. Why? Because failure, humiliation, is compelling: funny and interesting and heart-rending. If you really want to make this complicated, try to give more than one character a goal—have two enemies write down the things they really want—and you’ll see how a truly complicated narrative will spin itself…like the webwork of a black widow in the dead of the velvet night.
Khanh – I think that’s a terrific idea, to reflect on what one’s characters’ goals are. Not only does it help the writer to make the character stronger, more real and so on, but I think it also helps to focus the narrative. Even if the goal is as simple as, ‘I want to get these papers graded by Thursday,’ (My protagonist is an academic), it adds something to the character.
So true: all my friends have that “I want to get these papers graded goals”; a coffee spill, a kitchen fire, a trip to the emergency room are events that then lend the complication (by the way, these are all things that have happened to me!). what is necessary is the expression of volition. How about this one: I want to pass this kid without compromising my standards…so he won’t retake my class for the umpteenth time…:)
Yes, that’s definitely a believable goal!