The Thrill of Victory

Current Project: NMMNG
Status: Eh.

Apologies for my blog absence this week. I'm a bit of an Olympics junkie, and the late nights have me spending most of my day blinking last night's viewing out of my eyes and craving the coffee I can't drink right now. My husband is already teasing me about how I am going to live without my "spandex boyfriends" while on the retreat next week (the finals of the women's figure skating is next Thursday--and yes, I have the schedule memorized). But, of course, I keep repeating the cycle of late nights and grumbling about network scheduling while managing a huge stack of grading which is the definition of insanity right?

My husband suggests that I just watch the events online, but most of the online stuff doesn't have the commentary, and really, it's the commentary that I love. As a writer, I love the human drama--the disabled brother, the four jobs just to afford lessons and skates, the near-death injuries, the far-flung family in the stands. I love the little tidbits about the athletes and the coaches. I notice that my sympathies often change based on these tidbits. Case in point, I wasn't rooting for China's pair skaters at all until I saw the segment on how the husband and wife team had been skating together for 18 years (!!!), but I still wasn't down with their coach until I saw the segment on him and all he's went through to build the figure skating program in China.

I think this applies to books too--often all that separates a potential hero from a villain is a little tidbit of information. The right back story changes someone from dismissible to unforgettable, and the right gesture at the right time makes all the difference. Last night, I was rooting for one of the American men figure skaters, but on the fence about the other as I saw him as a bit cold and mechanical (And I hate his costume). But, then after skating a brilliant program, this mechanical skater showed such joy and relief that I'm now hoping he wins gold tomorrow night. Later, my heart broke for my favorite guy as he failed to deliver the performance he needed, and his reaction of disappointment was mirrored by his coach and his large contingent of friends and family in the audience.

This is why it is so critical to let the reader in on your character's inner workings and why the reaction scenes are just as important as the action scenes. If we don't see the hero's emotions after the big fight and see his hurt and pain manifest themselves in his actions, he can come across as cold and callous. If we don't see the heroine picking herself back up mentally after a disappointment, she comes across as whiny and needy. If we don't see a hint of the villain's tortured past, he comes across as one-dimensional. Little reactions of secondary characters are so key to maintaining tension and drama too--a mother's tightly clasped hands and supportive t-shirt adds drama, but the house she sold to help the hero get to this moment raises the stakes. The wife who seems supportive on paper reveals her true colors with her bored, pissy expression in the stands, and suddenly another layer is added. The teammate who shakes off his or her own disappointment to revel in pure joy for a teammate's winning performance makes a sidekick worthy of a sequel while one who goes and sulks or who only offers a lukewarm handshake becomes less trustworthy.

A key theme here is raising the stakes--I feel no solidarity with a young self-made millionaire ski bum who keeps to himself. He's clearly competing for himself alone, and losing would be a personal disappointment for him with no real consequences. But the athlete who works four jobs to be able to afford lessons and whose parents are mortgaged to the hilt--I can't click away. I want this athlete to win because winning has real consequences for him beyond making all the training worth it. An uninjured athlete with a happy home life is a boring athlete. But, an athlete competing against doctor's orders while risking the wraith of a spouse? Now that's worth a bowl of popcorn or seven. Lindsay Vonn was just another blonde genetically blessed skier to me until she injured her shin and suddenly the drama shifted from "will she win" to "will she compete."

The stakes aren't high enough for me in events where each athlete competes one at time, battling only the clock or a judge. Other factors have to come into play to hold my interest in these events. But, a pack of eager competitors all jockeying for position with lots of potential for falls and come-from-behind wins is often enough to hold my interest even if I don't know that much about the competitors or the sport. Likewise, a heroine or hero battling an unseen evil is much less interesting than one pitted against foe, and a field of foes just raises the stakes that much more for readers. And when that known foe has an interesting story of his or her own or a long history with the hero, the battle becomes epic. Similarly, an athlete competing in his or her last Olympics is so much more interesting than a 15 year old with a bright future ahead--a loss for the young athlete doesn't sting so much. Likewise, an athlete struggling to overcome a humiliating loss is so much more likeable than one who is merely trying to capitalize on a long-string of victories. People love the improbable heroes, and improbable heroes with impossible odds are unforgettable.

I keep returning to this theme as I ruminate on my WIP (ruminating is at least a little bit of progress, right?)--I have to keep raising the stakes. It's boring when everything goes as planned for the characters, and readers have to have reason to invest in a particular scene or they will get bored and skip ahead or put the book down. These are the basics of good fiction writing preached in countless workshops and books, but sometimes seeing them played out in a non-fiction, real-life context puts them in a whole new light.

Your turn: What real-life events have given you aha! moments about the craft of writing? Also, are you watching the Olympics? What's your favorite event and why?