When writing transformative fiction, is it more important to keep the main character likable, or interesting?

By Gary Lee Miller

What kind of reader are you? Many readers who enjoy transformative fiction prefer the main character to be “likable” or “feel like a friend.” Other readers are just as happy with a main character who may be an “anti-hero,” or in other words someone not necessarily likable, but interesting, as the main character driving the story forward.

Readers may either identify with or have sympathy towards the main character - or not. Regardless, it is important that on some level the reader is invested in the main character enough to continue reading, waiting to see developments which lead to their transformation or transformations to those around them. That is the challenge of the author.

Authors walk a tightrope when creating their book’s protagonist since that character is typically who drives the plot forward. Often the protagonist’s likeability factor may be influenced by the strength of the antagonist’s un-likeability factor (if there is an antagonist). In other words, “How bad is the bad character?” Most readers enjoy rallying against the bad character, or characters, which creates an even stronger juxtaposition when paired with a very likable or sympathetic protagonist.

The positive transformation is common for many authors and traditionally used in most feel-good novels. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott is an example of a book with multiple protagonists and positive transformations. Having multiple protagonists provides the reader with the opportunity to relate to one or more those characters, making the reading experience more enjoyable. Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy each have character flaws, making them more human, and interesting to the reader. The readers either see some of themselves in one or more of them or recognize friends or family members who have characteristics similar to one of more of the sisters.

Transformations can also be either positive or negative, depending on what the author wishes to convey to a reader. In a cautionary tale, the author may begin with a likable character and take their reader on a journey of seeing that character disintegrate due to their own poor decisions or external factors not within the character’s control. An excellent example of a negative transformation would be Michael Corleone in Mario Puzo’s The Godfather. Michael starts out as a war hero with a promising future, not being entangled in his family’s organized crime activities. Then circumstances lead Michael to make the pivotal, life-changing decision to avenge his father’s assassination attempt. That decision leads to the long, slow transformation of his character, including the carnage brought to those around him, friends, foes, and family, as he solidifies his power.

It’s not always necessary for an author to have an antagonist. My book, Finding Grace, does not have a traditional antagonist. Instead, the internal conflict comes from within its main character and protagonist, Judith, helping drive the story. This internal conflict results from her very challenging, sometimes traumatic childhood. Now with Judith as an adult, the reader shares in her transformational cross-country bus trip (her grandmother’s dying wish) as she is forced from the protective cocoon her immense wealth has allowed her to create, back into the real world. The reader is drawn in during her six-day journey from LA to Nashville by the backstories of her six different seatmates along with their interaction with Judith. In this case, while each day’s seatmate is facing their own challenges, my goal for the reader was for them to be very interested in her seatmate’s stories while seeing the positive evolution of Judith’s character as she engages in entertaining, thought-provoking conversations with them.

In transformative fiction, the reader should enjoy experiencing the main character’s evolution. But the storyline of the main and various characters should touch the reader at a deeper level, challenging them to understand themselves, causing them to ask questions about their own experiences and beliefs.

The original question was, “When writing transformative fiction, is it more important to keep the main character likable, or interesting.” There is no definitive answer because it all depends on the story and the author’s goal and style of writing. The overriding factor for any author in any genre is that the story must be interesting. Speaking of interesting, I believe you will find interesting what I’m sharing next.

In a conversation with the founder of an international publishing company I asked him, “I know you have your people who read the manuscripts submitted by authors with hopes of publication. Do you ever read any of them?” His reply was what I expected, but with a twist. As expected, he said he did not read the manuscripts, however he shared an exercise I believe every author will benefit from by doing the same. His continued reply was, “While I don’t read them, what I do occasionally with a manuscript is to randomly pick out a page, read it, and ask myself, ‘Does the author have my interest, making me want to read more?’” He said he would read four or five more randomly selected pages throughout the manuscript asking himself the same question. That often determined whether that manuscript was given a green light – or not.

Whether “likability” or “interesting” is more important in transformational fiction is debatable. Great books have a balance of both. If forced to choose between the two, my choice would be with “interesting,” for without an interesting main character, what’s the point of reading the book?

Gary Lee Miller is an award-winning author and actor. His debut novel, Finding Grace is available from booksellers everywhere. More about Gary at garyleemillerbooks.com

Len Joy on "The Half-Known World"

by Len Joy

In my first novel, American Past Time, the main character, Dancer Stonemason, is a minor league baseball player in the 1950s who pitches a perfect game that ends up costing him his chance to make it to the major leagues. The novel covers the twenty years after the cheering stops as Dancer struggles to find his way in postwar America. My third novel, Everyone Dies Famous, picks up Dancer’s story thirty years later, with Dancer a grief-stricken old man, trying to come to grips with the death of his son. In my second novel, Better Days, the main character, Darwin Burr, has coasted through life on the fading memory of high school heroics. But when his boyhood vanishes, he risks everything to save him.

My new novel, Dry Heat, is the story of Joey Blade, All-American high school football player. On the day Joey turns 18, he learns his ex-girlfriend is pregnant, is betrayed by his new girlfriend, and is arrested for the attempted murder of two police officers.  

I was a good high school athlete in a small town back in the day when it was possible to play three sports. I have always been interested in the life lived after the crowds have all gone home. In my novels, Dancer struggled, Darwin coasted and Joey went to prison.

Put simply, I am following that adage, to “write what you know.” I understand athletes, the rush of having a crowd cheer for you, the wistfulness of no longer being able to do something that you loved, the challenge of moving on and growing up.

Dry Heat is set in Phoenix during the period from 1999 to 2014. Joey Blade, is an All-American high school football star, planning to attend the University of Arizona on a football scholarship in the fall. His family owns the largest engine rebuilder in the southwest.

In 1988 I bought a large engine rebuilder in Phoenix and for the next fifteen years I operated that business with my brother-in-law. On a summer evening in 1996, the son of one of my employees was riding in a car with two other boys and they were involved in a road rage incident with another vehicle. One of the boys fired a gun at the other car. It turned out that the driver of the other vehicle, who had instigated the confrontation, was an off-duty cop. They were all arrested, but the other two disappeared before their trial and my friend’s son was the only one prosecuted. He was looking at twenty years in prison if he lost at trial, so he took a plea deal for three years. One foolish mistake and his life was changed forever.

In my novel, on the day Joey Blade turns 18, he learns his ex-girlfriend is pregnant, is betrayed by his new girlfriend, and after a road rage incident where he is the innocent bystander, he is arrested for the attempted murder of two police officers.

It is not the story of my friend’s son. But that incident made me think about how easy it can be for any of us to have our lives turned upside-down in an instant. I imagined a character who had everything going for him and lost it. The challenge of the novel was not describing the incident or even the courtroom drama. The challenge was figuring out what Joey Blade does with the rest of his life.

I am a strong believer in what Robert Boswell’s describes as “The Half-Known World.” Boswell maintains that it is not necessary to know everything about your character. Let your imagine roam. Give your character the opportunity to surprise you. 

It is important, of course, to get the details right. It was easy for me to recreate the setting of Phoenix circa 2000, because I lived there. I didn’t have any experience with gangs or the criminal justice system, but I had good contacts. The mother of the boy who went to prison shared with me her son’s perspective as well as her own. One of my beta readers is a criminal attorney and he helped me with the trial procedures. I found numerous articles and blogs on gang activity.

It is easy to get caught up in the research, but it is important to have a light touch. The goal is not to show the reader how much you know. The goal is to tell a good story and keep the reader turning the page to find out what happens next.

Len Joy is the author of Dry Heat(2022). He has published three previous novels, Everyone Dies Famous (2020), Better Days (2018) and American Past Time, (2014) and a collection of short fiction, Letting Go (2018). Len is an All-American triathlete and competes internationally representing Team USA. He lives in Evanston, Illinois with his wife, Suzanne Sawada. For more information, please visit https://www.lenjoybooks.com

Why and How to Write LGBTQIA+ Characters

By Jessi Honard and Marie Parks, co-authors of Unrelenting.

Diverse representation in fiction is important, full stop. We hear that all the time, both as writers and as readers. But why? We’re co-authors, Marie Parks and Jessi Honard, and here’s our take on why and how to write LGBTQIA+ characters.

While we’ll be focusing on queer fictional characters, know that diverse representation—including race, ability, body type, gender, culture, neurodiversity, and more—deserves just as much love and attention.

It’s important to see yourself in stories.

When we were kids, there were very few instances of queer characters in children’s literature. Honestly, we’re struggling to think of any. As we grew up and started reading adult fiction, the situation wasn’t much improved. 

As a result, we didn’t understand the full scope of the LGBTQIA+ rainbow. There were limited safe places to learn about these identities.  

But you know what is a safe space? A cozy book you can curl up with in your favorite spot, read on your own time, and think about in the privacy of your own mind.

Imagine a world where queer readers are validated by the books they love. In this way, representation can literally save lives.

It’s important to see others in stories.

It’s not just about queer readers seeing themselves in literature, though. It’s about the whole world seeing queer characters in literature. 

When non-queer readers witness LGBTQIA+ people within stories, it becomes easier to see actual, real-life queer people as heroic, capable, and nuanced, just like their cisgendered, heterosexual, and allosexual peers. They become less tokenized, and their experiences become more normalized. 

We write speculative fiction, so we deal with fantasy, magic, and impossibility. But at the same time, we are creating the real world we wish to live in. 

No, we don’t want to get attacked by sentient smoke, the way Bridget (the protagonist of Unrelenting) does. But we do want to live in a world where Bridget’s asexuality is accepted, cherished, and supported.

We also don’t want to have to keep secrets from competing magical factions the way Dan (a side character within the same novel) does. But we do want to live in a world where his bisexuality is not a source of tension or anguish.

So we’ve written an exciting world full of mystery, suspense, and magic. And in that world, our characters’ queerness is a nonissue. We believe this gives our readers a chance to envision and create this reality. 

Tips for writing LGBTQIA+ characters as an ally.

Let’s be honest, you could take a series of masterclasses on the expansive topic of how to write LGBTQIA+ characters. No short article is going to teach you everything you need to know, and we certainly aren’t experts. But we hope to give you a few pointers to get started.

Before we jump in, we’ve run into two main camps of non-queer writers who want to write LGBTQIA+ characters, and yet they feel stumped. Do you fall into one of these camps?

Writers in camp one recognize the importance of writing diverse characters, but because their own life experience doesn’t mirror their characters’, they are nervous about getting something wrong and offending everyone. If this is you, you are an awesome ally, and you’re loved and appreciated. In our experience, someone who worries about being disrespectful will find ways to ensure they are respectful in the end. Keep going.

Those writers sitting in camp two also recognize the importance of writing diverse characters. However, they’re so gung-ho, they don’t bother with research or examining their own biases and assumptions. If this is you, please slow your roll. Your heart is in the right place, but your execution will likely come across as inauthentic and possibly even offensive. 

We recommend digging deep into reputable resources like Writing the Other. Not only are their articles, books, and lectures instructive, they’re super interesting! Plus, you can dive into extremely important topics like intersectionality, which can dramatically impact how you write your characters across the board. 

We also challenge you to do your research, yourself. And by that, we don’t mean asking your friendly neighborhood queer buddy to exhume all their trauma.

Recognize that queerness is all around us. In the US, over 20% of Gen Z adults and 10% of Millennials identify as LGBTQIA+, so odds are you know queer people (even if they’re not out). With that in mind, include a variety of queerness in your stories. Avoid having a single, token representative of the community (and for the love of Pete, don’t immediately kill them off or make them an under-developed baddie, as this is a tired and harmful trope).

Read diversely. Listen to real people’s stories. Work with a sensitivity reader and/or experts when you need information or advice, and pay them for their time and emotional labor. If someone tells you, “I can’t help,” honor their boundaries (and maybe examine if you’re asking too much).

Bottom line: Be respectful, and view the task of writing queer characters as an important and serious responsibility.

Writing LGBTQIA+ characters is an extremely worthwhile aspiration, and we applaud and celebrate you for taking the plunge. Together, we can co-create a beautiful, accepting, diverse world where there’s room for everyone at the table—and on the page.

About the guest bloggers:

Jessi Honard and Marie Parks are best friends, hiking and camping buddies, and unabashed nerds. They’ve been co-writing speculative fiction since 2009, and their 2022 contemporary fantasy debut, Unrelenting, was a finalist in the 2020 Book Pipeline Unpublished Manuscript contest. Jessi lives in the Bay Area of California with her partner, Taormina, and Marie lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico.