Today’s post is by author and editor Ken Brosky (@Grendelguy).
I was watching a TV series based on a popular novel the other week, curious about how the showrunners were going to adapt it to the big screen. Turning a book into a movie or series can be a daunting task in the best of circumstances, even if you leave out the messy business of Hollywood. But in the case of this particular TV series, my curiosity was more focused on whether the show would lose steam two-thirds of the way through. That’s because I’d read the book it was based on, and I remember distinctly losing interest just past the midway point.
Much to my surprise, the TV series remained faithful to the book on a level that I’m sure would make most authors ecstatic. The problem is that the TV series fizzled two-thirds of the way through. And I knew exactly why: the protagonist got too comfortable.
Robert McKee talks in his amazing book Story (which I highly recommend) about the Principle of Antagonism. He says: “A Protagonist and his story can only be as intellectually fascinating and emotionally compelling as the forces of antagonism make them.” That’s a pretty wild statement! Especially since many of us writers have been taught for years that character development trumps everything else. Heck, there are entire websites dedicated to helping writers develop realistic characters! We make notes of what they eat, what they’re scared of, who their parents were, even when they go to sleep every night.
But McKee is right. And it’s important to think about antagonism not simply as an arch-villain (like Thanos from the Marvel movies). Rather, think about antagonism as any force that pushes back against your hero. Anything that gets in your hero’s way—whether it’s external or internal—is an antagonist. Audiences don’t want their hero to spend six chapters relaxing. Audiences want their hero tested, prodded, hurt, damaged, frightened, confused, and—above all—struggling. It’s a little sadistic, I know! But the fundamental truth of storytelling is that the forces of antagonism define your hero.
That’s why this particular TV series couldn’t hold my interest throughout, same as the book. There was literally an entire episode where the hero sat around and talked to other characters. No conflict. No antagonism in sight. An entire hour.
Let me give you an example of a masterclass in antagonism. Take Josh Malerman’s novel Bird Box. Not only do the forces of antagonism define our hero, Malorie, they become more intense as the story develops. The story begins with an event: creatures suddenly appear all over the world. Anyone who looks at them goes insane. Malorie must navigate this frightening new world with her eyes closed. She eventually encounters other people who have hidden away in a house and covered all the windows. But there’s friction in the group, and Malorie must deal with that while also considering her pregnancy. Then a new guy named Gary shows up and turns out to be bad news. Gary sows further discontent before he’s kicked out … but one of the house members secretly hides him in the basement. Gary and this other house member secretly continue antagonizing everyone, including Malorie.
The climax arrives when Gary lets the monsters into the house. Chaos ensues, and Malorie is the only survivor! But that’s not where the story ends. Because part of the story takes place later, when Malorie and her two children are trying to escape on a boat by the river. In these moments interspersed throughout the book, you might think the author will give us a breather. But no—the river is treacherous, and the monsters are everywhere. Malorie must deal with them while also constantly stressing about keeping her children safe and blindfolded on this journey.
Whew! Now those are some real forces of antagonism!
So here’s the most important point: direct your energy to the negative side of your story. Your audience won’t remember the chapter where your hero sits down and has a nice, relaxing dinner. Your audience will remember the forces of antagonism, and how your hero reacted.
Ken Brosky is an author and professor of Creative Writing. His most recent novel, The Beyond, is available through Timber Ghost Press. He is also a professional manuscript editor, with a focus on helping writers of all skill levels.
Thanks, Ken … all too true. And how quickly one forgets to make life hard for the hero. My rule is ‘whatever the protagonist wants, don’t give it to them.’ But my main directive is that the heart of the story is dark. I call it the dark heart of the story. The hero is inexorably heading there, slip-sliding, pulled by a weird gravity toward coming undone. I remember the film, The Artist, where the writer kept making things evermore worse until he has no choice but to put the barral of a gun in his mouth. Oy! Antagonism to the max…
By the end of the fifth paragraph I thought to myself what the ceo of paramount said about getting rid of simon and schuster. Paramount/viacom/cbs/the redstone empire is a video company.
I never forgot years ago I read Ivanhoe from walter scott and I recall years after someone saying, that book is too slow at times.
I see a connection between video as the modern communication format and the impetus from crude criminals.
In the third paragraph Thanos of the marvel movies is mentioned and he encapsulates my reasoning to using the term crude criminals over antagonist.
A crude criminal is an antagonist, as some one who injures another rawly. But the crude criminal tends to have an absolutism in their pursuit based on their crudeness.
And video includes video games. Again, video games have a narrative form. In many of the most popular video games, the constancy of criminality is their, usually crude. How many alien or ghost creature games is just a constant run or battle through said criminals, whose intentions are crude.
When you combine the fact that video is the storyteller most are raised with today, over books/music/or storytelling itself. It explains how the modern audience is reared to accept as natural the constancy of potential crime.
Freddie Kruger/Jason/ Michael Myers/ Jeepers creepers/ even in animation with the never ending enemies of goku of dragonball z/ the megalomanic bond villians. Media has preached the constancy of troubles as a standard.
And when it comes to being a commercially potent writer, not an artistically potent writer, the audience’s nature matters.
I concur to Brosky, a writer can show some artistic craft by not creating the all encompasing enemy to run from: thanos or one of my personal favorites: Fender Tremolo
But by creating a gantlope that allows for various opposers. Though the question remains, why doesn’t the audience respond to people having a conversation with tea after finding a safe haven? And the answer is the audience has been reared through video to enjoy constancy of crude criminality.
The river has to be treacherous, it can’t simply be a calm river. The viewership has been taught to like not being given a breather. From the video games they play to the binge watching videos they do, to the films that have built modern perception.
So commercially, a writer must cater, but artistically… it has problems.
So true! One must also be careful to not overdo the constant stream of antagonism, to avoid reader fatigue and using it as a crutch to spark interest. Balance!
Ken, thanks for this wonderful advice. It holds true for all genres, doesn’t it?
I love to read cozy mysteries, but only those in which the MC has an important inner life, one that keeps us waiting to see if they will ever get what they truly want, while solving all those mysteries.
And in my own writing (romance) the road to true love must be a rocky one, or we’d all go to sleep, author included!
This is a GREAT point … lots of cozy mysteries feel like the sleuth is looking for something greater. And maybe the question to ask is: what would happen if the sleuth actually got what they truly wanted? What kinds of NEW challenges would this open up? It makes me wonder as I continue exploring this genre …
Thank you! I’m writing a nonfiction book and am right at the turning point where things start to get better – and im stuck. I’m so aware of principles of story writing and your post has shown me that I’m stuck because I’m tempted to run to the end now where all is good. But there is more antagonism happening, and that’s what I’ll focus on now. Thank you so much.
Great reminder!
This all makes good sense to me, but I wonder about the validity. Stephen King suggests quiet moments and a laugh in a book to “punctuate the drama” and he has sold the odd book here and there.
This is just me, but I think Mr. King is right. I tend to enjoy a book where the action and antagonism is muted but building. Dan Simmons is great at this. Lol and as an aside it makes you wonder what the likes of Proust or Hesse would have made of this where the only antagonist is themself.
DON’T think of “antagonism” as a person. Antagonism can come from within as well … and just because there’s a quiet pause here and there in the works of King or Simmons doesn’t mean there isn’t some antagonistic force pushing on the protagonists. To address your larger point, I’d say there are always good rule breakers in any genre. But they are few and far between, and are granted significant leeway by their publishers.