Characterology 2

Hello Neophyte, hello Timmy. Today, we continue our journey into characters, trying to understand what drives the very tools that build our stories. So sit down and focus—Timmy, you might want to do that in the toilet; there’s one at the end of the hallway. Okay, crisis averted. Let’s get back to Characterology.

Last time, we explored the different types of characters you can have in a story, from round to flat, from static to dynamic. But what is the real difference between them all? It boils down to a simple phrase: “want vs need.”

That’s something you’ll hear repeated endlessly in every conversation about fiction writing, specifically and writing in general—want vs need. A character may want something but doesn’t realize they need something else, much like real people in the real world. And I’m not talking about simple desires like “I want a cookie” but dbut what I need is “a salad.” It’s much more profound than that.

Let’s take, for example, a simple character: a young man in his twenties, fair, composed, and controlled. He has a job and is seeking greater prospects for his future. Simple enough so far, but let’s add a layer to this fictional person we’re building—let’s call him Larry. Suppose Larry is an orphan, unaware of who his parents were or why they aren’t in his life.

Now, as the author, what would you have him do? The possibilities are endless, but let’s stick with one. Let’s say he wants to know who his parents were and why they left him. He might cloak this desire under the guise of mere curiosity when, in reality, he’s driven by a burning need for the truth. Perhaps most of the other kids in the orphanage knew their origins, leaving Larry with envy, jealousy, and resentment—a perpetual outsider among outsiders. He may convince himself that he only wants the truth when, in reality, he’s guided by a darkness he can’t perceive. So he shapes his life in pursuit of that need. Money, advancement, information, even relationships become stepping stones on this path. Perhaps events unfold that push him further down this spiral—maybe his orphanage peers move on with their lives while Larry remains fixated, unchanged internally. Until the story progresses to the point where he must confront the truth… Let’s leave that open; it’s more intriguing that way.

Neophyte, I hope you’ve noticed the point—that in this story, we have a protagonist, a main character, who is essentially static, almost flat, but doesn’t change his inner core. He merely adapts his surroundings to perpetuate the darkness he carries within. His outer world changes, molded to fit his dark inner world. Depending on how you play your cards and what other elements you introduce besides Larry, you have the potential for a compelling and nuanced story.

Also, Neophyte, before Timmy returns with five rolls of toilet paper pilfered from the bathroom, let me clarify something. Earlier, I mentioned that Larry is static and flat. Let me warn you that this may not mean what you think. Flat just means one-dimensional; he desires to uncover the truth or what he believes is the truth. It doesn’t mean there’s nothing built upon or around that desire. The same goes for static—depending on what you want to achieve with the character and the story you want to tell, things will play out differently. In our example, poor Larry doesn’t change; he clings to his darkness, but that doesn’t mean the situation remains static. Oh no, as the story progresses, he descends deeper into darkness.

Here lies the distinction between dynamic and static characters. A dynamic character fundamentally changes; they grow, evolve, and learn. A static character doesn’t. They remain who they were when that defining event happened—like in Larry’s case, the abandonment by his parents.

Hello again, Timmy. You were… and now you’ve raided the janitor’s closet and taken how many toilet paper rolls? Leave them outside; it’s okay, I’m not mad, I’m impressed. And the janitor already knows you, so you won’t get in trouble.

Want vs need. We’ll delve deeper into this topic soon enough because getting it right is crucial; the risk of mishandling it is too high.

Another point to note before we conclude this session: a character being flat or static doesn’t mean there’s no change throughout the story. If the narrative demands that a character be an alcoholic, portraying them as a one-note character throughout the tale makes them uninteresting. Instead, inject change into the mix—show them attempting and failing to overcome their addiction, or descending further until they can’t see the light.

This is crucial for your audience, Neophyte. There must be a sense of movement, progress, and change. Otherwise, they’ll abandon your story, and that’s the last thing you want.