I'm reposting some of my favorite blog chain posts this week. This post was originally published on March 9, 2010. The only thing I've changed is I embedded a different video of "Holding out for a Hero."
Yep, the Blog Chain post is making its first appearance on my blog this month. Eric posed this question:
Do you create characters that are larger-than-life or are your characters more like the average Joe?
(For  discussion purposes, let's use his definition of "larger-than-life" as  meaning exceptionally talented. It doesn't have to be a supernatural  talent--an Olympic athlete would be larger-than-life.)
In his book Characters and Viewpoint, Orson Scott Card discusses how these two types of characters go in and out of fashion. Most of my esteemed fellow Blog Chainers, from Eric to Kate,  have been on the side of the average Joe or Jane. I think some of this  is due to genre. A few people admit their characters have a slight  supernatural twist, but for the most part, larger-than-life characters  are considered too perfect, too hard to relate to, or even too cliched.  We're at the end of the chain now, and there's only one person left to  champion the champions: a short, overweight, almost-middle-aged  speculative fiction writer. In other words, me.
Let's cue some music for our discussion:
Most  of my protagonists have had some extraordinary gift. My first two books  featured magicians, as does my short story "A Reptile at the Reunion."  My NaNoWriMo book from 2007 had a pair of shapeshifting sisters. Paul, the hero of Across Two Universes,  lives in a science fiction universe, but he has a "quantum quirk" of  his own. The only protagonist who might be considered an "ordinary Jane"  is Paul's mother, Joanna, in my novella "Move Over Ms. L." So, how do I  avoid the previously mentioned pitfalls of larger-than-life characters?
First  of all, I don't think a larger-than-life character is necessarily  perfect--or should be. Many legendary characters had flaws as big as  their virtues. Hercules was very strong, but he wasn't above using dirty tricks in battle. Lancelot was in love with his liege's  wife. Modern-day larger-than-life athletes like Michael Phelps and  Tiger Woods have shown what I'll call lapses of judgment. Even my  beloved Beatles have done drugs, had affairs, made poor business  decisions, and otherwise proved they're not perfect. Having an  extraordinary talent doesn't mean you're invincible either; just look at  Achilles and Samson.  I could go on, but the point I want to make is that the  larger-than-life characters may be good at what they do, but if they're  too good, then the story loses any suspense factor. Struggle is at the  heart of all stories, so your characters have to face challenges that  force them to stretch themselves. Heck, much of the time my characters  struggle just to get along with their allies!
Another concern  writers have about writing larger-than-life characters is how to make  sure the average reader can relate to them. It's not as if most of us  turn into animals every full moon or perform magic and read others'  minds. Here, I think the key is to focus on emotions or experiences that  can be universal. Many larger-than-life characters in speculative  fiction face problems readers can relate to; for example, Carrie  Vaughn's werewolf Kitty has a mother dealing with cancer. A classic Star  Trek episode, "The Devil in the Dark,"  features an alien that's basically a sentient rock. Yet this creature  is also a mother trying to protect her young. How can any parent not  relate to that? If you can relate to a rock, magicians and other  larger-than-life characters ought to be easy.
As for whether or  not larger-than-life characters are cliche, I think anything can become  one. It's not always easy to find a unique spin on a subject, but it can  be done.
Going back to Eric's question, why do I prefer  larger-than-life characters? Part of the reason is escapism and wish  fulfillment. I live in Midwestern suburbia, and I like taking mental  breaks from it with my fiction. Having high-powered characters means you  can demand more of them; they buy you a seat at the high-stakes plot  table. But there are other reasons for enjoying larger-than-life  characters and speculative fiction. By looking at the extremes of the  human condition (or even examining non-humans), we can learn something  about the ordinary parts too. And while ordinary characters in  extraordinary situations can do astonishing things, extraordinary people  can inspire us to transcend the commonplace and reach for something we  never thought possible. Our future depends on how far we can see and our  drive to try new things. If we work at it, what was once considered  extreme or even impossible can become part of our mundane reality.
 
I can enjoy reading about hero(ine)s and more average people, depending on the kind of book I'm reading--I wouldn't say that either is better, since it depends on the circumstances and the kind of world that the character is in.
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