Category: redemption

Okay, I’ve fallen waaaaaay behind in ranty blog posts over the past two months, so let me take a few minutes and try to make it up to you

As it happens, I wanted to talk about redemption stories. You know, where our hero has done something awful in their past and is now seeking to balance the scales one way or another. Maybe by actively trying to make up for it or by punishing themselves for it.

Right up front, if I want to write about redemption a key thing is empathy. A good redemption story depends on me knowing how my readers will respond to various incidents and actions. If I don’t have a good sense how something will go over, it’ll be easy for my redemption tale to seem pointless, silly, confusing, melodramatic… or, y’know, all of the above.

And, as usual, none of this is ironclad, heavily researched and sourced literary theory that I rigorously defended for my thesis or anything like that. It’s just observations from many, many years of reading and watching stories. Your mileage may vary.

That said… a redemption tale could either be the main thrust of my story or it just part of a single character’s personal arc. Either way, I think my story has to hit a couple of key points. Not in an “introduce the first conflict by page 23,” way, but more in a general “let’s talk about the characters and the story” way. If I don’t have these points in mind, there’s a good chance that my “redemption” story may end up a little lacking

1) Does my character need to be redeemed?
This is one of those “obvious” things that I’ve seen a fair number of folks mess up. If I’m going to tell a redemption story about Wakko, he needs to have actually done something that requires redemption. It’s really cool that Wakko wants to sacrifice himself to make up for his past sins, but if he doesn’t have any past sins… well… That’s not redemption, it’s just a pointless sacrifice. Wakko needs to have something in his past (or do something very early in my story) for which some form of redemption is required. For this post, let’s call it his key event.

This is my first big empathy moment as a writer. If I can’t predict what actions (or lack of actions) my audience will see as needing redemption, my story can get silly pretty quick. There are some things—even things we’d all agree are bad things—that just don’t tip the scales into that “I need redemption for this” territory. Accidentally kicking my cat is bad, but it’s probably not worth a novel of me trying to make up for it Wakko should not be going on a ten year penitent crusade around the world as penance for putting a red sock in the wash (unless comedy is my goal). If he’s really guilt-ridden about that nickel he picked up off the sidewalk when he was six… again, I’d better be writing a comedy.

Also, please note I’ve been referring to the key event as something in the past. That’s going to come up again.

So what was Wakko’s key event? Did he knowingly write a bad check? Peek in someone’s bedroom window when he was fourteen? Sabotage a relationship? Steal a car? Blackmail someone? Maybe… kill someone?

This leads nicely into…

2) Can my character be redeemed?
Somewhat related to the first point. Much like the key event needs to cross a certain threshold to be redemption-worthy, I think we can all agree that there’s another threshold where it’s going to be a lot harder for someone to balance the scales. Maybe impossible. That’s true in pretty much any society, past, present, or future. Sometimes people do things that are beyond redemption. It’s really tough to imagine anything a serial child rapist could do to make up for what they’ve done.

I’m sure some of you immediately thought “well, they could die,” but that’s not redemption, is it? It’s just death. Possibly revenge, but that’s a whole different animal.

So when I’m writing Wakko’s redemption tale, I need to really think about what he’s done. Again, this is going to be an empathy issue. Will my readers think his key event is a redeemable act? Or is it so extreme nothing could ever make up for it.

3) Does my character want to be redeemed?
This may sound obvious, but I can’t force redemption on someone. That’s not how it works, despite everything the Inquisition tried to teach us. Wakko needs to want it.

And… maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t feel like he did anything wrong. Perhaps he paid his fine or wrote his apology letter or served his time and considers the matter closed. Or it could be he knows it was wrong and just doesn’t care. Maybe he feels he’s beyond your petty ideas of right and wrong. Some people are like that. If that’s the kind of character I’ve written Wakko as, it’s going to be tough to do a convincing redemption story about him.

4) Why hasn’t my character done it before?
Okay, for this one, I want to toss out what I personally think is a pretty solid rule of thumb… Feel free to agree or disagree down below.

In a good redemption story, a notable amount of time needs to pass between the key event and the redemption for that event.

Y’see, Timmy, in my opinion one of the main elements of redemption (from a story point of view) is guilt. If I don’t feel guilty about the key event, why would I want redemption?

With that in mind, if I’m taking care of things immediately after the key event, this isn’t so much redemption as it is… well, cleaning up. Wakko may feel awful about having to clean up the mess he made, but does he really feel guilty? If I hit someone with my car, it’s the difference between calling 911 and sitting with them until the ambulance comes… or switching my headlights off and speeding away. I may feel bad in both situations, but they’re two very different situations.

So what made Wakko run from his key event? Why didn’t he clean up his mess right then? What’s kept him from admitting it or doing anything about it until now? Denial? Fear?

And this one leads nicely to a sort of two in one, Watsonian-Doylistic point…

5A) Why is my character doing it now?
If I accept that Wakko’s tried to hide that key event for weeks or months or years… why is he looking for redemption now? What’s changed for him as a character that he’s decided to acknowledge this and make amends, starting today? What’s his (and I hate myself for saying this) inciting incident?

This is yet another empathy moment for me, the writer, because this is a big decision for any character. It’s a major change of course. They’re going against what they’ve done up until this point in their lives. If this isn’t a believable change of heart, my whole story could fall apart.

5B) Why is my character doing it now?
Looking at this as the writer, from a story point of view, why is this happening now? Odds are Wakko’s going to start thinking about redemption in this story, because I write about active characters who actually do things. So why have I included this? Am I just looking to give him some flavor and round him out a bit as a person? Is it the main plot of my whole novel? No matter why I’m doing it, this decision and the repercussions from it need to fit into the structure of my story and into Wakko’s arc as a character.

6) Does it balance the scales?
At the end of the day, every redemption story comes down to this. Has Wakko made up for what he did? Does he believe he did? Do other character think things are even now? Are my readers going to think he’s redeemed himself, or is it going to come across a little thin or forced?

I mentioned death up above—well, you thought about it, I mentioned it—so it’s probably worth talking about that. A lot of folks try to use death as the ultimate balancing agent. A life for a life, redemption achieved, and so on. I mean, sure, Wakko robbed, raped, and murdered his way across the country, leaving hundreds of people physically and/ or emotionally scarred, but in the end he died saving that little kid from getting hit by a bus And that makes it all okay, right?

No, of course it doesn’t. In fact, if not handled just right, death can come across as cowardice or a “he got off easy” situation. It can even look like laziness or a cop-out on the writer’s part. I mean, I don’t have to deal with all these complex emotions and repercussions if Wakko just gets a bus in the face. But it still counts as a strong resolution, right?

Right?

And there you have it. This is the kind of stuff I think about when I’m trying to do a redemption arc story. And if I don’t have good answers for most of these points, well, maybe I need to look again at how I’ve set up my story. Or my character.

Because there’s a decent chance they’re not on the road to redemption.

Next time I’d like to say something about said

Until then, go write.

Okay, let’s talk about animals for a minute, and how we respond to those animals. Just some random thoughts I’ve had that sort of coalesced over the years. Take them as you will.

It’s a pretty basic human reaction to pat a dog. If a dog walks up and bonks their head on your knee, you give them a pat on the head or a scratch behind the ears or maybe a full belly rub depending on said dog’s position at the moment. It’s something most of us do by instinct, and we usually want to do it so bad we’ll end up asking complete strangers for permission to do it. It’s almost like a reflex action. Dogs. Pets.

In fact, it’s such an ingrained thing, it’s kind of unusual when someone doesn’t want to pat the dog. Sure, there’s some folks who might refuse for health reasons, possibly emotional ones, but overall… if someone doesn’t want to pet the dog, it makes us wonder a bit, doesn’t it?

That’s why I laughed when, many years back, I saw a skit where Benny Hill described a horrific movie about a man on a blood-soaked rampage of violent revenge that bordered on torture porn, which the comedian then called “a loving tale of warmth and compassion.” When the interviewer asked him about this, Hill grinned and said, “At the end, as he’s leaving, he pats the dog on the head.”

Now remember this. Patting the dog. We’re going to come back to it later.

There’s a writing term you’ve probably heard called saving the cat. It was coined by screenwriter Blake Snyder in his book titled (wait for it) Save The Cat! No, I’m serious. There’s a lot to be said about the book, but for our purposes right now, let’s focus on that title phrase and what it means.

Saving the cat is when my protagonist does something—usually something small and simple—that assures us they’re a decent person. It’s a narrative shorthand that tells us this is someone we should be rooting for. Helping a neighbor. Feeding a stray. Giving the other half of their lunch to someone. Making a point of leaving a good tip, even if they can’t really afford it. And yes… maybe even saving a cat.

Two things about this I think are worth mentioning. First, these things don’t need to be directly linked to my plot. Personally, just me, I think it’s a little better when they’re not, or only very loosely at best. It’s not something plot-driven, it’s something character-driven. They’re just random, relatable events that show my character (or characters) in a good light.

Second, whatever this moment is, it should happen kinda early in the story. This is a logic thing. By the time we’re halfway through my story, my audience should have a pretty good handle on the protagonist. It’s kind of late for me to give them a little nudge. I’m not saying my characters can’t leave a nice tip or feed a stray at this point (you should always tip well and feed strays), but by now this is just going to be part of their established character, not something shaping how we feel about them. After all, things have different emotional weight depending on where they happen in a story. Make sense?

Now, what’s funny about this is Snyder got the term “saving the cat” from the movie Alien. At the end of the film, the crew decides to blow up their ship to kill the alien and our heroine Ripley makes a point of grabbing the ship’s cat, Jonesy, and getting him to the shuttle rather than leaving him behind. The cat is saved and screenwriting manuals are changed forever.

But the thing is… this happens in the last half hour of the movie. We’re ninety minutes into it. If somebody haven’t figured out Ripley’s the hero at this point, I don’t know if seeing her save Jonesy is going to change anything for them. So the very act saving the cat is named after… isn’t really a save the cat moment.

And all of this brings us back to patting dogs.

There’s a weird moment a lot of <cough> less well-developed stories have that usually involves an antagonist being redeemed in some way. And this redemption is often tied to them doing something… well, really minor. They went on that blood-soaked rampage and murdered hundreds of people but heeeeey, they scratched that good boy behind the ears so I guess they’re okay. All’s forgiven! It’s a weak excuse to switch a character from villain to hero for… reasons.

I call this patting the dog (from the previously-mentioned Benny Hill skit). There’s two key things that give it away. First is that it’s trying to make us change how we see a character, and that change is almost always from negative to positive. Saving the cat is trying to establish our perception of a character, but patting the dog is usually trying to reverse it. And doing so in a clumsy, unnatural way that doesn’t match up with everything else we’ve seen the character do.

Second is that patting the dog almost always happens much later in a story. Again, logic. If I’m trying to change your thoughts on a character, you need to have existing thoughts on a the character. I have to have built them up as one thing before I can change them to something else. So patting the dog is very much a third act sort of thing.

And I’m not saying characters can’t have a big change over the course of a book. But that’s just it. When someone’s patting the dog, it isn’t over the course of a book, it’s happening all at once. It’s a switch flipping and now things are different.

Y’see, Timmy, these two ideas often get lumped together, and I hope I’ve helped you see they’re very different things. One’s a useful tool and one… I probably want to avoid.

So maybe I want to look at that little story beat from my current work in progress and see which category it’s in. Does it happen earlier or later in my book? Is it helping my readers get to know a character or trying to make them think differently about said character? And if it’s trying to make them think differently, is it doing it in a believable, natural way?

Those are some questions I’ve been asking myself lately, anyway.

Next time… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get to squeeze in some quick thoughts about the holidays? But if not, I guess we’ll be doing the end of the year wrap up.

Until then… go write.