I have two sons. One is a quiet, reserved kid, but the other … not so much. My younger boy needs an audience. He craves affirmation the way some people crave ice cream, and he will go to great lengths to get it. (The attention, not the ice cream. Though he’s a fan of that as well.)
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t drive me batty sometimes. This is a kid who will go through multiple iterations of the same routine just to get a reaction out of you, and if your response isn’t quite what he’s looking for, there’s a good chance he’ll cry.
In case you’re wondering what exactly it is the 5-year-old is crying about, allow me to quote him directly.
“Because you didn’t think I was funny.”
Holy crap! That really hit home the first time I heard it. When I mentioned to my wife that our son’s almost constant need for recognition might be related to my own desire to tell stories, she gave me one of her smiles that said I was arriving pretty late to that particular party. As long as I’m quoting family members here, I might as well give you her best line from that day.
“I knew you’d figure it out when you were ready to hear it.”
My wife, she is a mental ninja. Be forewarned.
So, dear reader, let me be totally up front with you here. I need you to love me, or at least find me somewhat amusing. I’d prefer the former, but beggars can’t be choosers.
The best way I know how to connect with you, to try and get that admiration that my son and I both crave, is to let you poke around in my head a little. When you read my words, I need to seem human to you. I need to be honest and vulnerable and show you the ways that we are alike. I need you to hear my voice on the page and feel it resonate with you on some basic level. The best way I know how to do that is in the first person.
I think that every character a writer creates is some version of him or herself. No matter how sweet or sinister, no matter how nasty or nice, the writer is the genesis for all those story people. How could there not be overlapping traits and thoughts?
When I write a story, I inevitably think of myself as the protagonist. I’m sure that says a lot about me as a person, and not a lot of what it says is flattering, but it’s the truth. When I create a character, I try to put myself in his or her shoes. I abuse them mercilessly, and then try to picture how I would react, both internally and externally. When I figure those parts out, I write them down.
First person is the warmest point of view, and it seems to work best for the way I want to communicate with the world. I want you to empathize with the characterized version of me, and to do that, I need you right in the thick of things. You need to have a first-hand experience of events and be privy to the thoughts and fears that motivate the protagonist.
I want you to root for them not because their continued existence means the story will go on. I want you to be on their side because in some alternate version of reality you could see yourself being friends with that character. They are somebody you’d like to hang out with. You’re fond of them. You care about them. And by extension, you’ll come to care about me.
By going about storytelling this way, I can’t help but let you in on the way I think and give you a glimpse into how I see the world. It’s a little bit funny, a little bit tragic, and a whole lot of pretending that I don’t take myself too seriously.
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