Popping Gum, Tapping Fingers, and 101 Things We Love to Hate

You’ve been standing in the checkout line for five minutes, and the poor cashier is visibly distressed as she tries to rush all the customers through. You’ve only got a candy bar and a head of lettuce, plus the grocery store is air conditioned, so it’s not the end of the world. The lady in front of you has an overflowing carriage, and - you can tell from the size of her chunky wallet - a lot of coupons. You know it’s going to be a while, so you’ve taken to flipping through a magazine sitting at the checkout counter.

That’s when you hear it. At first, you think it might be a trick of your desperate imagination – but no! There it is again! You look up at the man who has just strolled behind you, and realize he is the source of the subtle hint of wintergreen in the air, and the source of that noise.

Suddenly you’re aware of all the noises – not just the elastic snap of chewing gum bubbles, but also manicured fingers tapping, neck joints cracking, off-key whistling… it fills the inside of your skull until you feel like you have to scream.

These little quirks, the things that trigger our irrationally angry responses, are the ones that lead us to negatively judge the people around us… and the characters we read.

Take Dolores Umbridge for example. We knew we hated her from the moment she first stuck her mousy little face into Harry’s business. Nothing Umbridge did at the start was wrong, per se, but we instantly knew we hated her. It was in the details. Her pink cardigan sweater was too “pretty” for the mystique and magic of Hogwarts. Her kitten plates were disgustingly cute. Every time she wanted to say something, she said, “Ahem.” It was that “ahem” that had us from the start.

It’s brilliant, really.

Writing an annoying character is no different than experiencing one. Think – what are the little things? The things that make us want to strangle a complete stranger? You don’t want to tell your reader that

George was an annoying git. From his head to his toes, there was not a single thing about him she could stand.

but rather

George sniffed at the air with repulsion and began picking at the dirt beneath his fingernails, clicking his tongue along with the second hand on the clock.  She covered her ears, but the noise echoed in her head, and all she could see when she closed her eyes was his nose in the air, like he was better than her.

Which one would you rather read?  Which one gives a clearer image of George?  The real majesty of villain - major, minor, or annoyance - is in the details, because the details connect to the reader, and suddenly it's a little easier to fit into the protagonist's shoes... because we all know someone a little like Dolores Umbridge, and we'd like nothing better than to set centaurs loose on her.

Great Scott!: Why Everyone Knows Who Doc Brown Is.

You might not know his name.  You may not know he was played by Christopher Lloyd.  But when someone tells me to envision a crazy, wild-eyed scientist, you know who I think of?  Dr. Emmett L. Brown.  His character stands out as one that is well rounded, an intriguing personality, and frankly - I think we all wish we knew somebody a little like him.  But don't worry - I won't tell.

I'm not the only one that thinks Doc Brown is remarkable.  Empire Magazine ranked him #76 on their list of the 100 Greatest Movie characters, and this is what they have to say on the subject:

The white hair may be standard issue mad scientist, but Doctor Emmett Brown, creator of the flux capacitor and a man incapable of normal social interaction because his head is too busy buzzing with ideas, is a genuinely likeable creation, a world away from stereotypes. So much so that, when he gets shot by Libyans ten minutes in, we're sad even though we've only just met the man. And joyous again when we meet his younger self. Now that's acting.

And that last sentence says a lot:  Now that's acting.  If George Clooney or John Goodman were to step into the character of Emmett Brown, it wouldn't be the same.  He'd still be charming, but he wouldn't be him.  Part of the charm of the character comes directly from the quirkiness of Christopher Lloyd himself.  The actor brings just as much to the character as the writers do.

Why does this all matter in a writing blog?  How much different are books from movies?  In the end, they both tell a story, just through different mediums.  Characters are of equal importance in both.  It is the characters that the readers/viewers fall in love with, the characters they talk about.  Sure, Lothlorien is lovely, but isn't Galadriel haunting?  The world can only handle so many Harry Potters, so many Edward Cullens.  There comes a time to break through the mold and start creating Doc Browns.

Let me tell you a little more about Doc Brown.  First of all, he has his signature appearance:  the crazy white hair is a must.  It's Einstein-esque, which gives him the feel of an inventor from the very first.  His eyes are always very wide, as though he is discovering something new every moment.  He's very conservative - you never see Doc Brown in bold colors.  The brightest we get is a muted blue Hawaiian shirt, and if you live in a touristy place, you know that is a darned conservative Hawaiian shirt.  It's also important to see that Doc never changes - they make a sort of joke about it in the second movie when they say he's (basically) had plastic surgery to make himself look younger, so he's wearing a mask so Marty will recognise him.  Lo and behold - when he takes off the mask, he looks exactly the same.

These sorts of things are only stereotypical when for a reason, and they are never blown out of proportion.  I sincerely doubt that the way Doc dresses and looks, anyone can truly state his age.  That ambiguity means a lot - the traditional age-related assumptions go out the window.  That's great!  Also, notice how un-James-Bond-like he is.  The further away from a perfect appearance you can get, the better.

Personality is next.  Doc is quirky, to be sure, but we all are in our own ways.  He's not so quirky that he cannot talk to people, but he chooses not to associate.  He doesn't stand out in a crowd the way a stereotypical "crazy" would - or, at least, the high schoolers at Hill Valley high in 1955 don't seem to notice he's around.  I think my favorite part of his personality is how literally he takes everything.  Certainly, this is realistic enough because as an inventor he is trying to understand everything, but it also makes for subtle comedy:  I think my favorite line is when Marty say's "That's heavy..." and Doc says "There's that word again; 'heavy'. Why are things so heavy in the future? Is there a problem with the earth's gravitational pull?"  You also know that Doc doesn't like to be alone, because he keeps a pet dog at all times (Copernicus, then Einstein), and he marries and has children in the third movie.  He is passionate, and needed someone to understand his passion.

And, do I need to go into catchphrases? Whenever someone says "Great Scott," soon to follow is a conversation about Doc Brown, the Back to the Future trilogy, and/or time travel.

With a closer look at Doc Brown, is it so difficult to see why he's such a likeable character?  He is his own person:  charming, witty, intelligent, caring... but at the same time, he struggles with the same basic human needs as the rest of us.  He doesn't have to be tall, blonde, or dreamy to be a truly great character... he is a great character because of his reality.

So go, writers all, and show me that you you have a unique, interesting character in all of you.  Show me your Doc Brown.

And, as a side note for those Back to the Future fans and Behind the Scenes nerds like me out there - here's an old promotion for Universal Studios Florida, filmed in 1988, starring Christopher Lloyd as Doc Brown, your tour guide.

recollections

Blaise curled up against the cold stone floor of the tower, looking at the top of her knees as through there was something terribly interesting about the blue denim. The rain pitter-pattered against the walls, sometimes even flying in through the window and dampening the desolate room a little more. She shivered and wrapped her long black sweater closer around her.

Winter was the most depressing time of the year, whether there was snow or the traditional English rain. Traditionally, winter was the time when the world repainted itself - by magic, it would seem - in the most morose shades of grey it could muster. She wrapped one arm around her stomach and rubbed her eyes with the other. Her fingers linger for a moment, then slid down to her, neck, where the raw skin of not-so-old scars tainted her. It was almost like a tattoo - it screamed "stay away, I have problems!" or "you don't want to be here - I'm different". But she wasn't different. Not any more than she had been. The only thing that ever changed was the way people saw her.

Blaise would be the first to admit that chasing after Danny had been daft. She loved him like a brother and couldn't bear to see him die, even if it meant her own life. Granted, she had never really believe it would come to that, but even when it did, she embraced it. Why, then, had she agreed to return when Kevin came for her? His actions had been stupid, that was certain. But she did not believe that she went for his sake. When she came back to this world, it had been the most painful thing she experienced, like a rebirth. The confusion and hopelessness would have overwhelmed her were it not for a couple people who invested in her. But it had ruined both she and Kevin. Kevin... who was long gone, and now she, the accursed Queen of the Damned.

Queen. Of the Damned. Sometimes it sounded funny in her ears. When Val and Jo and Tyne were around, the whole "queen of the zombies" bit was a joke, a title she wore and was proud of because it was the easier of two tasks. But no good thing lasts forever, and all were gone in time.

Which left here here. Here in the North Tower, listening to the rain fall. She used to enjoy the rain. Blaise used to slip off her shoes, roll up her pants, and run around on the soggy wet grass and let the rain drown her. Now? She sighed and ran her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde hair. Now she was afraid to go out in the rain. Would she rot? She never really knew if her body was rotting or not anyway... but rain and moisture made things worse. It was scary, being brought back to life but not knowing if your own body even really wanted you here.

She never used to be afraid of anything.

Then? Blaise stretched out her legs and ran her fingers through her hair again. Her emerald eyes were closed, imagining what was and never would be.

She was afraid now. Because everything had changed.