Characters Who Don’t Change
Two newsletters ago I wrote about how characters change in stories (you can find that article here). Today I want to share a bit about the types of characters who don't change (or don't change much).
Superheroes rarely change, since their stories depend on a consistency of character that tends to represent a higher moral code in the service of maintaining a way of life that terrible villains are determined to destroy. These plot-heavy stories deliver a lot of action and minimal emotional depth. Such stories are satisfying because we follow an active journey that starts with order, quickly descends into chaos, and then returns to order once the antagonists are defeated.
James Bond isn’t exactly a superhero, but his character functions as one—he remains consistent in his character as he defeats larger than life villains. We’re entertained by this, but we don’t tend to seek out these stories for their emotional depth.
The main character of a long-running genre series may not seem to change much, but throughout a series small incremental changes may add up to an overall arc of change for the main character. Series writers usually plan for a very long, drawn out arc, with small shifts in character, or repeated attempts-to-change-but-fail cycles, occurring episode by episode until a breakthrough at the end.
We depend on series characters to stay quite consistent for multiple stories to work, but you'll notice that most of them are dealing with something in the past they are wrestling with emotionally, and over the entire series there is some change from book one to book twelve (or whatever), with a tiny slice of that character’s overall evolution reflected in each book.
Some writers don’t plan a final ending, because the point is to have an endless plot-heavy episodic series, as with James Bond, Sherlock Holmes, or Nancy Drew. In these cases, other authors can pick up where the last original one left off.
A character's degree of change, or growth can be small. A tough detective who’s really hard on his new partner might soften and finally offer some earned respect by the end of one or several episodes. In the course of finding a killer, he might have to reckon with a personal weakness and this new partner steps up to the plate. It might be small, but it's there, even if, as part of each episode, the character simply tries to change a little and fails every time.
Sometimes it’s enough for readers just to hold the question of change throughout the story. Will Sherlock overcome his addiction? Will he learn to be more sociable and kind? The answer can be no, or the change can be subtle, but change is "on the table" in story. If it's not, it's hard to stay interested, unless the story is so plot heavy that it’s the main focus, as with James Bond and superhero stories. But even with James Bond, we are left to wonder if he’ll settle for this leading lady or finally be bested by this particular villain. The possibility for change is always present. Superheroes often face a test of will or faith. They may have to overcome temptation to remain consistently heroic.
Certain comedic characters don’t have an arc because the humour lies in character consistency. We count on Groucho Marx to be Groucho Marx. If he recognized a blind spot and healed a deep wound, he just wouldn’t be funny anymore. Groundhog Day is a comedy, but not a pure one, because the main character does change, albeit reluctantly, which is a big part of what makes this movie funny.
In drama, tragic characters don’t change. In tragedies, the main characters get stuck in their growth arc. They may become aware of their destructive limitations but they choose to reject the new awareness and stick to old ways of doing things. This conscious refusal to change, to deny the invitation to move toward wholeness, leads to either a failure to achieve their story goal or, if successful in achieving the goal, the consequences for having done so are far more negative than if it hadn’t been sought or achieved at all.
Antagonists generally follow a tragic character arc. At odds with your main character’s values and goals, antagonists pursue goals for seemingly wrong reasons, though they themselves believe they are doing the right thing. They are driven by mistaken or twisted beliefs and may also be harbouring an old wound. They may have opportunities to heal their wound and change their beliefs, but they don’t take them and instead choose a destructive end. Antagonists and tragic characters often represent how not to be in the world.
There are also some stories that aren’t tragedies, or pure comedies, or superhero romps, in which a main character doesn’t change much or at all. And that’s part of the point of the story.
Forrest Gump is such a character. He experiences a lot of different things but remains essentially the same. We absorb the potency of his entrenched beliefs, which are mostly innocent and positive, and they rest on values most of us aspire to—respect and tolerance for others, acceptance for what is, unconditional love, etc. When a character already represents the moral stance the story intends to convey, there’s no need for them to change. The story works, however, in the sense that it’s emotionally satisfying and meaningful, because the characters around the main character change. If you decide to create a character like this, just remember that someone in the story must change, even if it’s not the main character.
In Forrest Gump, Lieutenant Dan and Jenny are saved from the tragic arcs they might otherwise act out. Gump’s consistency of character sends a stronger message to viewers through his impact on Dan and Jenny, whose character arcs fulfill the need for change in the story.
For a story to be satisfying and meaningful, for it to have some depth, someone must change, but it doesn’t always have to be the main character.
Write well,
P.S. As summer wraps up are you thinking of your fall writing goals? I'd love to help you take your next steps. Consider one of my upcoming retreats or classes. Or reach out for a Story Chat. These are new, limited availability, 1:1 sessions, lasting 45 minutes, during which we can talk about anything story or writing related. September openings are listed now, and each newsletter will contain a link to the next month's openings.
