Let’s Mary Sue/Marty Stu!

Suppose you were the hero of your own book:

  1. Give a brief introductory description.
  2. What are your most important qualities for your story?
  3. What is your quest/what is it you need to accomplish?
  4. Who/what is your antagonist?
  5. How will you try to meet your goal?
  6. What weaknesses of yours will get in the way?
  7. What do you learn about yourself?
  8. Do you accomplish your goal?

Actions and Consequences

I just wrote what I suspect is the most unromantic kiss scene ever. The trigger of this was Grace being asked to demonstrate her talent for manipulating emotions, which had an effect in a wider radius than she had counted on:

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Greg bolted from the table and stepped out the back door into the alley. I ran after him, and found him out in the alley, leaning against a grimy brick wall, eyes closed.

I put my hand on his arm. “Greg,” I asked, “Are you okay?”

Before I knew it, Greg had grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me against the wall. He said something in Polish, and of course I couldn’t understand it. His lips met mine, and —

“Oh,” I exclaimed shakily after an explosive moment where he tried to devour me. It had been … strange. Part of me wondered what it meant; the other part of me wondered “Is that all there is?” Not a great feeling for one’s first kiss.

Greg leaned back against the wall beside me, his eyes closed. I noticed the fine lines in his face as I hadn’t before, and I knew he was what my Grandmama would call a lost soul. He took my hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, shouldn’t I be?” What I wanted to ask was “Why did you kiss me?” but I knew I shouldn’t because people didn’t dissect something as special as a kiss, even if there was something all wrong about it. I thought about that wrongness and burst out crying.

“Oh, Lord,” Greg muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to — “

“It’s not that,” I sniffled. “I know you don’t — “

“Grace,” Greg sighed, “I wish I could, but I’m too messed up. I don’t even know if I have feelings anymore. And when my memories get too bad, I — I get overwhelmed and grab onto someone or something to remind me I’m still alive.”

We pulled ourselves away from the wall. Greg enfolded me into a hug, and I wanted to sing him a song about contentment and comfort.
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So let’s look at the actions and their consequences:

  • Grace demonstrates her ability to manipulate emotions, which affects Greg (in the next room)*;
  • Greg has flashbacks and runs out of the room**;
  • Grace chases him to an alley;
  • Greg, after flashbacks, gives Grace a rather rough and unromantic first kiss;
  • She starts crying;
  • Greg apologizes for not having feelings for her;
  • Grace comforts him.
There will be future consequences for Greg and Grace here which will leave readers thinking there will be a “ship” (relationship) here. I’m not telling, except that I’m uneasy about relationships that evolve from near-assaults.
Do actions always have consequences in writing? Not all the time; I would argue not nearly enough. In the action movie genre, the protagonist executes many destructive and illegal actions, but in the end, the protagonist suffers no consequences. Or, as in the Avengers franchise, the good guys cause immense damage (and possibly casualties; that’s kept off screen.) At the end, an oblique mention of a large bill is made; Iron Man pays it. That is wish fulfillment deserving of a Marty Stu*** award. 
I don’t know if this hurts or helps my writing; it is what it is. I like my people to be realistic by their own definitions, even in fantasy. Actions have consequences, even in space or the middle of a pasture or … 
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* Off-stage
** Also off-stage
*** Marty Stu is defined as the male counterpart of the Mary Sue (a character who gets inserted, astonishes everyone, and gets the guy). I will argue that it’s hard to find Marty Stus because they have been defined in Mary Sue (traditional female wish-fulfillment) terms. I consider the Marty Stu as the insertion/wish fulfillment where the hero makes dangerous and destructive decisions and actions, faces no consequences, and yes, gets the girls (usually plural) — in other words, every action movie ever.

Flawed Characters

I’m thinking of the DC vs Marvel universe movie franchises, specifically two characters that are green: The Hulk (Marvel) vs. The Green Lantern (DC).

According to The Hulk’s origin story, Bruce Banner is a mild-mannered physicist who gets clobbered by gamma rays, and turns into a huge, green creature of the ID when he gets angry. As such, he’s a great superhero if one keeps him from smashing innocent bystanders and buildings. Bruce loathes his alter-ego, and this conflict adds depth and feelings of compassion toward his character.

The Green Lantern is a feckless dudebro who finds a lantern and a ring that link him to a network of intergalactic peacekeepers and superpowers. Readers are left wondering if a feckless dudebro should be allowed superpowers. Worse, though, is that we are left with the Hero’s Journey of a privileged male getting more privilege.

One of these is the more interesting character, and it’s not the dudebro.

We want our characters, especially our heroes, to have flaws that get in the way of their quest.

Dan Brown’s books (Inferno, etc.) feature a protagonist named Robert Langdon, who seems at times childishly helpless in his books, which is an intriguing flaw. He comes off as almost on the autism spectrum — focused on cryptology and solving puzzles, a bit clueless about people, led by the hand at times. However, Brown glosses over this with female characters who fall in love with him at the same time they want to mother him*, so there are no consequences of his flaw to him.  In addition, everyone thinks he’s this cultured, articulate genius

Bella Swan in the Twilight series has an almost minuscule flaw — she’s clumsy. Unless she walks through mountains and upon tightropes without a net and almost falls while returning the Treasure of the Incas to the Incas, this flaw won’t affect her meaningfully.  This is part of why Bella is discounted as being a Mary Sue, a perfect character designed as wish fulfillment for the author**.

Examples of good character flaws? In mystery, J.D. Robb created Eve Dallas, a horrifically abused child who grew up to be a good cop, but regularly struggles with nightmares about her past, difficulties in fathoming the rules of relationships, and being triggered by events from her professional life. Any character in Lord of the Rings (with the exception of Merry and Pippin) have baggage — Boromir is so focused on saving his country he is blinded to evil; Aragorn really, really wants to be king; Galadriel is tempted by power, Frodo struggles mightily with the Ring; Eowyn has a painful crush on Aragorn, who marries Arwen in a pragmatic marriage.***

We love reading character flaws, because imperfect characters becoming heroes give us the reassurance that we too, with all of our character flaws, can become heroes.

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* I wish other people considered unrealistic, but there is this charge laid upon American women to “change” their husbands, who don’t want to be changed. And who can blame either for this dynamic?

** The second reason is because female authors are routinely denigrated as writing Mary Sue characters, with the critics not noting that near-perfect characters like James T. Kirk (classic Star trek) and the aforementioned Robert Langdon are Marty Stus, the male equivalent of Mary Sue.

*** The movies portrayed Aragorn and Arwen as a love match. The book is much more pragmatic about that marriage. I wish the movie had followed the book in this case, because the triangle would have much more poignancy.