Flawed Characters and Conflict

One major problem that I face in writing for the late-middle grades is that I’m so far removed from them. I’m not only over the hill, I’m way down the hollow.

We don’t have children, and I don’t really remember what it was like to be 12 or 13, although I do remember hating it. It’s one reason why I’ve been immersing myself in middle-grade and YA fiction for a year, to relive the horror of those memories. It’s helped.

But better still, I live with a book doctor. Although Kristina would bristle at the title, it’s apt. I am certain that she could do it for a living and command top dollar.

Here’s a terrific example. One of the key story lines in my WIP, The Secrets of the Hotel Maisonneuve, has the family is walking the razor’s edge of insolvency. Everyone is under so much stress from the outside world, so I naturally imagined them pulling together. And I wanted my protagonist, Jacob Jollimore, not to be as self-centered as teenagers often are. I wanted him to make sacrifices for the family.

Kristina was having none of that horseshit. In my original scene, Jacob has just found a valuable book in the old hotel, and the money from its sale could help the family over a difficult hump. So, after a “serious” discussion around the dinner table, Jacob agrees to let his parents sell it.

It was so adult, and so stupid. And it was as dull as dishwater.

For one thing, his parents would never ask him to sell the book. Never in a thousand years. They’ve already ruined his summer, and put their kids under incredible pressure. They would go down as the Worst Parents in History. Secondly, in my original scene, Jacob gives in after feeling sorry for himself for a few minutes.

Kristina made me rewrite the entire chapter so that it was sparking with conflict, and to have Jacob’s seventeen-year-old sister deliver the coup de grace. I think it’s a pivotal scene in the book simply because it was the first time I felt comfortable with the dialogue, and with making Jacob a flawed character.

Which isn’t to say that this complete rewrite hasn’t been heavily edited again. Kristina and I have made many changes to the scene. We’ll make many more.

It’s vitally important to invite someone into your work, to accept their comments graciously, and to rewrite it until all the rough edges are gone.

Let me know what you think of the fight between Hannah and Jacob. Both barrels, please!

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Trudging up the stairs, he could tell that Hannah was furious. He could almost see the sparks bristling from her shoulders.

“What?” he called after her.

But from over her shoulder she shot him a look that was pure venom. She ushered him into her bedroom with just a bit of force. Her room was in worse shape than his. Some of the early work on the house had loosened the cracked plaster ceiling and it had collapsed soon after they moved in. The mess had been cleared up, but the gaping holes constantly rained fresh dust.

“So just what part of this situation are you missing?” She was seething; it almost came out as a hiss, like she was a Slytherin Prefect. Jacob had never seen her like this.

“What?”

“Don’t play stupid, Jacob. I know you’re not stupid.”

“Uh, I guess I am. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The book, you idiot, the book!”

“What about the book?”

“You need to give it to Mom and Dad so they can sell it, obviously.”

“Sell it? What the hell are you talking about? Obviously?”

Hannah visibly clenched her jaw, but didn’t say a word.

“No. It’s mine, I found it,” Jacob continued, after a hesitation. “And in case you haven’t noticed, it’s the first good thing that’s happened to me since—well, before.”

Hannah looked daggers at him.

“Good things aren’t falling from the sky for anyone else here, either, buddy! I know you’re having a crappy summer, but God forbid you notice that anyone else is having a crappy, crappy summer. Mom is, Dad is, I am, and so are you.

“But the rest of us are doing everything we can to get out of this mess. And you need to get with the program.”

“What are you talking about? I’m pulling more weight around this old dump than you, dearest. I work my butt off every day with Jean-Claude and Dad.”

“We’re talking about the book, Jacob. The book.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face, as if trying to keep him focused.

“It’s going to be worth a couple thousand dollars, and Mom and Dad need the money a hell of a lot more than you do. You don’t seem to realize that they’re a centimeter from bankruptcy.”

Jacob gulped. No, he hadn’t realized.

“The cost overruns — all the goddamn plumbing — the rat’s nest electricity, the structural problems the first contractor caused —” here she waved an arm toward her ceiling —”There is no more money. Mom and Dad aren’t going to be able to hold on much longer. Do you know what bankruptcy means? You think things are bad now?”

Jacob wasn’t about to let on, but Hannah was right. He’d had no idea. He hadn’t noticed their problems through the haze of his own.

“Well, if you’re so scared, why aren’t you helping?”

Hannah actually screamed. She hurled the first thing that came to hand at his head with all of her considerable might. Thankfully, it was just a dusty pillow.

Jacob was stunned into silence. He had never seen her like this. Never. This wasn’t his kind, generous sister. They seldom fought, and never like this.

“Seriously? What do you think I’m doing, Jacob? The job at the restaurant. It’s hard, hard work. I’m exhausted, and I make $450 a week. I keep $20 for my Metro pass, and I give the rest to Mom and Dad.

“Guy is paying for everything this summer. Everything. We go to a movie, he pays. We go for coffee, he pays. When my friends want to go out and Guy’s not around, I don’t go. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

He hadn’t.

Hannah was blinking back tears, her arms folded across her chest. She looked away.

“And now Mom and Dad are worried sick about Mrs. Nguyen. Look, I know you didn’t mean to, but you hurt a little old lady. What if she decides to sue us? They’d never climb out of that hole.

“So, I know it sucks, but you have to do this. You have to give that book to Mom to sell.”

And just like that, it was done. She deflated.

Only Hannah could have wounded him this deeply.

Jacob couldn’t say what he was thinking. In fact, he couldn’t say anything at all. It was all so unfair, all of it. A huge lump had formed in his throat, and he couldn’t swallow, let alone talk. He brushed a tear away with a rough hand, his cheeks hot with frustration.

Hannah threw an arm around his shoulder, and while only she could wound him so, it was also true that only she could cheer him up.

So for a moment he cried with rage for a hard, cold world, for an endless, friendless summer, with sadness for a little old lady with raccoon eyes and for a family that had lost all their worldly goods. But mostly for himself, and for all the overwhelming challenges he had to face in this new life: the Neanderthal, Mrs. Nguyen’s furious silence, this falling-down dump of a new home.

And while he felt like he could go on forever, Jacob controlled himself as soon as he could. With a last pinch of spite, he wiped his nose on her shoulder just before pulling away, the way he had when he was little.

Hannah contemplated the streak on her T-shirt with disgust for a moment. Then, “I guess I deserved that.”

Which made them both chuckle. Like the old days.

“OK,” Jacob said with a shuddering sigh. “I’ll do it.”

But he felt like someone was sitting on his chest.