Ever since I knew the least bit about writing, I started proofreading.
Like...everything.
Cereal boxes, yogurt, magazines, ads.
And then I thought that I could do everything ten times better if I were hired by a company as a marketing writer. And then, a few months ago, I was hired as a marketer/salesman/distributor (long story), and I found myself saddled with the task of writing a whole brochure about jewelry in twenty-four hours. And then my first draft got blown out of the water by another editor, and I had to rewrite it.
Heh. Heh. Heh.
What goes around comes around.
Anyway, I still critique any bit of writing in sight; it's just one of those weird writing problems that I'll carry around until the day I die, mercilessly beating the snot out of other peoples' written babies, muahahahahahahaha~
Well, I've been thinking about antiheroes frequently of recent, mostly because I'm realizing exactly how much I like to write them as well as how exactly and drastically I'd be one if I were a character in a story.
An antihero, according to TV Tropes, is "an archetypal character ... almost as common in modern fiction as the ideal hero ... [who] is a protagonist ... [and] has the opposite of most of the traditional attributes of a hero. They may be bewildered, ineffectual, deluded, or merely apathetic. More often, an antihero is just an amoral misfit."
In other words...
For example, some antiheroes (who also happen to be some of my favorite and most adored characters to ever enter fiction) are: Huckleberry Finn, Jay Gatsby, and Jace Lightwood. In anime/movies, you'll find Batman, Han Solo, Jack Sparrow, Karma Akabane, and Izaya Orihara.
What makes a hero different from an antihero though? According to this great chart by Anthony Ehlers, heroes tend to be idealists: classic handsome/pretty looks, high-ground morals (no blatant sins and a strong initiative against evil for the sake of justice and peace, etc.), and success (whether it be with the plot or with the princess girlfriend). Meanwhile, antiheroes are realists, who are often scarred by the past, who believe that the end justifies the mean, and who tend to be driven by self-interest.
Why do I like antiheroes so much? Here are a few reasons:
1.) Antiheroes raise the stakes of a plot.
A hero is only willing to sacrifice his own time and resources for any given goal. However, when a hero can't acquire his goal by his own sacrifice, he is stuck (and must be saved by a Deus-Ex-Machina or an intervention or whatever plot device you have at hand). Meanwhile, the antihero is willing to sacrifice basically anything for any given goal, including other people. Therefore, when an antihero can't acquire his goal by his own sacrifice or by the sacrifice of other people/other people's things, things really get dicey.
2.) Most humans (eheh, including me) relate better to the antihero than to the hero.
Being dirty and more inclined to darkness, antiheroes depict a clear image of selfish, proud humankind. Most people won't claim to own good motives and to do good constantly and passionately like a hero, but many people will claim to own good motives and to do evil occasionally and premeditatedly because they "gave it their best" or "did all they could." There's desperation in an antihero, a desperation and a hopelessness that drives him through his valleys of sin.
3.) Let's just be honest. You can do so much more with antiheroes.
Antiheroes have twisted, conflicted thought patterns; they leave the audience curious because, while they tend to do evil, they might have a really good heart inside. In a crisis situation, it's a coin-flip as to whether they'll actually choose good or evil. On the other hand, heroes are typical and predictable, being as that they'll save as many people as they can and act according to whatever is best for the world. Boring, boring, boooring.
Anyway, now that I've convinced you to write an antihero (because they're basically all my soul mates), you'll probably need some help in the actual writing process. Here's one more article that I really liked that might be useful in your word-filled adventures.
So I was catching up on all the Youtube videos that I haven't seen over the last fortnight ('cause, yay, finals time with school), and I found this video by Sam Tsui and Kurt Schneider. This is totally an author moment, but, legitimately, I never realized how perfectly 'Immortals' and 'Centuries' by Fall Out Boy fits The Immortals (a short story that I wrote that should be published very, very soon), and Entropy (the sequel, which I'm writing now).
"They say we are what we are,
but we don't have to be.
I'm bad behavior, but I do it in the best way."
"I try to picture me without you, but I can't."
"Sometimes, the only pay-off for having any faith
is when it's tested again and again - everyday.
I'm still comparing your past to my future.
It might be your wound, but they're my sutures."
"Just one mistake
is all it will take.
We'll go down in history."
"I never meant for you to fix yourself."
"We've been here forever,
and here's the frozen proof.
I could scream forever.
We are the poisoned youth."
"You're a cherry blossom.
You're about to bloom.
You look so pretty, but you're gone so soon."
Hehe, yeah, uber small personal fangirl moment. Moment is now over.
Aaanyway, here's an update of my writing life:
1.) I'm, of course, still writing Entropy. ^.^ Ash and Jewel sometimes have too much fun.
2.) I'm co-writing a story with the lovely and enormously...creative (?) Molly, which has been quite an adventure. (I thought I was both gory and insane until I let her create a character who basically manipulates and breaks my character's will to live.) Maybe if she lets me, I'll post a bit of our freakish creation later. XD
3.) Poetry and lyrics are always a must, scribbled on napkins, notepads, my hand (which is bad because I made a really good line and lost it when I took a shower TT_TT). *does not advise*
4.) And, lastly, I've been having a lot of fun with this Tumblr blog, which is basically everything I ever wanted to know about any character I'd ever create. :) Hip hip hooray for all the obsessive INFJs in this world. x)
"You and I - we've been through a lot together, and I look back and I just, uh, I appreciate all the times that we had together, you know? I remember just going down in my room, and you know dealing -- trying to deal with some things, and you have always been there for that. Always. It's me and you.
You and I been best friends ever since I was a young kid.
Everything we did,
where has time went?
Got a lot of years coming up ahead of us and ever since we met,
I knew we'd get somewhere,
but the fact is I ain't really, I ain't really know when.
I don't really know how either,
but I can feel the goosebumps,
my skin,
writing.
I've been waiting for the moment.
You and I gon' make it happen.
Lot of people thinking we ain't gonna make it rapping. I ain't got a problem with 'em, though. They don't even matter. We ain't looking for the people tryna say that we the baddest. No, never liked that.
Came a long way; never did it for the money.
We ever make it big; I'm a give it to the family.
Looking back now, everything is lookin' funny. You and I in the room writing up late when the moon strikes us. We don't care if they do like us. Writing song for the haters we ain't even got yet.
Free-styling somebody turn the mic up.
Talking bout things we don't really understand,
talking bout things we don't really comprehend,
me and you tryna get it.
We ain't quitting 'til the end.
Now I'm standing on stage tryna give it to the fans.
We took that karaoke machine from our room, and, ah, we put it up to the CD player and played the instrumentals. Man...we've come a long way, a long way.
I made a lot of mistakes. You've been there for the whole thing, help me with the drama.
Rapping in the car outside daily, we don't care if it's the winter; we don't care if it's the summer.
I remember writing raps with the curse words.
I just wanna hear it.
It seems like everybody does it,
did it for a while, wasn't into all the cussing.
Trying to find who I was,
being everything I wasn't,
real life, yeah!
Gotta lot of anger,
you know where I'm at:
put it all over the pages
and wrote in in the raps,
so that we could be amazing
if I give us a chance.
Now I'm looking around like,
yeah, look at where we at,
look at where we at now.
We ain't made it yet, but they can hear us in the background coming.
Some are gonna hate it; some are gonna love it.
I'm a put it in His hands and let God do the judging, yeah.
Remember me and you?
Always had you in the backpack, took you into school,
writing on you like it's nothing.
Lot people in the room see me scribbling on the page,
but they ain't got a clue.
No, they ain't got a clue.
Weird to begin with,
hoping, some day, I can say we made it and we did it.
You ain't nothing but a notepad to me.
Who you kidding?
You know what's crazy is this just started as something that was an escape for us, you know? And now, I look around, and there's a lot of people going through the same things, you know, we been through, and now this music we write is actually making an impact. It's crazy."
Well, since Jace finally kicked my inner writing soldier back into action, I am happily continuing on my journey of creating non-sob stories. *evil laugh* However, due to my long author hiatus, I have come back with a strange new writing disease, which I affectionately call: STOP ACTING LIKE YOU'RE AN ENTP.
This disease has affected all of my characters, most of whom aren't even close to ENTPs in nature: INFJs, ESFJs, and the like. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, then fie - and go look up Myers-Briggs because it's a beautiful system for the 5-10% of us Rationals who actually care [and for our Idealist boyfriends and girlfriends, who get involved in the system to show that they love us]. ;) [Yeah, okay, that was a lot of stereotypes all at once; take it or leave it.])
Unfortunately, I'm not quite sure there's anything I can do about this sickness since I'm already fully infected. Recently, I've been watching an anime whose main character is an ENTP (Edward Elric, ENTP | Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood), one of my in-real-life work associates is an ENTP, and I've been scouring every single Youtube video on Vic Mignogna's con panels that exists in the internet world (because he's an epic, voice acting ENXP). Basically, I'm already pretty "far gone."
(And, yes, I put "far gone" in quotation marks because, as much as I want to get my story done before a certain date [i.e. the day when I become living-challenged], I really just love seeing six or seven ENTPs go at each others' throats with their snarky ingenuity.)
But, seriously, guys, ENTPs are pretty great characters.
They're surprisingly original, not necessarily in the problem-solving realm only (*cough RATIONAL STEREOTYPES cough*), but in how they speak and choose to phrase their mindsets. They're energetic and determined, relentlessly, passionately, and simultaneously chasing after countless ideas. And, best of all, they're knowledgable but insensitive/arrogant, which gives them plenty of room for character development. Here's a standard description of ENTPs (for the SJs), a description of ENTPs in a post-apocalyptic survival environment (for the SPs), and an organized data spread of ENTPs' growth functions (for the NTs). (Why don't I have a resource for NFs? Because THEY DON'T NEED ONE, those crazy-amazing, empathetic sponges.)
Lastly, here are three habits that ENTPs tend to frequent that might help you out in your own writing to give an ENTP charrie more depth and description:
1.) Like most Rationals, ENTPs tend to have finger-tic habits. While INTJs tend to be a bit more fidgety (playing with rings, tugging on a shirt, fiddling with glasses, etc.) and ENTJs tend to be a bit more deliberate (massaging fingers, cracking knuckles, flipping a pen, etc.), ENTPs will often tap their fingers along any available hard surface for this soft, SJ-infuriating "thump thump" sound.
2.) ENTPs also tend to move their eyes quickly when they talk. This isn't a submissive movement, like shifting the gaze down and then back up; it's more like they're finding something stunningly interesting within the opposite walls of the room every split second, flitting their eyes back and forth and blinking fairly rapidly.
3.) Think about Robert Downey Jr. and how he constantly starts and stops sentences, not in a stuttering manner, but as if he has too many thoughts going on at once and as if all those thoughts are vying for attention so that they all kind of tumble out in a cascade of snipped, incoherent phrases. Yeah, that's an ENTP thing.
That said, I'm now off to go rip my brain out and clean it in SJ and SP juice until it quits thinking like an NT or an NF so that I can get back to my story. I'll let you know how my efforts go. x)
“I've thought about it, Clove; I thought about why.”
Jace approaches me again, a strange dead grief in his black gaze that mirrors my mood. From where I'm seated on the couch with my laptop in front of me, I can see clearly that our auras are running parallel tracks: neither of us really doing too hot. Ruffled, unkempt hair, mauve half-moons of exhaustion under our eyes, compliance in our actions - life and its terrible foreshadowing of the future has crushed our wills, kept us both awake late at night, consumed our typical fervent courage.
Still, I try to hold up, but the effort is weak.
"So what'd you find?"
Without responding, Jace sits down next to me and leans forward, resting his face in his hands and exhaling deeply. I know that exhale: like he's trying to let part of his soul escape freely. Putting my laptop aside, I lean on his shoulder and wrap my arm protectively over his back, knowing already that we've come across the same conclusion in this period of our lives.
"What's the point, Clove?"
His query is tight and muffled, and, when he exhales again, he shakes. My own body tenses with nausea at the feeling of his trembling.
"I’m sick of hearing the same words over and over," he says at last, monotone, "I know you wrote Araine and I to never be together again...because, really, I'm just you in a different world, aren't I? So what's the point? Until circumstances change for you, they won't change for me. You simply don't know what it'd be like to meet again with your best friend after you've been separated for so long, so you can't write us back together."
I don't reply to his accusations.
I have no defense.
"Clove," there's new pleading in his voice now, and the room suddenly goes blurry to me, "you haven't written anything in forever, and what you do write is sappy junk. You always said that writing is a way to convey emotions, so take a good long look at what you've been releasing in the wings of your words. It's been the same song for months, an indication of emotional stagnancy, an indication that you're giving in to quick surrender."
My hands tighten into fists, and I bite my lower lip.
"You weren't given heroine strengths and weaknesses for no reason. Clove, you have the ability to change yourself, even if you can't change what you're given." Jace pulls away from me and catches my gaze in his. "Please. It always seems pathetic to fight against what neither of us can help, but, if you keep zoning out like this, finding ten thousand ways to write the same dull pain, you're useless. Get your head back in the game, idiot; I'm done listening to you whine about your lack of will when you refuse to put in the sacrifice required to improve, got it?"
Those words, threats, demands.
He's only too right about everything: about me, about him, about why I can't write anything solid anymore. My hot tears drench my face silently, and I get up, angrily shoving him away and stalking out of the house for a nighttime run.
