So I’ve shared my thoughts on antagonists—what about
the challenge of creating a three-dimensional PROtagonist? I have run into this issue throughout my work
and have witnessed the struggle peers endure while trying to merge credibility
with the heroic qualities that protagonists are often expected to live up
to.
For me it can be a walk on a tight rope. In my first work, Secrets of the Tudor Court, Mary Howard is a protagonist and victim
of abuse. I explore her skewed thinking
based on how being raised by a narcissist father beating her mother may affect
her emotional processes and choices. I
fashioned her as sweet, yet balanced her anguished tenderness against the
disillusionment with the at-times fatal court intrigues. In my interpretation of her life, this helped add a jaded quality
to her as she aged. In Secrets' . . . companion piece, Rivals in the Tudor Court, the tightrope
lost its net. Thomas Howard, the 3rd
Duke of Norfolk, his wife Elizabeth, and his mistress Bess are a strange
mixture of pro- and antagonists. They are flawed, some blatantly so, but in my portrayal, I illustrated the massive
struggles they were up against, within themselves, and with the man they loved
(Norfolk included in his own self-love). No easy
task, but to date, that challenge remains my favorite of my Tudor novels, I must admit, because
of the dynamics of these three complex individuals.
My third work, The
Sumerton Women, includes characters of my own creation to highlight the British
Reformation; the event itself could be called pro or antagonist dependent on
one’s personal stand. Cecily Burkhart is
the unmitigated protagonist, with a few good folks backing her up. She has also been my most critiqued
character. Cecily is presented as good,
no doubt; evolving her as she aged into a strong, independent woman who owned
her mistakes was how I infused her with the qualities of those I know in “real
life”—good people despite and because of their flaws. Indeed, they do exist!
Of my Tudor novels, my most difficult protagonist proved
to be “my” Margaret Tudor. She is a
toughie, that little redhead! Developing her was standing on a craggy Scottish
highland, gazing into the sky at the unyielding brown-eyed gaze of feisty, determined, yet troubled glory.
Margaret was thrown into Scotland, its queen as a young teen, expected to
rule, breed, and defend the crown, while remaining true to her English Tudor
roots as best she could. A heady task
for a headstrong woman. Margaret was, in
my estimation, ruled by her fiery Sagittarian heart, which led to poor
choices. Can a protagonist be a true
protagonist while exercising the poor judgment our lovely Queen of Scots did so
many times? Of course, says I! That’s what made her a protagonist. She
tried. She fell. She got up.
She fell again. And again and again. But kept on
trying. And (spoiler alert), though her
life did not go as planned or hoped, Margaret drew on her own unique brand of
strength and still wore her crown, head held high.
I have works up my sleeve these days, in which I
hope to keep growing in my building of complex protagonists. As a writer, creating characters are like
birthing children—you don’t quite know what you’re going to get, but you’re going
to love the heck out of ‘em regardless.
In the best of worlds, protagonists can be balanced, raw, and real—flawed,
but still embraced. And, hopefully, adored.
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