Last night, instead of popping in a movie like we had originally planned, Joe and I decided to read to each other.
Yes, you read that correctly. We sat on the the couch and took turns reading chapters of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone a loud. And you know what? It was brilliant. Was it because we are particularly fantastic readers of literature? Heavens no. Are we good at crafting interesting voices or acting out scenes? Well, our living room isn’t nearly big enough for that kind of rendition.
It was because it was simple. We started out reading and as we went along we became more enthralled in the story. Both Joe and I are big Harry Potter fans, but even though we have read through the series a few times (one of us a lot more than the other), this was a different kind of reading. It was…well, to put it simply, magical. I know how the story goes. I know more details about HP than I care to admit and still while Joe was reading I gasped in all the right places, I laughed at funny dialogue, and I definitely wanted to kick the Dursleys for everything mean they had ever done to poor Harry.
Then I asked myself, why don’t I feel this kind of magic in other things?
Why is it that when I live my day to day life it is much better to be seen as a Dursley than a witch or wizard? If a kid runs around with a stick in hand pretending to be fighting off Dementors, it’s completely okay. Yet, when adults do it, it’s better to lock them up for the crazies they are.
Now I’m not advocating for everyone to run around shouting Unforgivable Curses, or attempting to fly around on broomsticks, as fun as all that sounds (I’d like to be able to shout a few UCs myself on the metro), but I’m asking why we shy away from such things? Harry Potter was a series that was originally written for children, but as the books went on, it became obvious that adults loved The Boy Who Lived just as much (if not more). Why? Because we crave magic. We crave irregularity. Our lives are so Dursley-ish that when we find something like Hogwarts we dive right in.
The same goes for main characters in stories. How boring would novels be if every main character was like that popular guy who never made a mistake, always got the girl, and scored every winning touchdown? You would hate his stinking guts and probably not finish the story. It’s this principle that makes me angry at the Twilight series. I can’t relate to Bella who apparently smells so delicious she attracts the David-esque perfect handsome iloveyousomuchiwatchyouwhileyousleep vampire. Her “relatable” flaw is her clumsiness. But other than that, she’s perfect. Perfect and bland. But I digress…
We like the oddballs as MCs. We like quirky. We like goofy and misunderstood. Why? Because no matter how cool we might “think” we are, we have the same fears. We make the same mistakes. We’re all secretly rebels like Holden Caulfield dying to get out. These traits are acceptable in books, movies, and other forms of popular culture, but don’t you dare try to emulate them in real life.
Since we are so dictated by societal norms to “act like adults” and I doubt these trends will fade, there is something I DO want to advocate. Make your stories magical. I’m not saying every novel needs to take place in castles with moving stairs and house elves, but make it something that is so believable and real that even on the 2138th read through, your readers will still gasp and laugh and cry. I want to feel magic in the true anguish of The Good Earth or the pitter-patter of my heart when Elizabeth finally realizes her love for Mr. Darcy; magic in the horror of the Hunger Games and those creepy muttations or the happiness in the first time Harry Potter catches the snitch. These are magical moments that completely leap off the pages of the book into my mind, into my life.
But these are magical stories because the authors took chances. They didn’t let what was popular or what was “allowed” dictate what went into their stories. They threw the stupid rule book out the window and just wrote what was real to them. Sure, they have a sense of realism because they write about real characters and some of them about real places, but it’s the heart and soul that goes into them that makes them real. Their warts and flawed characters make them much more likable.
So the next time you’re worrying about your story and your characters, maybe ask yourself how enthralled you are in your own world. What draws you into it? Would you like your MC as a friend? As an enemy? Does it feel magical to you?
This is what I want for my readers. This is what I want for myself.