Writing Villains in 3D, by Lori Roberts Herbst

 My husband and I recently took two of the grandkids to see the movie Migration in 3D. We settled in with popcorn and Icees and donned our paper-and-plastic glasses, immersing ourselves in the world of animated ducks.

 

 Just as I’m certain every little kid in the theater did at one point, I lifted my glasses to get a glimpse of the movie sans plastic adjusters. Without vision correction, the ducks morphed into blurry blobs, recognizable only because of context. Only when I replaced the glasses did I regain the sharp definition and clarity of colors.

 

The experience got me thinking about the books I read—as well as the ones I write—and the importance of creating a three-dimensional experience. Obviously, authors can’t employ fancy physical gadgets such as 3D glasses, but we have other tools at our disposal. We can crackle dead leaves beneath soft suede moccasins. We can send the scent of pine drifting on an icy breeze. Appealing to the senses draws readers into our fictional settings.

 

But equally important—for me, even more important—is the way authors construct their characters. How does a writer make characters come alive? Make them leap from the pages to become three-dimensional humans that readers feel they know and like — or fear — or sympathize with — or all of the above?

 

As a reader and moviegoer, what I want most from a story is depth of character, and not just regarding the protagonist or supporting cast. The stories I find most satisfying are the ones with layered, human villains.

 

Two-dimensional, cardboard bad guys and gals may still cause me to jump in my seat or chew my nails, but they rarely leave a lasting impression. It’s the tragic villains that live on in my imagination—the characters with a backstory, a vivid and psychologically understandable motivation. 

 

Some of these malefactors express benevolent — albeit misguided — reasons for their evil acts. Think Thanos from the Avengers movies, a man who only wants to save the universe (through annihilation of half the population). Or Erik Killmonger of Black Panther notoriety, whose overarching goal of assisting the disenfranchised has merit (though his manner of implementation leaves something to be desired).

 

Then there are the offenders who aren’t even truly villainous in their hearts. They perpetrate their misdeeds as a result of their own loss, grief, or prior mistreatment. Think Phantom of the Opera, Norman Bates, Severus Snape.

 

Sociologists also posit that some people are “born bad” — that psychopathy and sociopathy are hard-wired into their brains from birth. This served as the premise of the TV series Dexter — genetic sociopathy later channeled by someone else’s moral compass. What a concept.

 

Of course, none of these “reasons” for the perpetration of atrocious acts excuse the villains’ behavior. After all, most people possess free will, along with a capacity for insight and the ability to change. The point is, the richer the antihero’s backstory, the more believable that person becomes, and the more engrossed we become in the story. When readers and moviegoers grasp motives such as vengeance, grief, and ambition, we might even discover a smidgen of empathy, along with a bit of self-reflection and sometimes even discomfort. In similar circumstances, could I succumb to those baser instincts?

 

“There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us.” — Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

Which bad guys/gals have left a lasting impression on you?

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Lori Roberts Herbst writes the Callie Cassidy Mysteries, a cozy mystery series set in Rock Creek Village, Colorado. To find out more and to sign up for her newsletter, go to www.lorirobertsherbst.com