The Science of Writing Characters


The Science of Writing Characters
Using Psychology to Create Compelling
Fictional Characters

Kira-Anne Pelican
 BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC
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Names: Pelican, Kira-Anne, author.

Title: The science of writing characters: using psychology to create compelling fictional
characters / Kira-Anne Pelican.
Description: New York : Bloomsbury Academic, 2020. | Includes bibliographical
references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020030088 (print) | LCCN 2020030089 (ebook) |
ISBN 9781501357244 (paperback) | ISBN 9781501357251 (hardback) |
ISBN 9781501357237 (epub) | ISBN 9781501357220 (pdf)
Subjects: LCSH: Fiction–Technique. | Fiction–Psychological aspects. | Characters and
characteristics in literature. | Fictitious characters–Psychological aspects. | Typology
(Psychology) | Creative writing–Authorship. | Motion picture authorship.
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To the storytellers whose characters will shake up the status quo and inspire
generations to come.
We need you, perhaps more than we ever have.
 Contents

List of Illustrations x
Acknowledgements xiii

1 Introduction 1
Who is this book for? 2
What makes a great character? 3
Is this another book on Jungian archetypes? 5
How to use this book 8

2 The dimensions of personality 9

Extroversion 11
Agreeableness 17
Neuroticism 20
Conscientiousness 24
Openness to experience 28
The Myers–Briggs Type Indicator 31
Personality traits, culture and context 32
Personality and gender 33
Personality and mental health 33
The Dark and Light Triads of personality 34
Drawing it all together 36

3 How personality shapes dialogue 39

The chatty extrovert 41
The quiet introvert 43
Thoughtful and agreeable 45
Insensitive and disagreeable 49
Anxious and emotional 51
Cool as a cucumber 52
Work-oriented and conscientious 55
Easy-going 57
Open to experience, loves debate 58
viii Contents

Down to earth, closed to experience 60

Gender and language 62
Language and power 63
The language of intimacy 65
Age, social class, communities and dialects 67
Context 67
Drawing it all together 68

4 Motivating character 69
The fifteen evolutionary motivations 70
Why some motivations make characters more compelling than others 74
From external goal to internal need 75
Internal conflict 78
Short- and long-term motivations 78
Revealing character through their decisions 79
Drawing it all together 80

5 When, why and how characters transform 83

When people change 83
Why people change 87
How people change 90
Drawing it all together 93

6 The emotional journey 95

How we empathize with a character 95
Personality and emotions 98
The six basic universal emotions 99
Further universal emotions 103
Emotional range 107
Emotional arcs 107
Page-turners 115
How the story ends 116
Drawing it all together 119

7 Secondary characters 121

The Interpersonal Circumplex 122
The functions of secondary characters 126
 Contents ix

How different characters get what they want 133

Drawing it all together 142

8 A character workshop 145

Finding the right protagonist 145
Starting with your character’s personality 147
Developing your character’s voice 149
Giving your character motivations and beliefs 151
Making your character transform 152
Charting your character’s emotional journey 153
Creating secondary characters 154
Troubleshooting character problems 156
Some final words 159

Notes 161
Glossary 174
Index 177
 Illustrations

Figures

4.1 The relationship between a protagonist’s primary goal, story

genre and potential audience appeal 75
6.1 Emotional arc of the Tragedy 110
6.2 Emotional arc of the Rags to Riches story 111
6.3 Emotional arc of the Man in a Hole emotional story 112
6.4 Emotional arc of the Quest story 113
6.5 Emotional arc of the Cinderella story 114
6.6 Emotional arc of the Oedipus story 115
6.7 Emotional peaks and low points in Fifty Shades of Grey
(James, 2011) 116
7.1 Capturing relationships using the Interpersonal Circumplex 123
7.2 Interpersonal Circumplex for Game of Thrones characters 124
8.1 Relationship between the Big Five dimensions, facets of
personality, political beliefs, mental health and the Light and
Dark Triads 150
8.2 Your protagonist’s emotional arc 153

Tables

2.1 The six facets of extroversion 13

2.2 Emotions and behaviour associated with extroversion versus
introversion16
2.3 The six facets of agreeableness 17
2.4 Emotions and behaviour associated with agreeableness versus
disagreeableness20
2.5 The six facets of neuroticism 21
2.6 Emotions and behaviours associated with neuroticism versus
emotional stability 23
2.7 The six facets of conscientiousness 24
 Illustrations xi

2.8 Emotions and behaviours associated with conscientiousness

versus unconscientiousness 27
2.9 The six facets of openness to experience 28
2.10 Emotions and behaviour associated with openness to experience
versus closed to experience 31
3.1 Dialogue differences between extroverts and introverts 46
3.2 Dialogue differences between agreeable and disagreeable people 50
3.3 Dialogue differences between emotionally unstable and stable
people54
3.4 Dialogue differences between conscientious and unconscientious
people59
3.5 Dialogue differences between people open to experience and
closed to experience  62
3.6 Dialogue differences between people who have higher and
lower status 65
4.1 Evolutionary motivations relating to survival 71
4.2 Evolutionary motivations relating to finding a partner and having
children72
4.3 Evolutionary motivations relating to love 72
4.4 Evolutionary motivations relating to forming friendships and
alliances73
4.5 Evolutionary motivations relating to building a legacy and leading
a meaningful life 74
4.6 How the protagonist’s changing goals reflect motivational changes
in life 77
5.1 Examples of transformations of child protagonists  84
5.2 Examples of transformations of adolescent protagonists  85
5.3 Examples of transformations of early adult protagonists 85
5.4 Examples of transformations of protagonists in midlife 86
5.5 Examples of transformations of protagonists in later life 87
5.6 Examples of film protagonist transformations brought about by
peak experiences 88
5.7 Examples of film protagonist transformations brought about by
low points 89
5.8 Examples of film protagonist transformations brought about by
turning points 90
5.9 Examples of film protagonists’ motivational changes 91
xii Illustrations

5.10 Major changes in motivations, happiness, self-esteem and

personality throughout adulthood 94
6.1 Examples of film protagonists’ actions inspiring elevation 104
6.2 Examples of film protagonists who are shown to experience
moments of awe 105
6.3 Example scenes demonstrating the range of emotions displayed
by the protagonist in Avatar (2009) 108
7.1 Contrasting Big Five personality dimensions for Miles and Jack
from Sideways (2004) 127
7.2 Contrasting Big Five personality dimensions for Scarlett O’Hara
and Rhett Butler from Gone with the Wind (1939) 128
7.3 Contrasting Big Five personality dimensions for Carol and
Therese from Carol (2015) 129
7.4 Contrasting Big Five personality dimensions for Joan and Joe
Castleman from The Wife (2017) 131
7.5 Contrasting Big Five personality dimensions for Tyrion, Cersei
and Jaime Lannister from A Song of Ice and Fire (1996–) 132
7.6 Contrasting Dark Triad ratings for Abigail Hall, Queen Anne and
the Duchess of Marlborough from The Favourite (2018) 133
7.7 How personality influences the way in which people try to get
what they want 143
8.1 Rate your character on the Big Five dimensions 148
8.2 Rate your character on the thirty facets of personality 148
8.3 Rate your character on the Light Triad 149
8.4 Rate your character on the Dark Triad 149
8.5 Your protagonist’s motivational arc 152
8.6 Your protagonist’s changing beliefs 152
8.7 Your protagonist’s turning points, peak experiences and low points 152
8.8 Your protagonist’s personality change 152
8.9 Your character’s emotional range 154
8.10 Your characters’ personalities, beliefs and goals 155
8.11 Your main character’s ratings on the Dark and Light Triads 155
8.12 Example of a personality/scene characterization checklist  157
 Acknowledgements

First and foremost, I thank Katie Gallof, my editor at Bloomsbury Academic,

for her support in my long journey from proposal to published text. I must
also thank the anonymous and not-so-anonymous reviewers whose comments
have undoubtedly made this a better book. Special thanks go to Dr Linda
Seger for her unwavering encouragement and wise words. My gratitude also
extends to Alexandra Leaney, for reviewing an early draft and allowing me to
teach a module based on this book at the University of Suffolk. Thanks also to
Elliot Grove for creating a space for my Deep Characterisation workshops at
Raindance, to Chris Jones for lending me his stage at the London Screenwriters
Festival, and to Anna Bielak, for inviting me to present a workshop based on
ideas in this book at Warsaw Film School’s Script Fiesta. I am also indebted to
the many writers who have come along to my talks and workshops, and to my
wonderful students. It was your repeated requests for this book that made it
happen. Your thoughtful questions made me dig deeper into the research and
uncover areas that I’d missed, significantly strengthening this book as a result.
My personal thanks also extend to my family for encouraging me at every step
along the way – to my parents Alex and Gudrun, to Aasaf, and to Orient, who
delights and amazes me every day.
 1

Introduction

Behind me, on the shelves in my study, are dozens of books. There are several
shelves of my favourite novels, bound and published screenplays, stage plays and
collections of short stories. Open their pages and living breathing characters take
our hands and pull us into their worlds. We travel with them to new places, form
new relationships and encounter new things. We step outside our everyday lives,
take different points of view and experience life events that we might never have
had otherwise. We’re taken on moving emotional journeys that we continue to
think about even after we close the last pages of our book and return the volume
to our shelves.
Another shelf in my library is dedicated to books on writing. Books which
remind us that characters are at the centre of our stories, and that we need to make
them rich and complex with interesting emotional lives. Many of these books
make other claims too: that characters are transformed by their experiences; that
they must start their journeys pursuing external goals, and return home having
fulfilled previously unrecognized internal needs. For many years in my work as
a writer, researcher and script consultant, I’ve been wondering about the validity
of these claims. Are they culturally propagated, formulaic inventions, or could
it be that these narrative patterns reflect fundamental truths about our human
nature? If so, is the scientific study of the human mind best placed to answer
these questions? Furthermore, given how ill-defined our understanding of what
is required to make a character rich, complex and emotionally compelling, is
there any more that we can learn from psychology that could help shed light on
this process?
It may be that our lack of detailed, procedural knowledge about how to write
memorable, compelling and believable characters is best explained by the fact
that writing great characters is an intuitive talent that few are born with, but
2 The Science of Writing Characters

most aren’t. Or it may be, as I’m going to argue in this book, that we find it
hard to pinpoint what exactly needs to go into creating a great character because
we haven’t yet been thinking about characters in terms of the right framework,
and that this is why when talking about characters, our vocabulary is limited to
vague generalities like ‘complex’, ‘rich’, ‘nuanced’, ‘engaging’, ‘thin’, ‘flat’, ‘strong’
and ‘cartoonlike’. This, of course, doesn’t mean that if we improve our framework
we are handed the right craft skills to make everyone a good writer, but it may
help deepen our understanding of the elements required to write a compelling
character, and enrich our psychological vocabularies. This book sets out to
propose this new framework for writers.

Who is this book for?

This book is for everyone who creates fictional characters and has an interest in
using insights from psychological research to create more engaging characters.
It is for screenwriters, playwrights and novelists, writers of games, short stories
and radio plays. It may also be useful for directors, development consultants,
literary consultants and script editors whose work involves analyzing and
developing fictional characters. My hope is that this book will span the varied
needs of writers just starting out, university students looking for a core text on
characterization and professionals wanting to broaden their insights.
This is not to say that I’ve written a book for all writers. It is evident that
some writers have an instinct for the mimetic arts and understand how
to capture character. Many prefer to work intuitively, and find that more
analytical approaches impinge on their creativity. However, for the majority
of writers, the process of developing a character is a craft skill that needs to
be honed through years of practice. For these writers, additional knowledge
about what is required to create believable and interesting complexity in a
character can be immensely useful. If you are one of these writers, you may
already be writing characters that are fairly well constructed but missing some
as yet intangible quality to make them stand out from the crowd. You may be
wondering how you should go about addressing notes on your latest draft
that suggest that your characterization needs a bit more work. Or you may
already be interested in psychology and looking for a new approach towards
character development. Whichever kind of these writers you are, I’ve written
this book for you.
 Introduction 3

What makes a great character?

Before we go any further and start trying to define what makes a compelling
character, we first need to ask if there is any consensus about which characters
are great. Given that many of the same characters appear on list after list
compiled by critics, or chosen by public vote, the answer appears to be yes.
Beginning with film characters, among those most frequently appearing on lists
by the American Film Institute, Empire magazine, Filmsite and Ranker​.c​om are
Indiana Jones (from the franchise beginning with Raiders of the Lost Ark, 1981),
Ellen Ripley (the Alien franchise, 1979–97), James Bond (from the franchise
beginning with Dr No, 1962), Clarice Starling (The Silence of the Lambs, 1991 and
Hannibal, 2001) and Han Solo (the Star Wars franchise, 1977–). From television
and streaming content, we can add Tony Soprano (The Sopranos, 1999–2007),
Fleabag (2016–19), Walter White (Breaking Bad, 2008–13), Tyrion Lannister
(Game of Thrones, 2011–19) and Beth Pearson (This is Us, 2016–).
Turning to literary fiction, lists of the greatest characters of all time usually
include Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice (Austen, 1813), Becky
Sharp from Vanity Fair (Thackeray, 1847), Jay Gatsby from The Great Gatsby
(Fitzgerald, 1925) and Holden Caulfield from The Catcher in the Rye (Salinger,
1951). From popular fiction we can add Hermione Granger from the Harry
Potter series (Rowling, 1997–2007), Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games
(Collins, 2008–) and Matilda (Dahl, 1988).
So, what is it that these characters have in common? First and foremost, they
are believable. We, of course, know that they are textual constructions, but once
we are transported into their worlds we invest in them emotionally, we root for
them and we may even continue to wonder about their fictional lives after the
story has ended. We talk about these characters as though they exist beyond
their fictional worlds and are almost real. This is certainly not to say that all
fictional characters are believable. Many writers set out to create psychologically
credible characters and don’t pull it off. Other writers, particularly postmodern
authors, set out to challenge the convention that characters are portrayed as
believable, consistent and having an identifiable and unique ‘self ’. Characters
in postmodern fiction may have fluid or multiple selves. So rather than being
imitations of our selves, these postmodern characters have been described as
ciphers or even ‘word-beings’.1 The focus of this book, however, is on the most
popular characters that fill our shelves, and these characters are nearly always
believable.
4 The Science of Writing Characters

One reason why the most popular fictional characters are believable is
that we perceive them to be realistically complex. But what does that mean?
The British writer E. M. Forster made a start on answering this question when
he defined some characters as being round, and others flat. By his definition,
round characters are complex and have the capability of surprising us, while flat
characters may be expressed by a single quality or idea.2 Forster observed that
both types of characters have their places in fiction. While having complexity
is generally a requisite of the main character in more realistic fictional stories,
Forster noted that flatter characters are useful in smaller roles because of their
consistency and the fact that they usually don’t transform. Because of this they
don’t distract the reader away from the main storyline.
In Chapter 2 we’ll be taking a look at the meaning of complexity or roundness
of character from a psychological perspective. Research demonstrates that the
complexity of all aspects of our personality is most reliably described and captured
across five dimensions, known as the ‘Big Five’. Personality psychologists have
found that the Big Five dimensions are at the very core of character. They describe
who we are, how we are likely to behave, how we interact with other people, and
even how we typically feel. The Big Five model describes the ‘consistent self ’ that
we experience when we meet someone or a new character for the first time. Since
these five dimensions are required to describe personality in full, by definition a
rounded character needs to be expressed on all five of these dimensions.
Returning to those lists of great characters, in addition to being complex,
believable and consistent, they are also memorable. They stay in our minds
precisely because they behave in ways that are unlike the average person that we
meet. In Chapter 2 we’ll be looking at how the Big Five dimensions can be used
to create characters who depart from the average and who stay in our thoughts.
One essential aspect of their characterization is through their dialogue. In
Chapter 3 we’ll be investigating how personality influences the way that we
speak, from the kinds of subjects that we choose to speak about, the fluency and
formality of our sentences, to the choice of words that we use.
In addition to having engaging personalities, memorable characters also
tend to be highly motivated. They have long-term desires that propel the story
forward and drive the plot. And they also have shorter-term motivations that
drive their actions from scene to scene and put them into conflict with characters
with opposing motivations. In Chapter 4 we’ll look at the fifteen universal
motivations and why some make characters more compelling than others. In
Chapter 5 we will also investigate why protagonists tend to be motivated by
 Introduction 5

desires for status, power and personal freedom in the first half of their journeys,
but experience a change of desire towards more connectedness in the second
half of their journeys. We’ll look at the psychological evidence that suggests that
these changes in protagonists’ motivations reflect the natural, developmental
changes throughout our own lives. We’ll explore when we change, why we
change and how we change as well as how we can use this knowledge to create
more compelling narratives for our characters.
The most memorable characters typically engage the reader the moment they
meet them, and then take them along with them on their emotional journeys. In
Chapter 6 we’ll look at how we can create characters readers and audiences care
about and identify with. As we investigate the universal emotions we’ll uncover
why some are particularly powerful in the way that they move audiences. We’ll
also explore the six main emotional story arcs and what these have to tell us
about their protagonists’ journeys. Characters are, of course, rarely alone in our
stories, and their relationships with other characters have the potential to be
fascinating. In Chapter 7 we’ll explore how your characters’ personalities should
shape the way they interact with other characters, and the twelve different ways
in which people try to get what they want. We’ll also find out whether opposites
really attract and what this tells us about sparking chemistry between your
characters. Finally, in Chapter 8, we’ll draw all these different threads together in
a character workshop. Here you’ll be prompted with all the questions that you’ll
need to answer in order to create a five-dimensional, memorable and engaging
protagonist as well as sufficient complexity for the other characters that your
story requires.

Is this another book on Jungian archetypes?

No. Although psychoanalytic theory and analytical psychology have been hugely
important from a historical perspective in shaping a number of contemporary
psychological theories, and provide the inspiration for archetypal character
analysis, the mythical school of narrative structure and a popular branch of film
theory, these fields are comprehensively covered by other books. My focus in this
book is on research and theory from the many other contemporary branches
of psychology that are hugely illuminating on subjects including psychological
universals, our individual differences, motivations, emotions, and relationships
and the way that we change and develop throughout our lives. In the chapters that
6 The Science of Writing Characters

follow I will be drawing on theories and research from personality psychology,

evolutionary psychology, neuroscience, narrative psychology, media psychology
and developmental psychology. Before we go on to uncover their research findings
that can be most usefully applied by writers, first a few words about each of these
branches and their main concerns.

Personality psychology
Central to the framework that we’ll be using in this book, personality psychology
tells us how personality influences thoughts, feelings, actions, dialogue and
motivations in different situations. It aims to show how every individual is
different, and which psychological forces cause these differences. By placing
personality psychology at the centre of our understanding of the psychological
processes behind characterization, we’re given a powerful framework with
which to understand how to create a fully rounded character as well as why some
characters seem ‘thin’ or ‘flat’.

Evolutionary psychology
Taking the view that our minds are genetically adapted to our ancestral
environment which existed around 40,000–50,000 years ago, evolutionary
psychology examines human behaviour and psychological traits from an
evolutionary perspective. Theories of evolutionary psychology usually propose
that since there are many adaptive problems to solve, the human brain has
evolved as a collection of modular, specialized adaptations, rather than one
generalized adaptation.3 This modular theory explains why we may be motivated
by conflicting thoughts, emotions and motivations at any one time – an idea that
is central to many fictional stories.
Although evolutionary psychologists point out that our mental structures
evolved during the Stone Age, and so are in many ways ill-adapted for the world
of today, most scholars believe that our behaviour is the result of interactions
between our universal evolved mental adaptations, cultural and environmental
influences.4 This allows us to understand why some story structures, themes or
psychological characteristics of fictional characters may have universal appeal
and why others just have local appeal. Evolutionary psychology also has the
potential to explain why certain attributes of fictional characters are preferred
over others, why our relationships with fictional characters are proxies of
 Introduction 7

the relationships that we form in the real world, and why some characters’
motivations are more compelling than others.

Neuroscience
Neuroscience is the scientific study of the structure and function of the brain and
nervous system. It spans research into the way that individual neurons work, to
whole-brain imaging while sensory, motor or cognitive tasks are performed. In
relation to creating more compelling fictional characters, neuroscience has the
potential to tell us how different characters’ actions impact our emotional states,
and why our universal predisposition towards optimism appears to be reflected
in our stories.

Narrative psychology
Narrative psychologists study the kinds of stories that people typically tell about
their lives and how these relate to their identity. From narrative psychology we
can learn about the kinds of events that typically shape our lives, and how we
believe that these change our identities. Research into narrative psychology
reveals the degree to which our lives shape our stories, which, in turn, shape the
stories that we tell about our lives.5

Media psychology
Media psychology focuses on the interactions between people, media and
technology. It explores how we relate to different forms of media and media
content and how these affect our psychological processes. Media psychology
attempts to answers questions like why we root for certain fictional characters,
how we form relationships with fictional characters, and how characters’ actions
influence our thoughts and feelings.

Developmental psychology
Developmental psychology investigates how and why people change throughout
their life course. It tells us about the typical concerns that people face at different
stages in their lives as well as their changing motivations. It will be towards
developmental psychology that we’ll turn when we want to understand whether
8 The Science of Writing Characters

the changing goals in the typical protagonist’s journey reflect the motivational
changes that usually happen in our own life course.

How to use this book

Some people like to read textbooks from cover to cover; others prefer to dip into
whichever chapter piques their interest. Feel free to work with this book in any
way that you please. If you’re in a hurry to get through, head to the summaries
at the end of each chapter, then peel back and review any areas that you want
to understand in more depth. If you’re already several drafts into your project,
and just want to pick up a few specific tips, then by all means head to the most
relevant section. However you choose to work with this book, I hope that it
deepens your psychological insights, develops your craft skills and stimulates
your imagination. I look forward to discovering your characters!
 2

The dimensions of personality

A few months ago, one of my screenwriting clients approached me with her

latest project. After working on the idea for nearly a year, she thought she was
nearly there. As with all drafts that I’m given, I was excited to start reading. The
script began well, bringing to life a fascinating, vivid, and beautifully researched
world. Then the main character was introduced and my interest waned. From
what I could muster, the story’s protagonist was an arrogant aristocrat who
needed to learn to listen to others and engage with them in order to become
a better leader. Apart from this I learned very little about him. When the
protagonist wasn’t asserting himself, he was bland. He demonstrated none of
the colour or complexities of behaviour that real people have and there was little
consistency to his character. While the story’s central premise was interesting,
and the plotting worked quite well, it was evident that the characterization of
the protagonist needed a rethink. Without this, an audience would fail to care
about his journey. I sat down with the writer and explained the problem. She
considered for a moment then said that she thought she had created a character
with a clear external goal, and an opposing need which relates to his flaw. If that
wasn’t enough to create an engaging and credible character, how should she go
about creating one? What is a fully rounded personality, puzzled my writer. And
how would she know if she had successfully created one?
In the late 1950s in Arlington, Virginia, military psychologists Raymond
E. Christal and Ernest Tupes wrestled over a similar problem. They wanted
to understand how the psychological characteristics of another person could
be fully described. Faced with the issue of trying to predict which Air Force
recruits would perform best in the Officer Candidate School, they hoped they
might be able to improve the selection process and speculated that the most
capable prospective officers might share psychological characteristics. If this
was the case, how should they set about defining what these were? Through a
series of experiments the two psychologists found that the personality traits of
10 The Science of Writing Characters

the prospective pilots consistently fell into five discrete groups, each of which
measured a polar spectrum of personality. They named these dimensions
as follows: surgency, agreeableness, dependableness, emotional stability
and culture.1 They defined surgency as encompassing being talkative, frank,
adventurous, social, energetic and cheerful – imagine Tony Stark from the Marvel
Cinematic Universe. The next dimension agreeableness is best described as being
good-natured, emotionally mature, mild, cooperative, trusting, adaptable and
kind – think Annie Hall in the 1977 film of the same name. The third dimension
dependableness groups together traits including being responsible, conscientious,
orderly and persevering. Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit (Tolkien, 1937) rates
highly on this trait. Emotional stability measures an individual’s predisposition
towards being calm and even-tempered. Nearly all action heroes score highly on
this dimension. Finally, culture is an indicator of the degree to which someone
is cultured, independently minded, imaginative and interested in aesthetics –
think Ada McGrath from the film The Piano (1993).
This model of personality, later renamed the ‘Big Five’, was subsequently
confirmed by a wealth of cross-cultural research.2 Because of this, a version of
this five-factor model remains the standard in social and personality psychology
today.3 Within the contemporary model, the surgency dimension has now been
renamed extroversion (also spelt ‘extraversion’), dependableness has become
conscientiousness and culture has been renamed openness to experience.4 For
writers, this means that to create fully rounded characters, and to understand
the way that they think, feel and behave, we need to consider not just one or
two dimensions, but all five. As British author E. M. Forster observed, this is not
to say that all characters need to be complex and fully rounded, but that your
leading characters very likely will, in order to feel lifelike and believable. The
five-factor model of personality therefore provides writers with a foundation for
understanding what a rounded character encompasses, as well as how to start
writing this on the page.
Most writers aren’t satisfied with creating rounded and believable
characters, they want them to be memorable. So why is it that some characters
are more memorable than others, and how does this relate to the Big Five?
Because each of the Big Five dimensions is normally distributed across a
population, the vast majority of people are moderately extrovert, moderately
agreeable, moderately conscientious, score moderately on neuroticism and
are moderately open to experience – in other words, they rate somewhere in
the middle of the scale across all five dimensions. Since these are the people
 The Dimensions of Personality 11

whom we meet every day, they make less of an impression on us and we

are probably better at understanding them. By contrast, people who score
towards the extremes of at least one or two of the five dimensions, are more
likely to stand out from the crowd. They are memorable precisely because they
are not versions of the people we meet every day in our lives. We remember
them because they are different and because we’re often fascinated by those
differences and less skilled at understanding how these more extreme people
are likely to behave. So, if you want to create a more memorable character,
pick at least a couple of dimensions on which your character rates more
towards the extremes. These dimensions will become their dominant traits
and the ones that we register most quickly when first meeting the character
and the traits that we remember.
If we think about the Big Five dimensions as the broad foundations of this
approach to creating new characters, then the next stage is to construct nuances
and complexities. When psychologists Costa and McCrae realized that not
all extroverts are exactly alike – so, for example, some are warm and sociable,
while others are highly active and assertive – they proposed that the Big Five
dimensions must be further broken down into smaller attributes of personality
which they named facets. Their experimental studies revealed that each of the
Big Five dimensions consists of six facets of personality.5 In the next sections
we’ll take a look at what these facets are and how they can be used to create more
engaging and complex characters. We’ll begin with extroversion since it’s one
of the most easily identifiable dimensions and one that we most quickly detect
when we meet a character for the first time.

Extroversion

Warm, sociable, chatty, full of energy, and high on positive emotions, the
comedic protagonist of American TV series The Marvellous Mrs. Maisel (2017–)
is the typical extrovert. Extroverts are highly dynamic characters who pour their
energy out into the world, and feel energized by their social interactions. Often
charismatic, extroversion may contribute towards the appeal of a protagonist.
Extroverts seize our attention with their loud and assertive voices, their large
and free body language, and they compel us to engage with them.6 Their
externally directed energy is often very useful in driving forward a narrative. In
the following excerpt from the opening of the pilot episode of The Marvellous
12 The Science of Writing Characters

Mrs. Maisel, we see the eponymous “Midge” commanding the attention of her
audience and announcing herself to the world:

The sound of a large room of people rustling in their

seats. A little clinking of forks on china.

MIDGE (O.S.)
Who gives a toast at her own wedding?

FADE IN:

1 INT. BALLROOM - DAY - 1954 1

We come up on the beaming face of MIRIAM “MIDGE” MAISEL.
27, adorable, her eyes sparkle with satisfaction.
Framed by a cloud of tulle, her face is full of perk,
spunk, and complete ignorance that bad things could
ever happen. Because today she has triumphed. Today
is her wedding day.

MIDGE

I mean, who does that? Who stands in the

middle of a ballroom after drinking three
glasses of champagne on a completely empty
stomach, and I mean completely empty
because fitting into this dress required no
solid food for three straight weeks. Who
does that? I do!

Source: Excerpt from the 10/12/16 screenplay for the pilot for The Marvellous
Mrs. Maisel (2017). Written by Amy Sherman-Palladino. Courtesy: Amazon
Studios / Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions / Picrow.

But not all extroverts are alike and in order to better understand their nuances,
we first need to look at the six facets of this dimension. As shown in Table 2.1,
these are warmth, gregariousness, assertiveness, activity, excitement-seeking,
and display of positive emotions.7 Warmth relates to finding other people likeable
and wanting to interact with them. Gregariousness describes the preference for
being around other people and socializing with them. Assertiveness groups
together qualities including dominance and being forceful. Activity tells us about
 The Dimensions of Personality 13

Table 2.1 The six facets of extroversion

Warmth Gregariousness Assertiveness Activity Excitement- Positive

seeking emotions

Source: McCrae, R.R. and Costa Jr, P.T., Discriminant validity of NEO–PIR facet scales. Educational and
Psychological Measurement (1992).

the levels of energy that someone puts into their actions. Excitement seekers crave
excitement and like to be among the action. Individuals who display positive
emotions (joy, pride, hope and love) are cheerful and high-spirited.
Character complexity and the creation of interesting characters comes
from the combination of scoring high on some facets in any one personality
dimension, and lower on others. By way of example, if we compare two fictional
spies, James Bond and comedic pastiche Austin Powers, they both rate highly on
some aspects of extroversion but clearly have very different personalities. While
Austin Powers is warm, gregarious, moderately assertive, active, loves seeking
out excitement and shows generally very positive emotions – a combination
of traits that perfectly complement his over-the-top, comedic characterization,
Bond is active, assertive and a thrill seeker, but less gregarious, generally
preferring his own company. He’s emotionally neutral, and he’s low to moderate
on interpersonal warmth. Bond’s more subdued displays of warmth, positive
emotions and sociability, together with his higher displays of assertiveness,
activity and excitement-seeking fit the thriller genre very well. Like Bond, the
energy and assertive nature of goal-driven protagonists, who will do everything
they can in order to get what they want, is generally essential in driving these
high-octane action and adventure narratives.
In fiction, further examples of extrovert characters are everywhere. Among
the most memorable examples include Becky Sharp, the cynical social climber
in Vanity Fair (Thackeray, 1848), Pippi Longstocking (Lindgren, 1945), Indiana
Jones (1981, 1984, 1989, 2008), Basil Fawlty in the British television series Fawlty
Towers (1975–9), Joey in Friends (1994–2004), Erin Brockovich (2000), Princess
Anna in Frozen (2013), Tony Stark in the Marvel Cinematic Universe franchise
films, and Saul in Better Call Saul (2015–).
Introverted characters appeal to readers and audiences in altogether different
ways. Rather than grabbing our attention, compelling us with their energy, and
amusing us with their playful banter, introverted characters invite the reader to
try and better understand them. Directing their energies inwards, and needing
14 The Science of Writing Characters

time alone to recharge, introverts tend to be reserved, solitary, serious and slower-
paced, which sometimes gives them an air of mystery. Since introverts speak
less and tend to keep their thoughts to themselves, novels portraying introvert
characters rely on the revelation of personality through actions, observations
by other characters, or descriptions of interior thoughts and intentions. Actions
and reactions are equally important in revealing characters’ internal thoughts
in film, in addition to the use of looks, nonverbal gestures or voice-over. In the
following excerpt from the Swedish bestselling thriller, The Girl with the Dragon
Tattoo (Larsson, 2005), the reader learns a little more about the introverted and
secretive nature of the titular character Lisbeth Salander through this description
from the point of view of her fictional boss:

She never talked about herself. Colleagues who tried to talk to her seldom got a
response and soon gave up. Her attitude encouraged neither trust nor friendship,
and she quickly became an outsider wandering the corridors of Milton like a
stray cat. She was generally considered a hopeless case.

Source: Excerpt from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011). Written by Stieg
Larsson; translated from the Swedish by Reg Keeland. Courtesy: Maclehose
Press, Quercus: London.

The mystery at the heart of Larsson’s Millennium trilogy is reflected in the allure
of Salander’s character. While she is aloof towards others (low on sociability),
naturally submissive (low on assertiveness), prefers her own company (low on
gregariousness), and displays neutral emotions (low on positive emotions), she
is also moderately active and seeks excitement – facets that are more typical of
extroverts. Adding further complexity to her characterization, Salander becomes
highly assertive when under extreme pressure. What is essential to making this
counter-dispositional (or out-of-character) behaviour believable is that it makes
sense given her traumatic backstory. Salander has had to learn to fight in order
to survive. While people generally behave in ways that are consistent with their
core personality traits, they occasionally act in counter-dispositional ways when
they see it as advantageous. When Salander is under threat, it feels very credible
that she would believe acting in more assertive and often highly aggressive ways
to be advantageous. Third, Salander’s assertive behaviour when under extreme
pressure is shown consistently. It isn’t a character trait that crops up once, and
is then forgotten about. Instead, it reads as an essential contradictory part of
nature, and for that reason it is fascinating.
 The Dimensions of Personality 15

Other well-known introverts in fiction show the wide variety of characters

that share this dimension. They include Mr Darcy in Pride and Prejudice (Austen,
1813), Rick Blaine in Casablanca (1942), Will Kane in High Noon (1952), Ellen
Ripley in the Alien films (1979, 1986, 1992, 1997), Amelie (2001), Bella Swan the
protagonist of the Twilight novels (2005–08) and their adaptations to film, Bruce
Wayne/Batman in the comics and film franchise of the same name, and Little/
Chiron/Black in the film Moonlight (2016).

How extroverted is your character?

The questions that follow investigate how strongly or weakly your character
displays the six facets of extroversion. For each question, consider whether your
response is ‘Yes, strongly agree’; ‘Yes, moderately agree’; ‘Not sure’; ‘No, moderately
disagree’ or ‘No, strongly disagree’.

Warmth
●● Is your character generally warm towards other people and do they find it
easy to make new friends?
●● Or is your character more formal, reserved or aloof with others?

Gregariousness
●● Does your character love socializing and think ‘the more the merrier’?
●● Or is your character more of a loner?

Assertiveness
●● Is your character generally assertive?
●● Or does your character often feel inferior to others?

Activity
●● Is your character full of energy?
●● Or is your character inhibited, with lower levels of energy?

Excitement-seeking
●● Does your character crave excitement?
●● Or does your character prefer the quiet life?
16 The Science of Writing Characters

Positive emotions
●● Is your character often exuberant and playful?
●● Or is your character more serious?

Use your answers to the preceding questions to rate your character on each
of the facets of extroversion. How high or low do they score? If they score
moderately across every facet, could you heighten or lower the degree to which
your character exhibits certain facets in order to make them more memorable?
How do these facets fit with your storyline, genre, theme and narrative tone?

Characterizing extroversion vs introversion

Extroversion may be characterized in several ways, which include how a
character displays emotion, how they interact with others, how they move, how
they look, how they speak and even the kind of activities that they enjoy. These
are outlined in Table 2.2. In the next chapter we’ll look in more detail at how
personality shapes dialogue.

Table 2.2 Emotions and behaviour associated with extroversion versus introversion

Extrovert Introvert
Emotions Positive Neutral
Movement Large and free Reserved and defensive gestures
movements
Look Smiles frequently Is more serious
Dresses neatly and Dresses more casually
stylishly
Interactions Talks to everyone Prefers close friends and family
Has good eye contact Has poor eye contact
Is playful and Is more serious
makes jokes
Dominant Submissive
Dialogue Talkative and Quieter and lacks confidence
confident
Enjoys Parties and socializing Being alone or with close family
Upbeat vocal music and friends

Sources: McCrae, R.R. and Costa Jr, P.T., Discriminant validity of NEO–PIR facet scales. Educational and
Psychological Measurement (1992); Riggio, R.E. and Friedman, H.S., Individual differences and cues
to deception. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (1983); Naumann, L.P., Vazire, S., Rentfrow,
P.J. and Gosling, S.D., Personality judgements based on physical appearance. Personality and Social
Psychology Bulletin (2009).
 The Dimensions of Personality 17

Agreeableness

In one of the earliest scenes in the film adaptation of The Wizard of Oz (1939),
Dorothy tries her best to get her Aunt Em to listen to what Miss Gulch has
done to her beloved pet dog Toto. Although she desperately wants her aunt’s
support, it’s far more important to Dorothy that she doesn’t upset Aunt Em by
pushing her point. When Aunt Em tells Dorothy to stop worrying and find
a place where she won’t get into any trouble, Dorothy agrees. And soon she
finds that place – in Oz. Like Dorothy, agreeable characters value harmony
and getting along with others over asserting their own opinions. They tend
to be nurturing, emotionally supportive and altruistic. They are also typically
trusting and compliant. Aware of other people’s feelings, they do their best to
put others at ease and are generally well liked.8 Characters with these traits are
typically likeable, sympathetic and easier for readers to identify with. Other
memorable and highly agreeable fictional characters include Cinderella (Basile,
1634), Snow White (Brothers Grimm, 1812), Annie Hall (1977), Forrest Gump
(1994), Andy Stitzer from The 40 Year Old Virgin (2005), and Samwell Tarly
from A Song of Ice and Fire (Martin, 1996–) and Game of Thrones (2011–19).
Diving deeper, there are six facets of agreeableness. As shown in Table 2.3,
these are trust, straightforwardness, altruism, compliance, modesty and tender-
mindedness. Trust is the degree to which someone assumes most other people
are well intentioned. Straightforward individuals tend to speak the truth and are
rarely if ever manipulative. Altruism measures the degree to which someone
goes out of their way to help others. Compliance relates to how cooperative
someone is with others. Modesty describes the degree to which an individual is
unassuming in estimating their abilities or achievements. Tender-mindedness is
the tendency to be guided by feelings and emotions rather than logic.
While sympathetic and likeable characters are generally more agreeable, some
of the strongest characters are highly disagreeable. Valuing their own opinion
over the opinions of others, they have little concern for how they may make
others feel. Disagreeable characters may also be untrusting, devious, selfish,

Table 2.3 The six facets of agreeableness

Trust Straightforwardness Altruism Compliance Modesty Tender-mindedness

Source: McCrae, R.R. and Costa Jr, P.T., Discriminant validity of NEO–PIR facet scales. Educational and
Psychological Measurement (1992).
18 The Science of Writing Characters

competitive and arrogant, which are useful traits in antagonists as we’ll examine
later when considering how these traits relate to the Dark Triad of personality.
But first, by way of example, let’s take a look at some of the first words that the
disagreeable character of Heathcliff utters, in the opening to Wuthering Heights
(Bronte, 1847):

‘Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir’, he interrupted, wincing. ‘I should not allow

any one to inconvenience me, if I could hinder it—walk in!’

The ‘walk in’ was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the sentiment, ‘Go
to the Deuce’: even the gate over which he leant manifested no sympathising
movement to the words; and I think that circumstance determined me to
accept the invitation: I felt interested in a man who seemed more exaggeratedly
reserved than myself.

Source: Excerpt from Wuthering Heights (1847). Written by Emily Bronte.

Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg.

Disagreeable characters have the potential to make appealing protagonists

because they are fascinating. They say the things that social convention tells
us not to say, their honesty is often refreshing, and we may find ourselves
anticipating in delight the trouble that their blunt words and actions are likely
to cause for them. But disagreeable characters can also be sympathetic. Some
disagreeable characters win over the reader’s sympathy because they are shown
to be tender-minded, or have a soft heart. For example, Carl, the obstinate,
grumpy and untrusting protagonist of Pixar’s family film Up (2009) wins over
the audience’s hearts and minds when his sympathetic backstory is revealed, and
he is shown to act on his deep love for his late wife.
Other examples of particularly memorable disagreeable characters include
Miss Trunchbull in Matilda (Dahl, 1988), Walt Kowalski in Gran Torino (2008),
Gru in the Despicable Me franchise (2010, 2013, 2017), Cersei Lannister in A
Song of Ice and Fire (Martin, 1996–), Violet Crawley in Downton Abbey (2010–
15), Riggan Thomson in Birdman (2014), Fleabag ( 2016–19) and Logan Roy in
Succession (2018–).

How agreeable is your character?

The questions that follow investigate how strongly your character displays the
six facets of agreeableness. For each question, consider whether your response
 The Dimensions of Personality 19

is ‘Yes, strongly agree’; ‘Yes, moderately agree’; ‘Not sure’; ‘No, moderately disagree’
or ‘No, strongly disagree’.

Trust
●● Does your character believe in people’s intrinsic goodness?
●● Or is your character suspicious of strangers?

Straightforwardness
●● Is your character straightforward and more likely to be sincere?
●● Or does your character use flattery, manipulation and deception in order to
get their way?

Altruism
●● Does your character go out of their way to help others?
●● Or is your character self-centred?

Compliance
●● Does your character tend to defer to others?
●● Or do they prefer to compete rather than cooperate?

Modesty
●● Is your character humble and self-effacing?
●● Or is your character considered by others to be arrogant?

Tender-mindedness
●● Is your character moved by others’ needs?
●● Or does your character feel little sympathy towards others?

Use your answers to the preceding questions to rate your character on each of
the facets of agreeableness. If they score moderately across every facet, could
you heighten or lower the degree to which your character exhibits certain facets
in order to make them more memorable? How do these facets fit with your
storyline, genre, theme and narrative tone?
20 The Science of Writing Characters

Characterizing agreeableness versus disagreeableness

The main ways in which people who are agreeable differ from those who are
disagreeable are summarized in Table 2.4 as follows:

Table 2.4 Emotions and behaviour associated with agreeableness versus disagreeableness

Agreeable Disagreeable
Emotions Compassionate and responsive Indifferent to others’ emotions
to others’ feelings
Movement Open gestures Closed and defensive gestures
May be tactile Reserved
Mirrors others’ body language Doesn’t mirror body language
Look Smiling and relaxed Uncomfortable
Interactions Cooperative Uncooperative
Makes time for friends Is a self-interested loner
Submissive Dominant
Dialogue Cooperative Assertive

Sources: McCrae, R.R. and Costa Jr, P.T., Discriminant validity of NEO–PIR facet scales. Educational and
Psychological Measurement (1992); Naumann, L.P., Vazire, S., Rentfrow, P.J. and Gosling, S.D., 2009.
Personality judgements based on physical appearance. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin (2009).

Neuroticism

One of the most memorable emotionally unstable characters to date in early

twenty-first-century cinema is Riggan Thomson, protagonist of the multiple
Academy Award-winning black comedy Birdman (2014). Typical of characters
high in neuroticism, Riggan questions his existence, worries about how he is
perceived by others and frequently expresses anger, jealousy, guilt and blame.
‘I'm nothing. I'm not even here’, says Riggan on stage at the climax of his play.
He adds later: ‘I wasn't even present in my own life, and now I don't have it, and
I'm never going to have it.’
Of the six facets of neuroticism shown in Table 2.5, Riggan Thomson rates
highly on all. He demonstrates high anxiety that often surfaces in the form of
his tormenting Birdman alter ego. The tense, jittery energy that accompanies
Riggan’s anxiety drives the film, sets its tone and even motivates the soundtrack.
Riggan also shows high levels of anger hostility. He is hot-headed and prone to
angry outbursts. Riggan is beset by low moods, a symptom of depression. Self-
conscious, Riggan is preoccupied with how others perceive him – particularly
his critics and audiences. He is also highly impulsive – he tends to act quickly
 The Dimensions of Personality 21

Table 2.5 The six facets of neuroticism

Anxiety Anger hostility Depression Self-consciousness Impulsive Vulnerable

Source: McCrae, R.R. and Costa Jr, P.T., Discriminant validity of NEO–PIR facet scales. Educational and
Psychological Measurement (1992).

without much conscious forethought. Last, Riggan is vulnerable. He feels unable

to cope with life’s challenges. Difficult, self-absorbed, angry and disagreeable,
Riggan is intriguing rather than sympathetic as a protagonist. He is a character
whom we want to understand and learn from. We want to know what he’s going
to do next, and what is going to happen to him ultimately.
Other memorable fictional characters who score high on neuroticism
include the White Rabbit in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (Carroll, 1865),
Anna Karenina (Tolstoy, 1877), Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire
(Williams, 1947 and film 1951), Bruce Wayne/Batman in the comics and film
franchise (1939–), Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard (1950), Alvy Singer in
Annie Hall (1977), Richard in The Secret History (Tartt, 1992), Princess Elsa in
Frozen (2013), Kendall Roy in Succession (2018–) and The Joker (2019).
Since characters who score high on neuroticism are more likely to perceive
ordinary situations as threatening, far less dramatic situations are likely to spur
them into action compared with the kinds of major inciting incidents that are
needed for emotionally stable characters. For Riggan Thomson, his catalyst to
action is the falling stage light that injures one of his leading actors. This triggers
the chain of events in his mind that places his critical integrity in jeopardy. By
contrast, a much greater life-or-death event is required to push emotionally
stable action or adventure heroes into motion. For example, in Skyfall (2012),
James Bond isn’t prepared to come out of retirement and return to active duty
until the MI6 building explodes and several employees are killed. Emotionally
stable characters tend to be calm and far less reactive to stress. They are even-
tempered and are less likely to feel disturbed by unusual or potentially threatening
situations. Bond is as cool as a cucumber – the typical action hero. Whether in
the direct line of explosive gunfire, driving a car off the end of a jetty, or skydiving
without a parachute, Bond barely breaks into a sweat. In fact, it is exactly this
trait that enables the majority of action heroes to keep pursuing their goals and
confronting death-defying situations again and again – they handle stress well.
Related to their emotional stability, action and adventure hero characters tend
to be confident and optimistic about their chances of success in achieving their
goals. This optimism about their future drives them forward from one challenge
22 The Science of Writing Characters

to the next. Rather than feeling threatened by the obstacles thrown in their path,
they typically view these as everyday challenges that they have the competence
to overcome. Emotional stability is an attractive quality9 – for other characters
as well as the reader. We probably enjoy being around calm people because we
can rely on their even moods and ability to face obstacles without much anxiety.
This appeal of the emotionally stable character may contribute towards the box
office success of action and adventure genre films.10
Notable emotionally stable characters from fiction include Atticus Finch
from To Kill A Mockingbird (Lee, 1960), Sherlock Holmes who first appeared
in A Study in Scarlet (Conan Doyle, 1887), Ethan Hunt from the Mission:
Impossible film series (1996–), Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games trilogy
(Collins, 2008–10) and film series, Walter White from Breaking Bad (2008–13)
and Queen Elizabeth II from The Crown (2016–).

How high does your character score on neuroticism?

The questions that follow investigate how strongly your character displays the
six facets of neuroticism. For each question, consider whether your response is
‘Yes, strongly agree’; ‘Yes, moderately agree’; ‘Not sure’; ‘No, moderately disagree’
or ‘No, strongly disagree’.

Anxiety
●● Is your character a worrier?
●● Or does your character rarely feel anxious or fearful?

Anger hostility
●● Does your character often get angry at the way they are treated by others?
●● Or is your character easy-going and slow to anger?

Depression
●● Does your character often feel lonely or blue? And are they prone to feelings
of guilt?
●● Or does your character rarely experience these feelings?

Self-consciousness
●● Does your character feel uncomfortable and self-conscious around others?
●● Or is your character at ease in awkward social situations?
 The Dimensions of Personality 23

Impulsiveness
●● Does your character often succumb to their impulses?
●● Or does your character find it easy to resist temptation?

Vulnerability
●● When your character is under a lot of stress, do they sometimes feel as if
they are going to pieces?
●● Or does your character feel capable of handling difficult situations?

Use your answers to the preceding questions to rate your character on each
of the facets of neuroticism. How high or low do they score? If they score
moderately across every facet, should you rethink the degree to which they
exhibit certain facets in order to make them more memorable? How do these
facets fit with your storyline, genre, theme and narrative tone?

Characterizing neuroticism versus emotional stability

The main differences between people who score higher on neuroticism when
compared with people who score higher on emotional stability are outlined in
Table 2.6.

Table 2.6 Emotions and behaviours associated with neuroticism versus emotional
stability

Higher neuroticism Emotionally stable

Emotions Prone to depression, anger and/or Has neutral emotions
anxiety
Mood swings Stable mood
Movement May fidget Is calm
Look Uncomfortable Relaxed
Interactions Sensitive and emotionally reactive Insensitive
Is argumentative Not easily upset
Puts others at ease
Dialogue More emotional Calm and unemotional

Sources: McCrae, R.R. and Costa Jr, P.T., Discriminant validity of NEO–PIR facet scales. Educational and
Psychological Measurement (1992); Mehl, Matthias R., Samuel D. Gosling, and James W. Pennebaker.
‘Personality in its natural habitat: Manifestations and implicit folk theories of personality in daily
life’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (2006).
24 The Science of Writing Characters

Conscientiousness

Since conscientious characters work hard to achieve their goals, this is an

essential personality trait for many fictional protagonists. Whether a story is
about a detective solving a mystery, an action heroine trying to save the world, or
a young boy trying to find his family, all these narratives rely on the goal-driven
nature of their main characters. Take, for example, the central character Andrew
Neiman in the American independent drama Whiplash (2014), whose dream is
to join the Studio Band and become an internationally acclaimed drummer. In
the screenplay excerpt that follows, we see that even in the introduction to his
character, Neiman’s singular ambition is implied. Neiman’s eyes are ‘zeroed’ on
his drum stroke; his arms are built from years of drumming; and here he is in
the rehearsal room:

INT.NASSAU BAND REHEARSAL STUDIO – GEHRING HALL -

NIGHT 1
A cavernous space. Sound-proofed walls. And in the
center, a DRUM SET. Seated at it, in a sweat-marked
white T, eyes zeroed on his single-stroke roll, is
ANDREW NEIMAN.
He’s 19, slight, honors-student-skinny -- except for
his arms, which have been built from years and years
of drumming.

Source: Excerpt from the final draft screenplay for Whiplash (2014). Screenplay
by Damian Chazelle. Courtesy: Sony Pictures Classics / Bold Films / Blumhouse
Productions / Right of Way Films / Sierra/Affinity.

Former high school chemistry teacher turned meth dealer, Walter White from
Breaking Bad, (2008–13) is another memorable character, who rates highly on all
six factors of conscientiousness that are shown in Table 2.7. First, he is extremely
competent. Walt’s abilities as a chemist enable him to make the purest crystal

Table 2.7 The six facets of conscientiousness

Competence Order Dutifulness Achievement-striving Self-discipline Deliberation

Source: McCrae, R.R. and Costa Jr, P.T., Discriminant validity of NEO–PIR facet scales. Educational and
Psychological Measurement (1992).
 The Dimensions of Personality 25

meth the market has seen. Second, he rates highly on order as demonstrated
by his excellent organizational skills in setting up his business and his labs and
in the precision with which he cooks. Third, Walt is dutiful. His sense of duty
to provide for his family contributes towards his move into the drug business.
Fourth, Walt is high on achievement-striving. Working hard to realize his goals,
Walt rises rapidly to the top of the drugs trade. Fifth, Walt is extremely self-
disciplined: he starts his own meth lab and is involved in every aspect of running
it as a business. Sixth, Walt rates highly on deliberation, which measures an
individual’s tendency to think things through before making a decision.
Other memorable fictitious characters who are high on conscientiousness include
Macbeth (Shakespeare, 1606), Batman (1939–), Hermione Granger from Harry
Potter (Rowling, 1997–2007), Helen from Bridesmaids (2011), Claire Underwood
and Doug Stamper from the TV series House of Cards (2013–19), Andrew Neiman
from the drama Whiplash (2014), Queen Elizabeth from The Crown (2016–), and
Valery Legasov and Ulana Khomyuk from the TV miniseries Chernobyl (2019).
As we’ll examine further in Chapter 5, we usually become more conscientious
as we grow older. The most significant growth in conscientiousness occurs in our
twenties, during the time when most people need to learn to perform in their jobs
and when most people get better at sustaining relationships.11 This typical growth of
conscientiousness in early adulthood is retold in fictional narratives that focus on a
character maturing and learning how to better sustain relationships. In the American
comedy film, Ted (2012), protagonist John Bennett continues to enjoy a juvenile
relationship with his talking teddy bear despite now being in his twenties. To his career-
driven and competent girlfriend, it is clear that Bennett is going to need to mature in
order for their relationship to work. By the end of the film Bennett appears to have
found that maturity. He has become more self-disciplined and ordered, and learned to
fully engage in his relationship. Although comic, his transformation is credible because
it reflects the natural process of development of conscientiousness that most people
experience around this point in their lives. In the following screenplay excerpt from the
beginning of the film, we meet John in early adulthood, sitting beside his teddy bear:
He and John, who sits next to him, are both clearly
stoned as we join them. John, for his part, looks far
too comfortable in the too-worn Red Sox T-shirt he
wears. He eats directly from a box of Fruity Pebbles.
Reaching in for a last handful, he finds the box almost
empty. He raises it to empty the remainder into his
mouth, and accidentally pours Fruity Pebbles all over
26 The Science of Writing Characters

his face. It doesn't faze him much, though, as he

brushes them off. It's quite obvious that this is a guy
who has never really given up his childhood ... and
has never given up his teddy bear.

Source: Excerpt from unknown draft screenplay for Ted (2012). Written by Seth
Macfarlane, Alec Sulkin and Wellesley Wild. Courtesy: Universal Pictures / Media
Rights Capital / Fuzzy Door Productions / Bluegrass Films / Smart Entertainment.

Other well-known fictional characters who are low on conscientiousness include

Oblamov (Goncharov, 1859), Miss Thompson from Rain (Maugham, 1921),
Ignatius J. Reilly from A Confederacy of Dunces (Toole, 1980), Homer Simpson
from The Simpsons (1989–), Dewey Finn from School of Rock (2003), Shaun from
Shaun of the Dead (2004), Mo’Nique from Precious (2009) and Erlich Bachman
from Silicon Valley (2014–19).

How conscientious is your character?

The questions that follow investigate how strongly your character displays the six
facets of conscientiousness. For each question, consider whether your response
is ‘Yes, strongly agree’; ‘Yes, moderately agree’; ‘Not sure’; ‘No, moderately disagree’
or ‘No, strongly disagree’.

Competence
●● Does your character feel well prepared for life?
●● Or does your character often feel ill-prepared and incompetent?

Order
●● Does your character have a clear set of goals and works towards them in an
orderly fashion?
●● Or does your character find it hard to get organized?

Dutifulness
●● Is your character reliable and dependable?
●● Or is your character unreliable and someone who rarely considers their
responsibilities?

Achievement-striving
●● Does your character have high aspirations and work hard to achieve their goals?
●● Or is your character lazy or uninterested in personal success?
 The Dimensions of Personality 27

Self-discipline
●● Does your character try to complete all the tasks given to them?
●● Or does your character tend to procrastinate, get distracted, feel discouraged
and then quit?

Deliberation
●● Does your character tend to think carefully before acting?
●● Or is your character more spontaneous and prone to speaking or acting
without considering the consequences?

Use your answers to the preceding questions to rate your character on each of
the facets of conscientiousness. Once again, consider whether you could make
your character more complex, memorable or appealing by making changes to
the way that they express themselves across each of these facets.

Characterizing conscientiousness versus unconscientiousness

The main differences between people who score high on conscientiousness
compared with people who score low are summarized in Table 2.8.

Table 2.8 Emotions and behaviours associated with conscientiousness versus

unconscientiousness

Conscientious Unconscientious
Emotions More positive More neutral
Look May dress neatly
Interactions Good eye contact Poor eye contact
More responsive in conversation Less responsive and forgetful
Likely to volunteer for activities Unlikely to volunteer for activities
Dialogue Optimistic and polite Socially uninhibited
Enjoys Work Hanging out in restaurants, bars
Upbeat conventional music and cafes watching TV
Social drinking and going to parties

Sources: McCrae, R.R. and Costa Jr, P.T., Discriminant validity of NEO–PIR facet scales. Educational and
Psychological Measurement (1992); Mehl, Matthias R., Samuel D. Gosling, and James W. Pennebaker.
‘Personality in its natural habitat: Manifestations and implicit folk theories of personality in daily
life’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (2006); Watson, David, and Lee Anna Clark. ‘On
traits and temperament: General and specific factors of emotional experience and their relation to
the five‐factor model’. Journal of Personality (1992); Borkenau, Peter, and Anette Liebler. ‘Observable
Attributes as Manifestations and Cues of Personality and Intelligence’. Journal of Personality (1995);
Rentfrow, Peter J., and Samuel D. Gosling. ‘The do re mi's of everyday life: the structure and personality
correlates of music preferences’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (2003).
28 The Science of Writing Characters

Openness to experience

Of all George R. R. Martin’s characters in A Song of Ice and Fire (1996–),

Tyrion Lannister, the brilliant mischievous dwarf, is his favourite. ‘He is
the grayest of the gray. In every conventional sense, he is on the wrong side
but you have to agree with some of the things he is doing while loathing
others. He is very smart and witty, and that makes him fun to write’, says
Martin. In addition to being highly extrovert, conscientious, somewhat
emotionally unstable and mostly agreeable, it is Tyrion’s openness to
experience that really defines his character. Like Tyrion, people who are
high in this dimension are curious about the world and all that it offers.
They grasp new ideas quickly, they are interested in both the arts and the
sciences, they think about concepts critically and they often challenge
mainstream ideas. For Tyrion and others who are high on this dimension,
the world is a fascinating and complex place to learn all about and explore.
In seeing the world in shades of grey, rather than black and white, Tyrion
is given a more flexible way of thinking about life. It is this flexibility that
enables him to adapt well to dramatically changing circumstances, think
strategically and navigate his way through a variety of possibilities. Like
others who are highly open to experience, Tyrion’s curiosity about the world
extends to his appreciation of travel, his interest in different people and
cultures, and his enjoyment of pleasures of the flesh, food and especially
drink. Individuals who are high on openness to experience are also generally
more creative, aware of their feelings and are likely to feel moved by art or
poetry. This sensitivity extends to their emotional life, which tends to be
rich and complex. People high in this dimension tolerate ambiguity in their
emotional lives quite well.
Of the six facets of openness to experience shown in Table 2.9, Tyrion rates
highly on four. He is high in openness to feelings. He enjoys meeting new people
and embarking on new relationships. Tyrion is also high in openness to actions.

Table 2.9 The six facets of openness to experience

Fantasy Aesthetics Feelings Actions Ideas Values

Source: McCrae, R.R. and Costa Jr, P.T., Discriminant validity of NEO–PIR facet scales. Educational and
Psychological Measurement (1992).
 The Dimensions of Personality 29

He enjoys trying new experiences, travelling to new places and is generally

open to new ways of doing things. Tyrion’s high ratings for openness to ideas
are demonstrated by his love of solving problems, his philosophical debates and
his intellectual curiosity. In addition, Tyrion is high on openness to values. He is
broad-minded and interested in the ways that others lead their lives. Since an
appreciation of aesthetics isn’t important to the storyline of A Song of Ice and
Fire, it is harder to determine where Tyrion lies on this facet. My best guess is
that he rates moderately on aesthetics. On the facet of fantasy, Tyrion scores
low. Rather than being lost in daydreams and a rich imaginative life, Tyrion is
grounded, fully absorbed with the present and all the possibilities that real life
offers.
Other notable characters who are exceptionally high in openness to
experience include Alice from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (Carroll,
1865), Huck Finn from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (Twain, 1884),
Sherlock Holmes, first introduced in A Study in Scarlet (Conan Doyle, 1887),
Pippi Longstocking (Lindgren, 1945), Willy Wonka in Charlie and the Chocolate
Factory (Dahl, 1964), Walter White from Breaking Bad (2008–13), and Frank
and Claire Underwood from House of Cards (2013–18).
In contrast, people who are closed to experience are generally down-to-
earth traditionalists. Taking as an example Bilbo Baggins, the titular character
of The Hobbit (Tolkien, 1937) and a supporting character in The Lord of
the Rings novels (1954, 1955, 1956), much of Bilbo’s rustic appeal is in his
comfortable simplicity. Happy with his lot, he loves the familiarity of home
and has absolutely no wish to leave it. When Gandalf proposes to send him on
an adventure, Bilbo responds: ‘Sorry! I don't want any adventures, thank you.
Not today. Good morning!’ It is only when Thorin and his band of dwarves
hire Bilbo as a burglar in their quest to reclaim their home in the Lonely
Mountain that Bilbo’s life is turned upside down. Bilbo is the reluctant hero.
If it wasn’t for these exceptional circumstances, which as the novel suggests
awaken his mother’s more adventurous side, Bilbo would have lived out
the rest of his life in the safety of the Shire. For many of us, Bilbo may be
recognizable as the part of ourselves that enjoys everyday simplicity and the
comfort of domestic life.
Other well-known fictional characters who are closed to experience
include Miss Pross from A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens, 1859), Aunt Em
from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Baum, 1900), Roger Thornhill in North
30 The Science of Writing Characters

By Northwest (1959), Princess Elsa in Frozen (2013), Margaery Tyrell in A

Song of Ice and Fire (Martin, 1991–) and Violet Crawley from Downton Abbey
(2010–15).

How open to experience is your character?

Fantasy
●● Does your character have a vivid imagination and enjoy daydreaming?
●● Or is your character firmly grounded in reality and think that daydreaming
is a waste of time?

Aesthetics
●● Is your character deeply moved by art, music and poetry?
●● Or is your character more insensitive and unengaged by the arts?

Feelings
●● Does your character place high value on emotional experiences?
●● Or does your character experience more blunted emotions and place less
value on feelings?

Actions
●● Does your character love travelling, trying new activities and experiences?
●● Or does your character prefer familiarity and routine?

Ideas
●● Is your character open-minded and do they love learning about new
things?
●● Or does your character have more limited curiosity for the world?

Values
●● Is your character willing to re-examine social, political or religious values?
●● Or is your character dogmatic, conservative and traditional?

Use your answers to the preceding questions to rate your character on each of
the facets of openness to experience. Then examine your answers to ensure that
 The Dimensions of Personality 31

you’ve created the most interesting and engaging version of the character that
you’ve been developing.

Characterizing openness to experience versus closed to experience

The main differences between people who are open to experience compared
with people who are closed to experience are summarized in Table 2.10.

Table 2.10 Emotions and behaviour associated with openness to experience versus
closed to experience

Open to experience Closed to experience

Emotions Slightly more positive emotions
Look Dresses with a distinctive style More conformist dress
Less likely to look healthy and neat Less relaxed posture
Relaxed posture Less expressive
Expressive
Interactions Interested in engaging debate Has rigid views
Expresses a wide range of ideas Is closed-minded
Likely to have had more relationships Likely to be married or in a
Likely to have a more diverse set of long-term relationship
liberal-thinking friends Likely to be politically more
Politically more liberal conservative
Dialogue Loves language and debate Is more straightforward and
simple
Enjoys Intellectual pursuits, art galleries, Prefers familiar and
restaurants and travel traditional experiences
Artistic and intense music closer to home

Sources: McCrae, R.R. and Costa Jr, P.T., Discriminant validity of NEO–PIR facet scales. Educational
and Psychological Measurement (1992); Steel, Piers, Joseph Schmidt, and Jonas Shultz. ‘Refining the
relationship between personality and subjective well-being’. Psychological Bulletin (2008); Naumann,
Laura P., et al. ‘Personality judgements based on physical appearance’. Personality and Social Psychology
Bulletin (2009); Borkenau, Peter, and Anette Liebler. ‘Observable Attributes as Manifestations and Cues
of Personality and Intelligence’. Journal of Personality (1995); Rentfrow, Peter J., and Samuel D. Gosling.
‘The do re mi's of everyday life: the structure and personality correlates of music preferences’. Journal of
Personality and Social Psychology (2003).

The Myers–Briggs Type Indicator

Interestingly, despite the five-factor model being the scientific standard used
by social and personality psychologists today, an alternative model – with
32 The Science of Writing Characters

which many of you may be familiar – still remains hugely popular in mapping
employee personalities in the workplace. Based on Carl Jung’s theory of
psychological types, the Myers–Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) attempts to
understand people’s behaviour through sixteen personality types, based on
the dichotomies of extroversion/introversion, sensing/intuition, thinking/
feeling, and perceiving/judging. Beyond extroversion/introversion, Jung felt
that people are best understood through the ways in which they perceive the
world and make decisions. He proposed that people who prefer sensing the
world trust concrete, tangible facts, while people who prefer intuition tend
to prefer information that may be associated with memories, patterns or
hunches. In relation to decision-making, Jung believed that thinking types
make decisions based on logic, while feeling types come to their conclusions
based on considering others’ feelings, and trying to find harmony. The fourth
dimension of the MBTI was later added by educator Katharine Cook Briggs and
her daughter Isabel Briggs Myers, who believed that people have a preference
for either judging or perceiving the world depending on whether they act
in planned or spontaneous ways. Scientific reviews of the MBTI argue that
despite its popularity, it lacks robust empirical support and there are problems
with a number of its claims.12 For writers attempting to build complexity into
your characters, understanding them as one of sixteen types is likely to be a
limiting process that is more useful for broad brush strokes and stereotypes
than creating compelling, nuanced characters.

Personality traits, culture and context

Although individuals’ personality traits have been shown to be a very good way
of predicting their actions, they are best thought of as dispositions towards certain
ways of behaving. These dispositions sketch out someone’s particular style of
doing things, how they usually think and how they usually feel. But as we saw in
the example of Lisbeth Salander from Stieg Larsson’s Millennium series, there are
also many occasions in which we act out of character, or in counter-dispositional
ways because we believe this to be advantageous in that situation.13 We adapt
our style of doing things according to our social role, cultural conventions, the
task at hand, the particular situation we’re in and even the time of day. For this
reason, most people behave in more conscientious ways when at work. Similarly,
introverts often feel compelled to behave in a more extroverted fashion when
 The Dimensions of Personality 33

they feel it is socially necessary.14 However, acting in a counter-dispositional

manner appears to be psychologically taxing, and can only be sustained for
relatively short periods of time.15 When developing a character, think about the
times when they are most likely to behave in a counter-dispositional way. Is this
in a certain relationship, or under pressure or does a particular environment set
them off? Portray this consistency and you’ll be well on your way to creating the
complexity readers appreciate in their characters.

Personality and gender

Now that we’ve covered the foundations of personality in the five-factor model,
you may be wondering whether there are any other factors that influence our
personalities. What about gender, for example? Are there any broad differences
between the personalities of men and women? And if so, is this most likely
as a result of cultural stereotyping? According to a series of large and well-
replicated cross-cultural studies, women tend to be more extroverted, more
agreeable, more conscientious and somewhat less emotionally stable than men.
Interestingly, and counter-intuitively, these differences are larger in prosperous,
healthy, and egalitarian cultures in which women have more opportunities
equal to those of men.16 Whether or not these differences reflect any biological
differences, what is vital to remember is that greater variations in personality
are found within the genders rather than between them. So while on average,
women may be somewhat more agreeable, warm, sociable, duty-bound and
emotionally unstable than men, female characters who defy these stereotypes
are far more likely to stay in our minds. Memorable characters are usually
memorable because they are atypical.

Personality and mental health

The majority of characters that we’ve been looking at until this point have been
depicted as being in good mental health. But if you’re writing a character who
struggles with their mental health, you may be wondering how mental health
relates to the Big Five. The three most common groups of mental disorders ‍–
depressive, anxiety and substance abuse disorders – are linked to high scores
on neuroticism17 and low scores on conscientiousness.18 Substance abuse
34 The Science of Writing Characters

disorders are also linked with low agreeableness.19 While neuroticism is key to
understanding the anguish and distress caused by mental health disorders that
involve internalizing (including anxiety, depression, PTSD and eating disorders),
low agreeableness causes the most suffering for people with externalizing mental
health disorders (including psychopathy, antisocial personality disorder and
substance use) and for those around them.20

The Dark and Light Triads of personality

We have already seen that within the five-factor model, agreeableness is

associated with more sympathetic and likeable aspects of personality, while
disagreeableness is related to some of the qualities that we generally find more
difficult to deal with in our relationships with others. An alternative way of
thinking about these attributes is through the lenses of the Light and Dark
Triads. These triads group together personality traits that are commonly found
in people who are considered to be especially virtuous or antagonistic and
so are qualities that are useful to think about as we develop protagonists and
antagonists. This does not mean that your protagonists should only have ‘Light’
qualities and your antagonists only ‘Dark’, because most people have aspects of
attributes from both triads within their personality. More likeable characters,
however, tip towards ‘the Light’, while more difficult and antagonistic characters
will weigh heavier on the Dark Triad. Before we go any further, let’s investigate
the qualities related to both frameworks.

Antagonists and the Dark Triad

Psychologists Delroy Paulhus and Kevin Williams realized that highly
antagonistic people who are strongly disliked by others share three personality
traits, otherwise known as the Dark Triad.21 These are Machiavellianism,
narcissism and subclinical psychopathy. Machiavellianism describes people
who strategically deceive and exploit others. Narcissism is related to entitled
self-importance. Subclinical psychopathy describes people who are callous and
cynical. All three of these traits are related to disagreeableness. Since the vast
majority of villains rate highly on the characteristics of the Dark Triad, a full list of
examples would be longer than this book. However, a few well-known favourites
include Michael Corleone from The Godfather (Puzo, 1969), Darth Vader from
 The Dimensions of Personality 35

Star Wars (1977–), Jack Torrance from The Shining (King, 1977), Claire and
Francis Underwood (House of Cards, 2013–18), Cersei Lannister and her son
Joffrey Baratheon from A Song of Ice and Fire, Martin (1996–) and Logan Roy
from Succession (2018–).

How does your character score on the Dark Triad

Machiavellianism
●● Does your character like to use clever manipulation to get their way?
●● Or are they always straightforward?
●● Does your character make sure that their plans benefit themself and not
others?
●● Or do they always consider others?
●● Does your character keep track of information that can be used against
people later?
●● Or would this never occur to your character?

Narcissism
●● Does your character consider themself to be special?
●● Or do they think they are an average person?
●● Does your character love to be the centre of attention?
●● Or is this something that they are uncomfortable with?

Psychopathy
●● Do others feel that your character is out of control?
●● Or do they think your character knows how to manage themself well?
●● Does your character enjoy dangerous situations?
●● Or do they tend to avoid dangerous situations?
●● Does your character enjoy getting revenge?
●● Or are they more likely to forgive or move on?

The Light Triad

In contrast with antagonistic characters, people who score highly on the Light
Triad tend to see the best in others. They enjoy meaningful relationships and are
caring, forgiving, trusting, honest and accepting. These characters aren’t quite
36 The Science of Writing Characters

the mirror opposite of characters who score high on the Dark Triad, but share
three qualities of their own. The first of these is Kantianism, or valuing others
for who they are, rather than as means to an end. The second is humanism,
or appreciating the dignity of every individual. The third is faith in humanity,
or believing that we are fundamentally good. Fictional characters who are
particularly high on qualities in the Light Triad include Lucy in The Lion, The
Witch and The Wardrobe (Lewis, 1950), Harry Potter (Rowling, 1997–2007),
Russell the boy scout in the animated family adventure film Up (2009), Sean
Maguire in the drama Good Will Hunting (1997) and Samwell Tarly in A Song of
Ice and Fire (Martin, 1996–).

How does your character score on the Light Triad?

Kantianism
●● Does your character enjoy meaningful relationships?
●● Or are they always thinking about what they can get from others?

Humanism
●● Does your character value honesty over charm?
●● Or does your character use deception to get their own way?
●● Does your character feel guilty when they’ve hurt someone?
●● Or do they lack remorse?

Faith in humanity
●● Does your character tend to see the best in people?
●● Or are they suspicious of others and untrusting?

Drawing it all together

In this chapter we’ve focused on the foundations of characterization. In order

to create any new character, we need to know who that character is, how they
are likely to behave, think and feel. Extensive psychological research tells us
that the five-factor model is the best way of capturing and describing people’s
individual dispositions towards acting, thinking and feeling in different ways.
For writers, therefore, the Big Five dimensions are a powerful framework for
 The Dimensions of Personality 37

understanding what is meant by a fully rounded or complex character, and how

individual differences in personality should influence a character’s thoughts,
emotions and actions. Beyond these Big Five dimensions, further complexity in
a character may be captured by the thirty facets of personality. More interesting
and memorable characters will make a stronger impression because they rate
towards the extremes of some dimensions and facets of personality. They are
memorable because they are atypical.
Further complexity may also be added to a character by considering the
context of their actions. In your story there will probably be situations in which
your character feels most in their element and behaves in their most dispositional
ways. At other times, for example, when they are under great pressure, they may
be more likely to act in counter-dispositional ways if they believe these to be
advantageous.
When it comes to thinking about the degree to which your character is liked
or disliked by others – as well as by the reader – the Light and Dark Triads
provide an alternative approach that may be useful to consider. Since most people
tip towards ‘the Light’ but have aspects of both triads within their personality,
ensuring that your characters have a mixture of Dark and Light attributes means
that you are more likely to create believable, complicated and flawed characters
rather than cartoon cut-outs.
Now that we’ve understood the foundations of personality and how the Big
Five model can be used to create complex and believable characters, it’s time
to take a look at how personality and the Big Five dimensions are expressed
through dialogue. In the next chapter we’ll look at how personality informs not
just what your characters say, but the ways in which they say it.
38
 3

How personality shapes dialogue

If I asked you to list ten memorable movie quotes, chances are that among them
would be ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!’ Eight muscular words that
demonstrate the power of dialogue in capturing the personality, emotions and
relationship dynamics of Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind (Mitchell, 1936).
It’s a novel that I’m including here for the memorable characterization of its
two leading roles, despite the film’s failure to recognize the heinous slavery that
provided the foundations of their world.
Through the content and timing of Rhett’s line, we learn that he has finally
had enough of Scarlett O’ Hara and her ways. Despite his protestation to the
contrary, his words are full of emotion. Rhett’s words are also a useful reminder
that relationships are dynamic and dialogue reflects the current status of this
dynamic. His informal phrasing, colloquial language and tough stance reflect
the extrovert and disagreeable sides of his personality. The phrases ‘Frankly’ and
‘I don’t give a damn’ suggest Rhett’s age, upbringing and status at the time in
which the novel and its adaptation to film were written.
The choice of every word within a character’s speech has the potential to be
revealing. Psychologists who have analyzed the everyday speech of thousands
of people have demonstrated that by listening to someone’s voice, we’re given
cues about their personality, intentions, emotional state, age, education, gender,
where they’re from and where they live now. In the sections that follow, we’ll
draw on many of these findings to show how they can help writers create more
convincing speech for their characters. However, before we go any further
I first need to address the question of whether fictional speech should be
psychologically convincing and in at least some way resemble real speech, or
whether it is constructed to have an entirely different purpose.
In fiction, dialogue is generally used to serve two purposes – to move along
the story and to reveal character. When dialogue simply moves forward the
narrative but doesn’t feel right for a character, we tend to stop engaging with the
story because the characterization sounds expositional and clunky. On the other
40 The Science of Writing Characters

hand, when we read or hear dialogue that sounds psychologically convincing, we

stay engaged with the characters and through this we stay involved with the story.
But what do I mean by psychologically convincing dialogue? Should it exactly
resemble real-life speech? If you’ve ever taped an everyday conversation, you’ll
know that the answer is no. Fictional dialogue distils the ‘best bits’ of everyday
conversation so as to make it interesting, crisp and more efficient. Fictional
dialogue is generally more fluent than real-life speech, and well-written dialogue
– particularly if it’s designed to be performed – tends to have a better rhythm. So
why then am I including a chapter based on research into everyday speech? The
answer is that fictional dialogue needs to be grounded in the sounds, vocabularies
and patter of our everyday spoken language in order to be cognitively convincing.
If we have understood that a character is an extrovert, then we instinctively expect
their speech to reflect this aspect of their personality. This doesn’t mean that an
extrovert’s speech needs to contain as many disfluencies as we would expect to
hear in real life, or that it should conform to all the findings that I’ll outline within
this chapter, but it does mean that fictional speech should feel right and have the
general flavour of the dialogue that we’re used to hearing spoken every day.
In order to understand the differences between the ways in which people reveal
their personality, status and dynamics of their relationship through dialogue,
let’s consider the four main aspects of dialogue that disclose character. These
are conversational style; linguistic style; content; and vocabulary. A character’s
conversational style tells us about what they are like as a conversational partner.
Do they initiate conversation? Are they talkative? Are they a good listener? By
contrast, a character’s linguistic style tells us about the way that someone puts
words together to form meaningful, or, occasionally, non-meaningful sentences.
These sentences may be longer or shorter, simpler or more elaborate, formal
or more colloquial, fluent or disfluent. Content refers to the information
communicated by a speech. The content of their speech gives us an idea of a
character’s motivations, beliefs and feelings, as well as the kinds of subjects that
interest them. Finally, a character’s vocabulary reveals certain dimensions of
their personality, in addition to their age, education, where they’re from, groups
they may identify with and the historical period in which they’re speaking.
Let’s move on now to see how these elements are used by characters who score
high or low on particular personality dimensions. If your character scores high or low
on a few dimensions, then you’ll need to combine elements of all these styles in their
dialogue. So, for example, if your character rates high on extroversion and neuroticism,
we’d expect their speech to be confident, talkative, informal and emotional.
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 41

The chatty extrovert

Instinctively, we all have a pretty good idea of how extroverts speak since
extroversion is the easiest personality dimension to detect in dialogue. Extroverts
are naturally talkative, charismatic and the first to initiate conversation.1
They tend to say more, faster, louder and for longer, with very few gaps in
the conversation.2 Naturally at ease with themselves, extroverts love sharing
stories, frequently bring themselves into the conversation and are more likely to
think aloud and talk just for the pleasure of talking. They’re also more likely to
complement, and agree with, others.3
In terms of their linguistic style, extroverts are typically relaxed and informal in
their dialogue. They’re much more likely to use positive language, reflecting their
emotions.4 They’re also direct. In order to keep up their patter, their sentences
are typically shorter, more simply constructed and often aren’t even complete.
There may be false starts, sentences may be broken off half way through and
then repeated or restarted, or they may contain more fillers, including huh, well,
like and so on.5 Extroverts also tend to leap from topic to topic in conversation,
in a free-flow fashion.6 It’s hard to find a break in the conversation when you’re
talking to an extrovert.
You can even pick out an extrovert by the kinds of words they most
typically use. Reflecting their confidence and assertive nature, extroverts
use words like want, able, need to more frequently than introverts. They’re
social creatures, and because of this are more likely to refer to themselves
as part of a group. So, you’ll hear more we’s from an extrovert, than
solitary I’s. Extroverts are also full of energy and their speech reflects this
dynamism. They’ll generally use lots of verbs, adverbs and pronouns, which
add energy and momentum to their dialogue.7 Possibly due to their desire
to communicate thoughts quickly and keep the conversation going, their
spoken vocabulary is less rich than the introvert’s and they’re more likely to
use words incorrectly. That’s enough on the theory. Let’s take a look at how
this works in practice in the screenplay of Iron Man (2008), when we first
meet the character Tony Stark.
2 INT. HUMMER - CONTINUOUS 2

Three Airmen, kids with battle-worn faces. Crammed in

there with them is a Man in an expensive suit, who
looks teleported from Beverly Hills. He is, of course,
42 The Science of Writing Characters

genius inventor and billionaire, TONY STARK. In his

hand is a drink tumbler of vodka.

TONY
Oh, I get it. You guys aren’t
allowed to talk. Is that it?
Are you not allowed to talk?

One Airman grins, fidgeting with his orange NY Mets

watch.

JIMMY
No. We’re allowed to talk.

TONY
Oh. I see. So it’s personal.

RAMIREZ
I think they’re intimidated.

TONY
Good God, you’re a woman.

The others try to compress laughs.

TONY (CONT’D)
I, honestly, I couldn’t have called
that.
(after silence)
I would apologize, but isn’t that
what we’re going for here? I saw
you as a soldier first.

Source: Excerpt from the screenplay of Iron Man (2008). Written by Matt
Holloway & Art Marcum and Mark Fergus & Hawk Ostby, with revisions by
Matt Holloway & Art Marcum, Mark Fergus & Hawk Ostby, and John August.
Based on the Marvel Comic. Courtesy: ©2007 MARVEL STUDIOS, INC.

From the moment we meet him, Tony Stark is trying to get our interest. The playful,
relaxed and chatty manner in which he initiates conversation tells us straightaway
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 43

that he’s an extrovert, and charismatic, too. He’s comfortable with himself, he’s
direct and he’s the most assertive and talkative character in the scene. So, it’s hardly
surprising that he holds the attention of the other characters – and the audience,
too. Typical of extroverts, Stark speaks in short, informal sentences using casual
language. He’s quick to bring his own point of view into the conversation, but
also shows that he sees himself as part of this group of people that he’s only just
met: ‘Isn’t that what we’re going for here?’ Extroverts are social beings, who direct
energy into their speech and use it to forge rapid social connections.

The quiet introvert

At the other end of this personality dimension are introverts who speak far less
and spend much more time listening. They direct their energies inwards, so they
also speak more slowly, more quietly and have far shorter conversations than
the extrovert.8 Introverts tend to leave longer pauses in conversation, seemingly
to spend more time planning what they’re going to say next.9 Unlike extroverts,
introverts tend to stick to just one topic in conversation, which will be something
that deeply interests them. They’re more likely to bring up problems as well as
negative thoughts, and this is reflected in their more downbeat language. As far
as they’re concerned, when they’ve said all they want to say on a subject, that’s
the end of the conversation.
Stylistically, introverts tend to use far more elaborate, fluent and formal
language. Their dialogue typically feels more static than the extrovert’s, and
that’s because they use more nouns, adjectives and prepositions. In other words,
they talk more about things than actions. Another noticeable difference in
their speech is that their vocabulary tends to be richer than the extrovert’s and
they’re also more likely to use words correctly.10 Let’s take a look at the speech of
Chiron, otherwise known as Little, in the screenplay from the Academy Award-
winning film Moonlight (2016). Here’s an excerpt from the first scene in which
he speaks:

INT. JUAN’S HOME – NIGHT

Juan, Teresa, Little gathered at a modest dining table,

the two grown-ups watching the child going to work
on what appears a delicious plate of home-cooking.
44 The Science of Writing Characters

Something odd about this dining room: the walls are

two colors, in the midst of being painted. A few paint
tins and rollers line the floor, a work in progress.

JUAN
You don’t talk much but you damn
sure can eat. Teresa smiling.

TERESA
That’s alright, baby. You talk
when you ready.

Little looking up from his plate at that, something

about Teresa’s voice, her presence, clicking with him.

LITTLE
My name Chiron.
(and)
But people call me Little.

TERESA
I’m gon’ call you by your name.

Little shrugs.

TERESA
Where you live, Chiron?

LITTLE
Liberty City.

TERESA
You live with yo’ mama?

A nod yes from Little.

TERESA
And what about yo’ daddy?

Nothing. Not a blink, not a nod, barely a breath,

just stillness.
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 45

TERESA
You want us to take you home, then?
(and)
After you finish eating, maybe?

Little lowering his eyes now, gaze going to the table

in front of him:

LITTLE
No.
Teresa and Juan exchanging a look: a confirmation
between them.

TERESA
Okay then. Okay. You ... you can
stay here tonight. Would you
like that?

Little nodding yes.

Source: Excerpt from the shooting script of Moonlight (2016). Written by Barry
Jenkins, based on ‘In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue’ by Tarell Alvin McCraney.
Courtesy: A24 / Pastel / Plan B Entertainment.

Like all highly introverted characters, Little speaks only when he must, and he
has been silent in the four scenes that lead up to this excerpt. When Little doesn’t
want to answer a question, he says nothing at all. It is only now that he meets the
warm character of Teresa that Little is shown to feel comfortable enough to open
up. For quick reference, Table 3.1 summarizes the main differences in dialogue
found between highly extroverted and highly introverted characters.

Thoughtful and agreeable

Highly agreeable people are thoughtful and compassionate – attributes that are
reflected in their speech.11 They’re great listeners, try to understand the other
person’s point of view, generally emphasize the positive and do all they can to
reassure their conversational partner that they’re on their side. 12,13 They also
46 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 3.1 Dialogue differences between extroverts and introverts

Extrovert Introvert
Conversational Initiates conversation. Speaks Good listener. Speaks less.
style loudly, and quickly with few Speaks quietly, slowly,
gaps in conversation. More tentatively.
backchannelling when listening
(uh-huh).
Linguistic Informal. Sentences are shorter Formal. Sentences are longer
style and simpler. Many disfluencies. and more elaborate. More
Uses many verbs, adverbs and negations and negative
pronouns. emotions expressed. More
tentative words. Uses
more nouns, adjectives
and prepositions.
What do they Anything and everything as One topic which tends to
talk about? though thinking out loud, but be of personal concern.
mostly about social processes, Often express problems
socializing, friends, family, other and are more likely to talk
people, music, religion and about their work.
sexuality.
Vocabulary Limited and repetitive. Words may Rich.
be used incorrectly. Words are used correctly.

Sources: Scherer, Klaus Rainer. Personality markers in speech. Cambridge University Press, (1979); Furnham,
A. Language and personality. In H. Giles & W. P. Robinson (Eds.), Handbook of Language and Social
Psychology (pp. 73–95). Oxford, England: John Wiley & Sons (1990); Pennebaker, James W. and Laura
A. King. ‘Linguistic styles: Language use as an individual difference.’ Journal of Personality and Social
Psychology (1999); Dewaele, Jean‐Marc and Adrian Furnham. ‘Extraversion: The unloved variable in
applied linguistic research.’ Language Learning (1999); Gill, Alastair J. and Jon Oberlander. ‘Taking
care of the linguistic features of extraversion.’ In Proceedings of the Annual Meeting of the Cognitive
Science Society (2002); Mehl, Matthias R., Samuel D. Gosling and James W. Pennebaker. ‘Personality
in its natural habitat: Manifestations and implicit folk theories of personality in daily life.’ Journal of
Personality and social psychology (2006); Yarkoni, Tal. ‘Personality in 100,000 words: A large-scale
analysis of personality and word use among bloggers.’ Journal of Research in Personality (2010).

emphasize their presence in the conversation and as good listeners by using

more first-person singulars or I words.14 Perhaps because they’re less assertive
and often more focused on listening, agreeable people tend to speak in shorter
sentences.15 By way of example, let’s take a look at an excerpt from Annie Hall
(1977). Here’s an early scene in which Alvy gets chatting to Annie for the first
time after their tennis match:

ALVY
(Still looking over his shoulder)
Uh ... you-you wanna lift?
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 47

ANNIE
(Turning and aiming her
thumb over her shoulder)
Oh, why-uh ... y-y-you gotta car?

ALVY
No, um ... I was gonna take a cab.

ANNIE
(Laughing)
Oh, no, I have a car.

ALVY
You have a car?
(Annie smiles, hands folded
in front of her)
So ...
(Clears his throat)
I don’t understand why ...
if you have a car, so then-then
wh-why did you say ‘Do you have
a car?’... like you wanted a lift?

ANNIE
I don’t ...
(Laughing)
I don’t ... Geez, I don’t know,
I’ve ... I wa- This ... yeah, I
got this VW out there ...
(Laughing and gesturing toward the door)
What a jerk, yeah. Would you like a lift?

ALVY
(Zipping up his bag)
Sure. W-w-w-which way yuh goin’?

ANNIE
Me? Oh, downtown!

ALVY
Down- I’m-I’m goin’ uptown.
48 The Science of Writing Characters

ANNIE
(Laughing)
Oh, well, I’m goin’ uptown, too.

ALVY
Uh, well, you just said you were
going downtown.

ANNIE
Yeah, well, I’m, but I ...

Source: Excerpt from the shooting script of Annie Hall (1977). Written by
Woody Allen and Marshall Brickman. Courtesy: Jack Rollins & Charles H. Joffe
Productions / Rollin Joffe Productions.

Highly cooperative and altruistic, Annie’s main aim is to go along with Alvy in
this conversation, rather than asserting her own needs. She even offers to go
uptown with him when she actually needs to go downtown.
Interestingly, some disagreeable people, who rate highly on deviousness,
try and mimic the way that agreeable people behave in conversation for social
advantage. They may pretend to be good listeners, offer complements and agree
with others in conversation in order to get something that they want.16 Let’s take
a look at how the character Scarlett O’Hara does this in the screenplay for Gone
with the Wind (1939).

Scarlett and her sisters reach the steps where India

is waiting.

SCARLETT
Why, India Wilkes, what a lovely dress!

SUELLEN
Perfectly lovely, darling!

CARREEN
Just lovely!

SCARLETT
(not looking at the dress, but
looking around for Ashley)
I just can’t take my eyes off it.
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 49

Source: Excerpt from the final shooting script of Gone with the Wind (1939).
Written by Sidney Howard, based on the novel by Margaret Mitchell. Courtesy:
Selznick International Pictures / Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM).

Scarlett is, of course, being thoroughly disingenuous here when she complements
her rival’s dress. Her intention is to keep up the appearance of being warm and
socially desirable, while moving away as quickly as possible to find her love
interest Ashley. But as screenwriter Sidney Howard indicates, her eyes give
her away.

Insensitive and disagreeable

When they’re not being devious, disagreeable characters believe in being true
to themselves and in order to do this they typically make their point in as clear
a fashion as possible. How that makes other people feel is not their concern, so
they’re far more likely to be rude and angry or to swear.17 Let’s take a look at this
in practice in the following transcript from a well-known scene in the American
drama Glengarry Glen Ross (1992).

BLAKE
The leads are weak? Fucking leads
are weak? You’re weak. I’ve been
in this business fifteen years.

DAVE
What’s your name?

BLAKE
Fuck you, that’s my name. You
know why, Mister? ‘Cause you
drove a Hyundai to get here
tonight, I drove an eighty
thousand dollar BMW. That’s my
name. And your name is you’re
wanting. And you can’t play in
a man’s game. You can’t close
them. And you go home and tell
50 The Science of Writing Characters

your wife your troubles. Because

only one thing counts in this
life. Get them to sign on the
line which is dotted. You hear
me, you fucking faggots? A-B-C.
A-always, B-be, C-closing. Always
be closing. Always be closing!

Source: Excerpt from transcript of Glengarry Glen Ross (1992). Screenplay

written by David Mamet. Courtesy: New Line Cinema / Zupnick Cinema
Group II / GGR.

Although Mamet has said that he aims to write poetic rather than real dialogue,
Blake’s speech closely resembles the kind of language we’d expect from a highly
disagreeable character. Punchy and direct, Alec Baldwin’s character makes his
point clearly and in no uncertain terms. He isn’t the slightest bit concerned
about offending anyone. Instead, he’s rude and provocative in order to make sure
his point hits home. It isn’t just his fellow characters that will remember these
lines, we’ll remember them as the audience too. The dialogue in this scene is
also an excellent example of how fictional speech reflects personality cues from

Table 3.2 Dialogue differences between agreeable and disagreeable people

Agreeable Disagreeable
Conversational Sympathetic and cooperative. Good Terse, uncooperative and
style listeners, with backchannelling. often rude.
Linguistic style Build personal rapport through the
use of first-person singular (lots
of I, me or my). Have more positive
and fewer negative emotions.
What do they Social processes, friends, family, Negative emotions, anger,
talk about? feelings, home and leisure. money/finance, death
and why something
happened.
Vocabulary Are more likely to swear.

Sources: Pennebaker, James W. and Laura A. King. ‘Linguistic styles: Language use as an individual
difference.’ Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (1999); Mehl, Matthias R., Samuel D. Gosling
and James W. Pennebaker. ‘Personality in its natural habitat: Manifestations and implicit folk theories
of personality in daily life.’ Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (2006); Mairesse, François,
Marilyn A. Walker, Matthias R. Mehl and Roger K. Moore. ‘Using linguistic cues for the automatic
recognition of personality in conversation and text.’ Journal of Artificial Intelligence Research (2007);
Yarkoni, Tal. ‘Personality in 100,000 words: A large-scale analysis of personality and word use among
bloggers.’ Journal of Research in Personality (2010).
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 51

everyday dialogue, while improving on it. Using many of the patterns that we
would expect from a real extrovert, Blake’s dialogue also reveals the way in which
playwright David Mamet has tidied these up, and made them more rhythmic. In
doing this Mamet captures the essential qualities of personality that are revealed
in everyday dialogue while at the same time making these more enjoyable to hear.
In summary, Table 3.2 illustrates the main differences between the ways in which
highly agreeable and highly disagreeable people speak.

Anxious and emotional

People who score higher on the dimension of neuroticism tend to be more

likely to discuss negative emotions, and to use words expressing their sadness
or anxiety. Their feelings are also one of the topics that they’re most likely to
bring up into conversation. As an example, let’s take a look at the way that
the emotionally unstable central character Riggan speaks in this excerpt from
Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) (2014).

SAM
So. Opening night, tomorrow.

RIGGAN
Yeah.

SAM
That’s exciting, huh?

RIGGAN
Yeah. Well ... I don’t know.
The previews have been a train
wreck. We haven’t been able to
get through a performance without
a raging fire ... or a raging
hard-on. I’m not really sleeping,
you know, at all. And I’m pretty
much broke. Oh, and also, this
play feels like a miniature,
deformed version of myself that
52 The Science of Writing Characters

keeps following me around,

hitting me in the balls with a
tiny hammer.
(Beat.)
Sorry, what was your question?

Source: Excerpt from the shooting script of Birdman (or The Unexpected Virtue
of Ignorance) (2014). Written by Alejandro G. Iñárritu, Nicolás Giacobone,
Alexander Dinelaris, Jr. and Armando Bo. Courtesy: © 2013 DINOSAUR
OUT, INC.

It’s a great speech and that last line always makes me smile. Carried away by
his tirade of negativity, Riggan steers his answer down the rabbit hole and even
manages to forget the question – perfectly capturing his neuroticism that is
central to this film’s narrative.

Cool as a cucumber

In contrast with people who score higher on neuroticism, individuals who are
emotionally stable tend to be calm or upbeat in conversation. Outward-focused,
rather than inward-looking, they rarely talk about themselves or the way that
they’re feeling, even in the most stressful situations. Take, for example, the
scene from Alien (1979) in which Ellen Ripley responds to her first sighting of a
cocoon with the body of her colleague Dallas inside.

Unexpectedly, his eyes open.

FOCUS ON Ripley.
His voice is a whisper.

DALLAS
Kill me.

RIPLEY
What did it do?

Dallas moves his head slightly.

Ripley turns her light.
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 53

Another cocoon dangles from the ceiling.

But of a different texture.
Smaller and darker, with a harder shell.
Almost exactly like the ovoids in the derelict ship.

DALLAS
That was Brett ...

RIPLEY
I’ll get you out of there ...
We’ll get up the autodoc.

A long moment.
It’s hopeless.

RIPLEY
What can I do?

DALLAS
Kill me.

Ripley stares at him.

Raises the flamethrower.
Sprays a molten blast.
Another blast.
The entire compartment bursts into flames.
Ripley turns and scrambles back up the ladderway.

Rather than going to pieces, in the screenplay the character of Ripley stays cool,
calm and collected. A few scenes later, after a narrow escape from the alien and
her imploding ship, she is finally able to take a breather:

INT. NARCISSUS - LATER

Now re-pressurized.
Ripley is seated in the control chair.
Calm and composed, almost cheerful.
Cat purring in her lap.
She dictates into a recorder.
54 The Science of Writing Characters

RIPLEY
I should reach the frontier in another
five weeks. With a little luck the
network will pick me up ... This is
Ripley, W564502460H, executive officer,
last survivor of the commercial
starship Nostromo signing off.
(pause)
Come on cat.

She switches off the recorder.

Stares into space.

Source: Excerpts from the revised, final shooting script of Alien (June, 1978) by
Walter Hill and David Giler, based on the screenplay by Dan O’Bannon. Story
by Dan O’Bannon and Ronald Shusett. Courtesy: Brandywine Productions /
Twentieth Century-Fox Productions.

Ripley’s extraordinarily unemotional language is typical of people who rate

highly on emotional stability. Interestingly, it is also typical of accounts by recent
trauma survivors who typically focus on the facts of their experience in simply
structured sentences.

Table 3.3 Dialogue differences between emotionally unstable and stable people

Emotionally unstable Emotionally stable

Conversational Less talkative. More argumentative Calm, unemotional and
style and speak with more certainty. more talkative.
What do they More likely to talk about themselves Subjects including friends,
talk about? and focus on sports, money and their
their own negative feelings. physical state.
Vocabulary Use more concrete words (nouns or Use longer words.
events that we can sense). Are
more likely to swear.

Sources: Pennebaker, James W. and Laura A. King. ‘Linguistic styles: Language use as an individual
difference.’ Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (1999); Gill, Alastair J. and Jon Oberlander.
‘Perception of e-mail personality at zero-acquaintance: Extraversion takes care of itself; neuroticism is
a worry.’ In Proceedings of the Annual Meeting of the Cognitive Science Society (2003); Mehl, Matthias
R., Samuel D. Gosling and James W. Pennebaker. ‘Personality in its natural habitat: Manifestations and
implicit folk theories of personality in daily life.’ Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (2006);
Mairesse, François, Marilyn A. Walker, Matthias R. Mehl and Roger K. Moore. ‘Using linguistic cues
for the automatic recognition of personality in conversation and text.’ Journal of Artificial Intelligence
Research (2007); Yarkoni, Tal. ‘Personality in 100,000 words: A large-scale analysis of personality and
word use among bloggers.’ Journal of Research in Personality (2010).
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 55

Table 3.3 summarizes the main differences between the ways in which people
who rate high or low on emotional stability speak.

Work-oriented and conscientious

People who are highly conscientious tend to talk a lot about their work, even
when they’re socializing.18 In terms of their linguistic style, conscientious people
tend to avoid being negative. In comparison with people who show very little
conscientiousness, those high on this dimension hardly ever say that they don’t
want to do something or that they don’t like something. They’re also less likely
to discuss any negative emotions they might be feeling.19 Instead, conscientious
people tend to be quite self-reflective in conversation,20 for example, when
discussing why they made a certain choice.
In the first scene of The Social Network (2010), the Mark Zuckerberg character
spends what appears to be his first date discussing his best approaches towards
getting ahead at Harvard. He’s in a potentially romantic situation but all he can
talk about is work – he may be hoping that he can make a good impression by
mentioning some of his achievements. As is typical of someone who is highly
conscientious, Zuckerberg’s character uses language that is self-reflective and
avoids negativity.

FADE IN:

INT. CAMPUS BAR - NIGHT

MARK ZUCKERBERG is a sweet looking 19 year old whose

lack of any physically intimidat1ing attributes masks
a very complicated and dangerous anger. He has trouble
making eye contact and sometimes it’s hard to tell if
he’s talking to you or to himself.

ERICA, also 19, is Mark’s date. She has a girl-next-

door face that makes her easy to fall for. At this
point in the conversation she already knows that she’d
rather not be there and her politeness is about to be
tested. The scene is stark and simple.
56 The Science of Writing Characters

MARK
How do you distinguish yourself in
a population of people who all got
1600 on their SAT’s?

ERICA
I didn’t know they take SAT’s in China.

MARK
They don’t. I wasn’t talking about
China anymore, I was talking about me.

ERICA
You got 1600?

MARK
Yes. I could sing in an a Capella
group, but I can’t sing.

ERICA
Does that mean you actually got
nothing wrong?

MARK
I can row crew or invent a 25
dollar PC.

ERICA
Or you can get into a final club.

MARK
Or I can get into a final club.

ERICA
You know, from a woman’s perspective,
sometimes not singing in an a Capella
group is a good thing?

MARK
This is serious.
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 57

Source: Excerpt from the final draft screenplay of The Social Network (2010).
Written by Aaron Sorkin, based on the book The Accidental Billionaires by
Ben Mezrich. Courtesy: Columbia Pictures / Relativity Media / Scott Rudin
Productions / Michael de Luca Productions / Trigger Street Productions.

Easy-going

People who lack conscientiousness are far more likely to speak in a socially
uninhibited way. That means they’re more likely to swear, speak loudly21 and
express negative emotions22 than highly conscientious people.23 In the following
scene from the adult comedy Ted (2012), the main character John kicks back on
the sofa with his talking teddy bear.

TED
All I’m sayin’ is Boston women are,
on the whole, a paler, uglier sort
than women from the elsewheres
of life.

JOHN
That’s bullshit, what about Lori?
She’s hot.

TED
Lori’s from Pennsylvania, not a
Boston girl.

JOHN
They’re not that bad.

John takes a hit from the bong over Ted’s next line.

TED
The fact that you have to say
they’re not that bad means that
they are that bad. They turn into
drunk, half-white, half-
58 The Science of Writing Characters

pink monsters after 2 hours at any beach.

Ted takes a hit from the bong.

TED (CONT’D)
(COUGHS)
Jesus, this is weak. It’s not even
gettin’ me high. I gotta have a
talk with my weed guy.

JOHN
I-- It’s workin’ for me.

TED
I think it sucks, I’m gonna have a
talk with him.

Source: Excerpt from an unspecified draft of the screenplay for Ted (2012).
Written by Seth Macfarlane, Alec Sulkin & Wellesley Wild. Courtesy Universal
Pictures / Media Rights Capital / Fuzzy Door Productions / Bluegrass Films /
Smart Entertainment.

There’s no way that characters like John and Ted are going to spend their free
time discussing work. For them, there’s far more fun to be had talking about
girls and parties. As we’d expect from unconscientious characters, their language
is casual, colloquial and socially uninhibited. It’s also sweary, rude and playful.
Table 3.4 summarizes the main differences in the dialogue between people who
are highly conscientious and those who are low on this dimension.

Open to experience, loves debate

People who are open to experience tend to love language. They’re in their
element debating ideas, discussing various aspects of culture, and different
values and beliefs about the world. People who are highly open to experience
are most likely to be open-minded about the attitudes of others, as well as more
tentative about their own. In conversation, they express this through the use of
more tentative words, for example perhaps and maybe. They tend to use longer
words in conversation and words that suggest they have insight (e.g. I realize and
I understand).24 They also tend to express their imaginative ideas. As an example,
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 59

Table 3.4 Dialogue differences between conscientious and unconscientious people

Conscientious Unconscientious
Conversational Optimistic, self-reflective, and Socially uninhibited. More likely
style polite. to swear, express negative
emotions and speak loudly.
Linguistic style Use fewer pronouns as well
as more words related to
communication (e.g. talk
and share). More likely to
say I mean or you know.
What do they Work. More likely to mention Music, people, things that they
talk about? their achievements. have heard, negative emotions,
why something happened,
death and other subjects.
Vocabulary Use longer words. Use shorter words.

Sources: Pennebaker, James W. and Laura A. King. ‘Linguistic styles: Language use as an individual
difference.’ Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (1999); Mehl, Matthias R., Samuel D. Gosling
and James W. Pennebaker. ‘Personality in its natural habitat: Manifestations and implicit folk theories
of personality in daily life.’ Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (2006); Mairesse, François,
Marilyn A. Walker, Matthias R. Mehl and Roger K. Moore. ‘Using linguistic cues for the automatic
recognition of personality in conversation and text.’ Journal of Artificial Intelligence Research (2007);
Yarkoni, Tal. ‘Personality in 100,000 words: A large-scale analysis of personality and word use among
bloggers.’ Journal of Research in Personality (2010); Laserna, Charlyn M., Yi-Tai Seih and James
W. Pennebaker. ‘Um . . . who like says you know: Filler word use as a function of age, gender, and
personality.’ Journal of Language and Social Psychology (2014).

let’s take a look at the May Ball scene from The Theory of Everything (2015) in
which Stephen Hawking’s character gets to know Jane, his future wife.

STEPHEN (CONT’D)
So--The 1920s. A good time for
poetry, was it?

JANE
‘Seek then/ No learning/ from
Starry Men!/ Who follow with Optic
Glass/ The Whirling Ways of Stars
that Pass.’

STEPHEN
Ouch.

JANE
Was it –
60 The Science of Writing Characters

They move off across the NEARBY DANCE-FLOOR, and

PASS the JAZZ BAND en route to the LIGHTED FOOT-
BRIDGE spanning a river under which LIGHTED PUNTS
drift by.

JANE (CONT’D)
- was it a good time for science?

STEPHEN
A smashing time actually. Spacetime
was born.

JANE
Spacetime...

STEPHEN
Space and Time finally got together. People
always thought they were too dissimilar,
couldn’t possibly work out. But then along
comes Einstein, the ultimate matchmaker, and
decided that space and time, not only had a
future, but had been married all along.

JANE
The perfect couple!

Source: Excerpt from the (November 2013) shooting script for The Theory of
Everything (2014). Screenplay by Anthony McCarten. Courtesy: Working Title
Films / Dentsy Motion Pictures / Fuji Television Network.

In his use of language in this scene, the character of Stephen Hawking

demonstrates his love of big, imaginative ideas, typical of people who
are highly open to experience. Hawking’s character is presented as being
articulate, clearly expressing his ideas and using rich, vivid and fairly
complex language.

Down to earth, closed to experience

People who are closed to experience prefer the familiarity and routines of
everyday life. Because of this, they enjoy talking about their everyday life and
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 61

occupations.25 Possibly reflecting their nostalgia for the bygone days, people
who are closed to experience are also more likely to speak in the past tense.26 In
the following scene from the British TV series The Crown (2016–), the character
of Queen Elizabeth II exemplifies this beautifully as she confides in her dear
friend Porchey.

ELIZABETH
(looks around at the beautiful
solitariness and the silence)
People used to laugh at my
grandfather. He would retreat to a
gamekeeper’s cottage for days on
end with his stamp albums and do
nothing all day long except shuffle
and stick in his stamps. They were
his best friends. Little scraps of
paper from all around the world,
bearing the heads of other lonely
monarchs. And Queen Victoria used
to vanish into these forests for
months at a time.

ELIZABETH tails off. She motions to a plain, stumpy, estate

manager’s cottage, now visible in the background. Not
very pretty, and rather humble. Cut off from the world.

ELIZABETH
I’m sure each of us has a single
image or dream that defines us.
Who we are. What we want. What we
dream of. That’s mine. A sensible
sized house. Miles from anywhere,
no round-the-clock duty. No armies
of staff. Just me, living in that
cottage, a simple countrywoman.
It’s the life ...

Source: Excerpt from the screenplay for Episode 210, Mystery Man, Season Two
of The Crown. Screenplay by Peter Morgan. Courtesy: Left Bank Pictures / Sony
Pictures Television Production UK.
62 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 3.5 Dialogue differences between people open to experience and closed to
experience

Open to experience Closed to experience

Conversational style Love language and debate. More straightforward and
More use of backchannels simple.
when listening.
Linguistic style Often use more tentative Are more likely to speak in past
language (e.g. perhaps and tense, and use third person
maybe). Avoid first-person pronouns (he, she, they).
singular (I).
What do they talk Big ideas, culture. Better at Everyday routines and their
about? detecting deception. occupation.
Vocabulary Use longer words. Use shorter words.

Sources: Pennebaker, James W. and Laura A. King. ‘Linguistic styles: Language use as an individual
difference. ‘Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (1999); Dewaele, Jean‐Marc and Adrian
Furnham. ‘Extraversion: The unloved variable in applied linguistic research.’ Language Learning (1999);
Mehl, Matthias R., Samuel D. Gosling, and James W. Pennebaker. ‘Personality in its natural habitat:
Manifestations and implicit folk theories of personality in daily life.’ Journal of Personality and Social
Psychology (2006).

In addition to the fact that Peter Morgan’s characterization of Elizabeth has her
telling Porchey that she would prefer the everyday routines of a simpler life, her
conversational style is also very much in keeping with someone who is more
closed to experience. She initially reflects on her grandfather’s life using the past
tense and then, using simple language, she tells us about the life she’d like to
lead now. Pulling together our discoveries about the differences between the
ways in which people who are highly open to experience speak compared with
people who rate low on this dimension, I have summarized the main findings
in Table 3.5.

Gender and language

The question of whether men and women use language in different ways when
they speak remains a hugely controversial subject. Is there any truth to the widely
held view that women are better at talking about feelings? And do men really
prefer to talk about sports and cars? One of the largest studies to investigate
gender differences in language use found that the number of statistically
significant differences that exist between the ways that men and women speak is
in practice very small. So, while men were found to refer slightly more often to
objects and impersonal topics, and women to psychological and social processes
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 63

including their home, family and friends, in practice the differences mean a
couple of words more or less when speaking non-stop for ten minutes.27 When
it comes to writing dialogue in fiction, these differences are negligible. Equally
important to note is that studies investigating gender differences in language use
have found that variation among the ways that women speak, and among the
ways that men speak is considerable. So, my advice again is that if you want to
create memorable characters, think about how these characters’ speech differs
from stereotypes that we may hold and challenges our expectations in surprising
and interesting ways.

Language and power

Power dynamics are intrinsic to the majority of our relationships. We don’t

always know why we think someone has the most power in the room, but
we almost certainly know who has it. Some of these cues are nonverbal, for
example, related to the distance someone stands from others, but many are
verbal. People with more power tend to say we, us and our more frequently
than I, me and my. They put the power of group-thinking behind them. By
comparison, people with the least power tend to say I, me, my more than we,
us and our. People of higher status also tend to interrupt more frequently and
speak more loudly than people of lower status. Let’s investigate this in a scene
from The Godfather (1972).

INT DAY: CARLO’S LIVING ROOM (1955)

The door opens, and the grim party enters.

MICHAEL
You fingered Sonny for the Barzini
people. That little farce you played
out with my sister. Did Barzini kid
you that would fool a Corleone?

CARLO
(dignity)
I swear I’m innocent. I swear
on the head of my children, I’m
64 The Science of Writing Characters

innocent. Mike, don’t do this to

me, please Mike, don’t do this
to me!

MICHAEL
(quietly)
Barzini is dead. So is Philip
Tattaglia, so are Strachi, Cuneo
and Moe Greene...I want to square
all the family accounts tonight.
So, don’t tell me you’re innocent;
admit what you did.

CARLO is silent; he wants to talk but is terrified.

MICHAEL
(almost kindly)
Don’t be frightened. Do you think
I’d make my sister a widow? Do
you think I’d make your children
fatherless? After all, I’m
Godfather to your son. No, your
punishment is that you’re out of
the family business. I’m putting
you on a plane to Vegas--and I want
you to stay there. I’ll send Connie
an allowance, that’s all. But don’t
keep saying you’re innocent; it
insults my intelligence and makes
me angry.

Source: Excerpt from the third draft screenplay for The Godfather (1972). Written
by Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola. Based on the novel by Mario Puzo.
Courtesy: Paramount Pictures.

It’s evident from this scene that Michael has the power and Carlo knows it.
When Michael accuses Carlo of fingering Sonny, his repeated use of the word
you emphasizes his superior status. Imploring Michael to believe that he is
innocent, Carlo persistently uses the personal pronouns I and me. Towards the
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 65

Table 3.6 Dialogue differences between people who have higher and lower status

High status Low status

Conversational Tend to interrupt more often. Rarely interrupt.
style Tend to speak more loudly. Typically speak more quietly.
Linguistic style Tend to say we, us, our (first-person Tend to say I, me, my
plural pronouns) more than I, (first-person singular
me, my. pronouns) more than we,
Tend to say you or your more often. us, our.

Sources: Pennebaker, James W. The Secret Life of Pronouns: What Our Words Say About Us. New York:
Bloomsbury Press (2011); Hall, Judith A., Erik J. Coats and Lavonia Smith LeBeau. ‘Nonverbal
behaviour and the vertical dimension of social relations: a meta-analysis.’ Psychological Bulletin (2005).

end of this scene, Michael relents a little and his use of more I’s goes some way
towards redressing the power balance (see Table 3.6).

The language of intimacy

In the romantic comedy film When Harry Met Sally (1989), screenwriter
Nora Ephron demonstrates how dialogue has the ability to reveal intimate
connections between characters, as well the lack of connection. In the excerpt
that follows, where Harry first meets Sally, his future romantic partner, it’s
evident from their first few lines of dialogue that they have no real interest in
each other. They aren’t listening to each other; their thoughts are elsewhere and
they sound out of sync.

SALLY
I have this all figured out. It’s
an 18 hour trip, which breaks down
to 6 shifts of 3 hours each. Or,
alternatively, we could break it
down by mileage. There’s a map
on the visor, I’ve marked it to
show the locations where we change
shifts. You can do three hours?

HARRY
(offering her one)
Grape?
66 The Science of Writing Characters

SALLY
No. I don’t like to eat between meals.

Source: Excerpt from 8/23/88 (pink) revision screenplay for When Harry Met
Sally (1989). Written by Nora Ephron, Rob Reiner and Andrew Scheinman.
Copyright © Castle Rock Ent.

By the end of the film Sally’s relationship with Harry has entirely changed.
They’re in love, and their now intimate connection is reflected in their dialogue.
Throughout the scene that follows, the couple listen intently to each other. They
echo and repeat each other’s words and phrases. To the audience it is clear that
they are perfectly in sync.

HARRY (V.O.)
The first time we met we hated each
other.

SALLY(V.O.)
You didn’t hate me, I hated you.
(beat)
The second time we met he didn’t
even remember me.

HARRY (V.O.)
I did too. I remembered you.
(a long beat)
The third time we met we became
friends.

SALLY (V.O.)
We were friends for a long time.

HARRY (V.O.)
And then we weren’t.

SALLY (V.O.)
And then we fell in love.
 How Personality Shapes Dialogue 67

Source: Excerpt from 8/23/88 (pink) revision screenplay for When Harry Met
Sally (1989). Written by Nora Ephron, Rob Reiner and Andrew Scheinman.
Copyright © Castle Rock Ent.

Age, social class, communities and dialects

Other factors to consider when writing dialogue are the ages of the characters
that you’re writing, where they live now, where else they’ve lived, their social
class and the specific groups or communities they belong to. As people grow
older, they tend to be more positive in their conversations, using more words
relating to good feelings and less relating to negative feelings. They also talk
less about themselves, speak more about the future, talk less about the past,
and voice more complex ideas.28 Where people live and where they’re from
also affects the way that they speak. Regional dialects can often be spotted by
listeners within just a few seconds, and these include differences in the way
that different groups use grammar, phrases and colloquialisms, as well as the
way in which some things are named. The way that we speak also provides
insights into our social class, which is related to our education and socio-
economic status. In practice, these differences are small, but psychologists
have found that in the United States – and possibly across all English-speaking
countries – people from higher social classes typically use longer words and
talk more about things, while people from lower social classes use shorter
words and slightly more present tense verbs.29

Context

Whenever we’re thinking about how someone is likely to behave in a situation,

considering the context is key and the same is true when we’re thinking about
dialogue. We change the way that we speak, and what we speak about according
to who we speak to, the present dynamics of that relationship and where it is
that our conversation is taking place. While at work in an office, people tend to
use more we words, more complex language and express more negative feelings.
When talking about sports, people tend to use more upbeat language, fewer I
68 The Science of Writing Characters

words and less introspection. When talking over a sit down meal, people tend
to tell more stories, use more I and s/he words and speak in the past tense. By
comparison, when walking and talking, people tend to use more personal,
superficial and upbeat language, typically in the present tense.30 There are also
typically different subjects that we prefer to discuss in different relationships. We
may have a Friday night with a pub friend with whom we joke around and talk
politics, a lunch colleague with whom we share office gossip and politics, and a
close friend from our schooldays with whom we discuss more personal concerns
and relationships over a quiet dinner. There is a lot to think about here, but your
reader knows when you get it right.

Drawing it all together

If you were going to take away just one point from this chapter it should be that
everyone’s dialogue is unique and that our personalities are reflected not just
in what we say, but when we choose to say it, who we say it to, and how we say
it. Although extroversion is the easiest personality dimension to detect within
speech, we also instinctively know whether a character is agreeable, emotionally
stable and, with a little more thought, conscientious and open to experience.
Dialogue reveals how close a character is to another in a relationship, their status
compared to their conversational partner, their shared interests, as well as ideas
that they don’t share. Dialogue also provides cues suggesting a character’s age,
education and background. Since we are highly attuned to the patterns of natural
speech and the important cues that these reveal, fictional dialogue is mostly likely
to hold an audience’s attention when it sounds convincing. This doesn’t mean
that direct dialogue within fiction should precisely mimic everyday speech, but
that writers can improve their chances of keeping their audiences engaged with
their characters if they understand and implement at least some of the most
essential features of dialogue that I’ve outlined in this chapter.
Having spent the last two chapters investigating how personality shapes our
actions, reactions, thoughts, feelings and dialogue, in the next chapter we’ll go on
to look at motivations, and how these spur your hopefully now-well-constructed
character into action.
 4

Motivating character

Motivations are the forces that we call upon to bring our characters to life. Goals
initiate our behaviour, focus our attention and draw us into conflict with others.
They bring energy, forward momentum and a sense of direction to our stories.
Through a protagonist’s goal we form hopes and fears about whether they will
achieve it, and through these hopes and fears we understand where a story
is going. It is in this gap between our greatest hopes for a character, and our
worst fears for them, that tension is created. The greater the gap, the greater the
tension. Motivations have shaped our stories since the very first tales were told.
Along with environmental and cultural influences, our goals reflect our ancient
ancestral struggles to protect ourselves, find a partner, care for our families, form
friendships and alliances and perhaps also to create a meaningful life. It is because
these goals are universal that well-constructed stories with engaging characters
have the potential to travel the world. But what are these universal goals and why
do we act on some motivations with more urgency than others? In the sections
that follow we’ll take a closer look at the fifteen universal motivations and why
stories about some of these are more likely to seize our attention.
We’ll also investigate why a protagonist’s conflicting motivations are at
the heart of so many stories. Could these central conflicts mirror the internal
conflict that we typically experience in our own lives? Related to this, we’ll
uncover why the motivations of central characters usually transform, and why
this generally reflects the same pattern of change. Screenwriting manuals often
suggest that characters must start their journeys motivated by a conscious and
explicit external goal, but complete their journeys motivated by an unconscious
or subconscious internal need. From a psychological perspective, what does
this actually mean? And is there anything that we can learn from the ways
in which our motivations usually change as we grow older that could help us
better understand why and how character motivations typically change across
the course of the narrative? In the sections that follow, we’ll take a look at the
70 The Science of Writing Characters

psychological theories and research that tell us more about these ideas and why
a character’s motivations are an essential element in their characterization.

The fifteen evolutionary motivations

For many years, psychologists have been fascinated by what motivates us.
Numerous competing theories of motivations have been developed, but the
vast majority of these fail to explain why we have motivations and the purpose
that they serve. This changed when evolutionary psychologists, including Larry
Bernard and his team, theorized that our motivations must have evolved during
our ancestral environment as adaptations that would increase our chances of
not only our own reproduction and survival, but also the survival of our closest
family1. Bernard and his colleagues propose that all motivations fall into five
groups, according to who they impact. Motivations relating to survival directly
help the individual. Motivations relating to finding a partner and having children
act at the interpersonal level, between two people. Motivations that involve
family love promote survival of the family. Forming friendships and alliances
involves larger non-family groups. Finally, motivations relating to creating a
legacy and a meaningful life have the potential to act across society. Let’s take a
closer look at each of these in turn.

Survival
Motivations related to promoting survival are believed to have arisen early in
our development as humans. They act on the nonconscious, instinctive part
of our brain in which our raw emotions and motivations appear to be closely
linked. This means that we respond rapidly and instinctively to threats to our
survival. It may also mean that we’re primed to listen more closely to stories
about characters whose survival is threatened, in order for us to learn more
about these situations should we encounter them.2
In order to survive we need to stay safe, which means protecting ourselves,
our possessions and our territory from antagonistic forces. We also need to
stay healthy. There are times when we need to be aggressive in order to protect
ourselves, assert our dominance and gain power. Curiosity is also important
because it involves learning to better understand our environment, its dangers,
challenges and opportunities. The final motivation within this domain is play,
 Motivating Character 71

Table 4.1 Evolutionary motivations relating to survival

Motivation Film Protagonist

Safety It (2017) Bill Denbrough
Jurassic World (2015) Owen Grady
Independence Day (1996) David Levinson
Health Bird Box (2018) Malorie Hayes
28 Days Later (2002) Jim
Safe (1995) Carol White
Aggression A History of Violence (2005) Tom Stall
Kill Bill: Volume 1 (2003) The Bride
La Haine (1995) Vinz, Hubert and Saïd
Curiosity Alice in Wonderland (2010) Alice
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971) Charlie Bucket
Play Ready Player One (2018) Wade Watts
The Game (1997) Nicholas Van Orton
Jumanji (1995) Alan and Sarah

which helps us learn about social rules by testing them in mock aggressive
situations.3 Enough with the theory. In Table 4.1 we take a look at how these
survival motivations are used to drive the main characters of a number of well-
known films.

Finding a partner
You won’t need a psychologist to tell you that finding the right partner is another
of our strongest motivations. In addition to our instinctive desire to have sex,
other motivations within this domain are thought to have evolved in order to
improve our chances of attracting a mate via communicating or improving
our status. These status-related motivations act in four key areas: through
improving or showing off our physical skills, our mental skills, our appearance
and our wealth.4 This isn’t to say that when we’re competing in sports, taking
creative writing classes or polishing off our novels, we’re consciously thinking
about finding a new (or better) partner, but that these are likely the reasons why
these status-related motivations originally evolved. Since we have conscious
control over our status-related desires, their expression is shaped by the culture
and society that we live within. For some, the driver of a red Ferrari may be as
enchanting as a peacock’s display to a peahen, but for others the equivalent may
be the writer of an insightful political Tweet.
Table 4.2 illustrates how these dating and status-related motivations drive the
protagonists of some well-known films.
72 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 4.2 Evolutionary motivations relating to finding a partner and having children

Motivation Film Protagonist

Dating/sex Carol (2015) Carol
The 40-Year-Old Virgin (2005) Andy Stitzer
Brokeback Mountain (2005) Jack Twist & Ennis Del Mar
Gone with the Wind (1939) Scarlett O’Hara
Displaying/improving I, Tonya (2017) Tonya Harding
physical skills Chariots of Fire (1981) Harold Abrahams
Rocky (1976) Rocky
Displaying/improving The Theory of Everything (2014) Stephen Hawking
mental skills The Social Network (2010) Mark Zuckerberg
Amadeus (1984) Antonio Salieri
Displaying/improving I Feel Pretty (2018) Renee Bennet
appearance Big (1988) Josh Baskin
Cover Girl (1944) Rusty
Demonstrating/ The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) Jordan Belfort
acquiring wealth Glengarry Glen Ross (1983) Shelley Levene
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes Lorelei Lee
(1953)

(Family) love
Once partners have found each other, it’s thought that love and affection must
have evolved to foster a cooperative relationship and tend for any children in
order to keep the partnership and the family group together.5 Table 4.3 illustrates
how affection motivates the protagonists of some well-known films.

Table 4.3 Evolutionary motivations relating to love

Motivation Film Protagonist

Affection Amour (2012) Georges
Finding Nemo (2003) Marlin
Mrs Doubtfire (1993) Daniel Hillard

Forming friendships and alliances

Another group of motivations help us to form better friendships and work in
groups with others. The desire to form these friendships and alliances would very
likely have evolved to help us and our families survive. Through altruism we help
 Motivating Character 73

others without any benefit to ourselves, even sometimes at a cost to ourselves, in

order to create a better society that is more likely to help us back when we really
need it. Reciprocal altruism, or helping another with the understanding that they
will help you another time, is the foundation of many friendships and explains
why trust is such an important component of close relationships. Research has
also demonstrated that we find altruism attractive, which probably contributes
towards explanations of why hero/ine stories are so popular.6
Related to altruism, conscience may have evolved as a way of forming alliances
with larger groups. By being driven to act on our knowledge of what is morally
right, we create a better world more conducive to our own survival as well as
the survival of our relatives.7 Within fiction, characters’ altruism and conscience
motivations have been used to powerful effect. Stories about these motivations
typically deal with the consequences of a dangerous threat to humanity and
demonstrate the powerful effects that people can have on their communities
when they do the right thing and behave in selfless ways, sometimes placing
their lives in danger in the process. A few examples of film protagonists motivated
by altruism or conscience are included in Table 4.4.

Table 4.4 Evolutionary motivations relating to forming friendships and alliances

Motivation Film Protagonist

Altruism Avatar (2009) Jake Sully
The Iron Giant (1999) The Iron Giant
Schindler’s List (1993) Oskar Schindler
Conscience Avatar (2009) Jake Sully
Hotel Rwanda (2004) Paul Rusesabagina
Schindler’s List (1993) Oskar Schindler

Creating a legacy and meaningful life

The fifth group of motivations relates to the ways in which we interact with our
culture or larger world. One of these motivations is to leave behind a lasting
legacy for generations to come. That could be an important idea, a collection of
art, a way of life or even a company. Some evolutionary psychologists speculate
that we may also be motivated to try and draw meaning from our lives and
to construct some kind of personal philosophy that gives our lives a sense of
purpose.8 Table 4.5 illustrates how these motivations drive the protagonists of a
few well-known films.
74 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 4.5 Evolutionary motivations relating to building a legacy and leading a

meaningful life

Motivation Film Protagonist

Legacy The Theory of Everything (2014) Stephen Hawking
Malcolm X (1992) Malcolm X
Gandhi (1982) Gandhi
Meaning The Tree of Life (2011) Jack
Solaris (1972) Kris Kelvin
The Seventh Seal (1957) Antonius Block
It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) George Bailey

Why some motivations make characters

more compelling than others

Imagine that while travelling on the bus you overhear three conversations. In
the first, a man runs down the stairs from the upstairs deck and shouts to a
friend that he’s just escaped from a woman with a loaded gun. In the second,
you overhear the bus-driver flirtatiously exchanging phone-numbers with
another regular passenger. And in the third, a middle-aged businessman tries
to persuade a colleague to switch to different accounting software. Do all these
conversations interest you equally? My guess is no.
Behavioural scientist Daniel Nettle argues that some stories are naturally
more appealing than others because they appeal to higher adaptive stakes. He
theorizes that in order to get our attention, fictional stories must be intensified
– or more dramatic – versions of the conversations that we have about real life.
The more at stake for a character in a story, the more likely that story will seize
our attention. Because we’re primed to listen most attentively to stories that
affect our self-preservation, stories which feature a protagonist who is fighting to
survive should be most compelling and have the potential to appeal to the largest
numbers of readers or audiences. This is likely to be one of the reasons why
Action, Adventure, Sci-Fi, Fantasy, War and, to a lesser degree, Thriller films and
novels have the potential to draw the largest audiences and readers. The appeal
of Horror films and books is limited by the fact that many people find them too
frightening.
Second to stories featuring life and death stakes in which the protagonist
is primarily motivated by their fight for survival, evolutionary theory predicts
 Motivating Character 75

Conscience
• Biopic/Biography
and Legacy

Friendships
• Buddy story
and Alliances

Family love • Family Comedy, Family Drama

• Rom Com, Romance, Rags to

Dating, status Riches, Comedy, Sports, Workplace
story, Biopic/Biography

• Action, Adventure, Sci Fi,

Survival
Fantasy, War, Horror, Thriller

Figure 4.1 The relationship between a protagonist’s primary goal, story genre and
potential audience appeal.

that stories about dating and status competitions should also grab our attention,
particularly when these are about situations in which competition is fierce,
or the protagonist(s) stand a lot to lose. We are probably attuned to listening
to these stories so that we can apply any strategies that we learn from them
to situations in our own lives. Narratives falling into this category include
Romantic Comedies, Romances, Sports stories, narratives set in the workplace
and Biopics or Biographies about high status individuals and celebrities. Beyond
these genres, as the stakes for a story’s protagonist diminish, we would expect
the size of the potential audience to fall. This relationship between a protagonist’s
primary motivation, story genre and the narrative’s potential audience appeal is
illustrated in Figure 4.1.

From external goal to internal need

One widely taught idea about character motivations is that the protagonist
should start their journey driven by a conscious, external goal that provides
their momentum for the first half of the story. This external goal, for example,
the desire to become a multimillionaire, is in conflict with the protagonist’s
internal, unconscious or subconscious ‘need’, for example, to develop more
76 The Science of Writing Characters

caring relationships. By the second half of the story, the protagonist’s need rises
into focus and becomes the main force that both motivates and transforms them
for the better. If the protagonist doesn’t seize the opportunity to act on their
needs, then they are generally on course for an unfulfilled life of unhappiness.9
Taking the example of sci-fi epic Avatar (2009), when paraplegic protagonist
Jake Sully is offered the opportunity to undergo a procedure that will allow
him to regain the use of his legs, he readily agrees. In return, he aligns himself
with the military and agrees to spy on the Na’vi. This becomes his motivating
goal for the first half of the film. But when Sully then falls in love with Na’vi
character Neytiri, and embraces all that life has to offer on Pandora, he develops
a conscience and understands that rather than help the US military continue to
plunder Pandora and destroy the Na’vi’s way of life, he must, instead, try and
stop them. This internal ‘need’ motivates Sully throughout the second half of the
film. In this example and many others, the idea that a protagonist’s goals must
change from an external conscious desire to an internal ‘need’ seems to work, but
from a psychological perspective, what is a ‘need’? And is this transformational
journey just a widely received Western formula linked to individualistic notions
of heroism? Or could it be, as I will argue, that this commonly seen narrative
pattern reflects the typical changes in motivational drives that occur across the
human life course?
According to Self-Determination Theory, as we grow older we learn to
fulfil three essential needs. These are as follows: to become more competent in
negotiating different environments, to become more autonomous or capable
of making independent decisions, and to belong by developing meaningful
relationships with others. If we are exposed to positive social and cultural
contexts then we usually achieve these needs, and are rewarded with greater
well-being and happiness.10 Research demonstrates that at the beginning of
our life journeys, through childhood and into early adulthood, our goals tend
to be extrinsic, which means that they are usually motivated by the possibility
of receiving external reward. We’re driven by the desire to make gains in life,
acquire more power and more freedom,11 and throughout this period we develop
competence and autonomy. As our culturally valued extrinsic goals become
associated with higher self-esteem, we typically internalize these goals and
they become intrinsic motivations in later life.12 Our midlife period is typically
a time of reassessment of our goals – just like the midpoint of many narratives.
During later life, our motivations shift from the more future-oriented goals of
early adulthood towards spending time in more meaningful relationships and
 Motivating Character 77

on personally meaningful goals in order to ensure that we have satisfied our final
need – to belong.13
Drawing this all together, the widely taught idea that a protagonist’s
motivations usually change from being externally driven goals to internal ‘needs’
reflects the pattern of motivational change that we typically see in real life when
people are exposed to positive social environments. The external motivations
that drive many protagonists through the first half of their stories are usually
agentic goals focused on acquiring more resources. From an evolutionary
viewpoint, if the protagonists’ survival isn’t threatened, then these goals are often
related to finding a partner or raising their status. Reflecting our midlives, the
midpoint marks a period of reflection on these external goals, while the need
comes more into focus. During the second part of the narrative, protagonists
tend to be motivated more by internal or intrinsic motivations, which often relate
to the need to belong. From an evolutionary perspective these motivations may
fall under the categories of family love, forming more meaningful friendships
and alliances, creating a legacy and more meaningful life, which all relate to our
need to make connections with others. Table 4.6 brings all these points together
in order to illustrate how the fictional protagonist’s changing goals reflect
motivational changes in real life.

Table 4.6 How the protagonist’s changing goals reflect motivational changes in life

Act I – Midpoint Midpoint – Act III

Early adulthood Later life
External (extrinsic) Internal (intrinsic)
Driven by external reward Driven by greater self-esteem
Future-oriented Present-oriented
Pleasure-oriented
Acquiring things Valuing what they already have
Greater competence and autonomy Belonging
Dating Family love
Developing / displaying physical skills Forming friendships and alliances
Developing / displaying mental skills Altruism
Improving / displaying appearance Conscience
Acquiring wealth Creating a legacy and meaningful life
Other culturally valued goals

Sources: Ryan, Richard M. and Edward L. Deci. ‘Self-determination theory and the facilitation of intrinsic
motivation, social development, and well-being.’ American Psychologist (2000); Freund, Alexandra M.,
Marie Hennecke and M. Mustafic. ‘On gains and losses, means and ends: Goal orientation and goal
focus across adulthood.’ The Oxford Handbook of Human Motivation (2012).
78 The Science of Writing Characters

Internal conflict

Conflicting motivations, thoughts, feelings and beliefs are central to the

transformational change in motivations that we have just been looking at. These
occur because our motivations, emotions and cognitions act independently on
our neural circuits. For example, we may know that we need to tell the truth
about a difficult situation, but feel fear at the prospect of doing so, so our feeling
of fear censures our actions. Bearing the weight of our conflicting drives is
an essential part of the human condition. When confronted with competing
motivations we need to make choices about how we should act, faced with the
knowledge that by making some gains there are others things that we stand to
lose and that this will impact the way that our lives will unfold ahead of us. In
the example of protagonist Valery Legasov from the TV miniseries Chernobyl
(2019), sometimes the weight of those decisions is unbearable.

Short- and long-term motivations

Like people, well-written and complex characters are rarely motivated by just a
single goal. In addition to long-term, overarching distal goals that power them
through the narrative, they also have short-term, proximal goals that drive their
actions from scene to scene. A character may be motivated by a longer-term
desire to solve a crime (using their mental skills), while simultaneously trying
to stay safe, explore a new environment (curiosity), and keep an affair with a
love interest alight. By forcing a character to follow multiple goals, we develop
the complexity that we expect from life and build tension as we complicate the
narrative and increase the gap between our hopes for the character (to solve
the crime, stay safe and realize the love affair) and our fears for them (failing
to solve the crime, getting hurt in the process and losing their love interest).
Sometimes the shorter-term goals also serve as a way of getting the protagonist
to achieve their longer-term goal. Interestingly, but also not surprisingly, people
are more likely to continue to pursue a personally meaningful long-term goal
if they envisage the series of interconnected short-term steps that they need to
take along the way.14 Having your protagonist develop a plan and reveal it to the
audience, therefore, isn’t just a lazy way of communicating plot and keeping the
reader on track with their progress, it’s a natural technique that many successful
people use.
 Motivating Character 79

Revealing character through their decisions

Some writing theorists suggest that it is only by putting our characters under
pressure that we reveal their true selves. ‘True character is revealed in the choices
a human being makes under pressure – the greater the pressure, the deeper the
revelation, the truer the choice to the character's essential nature’, writes Robert
McKee in his seminal text Story (1999). This idea that we have an essential nature is
both interesting and complex. We’ve already seen that personality is best captured
by the five-factor model, which shows our dispositions towards acting in certain
ways. But since we behave differently with different people, in different situations,
is it right to say that we’re at our most authentic when we’re under pressure?
Probably not. Most people report feeling most true to themselves when they’re
feeling calm, content, loving, free,15 ‘in the present’16 and behaving in socially
desirable ways.17 But if, instead, by essential nature McKee means behaving in our
most primal and instinctive ways, then he’s right. The choices that we make under
the greatest pressure – when our lives are threatened – are entirely instinctive
and out of our conscious control. Emotions of panic, fear or rage converge in our
unconscious minds, triggering our survival instincts. In these most threatening
situations, we typically act in one of two different ways. While the fight-or-flight
response appears to be more characteristic of men, studies suggest that in times
of great stress women are more likely to tend-or-befriend.
In fight-or-flight, the more characteristic male response to fear, there are not
two but four distinct responses that appear sequentially in response to a threat
and are more complex than they might sound. The first of these is to freeze, a
response which creates time to monitor the situation and avoid detection. The
next response is an attempt to flee, and if this is unsuccessful it is followed by an
attempt to either fight, or display verbal aggression or use other active coping
mechanisms to get out of danger. For writers, this creates some interesting
options to reveal character. Is your character more likely to launch into a violent
attack, shout threats or use some kind of other clever but equally confrontational
strategy in order to try and extract themselves from danger? Finally, if this fight
response is still unsuccessful then another instinct kicks in – playing dead,
otherwise known as tonic immobility.18,19
In the tend-or-befriend response that appears to be more characteristic of
women in highly threatening situations, two responses are frequently observed.
The first involves self-nurturing or tending to children that may be close by, in
order to reduce stress and promote safety. The second instinctive response is to
80 The Science of Writing Characters

reach out and befriend strangers who may be able to help in this dangerous time,
or to foster relationships with existing friends.20 If these are the typical ways in
which we are instinctively motivated to react towards the most dangerous threats,
how do we choose how to react in situations that are less dangerous? When
situations are highly emotionally charged but not life-threatening, we’re more
likely to take risks in our decision-making and underestimate how dangerous
those risks are. One emotion that we might experience in these situations is
anger, which simplifies our decision-making process and makes us more likely
to draw on stereotypes.21 In situations that are less emotional, we usually act on
‘gut feelings’, thinking back about how well things have gone in the past when
we’ve made similar decisions.22 We then use these memories to make predictions
about what is likely to happen for each of the options open to us, while also
assessing how likely we are to be able to pull off these various possibilities.23 The
result is our emotionally informed decision.
Thinking about this in relation to protagonist Valery Legasov in the TV
miniseries Chernobyl (2018), when early in the series he is called to a meeting
at the Kremlin, he has to decide whether or not to be the one to explain that the
core of the nuclear reactor must have melted, threatening the lives of millions.
There are presumably no comparable situations that Legasov has ever had to
face in his life, and as an introvert, having to assert himself and point out others’
flaws in the assessment of the nuclear reactor leak to the most powerful people
in the Soviet Union, he finds himself frozen and unable to speak. It is only when
Gorbachev announces that the meeting is adjourned, that Legasov realizes that
he can’t wait any longer and forces himself to speak up.

Drawing it all together

Motivations breathe life into our characters, give them direction, motivate plot
and sow the seeds of conflict. Evolutionary psychology suggests that motivations
fall into five groups, relating to survival, finding a partner, family love, forming
friendships and alliances, and creating a legacy and meaningful life. Of these
motivations, stories about survival have the highest evolutionary stakes and for
this reason are most likely to seize our attention and have the potential (if well-
written) to appeal to the largest audiences.
At the centre of most fictional narratives is a protagonist who is faced with
competing motivations, emotions and thoughts. Reflecting life, they usually
 Motivating Character 81

begin their stories motivated by a conscious external goal, which often relates to
becoming more independent, acquiring things, improving their status or finding
a partner. The midpoint of the narrative is typically a turning point in which
the protagonist reassesses these external goals. At this point their need to feel
more connected with others usually comes into focus. This need for connection
with family, friends or other alliances often drives the second half of the story.
In some stories about highly generative or particularly heroic protagonists, the
need for connection may also lead the protagonist to create a legacy and more
meaningful life. So, while protagonists’ goals are generally selfish and agentic,
their needs are typically to forge closer connections with others. Your protagonist
may need to repair fractured relationships, build on new relationships, or allow
themselves to fall in love.
Once you’ve nailed your main character’s major motivations, it’s time to
think about the other major characters in your narrative. What is it that your
antagonist wants, and how does this create a major obstacle for your main
character? Similarly, what are the goals of your other main characters? How do
these differ from those of your main character? Which goals are broadly shared,
and which others create further conflict? Also consider how your characters will
set about trying to achieve their objectives. If they are particularly ordered and
conscientious they may make plans, breaking down each step towards their goal
into a series of sub-goals. Or if they are more spontaneous characters they may
wander through life in a far more carefree manner, less focused on making any
achievements.
By this point you should have a pretty good understanding of how your
characters are likely to want to act. You’ll have a general idea of where your story
is going and the obstacles that your main character is going to face along the way.
These obstacles play a significant role in the way that most characters change.
We’ve already begun to consider how characters transform in relation to their
motivational changes. In the next chapter we’ll dig deeper and uncover when,
why and how else characters transform.
82
 5

When, why and how characters transform

Change is an inevitable and constant part of life. We are born, we grow older
and we die, while around us seasons pass, our environments transform, and our
cultures evolve. As we grow older, we also develop and transform as individuals.
We learn new skills, acquire greater knowledge and are changed by life events
good and bad. Through these changes we gain new perspectives on life, new
beliefs about what is important, and new motivations. Even our personalities,
or our essential selves, evolve. These changes are a fascinating part of our lives
that help us draw meaning from our lived experiences and shape our identities.
These changes are also central to the vast majority of fictional narratives. In this
chapter we’ll be examining when, why and how fictional characters typically
transform and how this mirrors the growth that we typically experience in our
own lives.

When people change

One of the ways in which we all transform is by growing older. Over the last
forty years, psychologists and psychiatrists including Dan McAdams, Daniel
Levinson, George Vaillant, Roger Gould and David Gutmann have argued that
human development follows predictable life stages. In so doing they follow
earlier frameworks developed by Carl Jung, Sigmund Freud and Erik Erikson.
Psychologists tend to group these transitional periods in our life into around five
chapters. First there is childhood, then adolescence, early adulthood, the mid-life
period, and then later life. Each of these chapters in our life is characterized by
different central concerns or themes that become important. For writers, it is
useful to better understand these themes because they often inform stories about
characters in different life stages. Let’s take a look at what typically happens at
each stage.
84 The Science of Writing Characters

Childhood (five to twelve years)

One of the main concerns for children in this age group is to become competent.
As they acquire a whole variety of new skills, their self-esteem rises steadily
until the age of eleven.1 One of these skills is to see the world through other
people’s eyes. When this skill develops, children begin using social comparisons
to define their sense of self and consider how they are going to make it in
this world.2 Meanwhile, friendships, particularly with others of the same sex,
become increasingly important. To illustrate these changes, Table 5.1 includes
examples of well-known child protagonists whose major transformation relates
to learning new skills and becoming more competent.

Table 5.1 Examples of transformations of child protagonists

Film/Novel Protagonist Transformation
Inside Out (2015) Riley Andersen Learns to understand the role of her
emotions
Home Alone (1990) Kevin McCallister Learns that he can look after himself
(but still needs his parents)
Matilda (Dahl, 1988) Matilda Wormwood Learns to use her powers
Lord of the Flies Ralph Learns about the human capacity
(Golding, 1954) for evil

Adolescence (thirteen to nineteen years)

For the majority of teenagers, these years are centred on finding their identity. In
order to do this, teens typically explore different identities until they settle with
one that feels most right for their emotional needs, goals and values. Loyal and
intimate friendships become more important as teens start to hang out in peer
groups, which may have their own unique values and identities. These groups
play a vital role in social support as teens become more independent from their
families.3 During this period teenagers also start to construct meaning from life
through personal narratives that weave together their experiences.4 By way of
illustration, Table 5.2 includes examples of how adolescent fictional protagonists’
transformations often relate to explorations of their identity.

Early adulthood (twenty to thirty-nine years)

Now comfortable with their newly found sense of identity, this is the stage in
which many young adults learn to navigate their first serious relationships, and
 When, Why and How Characters Transform 85

Table 5.2 Examples of transformations of adolescent protagonists

Film/Novel Protagonist Transformation
Lady Bird (2017) Christine ‘Lady Gains a more complete sense of
Bird’ McPherson her identity
Mean Girls (2004) Cady Heron Explores different school cliques
until she is comfortable with
her identity
The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Finding his identity, friendships
Adrian Mole, Aged 13 ¾ and relationships
(Townsend, 1982)
The Catcher in The Rye Holden Caulfield Learns that the alienation
(Salinger, 1951) he feels as he explores his
identity will eventually pass

locate themselves in the world of work. Many people in this stage will be driven
by the desire for power and freedom and trying to make gains in their life. At the
beginning of this period they may also be dealing with serious responsibility for
the first time5 and may already be starting to think about their legacy. Throughout
early adulthood, young people’s self-esteem continues to rise, most steeply until
the age of thirty.6 Table 5.3 includes some examples of the transformations of
early adult protagonists in well-known films and novels related to increasing
responsibilities and the desire to make gains.

Table 5.3 Examples of transformations of early adult protagonists

Film/Novel Protagonist Transformation

The Wolf of Wall Street Jordan Belfort Makes and then loses his fortune
(2013)
The Devil Wears Prada Andrea Sachs Grows in confidence at work
(2006)
The Secret History Richard Papen Learns to take control of his
(Tartt, 1992) own life
The Bell Jar (Plath, 1963) Esther Greenwood Learns how to free herself of her
fears and pressures upon her

Midlife (forty to sixty-four years)

The midlife period is for many people a time of turmoil and transition. It’s a
pivotal period at the intersection of growth and decline.7 As later life approaches,
people typically review whether life has turned out the way they imagined it,
whether they have met the goals they had been aiming for, and whether these are
86 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 5.4 Examples of transformations of protagonists in midlife

Film Protagonist Transformation

Birdman Or (The Unexpected Riggan Thomson Gains validation through
Virtue of Ignorance) critical acclaim
(2014)
Thelma And Louise (1991) Thelma Dickinson Gain independence and
and Louise Sawyer freedom
Break of Day (Colette, 1928) Colette Learns to be happy
without love
Mrs Dalloway (Woolf, 1925) Clarissa Dalloway Learns to accept her life as is

the same goals they want to follow for the rest of their lives. If this is sounding a
lot like the midpoint in many fictional narratives, then you’ll now understand the
reason why. During midlife, people often start to think more about how they can
become more ‘generative’, through creating more meaningful connections with
other people, helping others in society and also creating some kind of legacy that
they will leave behind.8 For many people, midlife is a stressful time which may
involve additional responsibilities at work,9 the need to care for children and aging
parents, and a time in which aspirations align with reality. Many studies have
shown that happiness and life-satisfaction reach their low point at midlife,10 but
not everyone follows this trajectory. The midlife crisis is a ubiquitous stereotype
that appears to affect only 10 to 20 per cent of (American) adults around this
age.11 For highly active and generative people, midlife is often a high point in their
lives, when they balance their conflicting desires for personal agency (the need for
status, dominance and control) and communion (the desire for connectedness,
warmth and love) and achieve many great things.12 Whether or not people are
feeling happier in their lives, their self-esteem continues to rise until the age of
sixty.13 Table 5.4 includes some examples of well-known fictional protagonists
who experience a period of turmoil or reassessment in their midlives.

Later life (sixty-five years onwards)

In this last stage of life people are generally concerned more with conserving
and maintaining what they have rather than gaining new things or skills. Earlier
in this period people enjoy their friendships, and find more meaning in the
present. Happiness increases during this period and stress decreases.14 Towards
the end of life, people often look back and reflect on whether they feel they’ve
lived a good life and made the right choices. Integrity comes with feelings of
 When, Why and How Characters Transform 87

Table 5.5 Examples of transformations of protagonists in later life

Film/Novel Protagonist Transformation

Amour (2012) Georges Laurent Maintains integrity by fulfilling a
promise to his wife
The Best Exotic Marigold Evelyn Finds her independence
Hotel (2011)
Up (2009) Carl Fredricksen Fulfils a lifelong dream
The Old Man and The Sea Santiago Accepts the natural order of life
(Hemingway, 1952)

accomplishment, but despair may accompany the feeling that life goals and
happiness haven’t been achieved. Table 5.5 includes some examples of well-
known fictional protagonists in their later lives who have either chosen to fulfil a
lifelong dream, or found another way of maintaining their integrity.

Why people change

Having discovered when people typically change, we are now going to look at
other reasons why people change. You won’t need this book to tell you that we
are shaped by our life experiences. Some of the most significant and meaningful
events in our lives are also very emotional. We can be transformed in positive
ways by an emotional high point, otherwise known as a peak experience. A
traumatic event may leave us feeling frightened and distressed. When we master
a particularly difficult challenge we may experience our subsequent feelings
of empowerment as a turning point. Psychologists have found that these life-
changing events help explain how someone changes, or remains the same, over
time.15 In the best fiction, these are the emotionally extreme moments that
connect character with plot.
At the same time as creating a structural framework for our stories, they
define the most important moments in the protagonist’s emotional journey.
Through their emotional resonance they also re-engage audiences and readers
with the character.

Peak experiences
Peak experiences are the high points in someone’s life. They are moments that
bring intense joy, inner peace, the feeling of being alive, transcending oneself
88 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 5.6 Examples of film protagonist transformations brought about by peak

experiences

Film/Protagonist Peak Experience(s) Transformation

Avatar (2009) Bonds with the direhorse Fully appreciates life
Jake Sully Rides the ikran for the first time Connects with the
Initiated as a member of the Na’vi Na’vi
Listens to the voices of the ancestors Finds meaning in
Pair bonds with Neytiri his life
A Beautiful Mind Realizes his mathematic formula Regains his life and
(2001) Wins the Nobel Prize career
John Nash
Chariots of Fire (1981) Runs in various races Overcomes his feelings
Harold Abrahams Wins an Olympic gold medal of inferiority

or experiencing one’s full potential.16 These kinds of experiences are often

accompanied by the feeling of loss of time and/or place. Some people experience
these high points when looking at awe-inspiring natural scenery. For others
the triggers may be sexual love, childbirth, extreme sports, religious moments,
scientific insights, viewing art, creative work or moments of introspection.17
These experiences are reported to change people’s lives for the better by increasing
their feelings of well-being and making their lives feel more meaningful.18 By
way of illustration, Table 5.6 includes examples of the transformations brought
about by protagonists’ peak experiences in a few well-known films.

Low points
The emotional low points in our life stories are equally important in shaping
the way that our lives unfold. While the majority of people recover well from
stressful life events by putting these down as useful learning experiences, and
a few experience positive psychological growth, when events are particularly
frightening or distressing people may go on to develop depression, anxiety or
post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).19 These could include being victims of a
violent assault, sexual abuse, injurious accident, losing a loved one, witnessing
a violent death, seeing a family member being injured or dying, diagnosis of a
life-threatening condition, experiencing a natural disaster, being involved in
military combat, or being held hostage. Around a third of people experiencing
one of these events will develop PTSD. This means that they relive the traumatic
episode through flashbacks or nightmares, typically avoid situations that
 When, Why and How Characters Transform 89

Table 5.7 Examples of film protagonist transformations brought about by low points

Film/Protagonist Low point Transformation

Leave No Trace (2018) Evicted from her Learns she must make her own
Thomasin Mckenzie (family) home choices in life
in a state park
Manchester By the Sea Losing his children Begins his recovery from PTSD
(2016) in a fire in their by arranging to continue his
Lee Chandler family home relationship with his nephew
The Theory of Everything Diagnosis of motor Throws himself into his work
(2014) neurone disease and experiences positive
Stephen Hawking psychological growth

remind them of the event, and may also experience isolation and guilt. For
some people, PTSD develops immediately after the distressing event, but for
others –including when related to childhood abuse – PTSD may not unfold for
months or even years.
Recovery generally involves slowly rebuilding trust with other people through
friendships, or taking on a job and engaging in hobbies, and is supported by
trauma-focused therapy.20 Personality also plays an important contribution
in our recovery from life’s most difficult events. Psychologists have found that
people who are more emotionally stable, higher on agreeableness, openness
and extroversion, are more likely to experience positive psychological growth
after a traumatic event. This might include having a greater appreciation for life,
greater optimism, increased happiness and well-being and deeper relationships
with others.21 In Table 5.7 we explore how the low points of protagonists in some
recent films have been instrumental in their character transformation.

Turning points
The turning points in our lives are the events that we feel significantly change
us. They often relate to events that have enabled us to move from dependency
towards autonomy and may be points at which we’ve had to make major
decisions. These kinds of events include self-mastery, acquiring a higher status,
a significant achievement, taking on a major responsibility or empowerment.
Other turning points involve gaining a profound insight into our lives which may
relate to our identity.22 Through this insight, we may find new goals or missions
in life.23 A number of examples of these turning points for the protagonists of a
few well-known films are included in Table 5.8.
90 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 5.8 Examples of film protagonist transformations brought about by turning

points

Film/Protagonist Turning point Transformation

Leave No Trace (2018) Returning to the community Living life for herself
Tom without her father
Thelma And Louise (1991) Deciding to go on the run Feeling empowered for
Thelma and Louise the first time
The Karate Kid (1984) Mastering the impossible kick Experiencing a sense of
Daniel accomplishment

How people change

Having looked at when people typically change and why they might change,
we’re now going to look at how people change. This change affects three different
aspects of our characters. As we grow older our personality matures; the nature
of our motivations transforms; and our beliefs are shaped by our life experience
and moral development. In the sections that follow, we’ll look at each of these
processes in more detail.

Personality development
Although personality is generally described as stable, it actually develops and
matures through our lifetime. The Big Five dimensions start to emerge from
early childhood,24 and by their late teens, young adults have developed a more
stable personality. As we grow older, we generally become more emotionally
stable, more extrovert, more open and more agreeable until these traits peak in
midlife. As we age further, we become a little more neurotic, introverted, closed to
experience and disagreeable. Throughout our lives, we also become increasingly
conscientious.25 The increase in conscientiousness and agreeableness may help
explain why we become more oriented towards the need for belonging and
connectedness as we grow older, and why we are more likely to take part in
communal activities that benefit others.26

Motivational change
In the previous chapter we saw that our early adult lives are typically dominated
by selfish, agentic desires related to making gains, and acquiring more power
 When, Why and How Characters Transform 91

Table 5.9 Examples of film protagonists’ motivational changes

Film Protagonist Initial agentic goal Later communal goal

Dallas Buyers’ Ton Woodroof To make money selling To help LGBT
Club (2013) an antiretroviral members of
drug his club
Avatar (2009) Jake Sully To make money and To help the Na’vi keep
regain the use of their homeland
his legs
Erin Brockovich Erin Brockovich To make money To help her clients
(1993) win the settlement
they deserve
Schindler’s List Oskar Schindler To get cheap Jewish To save his workers
(1993) labour for his from being put
factory to death

and autonomy. Our midlife period is a period of reassessment of these goals. As

we grow older we typically become more motivated by more communal goals
including the need to belong, and develop more meaningful relationships with
others, and if we are particularly generative then we may also be motivated by the
need to build a legacy we feel proud of.27 So, the general pattern of motivational
change is from more selfish to more selfless goals, reflecting the typical change in
protagonists’ motivations that we see in the vast majority of Western stories. In
Table 5.9 we take a look at some examples of these typical motivational changes
in the protagonists of well-known films.
While the majority of research into motivational changes has focused on
WEIRD populations (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich and Democratic),
research into human moral development suggests that the general trend of
becoming less selfless and more concerned for others as we grow older is probably
a universal.28 This isn’t to say that everyone experiences this journey, nor that
everyone goes through the same degree of motivational transformation as they
age. Exposed to the right life opportunities, some people become particularly
generative towards others as they grow older – for example the titular character
in Schindler’s List (1993). Other people change far less, but their motivational
changes are generally still in the same general direction as we have outlined.
So, for example, in the American biographical comedy-drama film Green Book
(2018), protagonist Tony Lip is initially motivated by his pay cheque to take the
job of a driver for Dr Don Shirley. As the film progresses, he starts to overcome
his racist attitudes, bonds with Dr Shirley and becomes closer with his wife.
92 The Science of Writing Characters

Although his motivational changes are less pronounced, the general pattern that
we’ve seen, from more selfish to selfless. It is also interesting and worth noting
that the motivational changes that play out throughout our whole life course
are typically compressed in films and novels into the story time, which may run
from a number of years to just a few months or sometimes even days. That’s quite
some change!

Changing beliefs
As we are changed by our life experiences, our beliefs about the world may
adjust accordingly. Our beliefs are also shaped by the people we meet along the
way, major transitions in our life, and major events happening around us. Since
people’s choices and actions are influenced by their beliefs, what a character
believes, how this influences their actions, and how their beliefs are changed by
the events of the narrative are important factors for writers to consider. Let’s take
a look at some of the most useful psychological research in this field that might
help the creation of more compelling characters.
Our early beliefs about the world are influenced by those of our family and
other important caregivers. Children of highly politicized parents typically share
the same political views as their parents.29 Similarly, children of religious parents
who have good relationships with their parents are also more likely to share their
religious orientation.30 By contrast, people who are more open to experience are
more likely to engage in a whole variety of different ideas and be more open to
accepting new ideas about the world. And as we might expect, people who are
more closed to experience are far less likely to consider ideas that they aren’t
already familiar with and are therefore more conservative in their outlook.31
There are several reasons why people may change their beliefs. First, if their
environment or lived experience is incongruent with their beliefs,32 and their
actions bring about negative consequences which make them feel bad.33 A
second reason why people change their beliefs is by developing a relationship
with someone whom they like and trust but who holds different views from
theirs.34 When holding those new beliefs is found to be a rewarding process, this
positive feeling makes it more likely that these new beliefs are internalized.35
For protagonist Jake Sully in Avatar (2009), meeting his love interest Neytiri
provides him with the opportunity to see the world of Pandora through her eyes.
Taking on her more spiritual views brings the meaning and purpose that he had
 When, Why and How Characters Transform 93

said was lacking in his life, so it makes complete sense when we see Sully then
begin to act on these new beliefs.
A third reason why people’s beliefs may change is that an intense emotional
experience causes them to re-evaluate their attitudes or even life philosophy.36
Trauma survivors who experience positive psychological growth often report
that after their recovery they find it easier to relate to others, see new possibilities,
live every day to its fullest, and try to enjoy life more. For some people going
through intense emotional experiences, their religious beliefs are strengthened,
while others become more cynical and less religious.

Drawing it all together

The typical patterns of character transformation that we see in many longer-

form works of fiction, in novels, films and TV series, closely reflect the natural
changes that we experience in our own lives. Some of these changes relate to
the different stages of our life: childhood, the teenage years, early adulthood,
midlife and later life. Through these stages we first acquire skills, become more
competent and autonomous, and explore our sense of identity. We then pursue
goals related to making gains and take on responsibilities. At the midpoint of
our lives we typically reassess whether the direction in which our early-life
motivations have taken us is where we want to be, and then later in life pursue
more communal goals. These life stages reflect our motivational changes, from
more agentic to more communal goals as well as our personality changes, as we
become more conscientious and more agreeable until late in life. In addition to
these developmental changes in our lives, we are also changed by emotionally
intense life events in the form of peak experiences, low points and turning
points. These change our beliefs, provide the structure to our lives and stories,
and give them meaning. They are the events that we invoke in explanations of
who we are, and who we have become. In the same way that we make sense of
our own lives through explanations of how we have handled the things that have
happened to us, we also draw meaning from the way that characters learn from
the events in their fictional lives.
Table 5.10 provides a summary of the major changes in motivation, happiness,
self-esteem and personality through adulthood which informs the journeys of
many fictional characters.
94 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 5.10 Major changes in motivations, happiness, self-esteem and personality

throughout adulthood

Early adulthood Midlife Later life

(20–39 years) (40–64 years) (65 years onwards)
Agentic motivations Reassessment of Communal motivations
motivations
Making gains Aspirations aligned with Developing more meaningful
Acquiring more power reality relationships
and autonomy Coping with additional Building a legacy
responsibilities
Living for the future Enjoying the present
Increasing happiness Least happy Increasing happiness
Rising self-esteem Rising self-esteem Decreasing self-esteem
Becoming more More conscientious More conscientious and a little
emotionally stable, Emotional stability, more neurotic, introverted,
extroverted, agreeable extroversion and closed to experience and
and conscientious agreeableness peaks disagreeable

Sources: McAdams, Dan P. The redemptive self: Stories Americans live by – revised and expanded edition.
Oxford University Press (2013); Freund, Alexandra M., Marie Hennecke and M. Mustafic. On gains
and losses, means and ends: Goal orientation and goal focus across adulthood. The Oxford Handbook of
Human Motivation (2012); Specht, Jule, Boris Egloff and Stefan C. Schmukle. ‘Stability and change of
personality across the life course: The impact of age and major life events on mean-level and rank-
order stability of the Big Five.’ Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (2011); Orth, Ulrich, Ruth
Yasemin Erol and Eva C. Luciano. ‘Development of self-esteem from age 4 to 94 years: A meta-analysis
of longitudinal studies.’ Psychological Bulletin (2018).

In this chapter we have already uncovered why emotionally intense life events
in the form of turning points, peaks and low points create the structure of most
fictional narratives. In the next chapter we’ll go on to investigate how these
events are woven together to create the protagonist’s emotional journey and why
emotions, including those induced by fiction, have the potential to exert such a
powerful force on human behaviour.
 6

The emotional journey

Storytelling is an emotional experience. Whether we’re writing stories, reading

novels, watching films or listening to a radio play, our emotions are engaged.
Depending on our mood, we seek out different genres of fiction and we’re
probably better at writing different kinds of scenes. There are times when we
want to forget a hard week, sit back and be entertained, there are times when we
want to laugh, and there are times when we want to feel moved, or try to make
more sense out of life. Different forms of fictions offer us all of these emotional
possibilities as well as many more through providing us with characters who
we care about, who we invest in and who take us with them on rich emotional
journeys.
Emotions exert an immensely powerful influence on human behaviour. They
organize and guide the way that we see the world, they shape our memories, they
guide our relationships and they steer the choices we make. In this chapter we’ll
investigate how a better understanding of the process of emotional engagement
with a character can help writers develop more compelling characters. We’ll
examine the six basic universal emotions as well as a few other emotions that are
particularly powerful for storytellers. We’ll learn why characters who experience
a wider variety of these emotions are more compelling and we’ll explore the
six most common emotional story arcs. Finally, we’ll take a closer look at how
stories end.

How we empathize with a character

Early researchers believed that cinema audiences come to identify with fictional
characters through the processes of empathy and emotional contagion, in which
an emotionally expressive character triggers similar emotions in the viewer.1
Mirror neurons, which fire when we watch someone performing an action, were
96 The Science of Writing Characters

thought to explain this process of emotional contagion, but recent research

suggests there’s little evidence to support that this is actually the case.2 A further
problem is that the theory of emotional contagion isn’t sufficient to explain why
we don’t empathize with characters whose actions we judge as being morally
wrong. In order to address this problem, cognitive psychologists Dolf Zillmann
and Joanne Cantor theorized that audiences form emotional biases towards
characters according to their moral judgements about them. In their Affective
Disposition Theory, Zillmann and Cantor suggest that viewers experience
pleasurable feelings when good protagonists are rewarded by positive narrative
outcomes and antagonists are punished with negative outcomes.3 In other
words, we enjoy stories that reflect our everyday feelings about a ‘just world’.
Feel free to skip ahead if that’s enough theory for you, but if you’re interested in
understanding why an audience’s subjective judgements about the moral virtues
of a character are important, read on.
Evolutionary biologist Robert Trivers discovered that human relationships
are built on a sophisticated system that regulates our moral emotions. This
includes the development of friendships with the people who are most likely to
help us, as well as avoiding or punishing people who cheat. Back in our ancestral
environment these skills would have been very important in enhancing our
chances of our survival, and the survival of our families. Trivers proposed that
our moral emotions, including love, compassion, gratitude, admiration and
elevation developed in order to develop vital friendship groups while other
moral emotions, including disgust and moralistic aggression, developed in order
to keep us safe from people who may harm us.4 Our moral emotions explain
why we empathize with characters who we perceive to be good, why we engage
with them, why we are moved by their emotional journeys, and why we want
their actions to be rewarded by positive outcomes. We root for protagonists
whom we trust and who – if they were real – would be good prospects as friends.
Furthermore, the more similar that we perceive a character to be to ourselves,
the more deeply we are moved by the narrative.5 One of the most commonly
used techniques that helps readers identify with a character is by showing them
dealing with an everyday obstacle in a relatable way. Let’s take a look at the way
that screenwriter Phoebe Waller-Bridge does this in the introduction to her
Fleabag (2016–19) pilot.
INT. FLEABAG FLAT. CORRIDOR. NIGHT. 1

Shot of the inside of a front door. Fleabag’s POV.

 The Emotional Journey 97

Shot of Fleabag a few steps away from the door, watching

it as if she’s ready to pounce. Smudged makeup, hair
tousled. Out of breath.

Shot of the inside of a front door. Fleabag’s POV.

Shot of Fleabag. She turns to the camera.

FLEABAG
(Earnest, touch of pain)

You know that feeling when a guy you

like sends you a text at 2 o’clock
on a Tuesday night and asks if he can
‘come and find you’ and you accidentally
make it out like you’ve just got in
yourself, so you have to get out of
bed, drink half a bottle of wine, get
in the shower, shave everything, put
on some agent provocateur business,
suspender belt, and wait by the door
until the buzzer goes -

(buzzer goes)

And then you open the door to him like you’d

almost forgotten he was coming over.

Excerpt from 02/03/2015 shooting script for the pilot of Fleabag (1989). Written
by Phoebe Waller-Bridge. Courtesy: Two Brothers Pictures / BBC.

So how is it that we come to identify with the character of Fleabag through this
introduction? First, many readers among the show’s target audience will identify
with the awkward and highly inconvenient social expectations around the
situation that Fleabag finds herself in. Second, the way in which the character tells
her story is funny, which makes her a more likeable character. It demonstrates
that she cares about social relationships and wants to engage with them. Part
of Fleabag’s humour is in her disarming honesty. By trusting the audience, the
character encourages us to trust her in turn – an essential quality in positive
relationships. Humour is also an attractive quality: it’s a sign of intelligence, and
also a good coping strategy, which are appealing attributes in someone that we’re
considering spending time with. In summary then, we rapidly identify with
98 The Science of Writing Characters

Fleabag because she appears to be someone who experiences life in a similar

way: she appears to be trustworthy and charismatic. We, of course, also engage
with her because she is entertaining.
Our moral emotions also explain why we are so good at spotting characters
whom we don’t trust, why we feel little if any sympathy for antagonistic characters,
and why we want villains to be suitably punished. Our moral emotions explain
why our feelings about fictional characters rarely change from the moment they
are formed. So, when characters whom we like perform in ways that we consider
to be somewhat immoral, we tend to morally disengage6 – in just the same way
that we overlook the times when our friends act in ways that we disapprove of.
Our moral emotions also account for why we side with somewhat unlikeable
protagonists when the other characters around them are even less trustworthy.
As readers and audiences, our relationships with fictional characters are proxies
for the real human friendships and relationships that we form. We make the best
choice of friends that we can – fictional or otherwise – from the characters that
we’re presented with.
Putting aside the theory, let’s consider the example of protagonist Mildred
Hayes from the American independent drama Three Billboards Outside Ebbing,
Missouri (2017). When first introduced, it would be hard to describe her as
sympathetic or likeable. Instead, she’s blunt, disagreeable and entirely consumed
by her own needs. However, when we then learn that her single aim is to find
justice for her daughter who was raped while dying, we realize that rather than
being self-centred, Mildred is, instead, on a selfless mission to do the right thing.
Her blunt ways are immediately redeemed and from here on we see her as good
and entirely deserving of our sympathies.

Personality and emotions

Psychologists have found that our personality plays a big part in the way that
we experience the world. While extroverted people are generally more happy,
enthusiastic, active, confident, energetic and sociable, introverts experience
more neutral emotions and tend to be more quiet, reserved and aloof. This
means that the extrovert’s emotional experience of the world is altogether
different from the introvert’s. For extroverts, socializing with other people
is a rewarding experience that makes them feel happy. By contrast introverts
feel more comfortable when alone or with just one or two people whom
 The Emotional Journey 99

they are close to. Neuroticism is another personality dimension to play a

major role in the way that we feel about the world. People who are more
emotionally unstable are more prone to emotional ups and downs, as well
as more anxiety. Since they tend to be more sensitive, they are typically
more likely to feel hurt, or take offence when things don’t go their way. That
may lead to prickly feelings, or anger. By contrast people who are more
emotionally stable have a much calmer outlook on life, rarely feeling ruffled
and enjoying stable moods.
When we talk about the different ways in which people experience the world,
which emotions are we referring to? How many emotions are there, and which of
these are most important to writers? In the sections to follow we’ll take a closer
look at the universal emotions, what these are and why they are so important to
consider when we’re developing fictional characters.

The six basic universal emotions

The idea that some emotions are universally expressed has been around for
hundreds, if not thousands of years. In 1872, Charles Darwin observed that
young people and old people, from different cultures, express the same states
of mind through the same movements. These emotions, he hypothesized, and
the way in which they are displayed must be innate. Nearly a hundred years
later, American psychologist Paul Ekman set out to discover if he was right.
Travelling to Papua New Guinea, he showed pictures of faces expressing
different emotions to the isolated and preliterate Fore people. When he asked
them which emotions they would display in certain situations, he found that
they picked out the same six emotions that his North American test subjects
did – Anger, Fear, Disgust, Happiness, Sadness and Surprise.7 He concluded that
these six basic emotions are displayed on the face, recognized and interpreted
across cultures in very similar ways, and that they must have evolved to help us
deal with basic life tasks. On a side note, it is no coincidence that five of these
emotions – Anger, Fear, Disgust, Joy and Sadness – were anthropomorphized
in the 2015 Pixar film Inside Out. Ekman was a consultant on the film. The sixth
emotion surprise was apparently dropped by director Peter Docter because he
felt that the storyline was stronger through using just five emotions. Returning
to our main subject, let’s take a more detailed look at each of these six basic
emotions in turn.
100 The Science of Writing Characters

Anger
Anger is one of our most primitive emotions and plays an important part in
our survival. It is one of the ways in which we have adapted to fight off threats,
compete for resources and reinforce social norms, by standing up for what we
believe is right. Anger results from a mismatch between what we’ve learned to
expect from a situation and the reality of what happens. The degree to which
we experience anger depends on the situation, our personality, age and life
experience. The closer the friend who upsets us, the more likely we are to feel
angry and hurt. This is particularly true for adolescent girls.8 People who are
more disagreeable and neurotic but less conscientious are more likely to express
anger.9,10 Older adults tend to express anger outwardly less frequently than
younger adults and children, seemingly because they are better at using calming
strategies to regulate their emotions.11
In terms of story dynamics, anger is a powerful motivating force. We saw this
earlier in the example of Mildred Hayes from Three Billboards outside Ebbing,
Missouri. Her anger at the lack of police action towards finding her daughter’s
rapist and murderer motivates her entire journey. Feeling anger tends to make
us more impulsive, confident and reckless. It also makes us more likely to
underestimate the chances of something going wrong.12 Equally powerful is the
uglier side of anger – it makes us feel more negatively towards people outside our
own group and more likely to look for someone to blame.13

Fear
Fear is another of our most primitive emotions that plays an important role in
our survival. As we saw in Chapter 4, in some situations fear prompts us to try
and escape from danger as rapidly as possible, while in other situations we may
try and fight, tend to children or befriend others who may be able to help. Given
that fear encompasses deeply unpleasant feelings of terror, why do many people
appear to enjoy frightening episodes in stories? Some scholars believe that one
reason is the vicarious thrill that we experience when reading about or watching
a character faced with a dangerous situation respond in an adaptive way and
survive. Since our minds have evolved to reward us when we behave in ways
that benefit our survival, we experience the same euphoric highs when watching
a character make a good decision in a frightening situation that allows them to
survive.14 Another theory, the ordeal simulation hypothesis, argues that fictional
 The Emotional Journey 101

stories about high risk but rare threatening events allow us to train our responses
to best deal with these situations should they ever happen to us.15 Frightening
stories may act as simulations of ordeals through which we are able to see the
outcomes of different actions that we could take.
Although many difficult situations in our lives provoke some fear, we mostly
learn to overcome these. More emotionally stable people sail through these
somewhat frightening and difficult situations more easily. In the previous
chapter we touched on the role that fear may play in a character’s transformation
when they go through trying life events. When a character perceives a traumatic
situation to be particularly terrifying and out of their control, based on real-life
outcomes we would expect them to be more likely to experience long-lasting
anxiety and depression as well as PTSD. By contrast, if a character experiences
a potentially traumatic situation as less frightening, more within their control,
and feels as though they have handled the situation well, they are more likely to
recover well from it and possibly even experience post-traumatic growth.

Disgust
Another of our most ancient emotions, disgust is thought to have evolved as a
way of protecting us from pathogens that might give us infection. These could
include pathogens in certain foods, or those in people carrying an infectious
disease.16 Although disgust plays a vital role in our survival, it also contributes
towards xenophobia and some people’s dislike for members of other groups.
People who are more sensitive to disgust tend to find their own group more
attractive and have more negative views about other groups.17 The other two
forms of disgust are sexual disgust and moral disgust. We feel sexual disgust
towards potential partners or acts that we find unattractive, while moral
disgust relates to our dislike of acts that we see as immoral. Although disgust
has evolutionary roots, because it is also shaped through social conditioning,
different cultures have aversions towards different foods, sexual practices and
social behaviour. North Americans, for example, are more likely to experience
moral disgust towards actions that limit an individual’s rights, freedom or
dignity, while Japanese people are more likely to be disgusted by actions that
restrict their integration into the social world.18
Disgust can be a highly revealing part of the way that fictional characters are
portrayed. Apart from grave moral wrongs, little else disgusts Tyrion Lannister
from A Song of Ice and Fire (Martin, 1996–)/Game of Thrones (2011–19). He is
102 The Science of Writing Characters

open to experience, sexual practices and interested in the ideas of other groups.
For other characters in the series, including Cersei and Daenerys Targaryen,
disgust at other people’s moral transgressions, particularly if they are members
of another group, is motivation enough to kill.

Happiness
Happiness encompasses a broad range of feelings, from amusement through
contentedness to euphoric joy. Psychologists believe that these pleasant feelings
have the important function of allowing us to broaden our awareness about
the world around us, and encourage new exploratory thoughts and actions.19
Taking for example, Jake Sully, the paraplegic protagonist of Avatar (2009), the
euphoric joy that he experiences when he runs in his avatar form for the first
time appears to contribute towards opening up his mind to the extraordinary
world of Pandora around him and, with this to new ideas about the Na’vi. When
particularly intense, positive emotions may become the peak moments or high
points of a character’s emotional journey, as we saw in Chapter 5, these peak
experiences have the potential to be just as transformative as a character’s low
points.

Sadness
Sadness is another emotion that plays a universal and inevitable role in the
human experience. Characterized by emotional pain, it is associated with
feelings of loss, disadvantage, despair, grief, helplessness or sorrow. These feelings
turn our attentions inwards, probably as a way of giving us time out from our
usually busy lives so that we can come to terms with our loss, take stock and
revise our goals and plans. From the perspective of writing a fictional character,
sadness is an immensely useful and important emotion for just that reason. If a
character’s emotional pain is significant, this low point in the storyline may lead
them to reassess their plans and revise their strategies. Low points often also play
a vital role in character transformation, as we saw in the previous chapter.
Low points aren’t just useful in the way that they align a character’s emotions
with the plot, they also intensify readers’ and audiences’ experience of feeling
moved.20 Some researchers believe that we enjoy moving stories because they
provide us with a safe environment in which to learn about how a character
deals with a difficult event that we may have experienced ourselves, or which
 The Emotional Journey 103

we may go through in the future. This may provide us with insights into how
to better handle such events, or give us a chance to try and draw some meaning
from them.21

Surprise
Surprises may be good, bad or neutral and may vary in their intensity, from
indifferent feelings to intense reactions that provoke the fight-or-flight response.
The greater the gap between our expectations of what is going to happen and
what actually happens, the greater the surprise. Since we frequently ignore weak
signals about surprising events that are to come,22 in order to feel convincing,
surprises or narrative reversals should be set up well in a story in a way that we
wouldn’t spot on first reading or viewing, but in a way that becomes clear should
we review the narrative again. For example, on first viewing of the supernatural
drama The Sixth Sense (1999), the audience is misled into thinking that the
narrative is being objectively rather than subjectively narrated by Malcom,
the main character, because we follow scenes from the points of views of other
characters and not just Malcolm. Despite this, the film’s surprise ending still
manages to feel coherent and psychologically convincing because the emotional
perspective through which we’ve engaged with the film remains the same. We
experience the same shock and catharsis as Malcolm, and the surprise ending
works. On a second viewing of the film, we spot the weakly communicated
signals about Malcolm’s death that we may not have seen before, including that
he is the subjective narrator.

Further universal emotions

A few years after proposing his basic list of six, Ekman expanded his list to include
a wider range of emotions that are not all expressed through the face. Other
psychologists have also added to this list by providing evidence for the following
emotions as universal: amusement, awe, contempt, contentment, desire, elevation,
embarrassment, guilt, interest, jealousy, love, pain, pride, relief, satisfaction, shame,
sympathy and tension. Rather than outlining the psychological mechanisms
behind all these emotions, we’ll just take a look at four which may be particularly
useful to writers when developing characters. These are elevation, awe, shame
and tension.
104 The Science of Writing Characters

Elevation
If you’ve ever watched a film or read a novel in which the main character performs
exceptionally kind, brave or virtuous acts that leave you with distinctive feelings
of warmth and being moved, uplifted, and inspired to do good deeds yourself,
then you’ve experienced the emotion known as elevation (also referred to as
moral elevation). Feelings of elevation can be triggered by watching people
perform acts of charity, compassion, kindness, love, self-sacrifice, courage,
forgiveness, loyalty, or any other strong virtue which is experienced as an act
of ‘moral beauty’.23 Watching or reading about others performing these acts can
be an incredibly powerful experience that has been shown to reset the mind,
erase pessimistic or cynical feelings and replace them with hope, love and moral
inspiration. As writers, if you’re interested in creating a narrative that shakes
up and inspires people’s lives, then elevation is undoubtedly the single most
important emotion in your repertoire. Table 6.1 includes a few examples of film
protagonists whose actions of moral beauty had the potential to evoke feelings
of elevation among the audiences watching these films.

Table 6.1 Examples of film protagonists’ actions inspiring elevation

Film Protagonist Act inspiring elevation

Winter’s Bone (2010) Ree Dolly Shows courage and loyalty towards her
family
Hotel Rwanda Paul Rusesabagina Saves Tutsi refugees at his hotel
(2004)
Forrest Gump (1994) Forrest Gump Shows exceptional kindness and loyalty
Schindler’s List Oskar Schindler Shows courage, compassion and self-
(1993) sacrifice when he saves Jews from
Auschwitz

Awe
Sometimes described as an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration and
connection to the universe, awe may be evoked by power and vastness. Feelings
of awe often cause us to have new insights about our life and our place in the
world. Like elevation then, awe is another powerful emotion for writers who
want to inspire or evoke change in their readers and audiences. Awe-inspiring
moments include gazing at vast natural scenes, having a spiritual encounter,
listening to a powerful and charismatic leader, listening to awe-inspiring music
 The Emotional Journey 105

Table 6.2 Examples of film protagonists who are shown to experience moments
of awe

Film Protagonist Awe-inspiring scene

Blade Runner 2049 K Epic opening scenes
(2017)
The Theory of Everything Stephen Hawking Invents his theory about black holes
(2014)
Avatar (2009) Jake Sully Listens to the voices of the ancestors
beneath the Tree of Souls
Into the Wild (2007) Christopher Gazes at the epic view from the top
McCandless of a mountain he’s climbed
Close Encounters of The Roy Neary Sees the aliens emerge from the
Third Kind (1977) mother ship
Says goodbye in the final scene
2001: A Space Odyssey Dr David Bowman Throwing the bone sequence
(1968) The Stargate sequence

or even understanding or inventing a grand theory.24 These positive experiences

of awe are related to meanings of the word awesome, but there is also another
category of awe-inspiring experiences which are related to fear or great
apprehension and sometimes described as awful. These experiences that bring
on feelings of powerlessness as well as dread may be triggered by gazing at the
cosmos, watching a powerfully frightening natural phenomena, or encountering
the face of God.25 Table 6.2 includes a few examples of moments from films when
the protagonists have experienced positive or negative feelings of awe.

Tension
There’s no need for me to point out that tension, and its close relative suspense,
is one of the most important emotions for writers to learn to master. The appeal
of many stories, films, television series, radio plays and novels is often directly
related to the level of tension that they create. From a psychological perspective,
tension results from states of conflict, instability, uncertainty or dissonance, in
which the reader is asked to hold two opposing beliefs at once about something
that is emotionally significant (this emotional significance is key). These states
trigger the reader to predict what’s going to happen next, and to yearn for the
instability or tension to be resolved. Interestingly, these identical principles
apply to music as well as stories – just reflect on the soundtracks typically used
in moments of high suspense and you’ll find them characterized by dissonant
106 The Science of Writing Characters

or unstable sounds that we yearn to hear resolved.26 Linked with this resolution
of tension is the promise of reward by the brain’s pleasure centres as well as the
potential to learn from the social situation depicted in the story.27
At this point you may well be wondering why we’re discussing tension in
a book about characterization, when tension may seem mostly related to plot.
And here’s why: in order to create suspenseful stories, your audience need to
care about what’s going to happen in your story. To do that, they need to feel
so emotionally invested in your character that they develop hopes and fears for
them. Researchers Lehne and Koelsch theorize that the greater the gap between
these hopes for the very best outcome for a character and fears for their worst-
case scenario, the greater is the tension developed.28
The 2019 television miniseries Chernobyl is a master class in developing
tension for the screen. First, it provides us with several convincing and
sympathetic lead characters in whom we invest emotionally. Then it shows how
the lives of these characters, as well as those of several million others, are placed
at significant and almost incalculable risk. The gap between our hopes and fears
for these characters is vast, and millions of lives are potentially at stake. The
fact that the series is based on the real-life events of the catastrophic nuclear
accident at the Chernobyl power plant in 1986, and that much of what actually
happened was covered up at the time, further adds to its tension. Also essential
in keeping the audience hooked is the tension that builds throughout the story.
Initial attempts to clean up the site don’t work. Estimates of the dangers involved
in failure to clean up the site increase. As a result, the audience is placed in
increasing states of cognitive conflict until the ending of the series is reached.

Shame
Shame and guilt are self-punishing acknowledgements that we’ve done something
wrong which goes against social norms. Although guilt is usually associated with
the feeling that we need to make amends for our actions, or at least confess our
guilt, shame tends to provoke feelings that are more related to wanting to insulate
ourselves from our actions, by hiding away, disappearing or escaping. Similarly,
while people who experience guilt are often inclined to wish that they had acted
differently, people who feel shame tend to feel they had little control over the
event and blame it on the way that they are.29 A far more potent and distressing
emotion, shame is a feeling that we can also experience vicariously through
others, particularly when we see ourselves as having a shared social identity.30
 The Emotional Journey 107

This means that the closer we identify with a fictional protagonist, and the more
similar that we see ourselves to them, the greater we experience the protagonist’s
shame. Taking, for example, protagonists Eva and Jan from Ingmar Bergman’s
1968 Swedish drama Shame, the closer we grow to them as the narrative unfolds,
the more we feel their sense of shame as war presses them into performing actions
that they would never have considered otherwise.

Emotional range

Understanding how single emotions can be more powerfully used is just one
part of understanding how to create more emotionally engaging characters.
Equally important is the knowledge that readers appear to enjoy experiencing
a full range of emotions when immersed in a narrative and that this appears
to motivate them to pay continued attention to the story.31 If we consider just
an average day in real life, we’re typically pulled through a whole range of
emotions in our interactions with family, colleagues, strangers and friends. On
most days these are probably mild emotional experiences, but they are still rich
and varied, spanning interest, amusement, irritation, disappointment, guilt and
pride. Given that most fictional protagonists’ emotional journeys appear to be
intensified versions of the range of emotions that we experience in our day-to-
day lives, and that this may be a requisite in order to create a story that takes
readers’ attention away from their real-world experiences, it is hardly surprising
that when confronted with fictional stories that are less emotionally engaging,
we read these as emotionally ‘thin’, ‘boring’ or ‘one note’.
Let’s take a look at the range of emotions that writer-director James Cameron
takes his protagonist Jake Sully through in Avatar (2009). Sully’s journey isn’t
confined to just emotional peaks and troughs. His emotional experience includes
the full range of emotions that we see in Table 6.3. And although I can’t yet prove
it, I suspect that this emotional range contributes significantly towards the film’s
commercial success.

Emotional arcs

In 1945, while studying for his Masters in Anthropology, American writer

Kurt Vonnegut made an intriguing observation: stories could be classified
108 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 6.3 Example scenes demonstrating the range of emotions displayed by the
protagonist in Avatar (2009)

Emotion Example scene

Anger Watches Quaritch’s army destroy the Home Tree
Fear Is attacked by a thanator
Disgust Learns that Quaritch plans to destroy the Home Tree
Happiness Runs through Pandora for the first time
Sadness Watches Grace die
Surprise Watches the Helicoradian retract when touched
Amusement Mistakenly crashes his tail into a table when first inhabiting his
avatar
Awe Listens to the voices of the ancestors beneath the Tree of Souls
Contempt Watches Quaritch’s army destroy the Home Tree
Contentment Lies with Neytiri after making love
Desire Makes love to Neytiri
Elevation Listens to dying Tsu’tey as he hands over his leadership to Sully
and asks to be set free
Embarrassment Falls off the direhorse
Guilt Works for Quaritch while befriending Neytiri
Interest Learns to control his avatar’s body
Love Pair bonds with Neytiri
Pain Gasps for breath in the shack during the film’s climax
Pride Rides the Toruk
Relief Breathes again when Neytiri places the gas mask over his face,
saving his human form
Satisfaction Successfully controls his avatar’s body for the first time
Shame Admits to the Na’vi that he knew Quaritch’s plans all along
Sympathy Feels for all the Na’vi when their Home Tree is destroyed
Tension Anticipates the threat posed by Quaritch’s plans to destroy the
Home Tree

into categories according to the rise and fall of fortune of their protagonist. He
suggested that ‘stories have shapes which can be drawn on graph paper, and that
the shape of a given society’s stories is at least as interesting as the shape of its
pots or spearheads’.32 Although Vonnegut chose to explain the five story forms
that he subsequently identified as describing the protagonist’s changes in fortune
against time, his graphs could equally be considered as showing the valence of
the protagonist’s emotions over time since people are generally happier when
they experience good things in life, and less happy when their fortunes change.
Vonnegut named the five story forms that he identified Man in a Hole, Boy
Meets Girl and a version of it, the Cinderella story, Creation Myth, and Kafka’s
Metamorphosis. Of these, he noted that Creation Myths tend to be limited to
 The Emotional Journey 109

religious stories of the creation of the world, and Kafka’s Metamorphosis is a very
unusual story form. Our focus, instead, will be on the most popular story forms.
Following in Vonnegut’s footsteps in 2011, Professor of English and Data
Analytics Matthew L. Jockers set out to investigate the truth behind Vonnegut’s
claims that all stories could be classified into categories according to the emotional
rise and fall of their narratives. Using a technique called sentiment analysis, which
measures the positive or negative valence of every word in a text and then plots
these along a timeline, he found that the emotional arcs of the nearly 5,000 novels
that he analyzed are dominated by just six basic shapes.33 They are Tragedy, Rags
to Riches, Man in a Hole, Quest, Cinderella, and Oedipus,34 which I outline in the
sections that follow. This is not to say that all stories in films, plays or novels follow
these emotional arcs, since many are more complex, but that these are the most
common. It is equally important to note that these arcs show the highly smoothed
average changes in emotion across six major story forms that were identified.
The arc of any individual novel that was analyzed would likely deviate from these
averages in many places. These six emotional story arcs therefore shouldn’t be
taken as precise templates to follow when writing, but as informative guides.
In the immediate sections that follow we’ll be looking at the broad changes of
emotions across the whole storyline that result from a macro level of analysis.
Later, we’ll be taking a closer look at the emotional curves in stories that happen
at the micro level. These reveal the changes in emotion from scene to scene.

Tragedy (fall)
In the Tragedy storyline, illustrated in Figure 6.1, the main character starts
the story with good fortune – or feeling positive – then encounters a series
of increasingly difficult events that leave them feeling very low by the end of
the narrative. They experience a small change in fortunes for the better at the
beginning of the second act, and then another downturn or reversal in fortunes
at the midpoint. In other Tragedies, the protagonist’s fortunes simply go from
good to bad. For example, in Tom Wolfe’s 1987 novel Bonfire of the Vanities, the
central character Sherman McCoy starts the book as a successful New York bond
trader and self-proclaimed Master of Wall Street. After he is involved in a hit-
and-run event, his life spirals downhill. By the end of the novel he is penniless,
estranged from his wife and daughter, and awaiting trial for manslaughter.
Typical to the Tragedy, Sherman starts off the story with good fortune, which
then takes a turn for the worst when he encounters difficulty. In some Tragedies
110 The Science of Writing Characters

0 20 40 60 80 100
Time

Figure 6.1 Emotional arc of the Tragedy.

Source: Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers, The Bestseller Code (Penguin Press, 2017.)
Copyright © Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers, 2016. Reprinted by permission of Penguin
Books Ltd. Reprinted by permission of Trident Media Group in the US and its territories, Canada
and the Philippine Islands.

the story’s resolution is defined by a small upturn in the protagonist’s emotions

at the resolution, at the point where they start to come to terms with their loss,
and in others the line charting the protagonist’s increasingly tragic fate is almost
entirely flat.35
Other examples of tragic novels include the 2015 Pulitzer Prize winner and
New York Times bestseller All the Light We Cannot See (Doerr, 2015), The Devil
Wears Prada (Weisberger, 2003) and Rainbow Six (Clancy, 1998). Films following
this emotional story form include Love Story (1970), Monty Python and the Holy
Grail (1975), Toy Story 3 (2010), Life of Pi (2012) and Get Out (2017).36

Rags to riches (rise)

The Rags to Riches arc (sometimes referred to as the Comedy within literary
criticism) takes the opposite trajectory to the Tragedy. As illustrated by
Figure 6.2, the protagonist starts the narrative with poor fortune and then a series
of increasingly good things happen to them. For example, in the well-known
children’s novel Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (Dahl, 1964), protagonist
Charlie Bucket begins his journey in poverty, with his grandparents. After
 The Emotional Journey 111

0 20 40 60 80 100
Time

Figure 6.2 Emotional arc of the Rags to Riches story.

Source: Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers, The Bestseller Code (Penguin Press, 2017.)
Copyright © Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers, 2016. Reprinted by permission of Penguin
Books Ltd. Reprinted by permission of Trident Media Group in the US and its territories, Canada
and the Philippine Islands.

winning a golden ticket he is awarded a tour of Willy Wonka’s famous chocolate

factory. Because of his singularly good behaviour throughout the tour, Charlie
learns that he will be Wonka’s successor to the chocolate factory. Often in Rags to
Riches stories, the middle act is defined by a small downturn in the protagonist’s
fortune as they encounter an obstacle that they have to overcome.
Other novels with the Rags to Riches arc include The Divine Comedy (Dante,
1308–20), Madam Bovary (Flaubert, 1856), The Client (Grisham, 1993) and The
Secret Life of Bees (Kidd, 2001), while films include Pretty Woman (1990), The
Shawshank Redemption (1994), Slumdog Millionaire (2008), The Social Network
(2010) and The Favourite (2018). In films, this emotional arc is most commonly
associated with biopics and historical plots.37

Man in a hole (fall–rise)

In the Man in a Hole story form, illustrated by Figure 6.3, the narrative typically
begins with an everyday protagonist experiencing quite a comfortable life. Things
then take a turn for the worst when the protagonist falls into a metaphorical hole
from which they have to dig themselves out in order to recover their fortunes.
112 The Science of Writing Characters

GOOD FORTUNE

BEGINNING END

ILL FORTUNE MAN IN HOLE

Figure 6.3 Emotional arc of the Man in a Hole emotional story.

Source: K. Vonnegut, A Man Without A Country (London: Bloomsbury, 2007) © K. Vonnegut,
2007, A Man Without A Country, Bloomsbury Publishing Plc.

By the end of the story the protagonist is typically happier than at the beginning
of their journey, usually because they’ve developed resilience through their
experiences and may see life in a more meaningful way. In the previous chapter
we looked at how difficult life experiences can result in this kind of positive
developmental growth.
Stories with the Man in a Hole emotional arc include the world’s first recorded
story, the Epic of Gilgamesh (c. 2100 BC), the European fairy tale Little Red Riding
Hood (c. seventeenth century), The War of the Worlds (Wells, 1898), Dracula
(Stoker, 1897), The Silver Linings Playbook (Quick, 2008)38 and the overall
storyline for the Harry Potter series (Rowling, 1997–2007). Films following this
story form include The Godfather (1972), The Departed (2006), Life of Pi (2012),
12 Years A Slave (2013) and Mary Poppins Returns (2018). Research suggests that
the most financially successful films released in the West have screenplays that
follow this emotional arc, even when the film’s production budget and genre are
controlled for.39

Quest (rise–fall–rise–fall)
The Quest emotional arc is almost the inverse of Man in a Hole but with an
additional complication around the midpoint of the narrative. As its name
suggests, this emotional arc is most commonly associated with stories about
protagonists exploring new worlds, defeating some kind of metaphorical or
literal monster, and then returning home. As Figure 6.4 illustrates, at the
 The Emotional Journey 113

0 20 40 60 80 100
Time

Figure 6.4 Emotional arc of the Quest story.

Source: Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers, The Bestseller Code (Penguin Press, 2017.)
Copyright © Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers, 2016. Reprinted by permission of Penguin
Books Ltd. Reprinted by permission of Trident Media Group in the US and its territories, Canada
and the Philippine Islands.

beginning of this story the protagonist experiences a rise in fortune, but then
encounters some kind of difficulty at the end of the first act. By the midpoint,
the protagonist has generally found a way of solving or getting around this
problem and their fortunes rise again, only to encounter another major
difficulty in the third act. This usually leaves them in a worse position or
feeling more depressed about life than when they started the journey. A more
common rise–fall emotional arc in films has the protagonist experience an
upturn in feelings at the end of their quest, showing that life has become less
bleak at the end of the story, perhaps because they’ve had a chance to learn
something from their journey.40
Novels following the rise–fall–rise–fall emotional arc include The Corrections
(Frantzen, 2001), The Satanic Verses (Rushdie, 1988) and Love the One You’re
With (Giffin, 2008),41 while films with a general rise–fall pattern include On the
Waterfront (1954), Mary Poppins (1964) and A Very Long Engagement (2004).

Cinderella story (rise–fall–rise)

Just like the Cinderella fairy tale that it is named after, in this emotional arc
something wonderful happens initially to the protagonist, their fortunes then
114 The Science of Writing Characters

GOOD FORTUNE

BEGINNING END

ILL FORTUNE

Figure 6.5 Emotional arc of the Cinderella story.

Source: K. Vonnegut, A Man Without A Country (London: Bloomsbury, 2007) © K. Vonnegut,
2007, A Man Without A Country, Bloomsbury Publishing Plc.

change for the worse, before finally changing again for the better. In some
stories following this general form the protagonist is happier at the end of the
narrative than they were at the beginning, generally because they have a greater
appreciation for their relationships as well as life in general. These are storylines
in which we see the protagonist experience positive growth after difficult events
or loss. In other versions of this story form the protagonist’s fortunes change
for the better at the end of the narrative, but don’t recover to the level that they
were at the beginning. Novels with this general rise–fall–rise arc include Misery
(King, 1987), Big Little Lies (Moriarty, 2014) and Testimony (Shreve, 2008),42
while films include Rushmore (1998), Spider-Man 2 (2004)43 and Can You Ever
Forgive Me? (2018).

Oedipus (fall–rise–fall)
In the Oedipus emotional arc, the protagonist’s fortunes initially fall, then
rise, and then fall again. In other words, they initially experience some great
misfortune leading to an emotional low point. After this their fortunes pick
up, but are marred once again as we see in Figure 6.6. Novels following this
fall–rise–fall emotional arc include Fifty Shades of Grey (James, 2011), Wolf
Hall (Mantel, 2009)44 and Frankenstein; or the Modern Prometheus (Shelley,
1818), while films include The Little Mermaid (1989), As Good as it Gets
(1997), and All About My Mother (1999). Films following this story arc are
often within the sports genre.45
 The Emotional Journey 115

0 20 40 60 80 100
Time

Figure 6.6 Emotional arc of the Oedipus story.

Source: Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers, The Bestseller Code (Penguin Press, 2017.)
Copyright © Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers, 2016. Reprinted by permission of Penguin
Books Ltd. Reprinted by permission of Trident Media Group in the US and its territories, Canada
and the Philippine Islands.

Page-turners

While the macro level of sentiment analysis tells us about the protagonist’s
broadest changes in emotions from the beginning to the end of the narrative,
it doesn’t tell us about the emotional fluctuations that occur from page to page
or from scene to scene. Analyzing these micro level changes in sentiment,
Matthew L. Jockers and Jodie Archer discovered that novels that were page-
turners shared a common emotional form. They took their readers through a
rollercoaster of regularly rising and falling emotions. Their frequent turning
points were steep, symmetrical and regularly spaced. In other words, the
narratives of these stories appear to capture their readers’ attention because
of these rhythmic and constant changes in the protagonist’s fortunes.46
Just as events appear to be going well for the protagonist, their fortunes
change completely, keeping readers continuously on their toes. From a
psychological perspective, it’s likely that the cyclical nature of the tension –
reward cycle in which the protagonist repeatedly faces relatively high stake
threats and then is rewarded for making adaptively successful decisions –
creates an intoxicating and even somewhat addictive experience for the reader.
116 The Science of Writing Characters

The Glider

Graduation Sex
Meet Again
The Boathouse
Vanilla Sex
Emotion

Throw Him Out!

Mrs. Robinson Dinner
Drunken Vomit

His Sad Side and The Rules

It's Over!
0 25 50 75 100
Story Time

Figure 6.7 Emotional peaks and low points in Fifty Shades of Grey (James, 2011).
Source: Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers, The Bestseller Code (Penguin Press,
2017.) Copyright © Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers, 2016. Reprinted by
permission of Penguin Books Ltd. Reprinted by permission of Trident Media Group in
the US and its territories, Canada and the Philippine Islands.

Figure 6.7 is a reproduction of a graph showing the results of sentiment

analysis performed by Archer and Jockers for the bestseller Fifty Shades of Grey
(E. L. James, 2015). The lighter grey lines show the emotional fluctuations from
scene to scene, reflecting the moment-by-moment conflicts between protagonists
Ana and Christian. When these curves are smoothed by the computer, they
graph the major turning points of the novel, shown by the bold black line. Note
how quickly their fortunes change between their emotional peaks and troughs,
creating that feeling of a rollercoaster of emotions for the reader.

How the story ends

All stories have to end, but how they end can feel satisfying or unsatisfying.
Endings that we experience as satisfying typically bring about a resolution of
the narrative’s main tensions. Inter- and intra-personal conflicts are resolved,
unstable states returned to stability, and any conflicting ideas that were presented
 The Emotional Journey 117

are now reconciled. For the audience, this resolution of tension triggers the
neural reward circuits, bringing about positive emotions and the feeling that
this narrative journey has been a satisfying experience. Equally important to the
ending that we experience as satisfying is that the story’s characters are shown to
reap their ‘just rewards’. Protagonists whom we have judged to be good are fairly
rewarded, while antagonists are appropriately punished. Taking, for example,
The Wizard of Oz (1939), the end of the film sees Dorothy returning home,
rewarded for being a good friend to others by being reunited with Toto, her dog,
and surrounded by family and friends who love her. When she declares that she
will never have any need to leave home again it is evident that she has learnt
that she has everything here that she needs. The main tension of the storyline
is resolved – Dorothy is reunited with Toto, other storylines are tied up and the
result is a satisfying and upbeat ending.
Of course, in real life there are many occasions when ‘good people’ are not
fairly rewarded, ‘bad people’ get away with their acts, and tensions remain
unresolved. Fictional narratives that choose to reflect the reality of the human
condition give readers and audiences a chance to reflect on the meaning of life.
Rather than offering escapism, they offer a safe space for us to contemplate life
as it really is. Thinking, for example, about Michael Haneke’s critically acclaimed
psychological drama Caché (2005), one of the film’s major themes is how
oppression results in unresolved societal tension, which is aptly reflected at the
film’s ending in which the major storyline lacks a firm resolution.

The happy ending

The happy ending has become a characteristic so readily associated with
Hollywood films, and particularly those produced within the classical period
of filmmaking (1918–60), that the happy endings are often referred to as
Hollywood happy endings. During the era of the Motion Picture Production
Code in the United States, law enforced that film narratives must follow a strict
moral code, and happy endings were encouraged. While some researchers
might argue that the Hollywood happy ending has arisen from the legislative
and cultural pressures that originated in the era of the Production Code, an
alternative explanation is that we are hard-wired for optimism.
The optimism bias is the pervasive human phenomenon through which
people feel unrealistically optimistic about their future and underestimate
the likelihood of experiencing negative events.47 The majority of us think that
118 The Science of Writing Characters

we’re likely to live longer, healthier and easier lives than we likely will.48 Some
evolutionary psychologists believe that this optimism bias evolved as a way of
convincing others that we’re good candidates for acts of reciprocal altruism, that
is, friendship. Other researchers suggest that the function of our optimism is
to give us hope in the knowledge of our own mortality.49 Whatever its basis,
our innate optimism bias may help explain why many people prefer positive,
redemptive stories, in which bad events are ‘made good’ through positive
outcomes50 and tensions are resolved. Thus, far from being the artificially
imposed cultural and historical construct that some researchers have suggested,
stories with happy endings may well reflect a deep truth about our human nature.

The tragic ending

If humans are hard-wired for optimism and often prefer redemptive stories with
happy endings, then why do people ‘enjoy’ tragic dramas, melancholy novels
or heart-wrenching operas? As we have already touched on several times,
melancholy stories or narratives, in which good is not shown to always come
from difficult events, provide us with a more realistic view of life. Readers of
tragic novels and viewers of more melancholy films may choose these narratives
because they provide them with the opportunity to grapple with questions
about life’s purpose, particularly around the subject of our mortality, in a safe
environment.51 By watching fictional characters struggling with life’s challenges,
we are reminded that these difficult moments are an essential part of life, so that
we feel less alone when we experience similar ordeals ourselves. Tragic endings
also give us the opportunity to learn from any poor choices that a protagonist
may have made and which resulted in this ending, so that we can avoid making
similarly poor decisions ourselves.

The mixed affect ending

Many well-known films, novels and television series have endings that are
neither purely happy nor entirely sad. Take the ending of American drama
Thelma and Louise (1991) for example, where the main characters avoid
being captured by the police by driving their car off the edge of a canyon.
On the one hand, the ending is, of course, tragic. The characters are fully
aware that there’s no way they are going to survive their final move. But on
the other hand, the film’s musical score and the exhilaration on Thelma’s
 The Emotional Journey 119

and Louise’s faces signify freedom and triumph for the characters. For the
audience, this ending evokes mixed emotions, combining feelings of sadness
and hope. Together, these mixed emotions feel moving. Mixed emotions are
often associated with endings, both in real life and in fiction, and are often
accompanied by contemplation about life’s biggest questions.52 Knowing that
something is coming to an end makes that experience feel more poignant,
and even more so as we get older.53

Drawing it all together

It is through our emotions that we connect with stories. Narratives draw us

in because we form an emotional connection with their characters. At the
beginning of this chapter we looked at how audiences identify with protagonists
whom they trust. We then examined the basic universal emotions – anger, fear,
disgust, happiness, sadness and surprise – and how tension may be developed
in a narrative by creating a gap between the reader’s hopes for the protagonist,
and their fears. We also investigated why positive emotions including moral
elevation, joy and awe are so powerful in the hands of storytellers. We saw
that stories in which characters experience a variety of emotions feel rich and
emotionally compelling and we explored the six most common emotional arcs
found in Western narratives. Finally, we considered the ending – why certain
endings feel satisfying; why endings that don’t resolve tension may still be right
for your story, and what audiences take away from happy, tragic and mixed affect
endings.
Now that you’ve understood your character’s emotional journey, it’s time to
move on and think about your secondary characters. In the next chapter we’ll
uncover some fascinating research on human relationships that will allow you to
better understand how your characters are likely to behave with others and why
personality plays such an important role in our relationships.
120
 7

Secondary characters

Stories are rarely told about a single character acting in isolation. They are
about situations and relationships. Secondary characters drive stories forwards,
provide alternative perspectives on the central theme, and create obstacles or
support for the main character. They often force the protagonist to make choices,
rethink plans and decide what’s most important to them. Secondary characters
also have a major part to play in the protagonist’s emotional journey. Good
friends, family or lovers may share the main character’s peak experiences, and
they may also be around for their low points. Just as our real-life relationships
are dynamic, the most compelling and believable fictional relationships also
shift and change. At different times we bring different motivations, different
needs and different moods to our relationships, which change the nature of
these interpersonal connections. Relationships may swing from being positive
and supportive to being hostile and strained. One conversational poor turn as
a result of a difficult day may take a relationship down an unforeseen rabbit
hole, or an unexpectedly kind gesture from a new acquaintance could cement a
lifelong friendship. Mastering the writing of these shifting dynamics so that they
feel compelling and believable is an essential skill for longer-form storytellers. In
this chapter we’ll dig deep into the psychology of interpersonal relationships to
uncover what we can learn that may be helpful in refining these skills.
First, let’s consider whether secondary characters need to be written with the
same levels of complexity as the main character in order to be convincing. Do
secondary characters need to be characterized across all dimensions of the Big
Five as well as their thirty facets of personality? Or are there shortcuts that we
can and should make when writing them? Research tells us that in the first five
seconds of meeting strangers, we make fairly accurate judgements about their
levels of extroversion, and good estimates of their agreeableness, neuroticism,
conscientiousness, negative emotions and even intelligence.1,2 So in short periods
of time, we probably don’t read many more aspects of a stranger’s personality
122 The Science of Writing Characters

unless they are engaged in an activity that clearly reveals a strongly expressed
facet of their personality, for example, showing angry hostility. Despite this,
we assume that when we meet a stranger for just a few seconds, they have as
complex and fully rounded personalities as the people that we know best, but
we just haven’t had a chance to see these other aspects of their personalities.
The same is very likely true of fictional secondary characters. Provided that
they act in entirely convincing ways when we first meet them on at least a few
dimensions, and particularly extroversion, this is generally enough to convince
us that these persons are ‘believable’ for a short period of time. However, the
more time we spend with any secondary character, the greater our expectations
will be of seeing further complexity of their personalities. So, while flatter
characters are useful, as E.M. Forster notes, because their consistency isn’t a
distraction from the main storyline, rounder characters, with whom we spend
more story time, require deeper characterization. Depending on the length of
story time that the reader will spend with them, this may mean drawing out
your secondary characters in three, four or five dimensions, expressing their
most memorable facets of personality, and giving them clear motivations and
beliefs.
In the sections that follow we’ll investigate how else psychological research can
inform us in writing more believable and engaging character relationships. We’ll
start by looking at the Interpersonal Circumplex, which charts the main styles
of relationships that people have with others. Next, we’ll cast our eyes over the
main functions that secondary characters typically fulfil, and what psychological
research can usefully tell us about these roles. We’ll also investigate how our
personalities shape the kinds of relationships that we have with other people and
how we can use this knowledge to create more convincing relationships between
our fictional characters. When it comes to matters of the heart, we’ll ask whether
opposites really attract. Last of all, we’ll dive deep into research that tells us how
our personality affects the ways in which we try to get what we want. If this
sounds interesting, then read on!

The Interpersonal Circumplex

Studying the ways in which we relate to each other, personality psychologists

noticed that two of the Big Five dimensions, extroversion and agreeableness,
play a particularly important role in interpersonal relationships. While
 Secondary Characters 123

Extroversion captures the degree to which we are outward-facing and want to

socialize with others, Agreeableness describes our warmth and our desire to get
along with other people – two extremely important qualities in relationships.
Developing this idea, American psychologist Mervin Freedman and his team
proposed that the variety of ways in which people relate to each other may be
conceptualized as falling within a circular model, which was later named the
Interpersonal Circumplex. Within this circular model, one axis represents agency,
which measures a person’s need for status, dominance and control – think
Cersei from Game of Thrones (2011–18). The other axis measures communion,
which describes someone’s need for connectedness, friendliness, warmth and
love – think Samwell Tarly. So, as illustrated in Figure 7.1, every point within
the Interpersonal Circumplex represents a weighted combination of needs for
agency and communion.3
People and characters who fall near one of the poles on the Interpersonal
Circumplex create the clearest impressions of agency or communion. In
other words, they come across as particularly warm or cold-hearted, or very
dominant or submissive. Other characters whose interpersonal styles fall

Dominant
(Assertive)

Hostile – Dominant Friendly – Dominant

(Arrogant, calculating) (Gregarious)
Agency/Status

Hostile Friendly
(Cold-hearted) (Warm)
Communion

Hostile-Submissive Friendly - Submissive

(Aloof) (Modest, trusting)

Submissive

Figure 7.1 Capturing relationships using the Interpersonal Circumplex.

Source: J. S. Wiggins and R. Broughton, The interpersonal circle: A structural model for the
integration of personality research. (1985) Perspectives in personality, 1, pp.1–47.
124 The Science of Writing Characters

along the edge of the circle also send out stronger messages of dominance,
submission, warmth or hostility. By contrast, characters whose interpersonal
styles would be plotted right in the middle of the circle are neither strongly
assertive nor submissive, neither warm nor cold-hearted. The way that they
interact with other characters is less clearly interpreted and while for some
characters this could be read as intriguing and mysterious, there is also the
danger that interactions with these characters may, instead, come across as
simply bland.
Let’s take a look at how the Interpersonal Circumplex can be applied to
understand the relationship styles of some of the main characters in A Song of Ice
and Fire (1996–) and its television adaptation Game of Thrones (2011–18). I’ve
plotted the variety of interpersonal styles that we see in the series in Figure 7.2.

Dominant
(Assertive)

D
C
A
JB
Agency

J T
JS

Hostile Friendly
(Cold-hearted) (Warm)
Communion

TG

Submissive

KEY
A=Arya Stark; B=Bran Stark; C=Cersei Lannister; D=Daenerys Targaryen;
J=Jaime; JB=Joffrey Baratheon; JS=Jon Snow; S=Samwell Tarly;
TG=Theon Greyjoy; T=Tyrion Lannister

Figure 7.2 Interpersonal Circumplex for Game of Thrones characters.

 Secondary Characters 125

In the same way that context plays an important role in shaping our behaviour,
context is also important in the way that characters express their interpersonal
styles. Although Cersei Lannister is usually cold-hearted and dominant, she is
generally warmer in her relationship with her lover/brother Jaime and their son
Joffrey. In Figure 7.2, I’ve placed Cersei (C) and Joffrey in the top left quadrant
of the Circumplex and along its circumference, since they are both arrogant,
calculating, cold-hearted and dominant characters. Cersei’s brothers Jaime (JL)
and Tyrion Lannister (T) are also dominant, but more gregarious, so I’ve placed
them in the top right quadrant, along with Jon Snow (JS). Daenerys Targaryen
(D) is highly agentic, and depending on the context varies between acting
in extremely hostile and cold-hearted ways with others and being somewhat
friendly, so I’ve placed her at the top of the Circumplex. Arya Stark (A) is
also dominant, though far less so than Daenerys, and sits somewhere in the
middle between warm and cold-hearted. Finally, in the bottom right quadrant,
I’ve placed friendly and submissive Samwell Tarly (S) as well as Theon Greyjoy
(TG), who has an interesting arc which takes him from arrogant and assertive to
submissive, where I place him now.
What’s interesting to note when looking at Figure 7.2 are the wide range of
interpersonal styles that we see across the primary and secondary characters
of A Song of Ice and Fire. And, of course, there are many additional characters
in the series whom I haven’t plotted here. The strong agentic types are needed
to create the conflict and race for power in the narrative, while the more
submissive characters, like Samwell Tarly and Theon Greyjoy, are needed
as counterpoints. Similarly, while several of the key characters in the series
including Cersei and her son Joffrey are truly cold-hearted, others including
Samwell Tarly, Jon Snow and Tyrion balance their icy ways with warmth and
compassion.
Most longer-form stories need the balance that comes with a variety of
characters whose interpersonal styles fall across all four quadrants of the
Circumplex. Within these quadrants, characters who are in the top right
quadrant will generally be the most appealing. Friendly and dominant, they are
likely to have the closest friendships with other characters, and would typically
be most attractive as partners. By contrast, the deepest conflict is generated
by characters who are hostile and dominant and fall in the top left quadrant.
Characters who fall in the bottom right quadrant remind us of our need for
connection and cooperation with others and are often essential foils to more
dominant characters.
126 The Science of Writing Characters

The functions of secondary characters

From the moment we’re born we start taking on different roles in life –
from daughter or son to friend, colleague, parent and mentor, mirroring
similar functions that characters perform in fiction. Let’s take a look at what
psychological research can tell us about friendships, romantic relationships,
family relationships and antagonists that may be useful in creating more
believable characters.

Friends
For most of us and our characters alike, our friendships help remind us of who
we are. They provide us with companionship, support, compassion and advice.
They provide a sounding board for new ideas and they help steer our choices.
At times they are also a source of conflict. So, who do we typically choose as a
friend and why? One study by psychologists found that people generally tend
to select friends who are similarly agreeable, extrovert and open to experience
as themselves.4 Openness to experience is important in friendship because it
influences our beliefs, as well as the things that we like to do, and the subjects
that we enjoy talking about. Unsurprisingly, extroverts and more agreeable
people tend to make the most number of friends. Introverts, however, typically
have deeper relationships. They make less friends, but they are more likely to
understand these friends’ needs, and share more intimacies with them. Of all
qualities, neuroticism is the most toxic in friendships.5
As writers, we are probably as interested in what creates conflict between
our characters and drives them apart as we are in what brings them
together. These differences between our characters are essential in creating
conflict, driving the story forwards and facilitating the protagonist’s growth.
Thinking about the main characters in the American buddy movie Sideways
(2004), for example, Miles is a pessimistic introvert, who is moderately
disagreeable, neurotic, conscientious and somewhat open to experience. On
the Interpersonal Circumplex he’d fall somewhere in the lower left quadrant.
By contrast his buddy Jack is a highly optimistic extrovert, who is agreeable,
emotionally stable, unconscientious and open to experience. He’d take a place
on the upper right quadrant of the Interpersonal Circumplex. What Miles and
Jack have in common is their history as college roommates, a mutual love of
wine and an interest in the arts and culture – Miles is a writer and Jack is a
 Secondary Characters 127

former actor. Their differences on every other dimension of their personalities

create the conflict that is at the heart of this comedy. While Jack views his
final week of unmarried life as the chance to have a few more flings, Miles
is unimpressed by his lack of commitment towards his fiancée and Jack’s lies
that go with it. Meanwhile Miles’ disposition towards depression and anxiety
irritates the far more emotionally stable Jack, particularly when Miles doesn’t
manage to keep these feelings under check during what would have otherwise
been a fun double date. These differences between their personalities help
force Miles to reflect on what’s really important to him. Through Jack’s more
gregarious ways, Miles meets his new love interest Maya which allows him to
move on from his past.

Table 7.1 Contrasting Big Five personality dimensions for Miles and Jack from
Sideways (2004)

Miles Jack
Extroversion Low High
Agreeableness Moderate High
Neuroticism Moderate/High Low
Conscientiousness Moderate Low
Openness Moderate High

Love interest
Some of the most memorable fictional relationships are between characters who
fall in love, from Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy in Pride and Prejudice (Austen,
1813), through Rick and Isla in Casablanca (1942), Jack Twist and Ennis Del
Mar in Brokeback Mountain (2005) to Beth and Randall in This is Us (2016–).
What can psychology tell us about creating this kind of magic? This is the
point at which I’d love to be able to share a robust and cross-culturally tested
formula that gives you the precise ingredients to spark chemistry between your
characters. But, of course, if any psychologist really understood what’s behind
human attraction, chances are they’d be the billionaires behind a new dating
agency and you’d already know everything there is to know about their theories.
What psychologists have learnt is that people’s preferences in partners differ
depending on whether they’re looking for a short- or longer-term relationship.
Unsurprisingly, for short-term sexual relationships men and women place greater
emphasis on their partner’s physical attractiveness. In terms of personality,
agreeableness and extroversion appear to be universally appealing.6 People are
128 The Science of Writing Characters

generally more attracted to others whom they see as similar to themselves in

relation to their agency and communion. So, individuals who are high in agency
tend to prefer attractiveness and status in their partner, while people who are
high in communion usually seek out warmer and more caring dates.7 If in real
life we tend to be more attracted to people who are more similar to us in terms
of our agency and communion, is this also what we typically see in some of the
best loved fictional couples? Let’s take a look at a couple of examples to find out.

Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler

Close to the top of many lists of the most popular movie couples of all time
are Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler from Gone with the Wind (1939), adapted
from the 1936 novel of the same name. For Scarlett and Rhett, is theirs a case of
opposites attract or are they actually very similar? Let’s take a look at how they
would rate on the Big Five personality dimensions as illustrated in Table 7.2.

Table 7.2 Contrasting Big Five personality dimensions for Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett
Butler from Gone with the Wind (1939)

Scarlett Rhett
Extroversion High Moderate/High
Agreeableness Low Low
Neuroticism High Low
Conscientiousness Low Moderate
Openness Low High

Like Scarlett, Rhett is a highly agentic character. He’s an alpha male, driven
by desires for wealth and freedom, while Scarlett is on the make. As research
predicts, they appear to be drawn to each other because they both value
agency, attractiveness and status over warmth and agreeableness. Despite this,
what’s interesting about their characters and essential for their passion is the
fact that they are both tender-minded, a facet more typically associated with
characters who are highly agreeable. Together with the impulsive, assertive and
disagreeable side of their natures, this tender-mindedness sparks their passion.
Love and relationships really matter to Scarlett and Rhett. In addition, Rhett is
shown to be the only person to understand what makes Scarlett tick, because in
many ways they’re similar. In Rhett’s own words taken from the novel For I do
love you, Scarlett, because we are so much alike, renegades, both of us, dear, and
selfish rascals.
 Secondary Characters 129

Where the couple differ is on emotional stability and openness to experience.

While Scarlett is hot-headed and prone to emotional ups and downs, one of the
reasons that Rhett seems to be good for her is that he’s much more emotionally
stable. He’s also more open to experience, which helps open Scarlett’s outlook on
life. As a fictional couple, Scarlett and Rhett work because of their similarities,
which draw them together and allow them to share a somewhat similar world
view, as well as their differences which create a complement between their
personalities.

Carol and Therese

Compared with Scarlett and Rhett, the characters of Carol and Therese from
the critically applauded drama film Carol (2015) and the novel from which it
was adapted, The Price of Salt (Highsmith, 1952), reveal a very different kind
of on-screen chemistry that fits perfectly with this story of longing and loss.
In the film, and also in the original novel on which it was based, Therese is
portrayed as a curious enigma to the far more confident, active, assertive and
outgoing Carol. To Carol, Therese’s introversion, and the other ways in which
she differs from her, make her intriguing. There is also the suggestion that
Therese needs to be with someone more confident and extrovert in order to
reveal herself. Another dimension on which Carol and Therese differ is their
conscientiousness. While the main conflict for Carol comes from the possibility
of being separated from her daughter should her affair with Therese break up
her marriage, Therese, by contrast, is depicted as having intentionally severed
her relationship with her mother. So, while Carol is portrayed as conscientious
and bound by loyalty to her family, Therese appears to find it easier to move on
from relationships.
What Carol and Therese have in common is their openness to experience.
In the novel Therese is portrayed as working as a set designer, who loves the

Table 7.3 Contrasting Big Five personality dimensions for Carol and Therese from
Carol (2015)

Carol Therese
Extroversion Moderate Low
Agreeableness Moderate Moderate
Neuroticism Low Moderate
Conscientiousness High Moderate
Openness to experience Moderate High
130 The Science of Writing Characters

theatre, poetry, travel and exploring a variety of emotional experiences. Carol

is also shown to love travel and appreciate aesthetics. From the level of interest
that she shows in the details of Therese’s life, we can surmise that she is interested
in and appreciates their differences. Their chemistry is sparked by this desire to
better know and understand each other. It is the longing of two tender-minded
people in love, who we sense would perfectly complement each other, but who
are separated by the different lives they have chosen as well as the cultural and
legal barriers at the time.

Long-term romantic partnerships

When it comes to long-term romantic partnerships, there are far clearer patterns
of what works, and what tends not to work. Couples who are opposites in terms
of their emotional stability and extroversion, but more similar in their levels of
conscientiousness, agreeableness and openness are more likely to stay together.8
Interestingly, although partnerships between extroverts and introverts are often
complementary, research suggests this is sometimes to the detriment of the
more introverted partner. This may be because highly extroverted people are
more likely to meet and form relationships with other potential partners which
are viewed as threatening.9 Another personality factor that contributes towards
the breakdown of relationships is high neuroticism. Toxic relationships are often
due to one or both partners scoring high on this factor.10
Enough with the research – let’s take a look at how these personality factors
contribute towards the breakdown of the fictitious relationship between central
characters Joan Archer and Joe Castleman in the US drama film The Wife (2017),
based on the novel of the same name.

Joan Archer and Joe Castleman

Initially attracted by Professor Joe Castleman’s confidence, gregariousness and
charm, it is these qualities associated with extroversion, alongside their mutual
love for literature, that appeal to his far more introverted student Joan Archer,
and which, along with their mutual love of literature, appear to have sustained
their marriage for many years. Joe enjoys the limelight and understands how
to get people’s attention with the subject of his stories, while tender-minded
and introverted Joan experiences relationships more deeply and knows how to
write. She also recognizes how difficult it is to make a living as a female writer,
particularly with her quieter personality. In the early years of their relationship,
 Secondary Characters 131

Table 7.4 Contrasting Big Five personality dimensions for Joan and Joe Castleman
from The Wife (2017)

Joan Joe
Extroversion Low High
Agreeableness Moderate Moderate
Neuroticism Moderate Low
Conscientiousness High Moderate
Openness to experience High High

they enjoy the complementary attributes that sustain Joan’s vision of what a
writer must be.
Table 7.4 illustrates how Joan and Joe are complementary in their levels of
extroversion and emotional stability, but more similar in conscientiousness,
agreeableness and openness to experience – qualities that research suggests
should sustain their relationship. And perhaps these qualities would
have sustained their relationship if they hadn’t entered into a duplicitous
arrangement through which Joe takes credit for Joan’s writing. Joe’s lower
conscientiousness and higher extroversion ultimately tear their marriage
apart. Joan grows resentful that Joseph has taken all the credit for her writing
over the previous thirty years. Not only that, he’s also been having affairs.
With their relationship reaching a crisis point when Joe wins a Nobel Prize,
Joan can no longer bear the strain. Reflecting the research findings on which
personality dimensions typically sustain a long-term relationship, and which
are most likely to destroy it, the way in which Joe and Joan’s relationship is
depicted in The Wife appears to hold a mirror to the way certain relationships
unfold in real life.

Family members
Moving on from romantic relationships, if you are creating characters within
the same family, you may be wondering how similar they should be. From your
own experience you’re bound to know family members who are very similar,
as well as others who you’d never guess are related. So how important is nature
compared with nurture? And if family members are very different, how do we
make it plausible that they are genetically connected? In terms of personality,
twin studies demonstrate that our genetics play the most important role in our
inheriting openness to experience, followed by extroversion, conscientiousness
132 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 7.5 Contrasting Big Five personality dimensions for Tyrion, Cersei and Jaime
Lannister from A Song of Ice and Fire (1996–)

Tyrion Cersei Jaime

Extroversion High Moderate High
Agreeableness Moderate Low Moderate
Neuroticism Moderate Moderate Moderate
Conscientiousness High High Moderate
Openness High Moderate Moderate

and neuroticism.11,12 This means that genetically related family members are
most likely to rate similarly on openness to experience, but there is still a lot of
variability that is accounted for by environmental factors – including, but not
limited to, the way that we are brought up.
Thinking about this in relation to the three best-known members of the
Lannister family in A Song of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones (2011–19), it is
evident that siblings Cersei, Jaime and Tyrion share clear similarities as well as
differences. To some degree they are all extroverts, but they differ in terms of
the facets on which they rate most highly. Cersei is the most assertive, Tyrion
the most gregarious, and Jaime is drawn towards seeking excitement. All three
are moderately emotionally stable, but again differ in the specific qualities that
show this. Cersei and Tyrion share a vulnerability, while Cersei and Jaime are
the most impulsive. Cersei alone scores moderately high on anger hostility.
Of the three siblings, Tyrion is by far the most agreeable and the most likely
to be straightforward, modest and tender-minded. At the other end of the
spectrum, Cersei is selfish, manipulative, untrusting, competitive, immodest
and cold-hearted. The Lannister siblings are more similar in their levels of
conscientiousness and openness to experience as we see in Table 7.5.
So what conclusions can we draw from this? The similarities between these
fictional siblings are strong enough for us to believe in their common heritage.
But it is the differences between these characters – particularly on certain highly
expressed facets of personality – that are most dramatically interesting and
provide conflict.

Antagonists
As we saw in Chapter 2, antagonistic characters score high on the attributes of
the Dark Triad of personality. They’re typically narcissistic, Machiavellian and
 Secondary Characters 133

Table 7.6 Contrasting Dark Triad ratings for Abigail Hall, Queen Anne and the
Duchess of Marlborough from The Favourite (2018)

Machiavellianism Narcissism Psychopathy

Abigail Hall High Moderate Moderate
Queen Anne Low High Low
Duchess of High Moderate Moderate
Marlborough

somewhat psychopathic. The greater the stakes of your film or novel, the higher
we’d expect to see the antagonist rate on these traits. So, while a world-saving,
high-on-the-Light-Triad Marvel superhero will typically be pitted against an
insanely egotistical, scheming, cruel and callous villain, such extremes would
be completely over the top and unbelievable in the antagonist of low-key
drama. In more realistic fiction, we expect to encounter antagonistic characters
with lower ratings on the Dark Triad and who will have both good and bad
qualities. In many narratives, the greatest antagonistic forces aren’t external but
lie within the main character. If we take the British Academy Award-winning
historical drama The Favourite (2018), for example, there are dark traits in each
of the three main characters, as illustrated in Table 7.6. It is precisely these traits
that make the three main characters and their interactions with each other so
fascinating.

How different characters get what they want

Different characters have not only different motivations but also different
styles of trying to get the things that they want. So what are these different
styles and which kinds of people are most likely to use them? Psychologists
have found that there are an astonishing twelve different ways in which
we try to manipulate others. These are charm, reason, coercion, the silent
treatment, debasement, regression, appealing to responsibilities, reciprocity,
bribes, emphasising the pleasure to be had, social comparison and by using
hardball tactics. The methods that we use to try and achieve our goals tell us
a lot about our personalities as we’ll see in the pages that follow. Let’s look
at each of these methods in turn along with some examples of the characters
who use them.
134 The Science of Writing Characters

Charm
We’re all familiar with the ways in which people charm others into getting what
they want. Charm may involve giving personal compliments, being romantic,
proffering gifts or even volunteering favours. It is more frequently used to get
people to do something, rather than stopping them from doing something
and unsurprisingly tends to be used more in romantic relationships than with
friends or parents. Let’s take a look at an example of the way that Dr Hannibal
Lecter uses charm in a brief excerpt from the screenplay for The Silence of the
Lambs (1991).

DR LECTER
You’re very frank, Clarice. I think
it would be quite something to know
you in your private life.

Source: Excerpt from unknown draft screenplay for The Silence of the Lambs
(1991). Written by Ted Tally. Based on the novel by Thomas Harris. Courtesy:
Strong Heart/Demme Production and Orion Pictures.

Spoken by someone else, these flattering and very personal lines might be
welcome, but when voiced by one of the most well-known and brilliant
psychopaths from twentieth-century fiction, they are creepy and disturbing.
Dr Lecter’s goal here is to provoke Clarice, so that he can enjoy her reactions.

Appealing to responsibilities
Another way in which people try to get what they want is by appealing to
responsibility, in other words, by making the case that something needs to be
done by someone because it is that person’s duty to do it, and they have taken on
a commitment to do this. For example, in the following excerpt from American
crime film Goodfellas (1990), Karen tells her husband that she doesn’t want to go
on living a life of crime. As she appeals to him with her reminder that she has a
duty to her family, she tries to get her way by implicitly reminding him that he
also has responsibilities towards her.

KAREN
I’m not going to run. Live the rest
of our lives like rats. Is
 Secondary Characters 135

that what you want? Leave my

mother. Leave my family. Never
see anybody again.

Source: Excerpt from shooting draft (January 3, 1989) for Goodfellas (1990).
Written by Nicholas Pileggi and Martin Scorsese. Courtesy: Warner Bros.

Appealing to reason
Appeals to reason, a technique used more frequently by people who are highly
conscientious, remind us of why we should do something. This could involve
pointing out the good things that will come from that action, or explaining
why someone is making that appeal. In the following excerpt from the pilot for
the British TV series Killing Eve (2018–), Eve appeals to reason when her first
request to be present in a witness interview is refused. When she isn’t successful,
she asserts she’s going to do it anyway.

EVE
Would you mind if I asked to be
present in the witness interview?

BILL
Sure, if you’re an agent. But
you’re a glorified security guard
so.. Dang sorry.

EVE
But if it’s a new assassin, we need to
know as much as we can as soon as we –

BILL
Yes I would mind. Your time is
mine. I own you.

EVE
I’m going to do it anyway.

Source: Excerpt from shooting script for the pilot of Killing Eve (2018). Written
by Phoebe Waller-Bridge. Courtesy: Sid Gentle Films for BBC America.
136 The Science of Writing Characters

Emphasizing the pleasure to be had

For agreeable people, who are sensitive to other people’s needs and prefer to
be cooperative rather than demanding, getting people to do what they want
has to be done in the most pleasant way possible. In order to do this they
usually emphasize the pleasure to be had. For example, in a romantic scene
in the American comedy-drama Sideways (2004), when the protagonist’s love
interest, Maya, wants to persuade him to open a special bottle of wine that
he was saving, here’s the way that she phrases it and makes her claim hard to
resist:

MAYA
The day you open a ‘61 Cheval Blanc,
that’s the special occasion.

Source: Excerpt from May 29, 2003 script for Sideways (2004). Written by
Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor. Courtesy: Michael London Productions.

Reciprocity
Appealing to reciprocity is about proposing a reward or favour in return for
someone doing something for you. In other words: ‘If you help me, I’ll help you.’
In the following excerpt from the screenplay for the pilot episode of the TV
series Breaking Bad (2008–13), Walter White is threatened with a gun by a rival
dealer. He offers to demonstrate how to cook his special meth recipe in exchange
for being allowed to keep his life.

WALT
W-What if I showed you my secret? Every
cook’s got his recipe -- what if I
taught you mine?
(off their silence)
Let us both live, I’ll teach you.

Source: Excerpt from May 27, 2005 script for the pilot episode of Breaking Bad
(2008). Written by Vince Gilligan. Courtesy: AMC / Sony Pictures Television.
 Secondary Characters 137

Social comparison
Individuals who are more closed to experience often use social comparison
when trying to get their own way. They might make a preferential comparison
to someone else who would perform their desired activity. Or they might insist
that they would look stupid if they didn’t do it. In the following excerpt from
teen comedy Mean Girls (2004), when Cady tells ‘Queen Bee’ Regina that she
plans on joining the Mathletes, Regina gets her own way by using the following
social comparison:

REGINA
No, no, no. You cannot do that. That is
social suicide. Damn, you are so lucky you
have us to guide you.

Source: Excerpt from June 3, 2003 script for Mean Girls (2004). Written by Tina
Fey. Courtesy of Paramount Pictures / M.G. Films / Broadway Video.

Debasement
People who use debasement to get what they want will typically put themselves
down, lower themselves or act humble. In the following excerpt from one of the
final scenes in the historical drama Schindler’s List (1993), Schindler puts down
his efforts to save the Jews in an attempt to stop Stern from congratulating him.
He feels he should have saved more people from their deaths and won’t hear
otherwise.

SCHINDLER
If I’d made more money ... I threw away
so much money, you have no idea. If I’d
just ...

STERN
There will be generations because of
what you did.

SCHINDLER
I didn’t do enough.
138 The Science of Writing Characters

Source: Excerpt from (March 1990) first revision script for Schindler’s List (1993).
Written by Steven Zallian. Courtesy: Universal Pictures / Amblin Entertainment.

Coercion
Coercive people use demands or threats to get someone to do what they want.
They may force people to do something, criticize them, threaten or shout at them
until they perform that action. Coercion has been found to be most commonly
used by people who are highly disagreeable or neurotic, as well as by male
extroverts, when trying to get friends or partners to stop doing something.13
In the following excerpt from the American drama Gran Torino (2008), the
character played by Clint Eastwood threatens local kids in his front garden that
if they don’t leave, he’ll respond with violence.

WALT
Don’t think for a second I won’t blow a
big hole in your face and it won’t bother
me a bit, not any more than if I shot a
deer. Now get off my goddamned lawn.

Source: Excerpt from unknown draft script for Gran Torino (2008). Written by
Nick Schenk. Courtesy: Double Nickel Entertainment / Malpaso Productions /
Village Roadshow Pictures.

Regression
Regression involves whining or sulking until you get what you want and is most
commonly used by people who are high on neuroticism. Here’s an excerpt from
Gone with the Wind (1939) in which Scarlett O’ Hara uses her practised expertise
in this technique in order to get her friends to stop talking about war:

SCARLETT
Fiddle-dee-dee! War, war, war! This war
talk’s spoiling all the fun at every
party this Spring! I get so bored I
could scream!

She makes a motion to indicate in affected fashion just

how annoyed she is by this boring subject.
 Secondary Characters 139

Source: Excerpt from unknown draft script for Gone with the Wind (1939).
Written by Sidney Howard. Based on the novel by Margaret Mitchell. Courtesy:
Turner Entertainment Co and O.S.P. Publishing Inc.

Bribes
Offering a monetary reward in exchange for doing something is a tactic most
commonly used by people who are higher on neuroticism. But like all these
strategies, it isn’t confined to just one personality type. Here is an excerpt from
the screenplay for The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) in which Jordan Belfort offers
an FBI agent a bribe.

JORDAN
See, it’s all about proper guidance,
Pat. Knowing someone with the right
relationships, who’s discreet. I can
change a life almost every day.

They measure each other.

AGENT DENHAM
How much that intern make off your deal?

JORDAN
North of half a million.

Denham summons agent Hughes over. To Denham:

AGENT DENHAM
Can you say that again, what you told me?
(Jordan declines with a smile;
to Agent Hughes)
I believe Mr Belfort just tried to bribe a
federal officer.

Source: Excerpt from (March 5, 2013) shooting script for The Wolf of Wall Street
(2013). Written by Terence Winter. Courtesy: Red Granite Pictures / Appian
Way / Sikelia Productions / EMJAG Productions.
140 The Science of Writing Characters

Hardball tactics
Hardball tactics involve lying, threatening or using violence, threatening to
leave someone, degrading someone, or withholding money until someone does
what’s being asked of them. Following is an example from the American drama
Whiplash (2014), when antagonistic music teacher Fletcher uses violence to try
to get his student Andrew to slow down his rhythm on the drums.

Andrew nods. Get it together ... Fletcher claps.

Stops.

FLETCHER (CONT’D)
You’re rushing.

Claps again. Stops again.

FLETCHER (CONT’D)
Dragging.

Claps again. Andrew plays WHIPLASH STUDIO BAND

REHEARSAL ANDREW #3, expecting another stop -- but it
doesn’t come. Fletcher nods, as though now satisfied,
then slowly turns around. Puts his hand on a spare
chair. Looks like he’s about to sit down, when ...

... like a flash of lightning he WHIPS up the chair and

HURLS it straight at Andrew’s head.

Source: Excerpt from shooting script for Whiplash (2014). Written by Damien
Chazelle. Courtesy: Bold Films / Blumhouse Productions / Right of Way Films /
Sierra / Infinity.

The power of silence

The emotional impact of being ostracized or being given the silent treatment
can be very powerful because, as we’ve seen, belonging is a fundamental and
universal human need. When people are ostracized, excluded or rejected
it can have dire effects on their mental health.14 Giving someone the silent
treatment is most frequently used as a form of punishment, in order to
get someone to stop doing something.15 It can also be used by a group as a
 Secondary Characters 141

way of making an example of someone who has done something that they
consider to be shameful. In the American historical novel The Scarlet Letter
(Hawthorner, 1850), protagonist Hester Prynne is ostracized by her Puritan
community after having a child with another man, while she was married.
And in the example that follows, the main character in the romantic drama
Revolutionary Road (2008) uses silence to express the distance she’s now
feeling from her husband as their lives grow apart.

FRANK
I don’t think I suggested we talk about
everything all the time. My point was,
we’ve both been under a strain and we
ought to be trying to help each other
as much as we can right now.

She’s utterly uninterested and it’s making him nervous.

FRANK (CONT’D)
I mean God knows my own behavior has
been pretty weird lately... I mean,
as it happens... there is actually
something I’d like to tell you about...

She continues folding the napkins.

FRANK (CONT’D)
I’ve been with a girl in the city a few
times.

Finally, she stops moving. She looks at him.

FRANK (CONT’D)
A girl I hardly even know. It was
nothing to me, but she got a little
carried away. She’s just a kid...
Anyway, it’s over now. It’s really
over. If I weren’t sure of that I guess
I could never have told you

about it.
142 The Science of Writing Characters

Source: Excerpt from the first draft script for Revolutionary Road (2008).
Written by Justin Haythe. Courtesy: DreamWorks / BBC Films / Evamere
Entertainment /Neal Street Productions / Goldcrest Pictures and Scott Rudin
Productions.

When April finally responds, it is simply to ask Frank why he had to tell her about
this. For April, silence is her way of coping with a situation that she is profoundly
unhappy about. It’s her way of retreating into herself and communicating that
she doesn’t have the energy to continue like this. While April uses silence to try
and get what she wants, Frank tries to reason with her and suggests that they
have a more reciprocal relationship from now on. It’s a useful reminder that
characters with different motivations and different personalities typically use
different techniques to try and get what they want. The interplay between these
different strategies can be fascinating.

Drawing it all together

Secondary characters breathe additional life into our stories. They help drive
the narrative forwards, force the protagonist to make interesting choices and
reveal other truths about our human nature. They also contribute towards the
tone of the narrative as well its style and pace. When thinking about secondary
characters, you’ll first need to decide what kind of characters you’ll require
– for example, friends, colleagues, family members and antagonists – and
then who each of these characters are. As you begin to consider how much
story time you’ll spend with each of these characters, you’ll have a better
understanding of the complexities with which you’ll need to write them. While
some of your secondary characters may need to be shown in action across all
five dimensions and multiple facets of personality, those with which we spend
the least time may be sufficiently captured on just two or three dimensions.
Having understood who your characters are, next it’s time to start thinking
about their relationships. Although similarities between some characters’
personalities may help to bring them together, differences are vital for creating
conflict and variety. Similarities and differences in characters’ relationship styles
can be visualized on the Interpersonal Circumplex and this is a useful way of
ensuring that you have the variety of interpersonal styles that are needed by
most longer-form narratives. Remember also that relationships are dynamic,
 Secondary Characters 143

Table 7.7 How personality influences the way in which people try to get what
they want

With friends With partners With parents

Extrovert Appeal to Men use coercion Appeal to
responsibilities; responsibilities with
men also use fathers
coercion
Introvert Debasement Hardball tactics and
debasement, the latter
particularly with
mothers
Agreeable Emphasize the Emphasize the Emphasize the pleasure
pleasure to be had pleasure to be had to be had
and use reason
Disagreeable Coercion and the
silent treatment
Conscientious Reason Reason
Unconscientious
Neurotic Regression,
coercion and
financial reward
Emotionally stable Hardball tactics
and reason
Open to experience Reason and Reason and Reason and emphasize
emphasize the emphasize the the pleasure to be had
pleasure to be had pleasure to be had
Closed to experience Social comparison Social comparison Social comparison
Source: Buss, David M. ‘Manipulation in close relationships: Five personality factors in interactional
context.’ Journal of Personality (1992)

and most interesting when we portray them in flux. Your characters will bring
their own goals, beliefs and moods to each of their relationships. Charting the
highs and lows of your characters’ relationships as you plan your story will help
keep your story alive and your readers engaged. For each scene in which your
characters come together, you’ll need to understand what it is that they want and
what is the most truthful and interesting way that they can try and achieve this.
In any one scene, different characters will be applying different strategies to try
and win over each other. Table 7.7 summarizes the main research findings that
tell us about how different personality types typically attempt to influence others
when trying to achieve their goals.
144 The Science of Writing Characters

Having taken a closer look at some of the research-based approaches that

may be useful in creating more lifelike and compelling character relationships,
in the next chapter we’ll be combining these ideas together with all the other
approaches that we’ve discovered in this book in a final character workshop.
Take a break, have a coffee and come along!
 8

A character workshop

There is a lot of theory in this book. It’s mostly derived from observations of
how people act in the real world and how we can usefully apply this knowledge
to create more lifelike, engaging and believable characters. But reading theory is
a very different process to putting it to use when writing, so this final chapter is
designed as a character workshop. It will bring together all the research-based
approaches that we’ve been looking at and help you apply these to whichever
characters you are currently developing. Whatever stage you’re at in your writing
process, there should be something useful for you here. Bring along your first
ideas for a completely new character, problems with a character in progress,
or character-driven scenes that you’re wrestling with and let’s workshop these
together.

Finding the right protagonist

You might have an idea for a story, a situation that piques your curiosity, or a
loose notion of your main character. But how do you go from those first hazy
impressions to writing a crystal clear character who comes to life on the page?
First, try and bring into focus any of the ideas that you already have. There is a
reason why they seem right to you, and these are ideas that you’ll probably keep
coming back to. Are there certain character traits that you can already see? Or
is it obvious to you that your protagonist must have a particular goal? Whatever
you have in your mind, jot it down as a valuable starting point and let’s take your
character forward from here.
Since all fictional characters start with observation from life, whether
consciously or unconsciously made, returning to further develop a character
from real-life observation is often useful for the next stage of character
development. Is there someone who you know, you’ve seen or heard about who
146 The Science of Writing Characters

could provide further inspiration for your character? If there is no single person
who comes to your mind, could you take interesting traits from a medley of
people that you know and combine these to create a new character?
Another way of drawing on observation from life is by casting your main
characters. If a film was made from your screenplay or novel, and with budget no
obstacle, whom would you cast in the main roles? And what would these actors
bring to their roles that you hadn’t previously considered? If fantasy-casting
doesn’t help, how about looking through images of different people’s faces online
to see if any of those spark ideas for your character or feel right for your story?
Since agreeableness and neuroticism can be judged reliably by looking at neutral
headshots of the face, and extroversion from full-body posture,1 using photos of
people as visual prompts gives us a lot of information about their personalities
that we may not at first be consciously aware of. Creating character mood-boards
can also be very useful in the same way. If you’ve created a character mood-
board, spend some time analyzing the faces and postures of the people that
you’ve picked to represent your character. Which aspects of their personalities
can you pick up from these? What about the way in which they are dressed, or
the mood of the images? Have you chosen images with warmer, brighter colours,
and happier faces suggestive of a more agreeable, stable extrovert? Or darker
tones, with more serious and anxious faces, which suggest a more neurotic,
introverted character?
If you’re adapting a character from a work of fiction, a biography, documentary
footage or even a newspaper article, you may already have everything that you
need to begin writing that character. The source material should give you a good
understanding of your main characters’ personalities, motivations, beliefs, and
even the way that they speak. The choice is then yours about how closely you’ll
stick with your perceptions. Other starting points for a character may come
from a plot or even a theme. You may know that you’re writing a detective story
in which your investigator needs to track down an international fraudster. So,
you know your protagonist’s goal, you may have an idea about some of their
beliefs, and you’ll be able to surmise that they need to be active, assertive, goal-
driven and at least somewhat disagreeable in order to get their job done. Next,
run through a range of different possibilities to test what works best on their
other personality dimensions. For example, would your story work best and
have the tone that you envisaged if your protagonist was an emotionally unstable
introvert? Or does a chatty, stable, extrovert fit better with the upbeat tone that
you had in mind?
 A Character Workshop 147

Starting with your character’s personality

In the first five seconds that we meet a stranger, we make pretty accurate
judgements about their levels of extroversion, agreeableness, neuroticism,
conscientiousness, negative emotions and even intelligence.2,3 Starting with
extroversion, ask yourself whether your character is more dominant, active and
sociable, or someone who is quieter, more serious and needs time on their own?
If they’re more outgoing, how does this fit with the tone of the genre that you’re
writing? Does your character need positive emotions because you’re writing a
warm, upbeat story? Or would a more serious disposition fit better with the darker
narrative that you’re planning to write? Next, consider whether your character
is more agreeable or disagreeable. When we talk about a strong character, we
normally mean that they’re disagreeable. Characters who speak their own mind
and pursue their goals with little concern for others are inherently fascinating
and often memorable. On the other hand, more agreeable characters are easier
to like, trust and gain our sympathies. We’re also more likely to identify with
these characters and feel moved by their stories. More agreeable and outgoing
protagonists, with more positive emotions, fit better with upbeat narratives, while
more disagreeable introverts are more naturally aligned with grittier stories.
Neuroticism is another dimension that we pick up quickly on first
impressions. More emotionally unstable protagonists are usually better suited
to psychological narratives about internal conflicts, in which your character’s
main journey may be to overcome their anxiety or self-doubt. High levels of
neuroticism are generally less useful in action and adventure genres, in which
the protagonist’s main journey is external. For these higher-octane narratives,
an emotionally stable protagonist is usually a better fit. You may already know
whether your character is conscientious. If not, start by thinking about how
driven they are to achieve their goal. If you’re writing an action, adventure or
detective story, it’s hard to imagine how any of these would work without having
a highly conscientious, achievement-driven protagonist. But there is plenty of
scope for less conscientious characters in dramas and comedies.
Finally, how open to experience is your character? Does your story work better
if your character embraces adventure, meeting new people, and having a whole
variety of new experiences? Or do you create a more interesting story if your
character is closed-minded and resistant to the changes that the events of your
narrative will force upon them? Once you’ve decided where your character lies
on each of the Big Five dimensions (low, moderate or high), complete Table 8.1.
148 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 8.1 Rate your character on the Big Five dimensions

Extroversion Agreeableness Neuroticism Conscientiousness Openness

Low
Moderate
High

Remember that characters who score moderately across all five dimensions will
typically be less memorable. So in order to create a memorable central character,
make sure that they rate towards the extremes of at least one or two of these
dimensions.
When you later write scenes for your characters with these personality
dimensions in mind, remember that these are dispositions towards behaving
in certain ways, not rule books. Even the most agreeable characters will have
moments and situations in which they are disagreeable, just as extroverts will
have moments in which they’re quieter.
To develop further complexity within your character, it’s now time to
dive deeper into these personality dimensions and think more closely about
how your main character scores on each facet. To create more believable and
complex characters, they should score higher on some facets and lower on
others within any one personality dimension. So, for example, if you’re creating
a highly conscientious character who is goal-driven, competent, deliberate and
self-disciplined, it could also be interesting to make them disordered in their
approach to work. Use Table 8.2 to rate your character on the thirty facets of
personality. Only the facets on which your character rates most strongly will
create an impression on your readers.
This is a process that is going to take time and may need revisiting over several
days or weeks. Finding where your character lies on some of these facets will be
harder than others and that may be because they rate more neutrally on these
facets. Once you have these ratings, move on to think about how your character

Table 8.2 Rate your character on the thirty facets of personality

Openness Conscientiousness Neuroticism Agreeableness Extroversion

Fantasy Competence Anxiety Trusting Warm
Aesthetics Order Anger hostility Straightforward Gregarious
Feelings Dutiful Depression Altruistic Assertive
Actions Achievement-striving Self-conscious Compliant Active
Ideas Self-discipline Impulsive Modest Excitement-seeking
Values Deliberation Vulnerable Tender-minded Positive emotions
 A Character Workshop 149

Table 8.3 Rate your character on the Light Triad

Kantianism Humanism Faith in humanity

(valuing others for (appreciating others’
who they are) dignity)
Low
Moderate
High

Table 8.4 Rate your character on the Dark Triad

Machiavellianism Narcissism Psychopathy

(exploitative) (self-important) (callous & cynical)
Low
Moderate
High

scores on the Light and Dark Triads of personality and complete Tables 8.3 and
8.4. Remember that unless you’re intending to create comic book saints and
villains, complex characters will have elements of both the Dark and Light Triad.
To help visualize how the Big Five dimensions, the thirty facets of personality,
the Light and Dark Triads fit together, take a look at Figure 8.1. In the centre
of the circular diagram are the Big Five dimensions of personality. Beyond these,
in the second circle, are the thirty facets of personality. The outer circle shows
that openness to experience is related to political beliefs, agreeableness is related
to the Light and Dark Triads, and neuroticism is related to mental health.
Once you have a better understanding of your main character, next you’ll
need to think about how to characterize them on the page. Review Chapter 2
to remind yourself of how the Big Five personality dimensions are expressed
through action, emotions and interactions with other characters. Finding a voice
for your character is such an important part of getting them down on the page
that the whole of Chapter 3 was devoted to looking at the relationship between
the Big Five personality dimensions and the way that people speak.

Developing your character’s voice

The main point to think about when developing a pattern of speech for your
character is how they express their personality through their voice. After
150 The Science of Writing Characters

IOUS

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Figure 8.1 Relationship between the Big Five dimensions, facets of personality,
political beliefs, mental health and the Light and Dark Triads.
Source: Costa and McCrae, 1992 , Paulhus and Williams, 2002

reviewing Chapter 3, make a note of the dominant dimensions of your character’s

personality, or in other words, the dimensions on which they score highest or
lowest. These are the dimensions that you will need to bring out when writing
their dialogue. For example, if your character is highly extrovert and low on
agreeableness, but moderate on the three other dimensions, you’ll need to ensure
that their speech reflects their sociable, chatty, assertive, but disagreeable nature.
Once you’ve reviewed how your character’s personality affects their
conversational style, you’ll need to connect this theory to your practice as a
writer. There are a couple of exercises that may be useful for you here. The first
is the widely used dramatic technique known as hot-seating. Find some friends
or family to be your audience, get into the role of your character, introduce
yourself and have your audience ask you questions. The exercise is to respond
in character. If your character is a disagreeable extrovert, take the lead in your
 A Character Workshop 151

conversations, be assertive, don’t worry about offending those around you and
practise using an informal voice. The point of this exercise is to absorb the theory
that we’ve been looking at, step into the role, and find the voice that you’ll then
be using to write this character.
The second exercise is to try writing a character monologue. Imagine that at
the beginning of your story you’ve asked your character to tell you about their
life, and now write this in the first person using their spoken voice. For more
extrovert characters, this should be easy as your character would likely talk freely
about themselves. For more introvert characters, imagine that they are talking
to their closest friend or even a therapist. What would they say? And more
importantly, how would they say it? Remember that you’ll also need to think
about how your character’s situation, age, social class and background influence
their choice of words. If you’re still finding it hard to get down your character’s
voice, grab a notebook, go out and listen to some real speech. Eavesdrop on
conversations between people that sound most like the ones you’re writing.
Listen to their patterns of speech, the subjects they talk about, and the words
they most frequently use. Once you start to get the feel of your character’s voice,
you’ll probably find it that stays. And you might even discover that by finding
your character’s voice, they start to reveal qualities of their personality that you
hadn’t previously considered. Run with new ideas during these moments when
you’re in the flow. This is where your instinct is kicking in.

Giving your character motivations and beliefs

By this stage you’ll probably know your character’s major motivations. If

not, review the twelve evolutionary motivations laid out in Chapter 4 and
work out which best fit with your character’s journey. If your protagonist
transforms, consider whether they start the narrative being motivated by
a selfish quest for power and status, and whether they end it being driven
by a desire for more connectedness. In addition to thinking about your
protagonist’s overarching motivation, give some thought to how their initial
goal aligns with their beliefs. For example, if your protagonist’s initial quest
is to earn as much money as possible, this may be because they believe that
money brings happiness. If through earning more money your character then
finds that happiness doesn’t come with it, they will likely reassess their beliefs
and find new motivations.
152 The Science of Writing Characters

Making your character transform

Continuing to think about how your character transforms, make a note of their
motivations at the beginning and then at the end of your narrative in Table 8.5.
Then repeat this exercise for their beliefs in Table 8.6. If you’re creating a main
character whose motivations don’t change, skip ahead to the next section and
consider whether their beliefs or personality are transformed in any way.
When you’ve worked out how your protagonist’s motivations and beliefs are
transformed by the events of the story, next you’ll need to work out what it is
that changes them. What are their peak experiences, low points and turning
points, and at what points in the story do these happen? Make a note of these in
Table 8.7.
Now that you know which events bring about changes in your protagonist,
think about how your character’s personality transforms as a result of these
experiences. Does the character become more assertive and confident, more
agreeable or more open to experience? Jot down these changes in Table 8.8.

Table 8.5 Your protagonist’s motivational arc

Beginning End
Motivations

Table 8.6 Your protagonist's changing beliefs

Beginning End
Beliefs

Table 8.7 Your protagonist’s turning points, peak experiences and low points

Beginning Middle End

Turning points
Peak experiences
Low points

Table 8.8 Your protagonist’s personality change

Beginning Middle End

Personality
 A Character Workshop 153

Charting your character’s emotional journey

Having worked out the events in your story that help bring about changes in
your protagonist, you’re already well on your way to knowing their emotional
arc. Plot the high and low points of your story on the graph in Figure 8.2. Then
think about how your protagonist feels at the beginning of the journey and at
its end. Connect these points to chart your main character’s emotional journey,
then step back and take a look at the graph. Are there enough emotional turning
points in your story? If you’re aiming to write a page-turner, are the turning
points regularly spaced? Are the rising and falling lines between the turning
points steep enough to keep your readers engaged? Or if you’re creating a slow
burning narrative, is the slow increase in tension that you’d envisaged reflected
in the arc that you’ve drawn?
Your main character’s range of positive and negative sentiments represent just
one dimension of their emotional world. The most engaging characters aren’t
just happy and sad. Like all of us they experience a wide range of emotions. Use
the checklist in Table 8.9 to ensure that your main character has a rich emotional
journey.
By this point you should have a pretty good idea of the nuances and
complexities of your main character. You’ll know what they want as well
as what they need. You’ll have worked out how they transform, and the

POSITIVE
EMOTIONS

START END

NEGATIVE
EMOTIONS

Figure 8.2 Your protagonist’s emotional arc.

154 The Science of Writing Characters

Table 8.9 Your character’s emotional range

Emotion Example scenes

Anger
Fear
Disgust
Happiness
Sadness
Surprise
Amusement
Awe
Contempt
Contentment
Desire
Elevation
Embarrassment
Guilt
Interest
Jealousy
Pain
Pride
Relief
Romantic love
Satisfaction
Shame
Sympathy
Tension

events of the story that help bring about this change. You’ll anticipate how
readers will emotionally engage with your protagonist, and you’ll know
your protagonist’s emotional journey. Now it’s time to think about your
secondary characters.

Creating secondary characters

After you’ve settled on the roles that secondary characters will be playing in
your story, you’ll need to start thinking about their personalities. To ensure
that you create a good range of characters, with plenty of potential for conflict
and personalities that are right for the tone of your story, work through
Table 8.10. If you need to add other roles to this chart, or delete character
functions that your story doesn’t need, go ahead. Then, beginning with your
 A Character Workshop 155

Table 8.10 Your characters’ personalities, beliefs and goals

Love
Protagonist interest Friend/other Antagonist
Extroversion
Agreeableness
Neuroticism
Conscientiousness
Openness to experience
Beliefs
Main goal

Table 8.11 Your main character’s ratings on the Dark and Light Triads

Love Friend/
Protagonist interest other Antagonist
Dark Triad Machiavellianism
Narcissism
Psychopathy
Light Triad Kantianism
Humanism
Faith in Humanity

protagonist, rate the personality dimensions (low, moderate or high) for

each of your characters in turn. Think about which dimensions some of your
characters score most similarly on, and on which they are polar opposites.
Also ensure your characters have different beliefs about the world, which
relate to their main goal. With the table complete, take a step back and make
sure that it feels right for the story you want to tell. Are any two characters
too similar? Is the tone that you’ll be setting through this range of characters’
personalities right for your story? Don’t rush this stage. It will take time, and
it’s worth getting it right.
Another way of checking that you’ve created sufficient complexity in your
main characters is by checking their scores on the Dark and Light Triads (low,
moderate or high). Remember, very few people have entirely good or bad
qualities. The vast majority of us are tipped towards the light side, but will also
have some traits on the Dark Triad. Antagonists weigh more heavily towards
the dark.
156 The Science of Writing Characters

Troubleshooting character problems

Hopefully you’re now at a point where you’ve successfully developed characters

you can’t wait to start writing, but what happens when you run into a problem
with their development? You may have a gut instinct that readers aren’t going
to care about your main character. Or you may have received notes on a first
draft telling you that one of your characters needs work. First, know that you’re
in good company. In my work as a script consultant and screenwriting tutor,
there are a number of character-related problems that I see time and time
again. Here are some of the problems that I see most frequently, along with
my solutions:

PROBLEM: Your readers don’t care about your main character.

SOLUTIONS: First, think about how you want your readers to feel about your
main character. If you’re creating a character whom you want your readers
to like, then ensure that within the first few minutes of introducing them
you give your readers opportunities to like them, trust in them, and believe
that they are fundamentally good. Some of the most important attributes
that we like in others are captured by the Light Triad and include valuing
people for who they are, appreciating their dignity, and believing that people
are fundamentally good. Other likeable qualities include warmth, kindness,
honesty, a good sense of humour, being cooperative and helpful, and caring
about others’ feelings. Revealing any of these traits in action will help bring
your readers on side.

When creating a more disagreeable main character, who is less instantly likeable,
one of the ways in which you can get your audience to care about them is by
showing that they are still fundamentally good. You could show that they have
a good motivation, or are attempting to do the right thing. Or you could cast
your difficult and disagreeable character against more antagonistic and less
trustworthy characters. Or you could show that your character has a good
reason to be this way, for example, by having had a hard life, while giving them
additional qualities that we find redemptive.
Other main characters keep our interest because they are fascinating. They
don’t have to be likeable, or even particularly sympathetic, but they keep us
wanting to know more. If your intention is to create an intriguing main character,
then ensure that you give them qualities that keep us second-guessing. They
 A Character Workshop 157

may keep secrets or may be devious, dishonest, impulsive, and emotionally

unpredictable. The skill of creating a fascinating character is in making them
act in consistently unpredictable ways that we find hard to fathom, but still feel
believable.

PROBLEM: Your main character is forgettable and uninteresting.

SOLUTIONS: There are three main reasons why readers may perceive your
main character to be uninteresting and forgettable. The first is by intention,
in which case is this what you really want? It is more likely that you’ve
unintentionally written a character who rates moderately across each of the
Big Five dimensions, so they fail to make any strong impression. This may
be because you’ve based the character on yourself, and you haven’t been
sufficiently confident about bringing out any of the more interesting facets
of your personality. Another reason is that you may have a great idea for a
character in your mind, but struggle to bring them to life on the page. If, for
example, you intend your character to be tender-minded and impulsive, but
you fail to show this through their actions, thoughts or dialogue, then these
characteristics are lost on the reader. Some writers find it useful to create
a checklist for their characters’ personality traits to ensure that they have
them all covered in their writing. Table 8.12 shows an example checklist for a
character on the dimension of extroversion. The notes tell us how the writer
plans to reveal their character’s facets of extroversion within the story and the
page numbers tell us where we see these in the story.

Table 8.12 Example of a personality/scene characterization checklist

Facet Notes Pages
Extroversion Cold Interactions with others except 2,3,5,7 and so on
for oldest friend
Antisocial Happiest alone 1,4,6,8 and so on
Highly assertive Dominates others in interactions, 2,3,5,7 and so on
makes sure she gets what
she wants
Very active Always on the move and following 1,4,5,6 and so on
her plan
Serious/neutral Nearly all the time except when 2,3,5,9 and so on
emotions joking about with oldest friend
Seeks excitement Loves the thrill of danger; rarely 4,9,15 and so on
considers her own safety
158 The Science of Writing Characters

If you find this approach helps, you can create similar checklists to make sure
you’ve also captured your character’s beliefs and motivations on your pages.

PROBLEM: Readers tell me they don’t have a good sense of what my character
is like.
SOLUTIONS: Personality captures the disposition towards behaving in
consistent ways. So if you have an idea for a great character, and have created
a scene checklist as per the example in Table 8.12 to ensure you are revealing
these personality traits on the page, but still get feedback from readers telling
you that they don’t have a strong idea of who your character is, it may be that
your character isn’t acting consistently enough to give readers the sense that
they have a strong core to their personalities. For example, if your character
saves a cat once, but at other times ignores cats in peril or actively endangers
cats, we’re more likely to conclude that your character is emotionally unstable
rather than that they are a tender-minded animal lover. To clearly communicate
your character’s personality within your story, you have to ensure that their
personality traits aren’t revealed just once or twice, but consistently throughout
the story. This doesn’t mean that your highly disagreeable character should be
grumpy and argumentative at every moment that we see them, because the
expression of personality traits is dependent on context, but that most of the
time they act in disagreeable ways. In a few well-chosen situations, for example,
when sharing a proud moment with someone they love, they may be agreeable.
It is this consistency with which personality traits are revealed, along with the
less frequent context-dependent moments that we see characters act in counter-
dispositional ways, which allows readers to know who your characters are and
to believe in them.

PROBLEM: All your characters’ dialogues sound the same.

SOLUTIONS: Review Chapter 3 on dialogue, write a monologue for each of
your main characters and get to know their voices before starting your rewrite.
Remember that extrovert characters tend to be talkative, flit from subject to
subject and speak in an informal manner. Introverts talk less and stay on one topic
only. Agreeable characters are sympathetic, cooperative and positive; they’re also
mostly concerned with making sure that the characters they’re speaking to feel
comfortable. Disagreeable characters are blunt, direct and say what they think.
Characters who score higher on neuroticism tend to be more negative and talk
more about themselves. Emotionally stable characters are calm and comfortable
 A Character Workshop 159

in conversation. Characters who are more open to experience love debate and
use rich language, while characters who are closed to experience tend to use
more simple language. You don’t need to capture your character’s personality on
all five dimensions in the way that they speak – instead, find a way of expressing
them on the two or three dimensions that they rate most extremely on. If you’re
still struggling to get this down on the page, then eavesdrop on some real-world
conversations between people who are most similar to your characters, make
some notes and use these to inform your characters’ speech. Always remember
to read your dialogue aloud.

PROBLEM: Your story is missing drama.

SOLUTIONS: Lack of drama in a story may mean that there isn’t enough
conflict between your characters. It could also mean that your main character
doesn’t face enough obstacles, or that they don’t appear to have any internal
conflict. To solve these problems, ensure that you pit your protagonist against
more antagonistic characters who score higher on the Dark Triad and whose
motivations, opposing values and beliefs conflict with those of your protagonist.
One way of giving your characters opposing beliefs is by placing them at the
opposite ends of the spectrum on openness to experience. Characters who are
more open are typically more liberal in their world view, while characters who
are more closed are more conservative. In addition to ramping up interpersonal
conflict between your characters you may also need to give your main character
more external obstacles. These will contribute towards the life events that
form the peaks and troughs of their emotional journey. It is also important to
remember that without high points in your main character’s emotional journey,
we won’t appreciate their low points. Drama comes from the excitement that we
experience as a story swings between moments in which things go well for the
protagonist to the moments in which their fortunes change.

Some final words

I need to make a confession at this point. Writers who come along to my

workshops often tell me the same thing as we finish: they need a coffee. I tend
to cover a lot of ground and I cover it fast. If you’ve attempted to read this book
in one or two sittings then you may well be feeling overwhelmed by theory.
160 The Science of Writing Characters

Hopefully, after a day or two, the big ideas here will start to stick and in time they
may become part of the regular way in which you develop new characters. What
I hope to have achieved in this book is an account of psychological research and
theory that questions, explains and elaborates upon some of the main ideas that
are taught about writing characters. For example, how we can make characters
that are rounded and complex, why and how characters typically transform, and
how we can create more emotionally engaging characters. You may find that
the framework proposed in this book is immediately helpful in creating new
characters from the ground up. Or you may come to discover that you prefer
to work from instinct on your first draft, and then use particular approaches
to review how well your characters are working, and fix any problems that you
might find. There is no right way to write. Find the way that works best for you.
There is, however, only one way to develop great characters, and that is through
combining your imagination with your observations from life. Our characters
come from our experiences of life, and it is only by studying life that we’ll write
the best stories. We just need to open our eyes, our hearts and our minds.
 Notes

Chapter 1

1 Raymond Federman, ‘Surfiction: A postmodern position’, in Moderne Erzähltheorie

(Stuttgart: UTB, 1993), 413–29.
2 Edward Morgan Forster, Aspects of the Novel, vol. 19 (Boston: Houghton Mifflin
Harcourt, 1985).
3 David M. Buss, ‘Evolutionary psychology: A new paradigm for psychological
science’, Psychological Inquiry 6, no. 1 (1995): 1–30.
4 David Sloan Wilson, ‘Evolutionary social constructivism’, in The Literary Animal:
Evolution and the Nature of Narrative, ed. Jonathan Gottschall and David Sloan
Wilson (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2005), 20–9.
5 Kate C. McLean, Monisha Pasupathi and Jennifer L. Pals, ‘Selves creating stories
creating selves: A process model of self-development’, Personality and Social
Psychology Review 11, no. 3 (2007): 262–78.

Chapter 2

1 Ernest C. Tupes and Raymond E. Christal, ‘Recurrent personality factors based on

trait ratings’, Journal of Personality 60, no. 2 (1992): 225–51.
2 Robert R. McCrae and Paul T. Costa Jr., ‘Personality trait structure as a human
universal’, American Psychologist 52, no. 5 (1997): 509.
3 Lewis R. Goldberg, ‘An alternative “description of personality”: The big-five factor
structure’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 59, no. 6 (1990): 1216.
4 Paul T. Costa Jr. and Robert R. McCrae, ‘Four ways five factors are basic’, Personality
and Individual Differences 13, no. 6 (1992): 653–65.
5 Paul T. Costa and Robert R. McCrae, ‘Normal personality assessment in clinical
practice: The NEO Personality Inventory’, Psychological Assessment 4, no. 1
(1992): 5.
6 Peter Borkenau and Anette Liebler, ‘Observable attributes as manifestations and
cues of personality and intelligence’, Journal of Personality 63, no. 1 (1995): 1–25.
7 Robert R. McCrae and Paul T. Costa, Personality in Adulthood: A Five-factor Theory
Perspective (New York City: Guilford Press, 2003).
162 Notes

8 Kelci Harris and Simine Vazire, ‘On friendship development and the Big Five
personality traits’, Social and Personality Psychology Compass 10, no. 11 (2016):
647–67.
9 David C. Rowe, Mary Clapp and Janette Wallis, ‘Physical attractiveness and the
personality resemblance of identical twins’, Behavior Genetics 17, no. 2 (1987):
191–201.
10 Kira-Anne Pelican, Robert Ward and Jamie Sherry, ‘The Pleistocene protagonist:
An evolutionary framework for the analysis of film protagonists’, Journal of
Screenwriting 7, no. 3 (2016): 331–49.
11 Sanjay Srivastava, Oliver P. John, Samuel D. Gosling and Jeff Potter, ‘Development
of personality in early and middle adulthood: Set like plaster or persistent
change?’ Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 84, no. 5 (2003): 1041.
12 Randy Stein and Alexander B. Swan, ‘Evaluating the validity of Myers–Briggs type
indicator theory: A teaching tool and window into intuitive psychology’, Social and
Personality Psychology Compass 13, no. 2 (2019): e12434.
13 William Fleeson, ‘Toward a structure-and process-integrated view of personality:
Traits as density distributions of states’, Journal of Personality and Social
Psychology 80, no. 6 (2001): 1011.
14 William Fleeson, Adriane B. Malanos and Noelle M. Achille, ‘An intraindividual
process approach to the relationship between extraversion and positive affect: Is
acting extraverted as “good” as being extraverted?’ Journal of Personality and Social
Psychology 83, no. 6 (2002): 1409.
15 Kennon M. Sheldon, Richard M. Ryan, Laird J. Rawsthorne and Barbara Ilardi,
‘Trait self and true self: Cross-role variation in the Big-Five personality traits and
its relations with psychological authenticity and subjective well-being’, Journal of
Personality and Social Psychology 73, no. 6 (1997): 1380.
16 Paul T. Costa Jr., Antonio Terracciano and Robert R. McCrae, ‘Gender differences
in personality traits across cultures: Robust and surprising findings’, Journal of
Personality and Social Psychology 81, no. 2 (2001): 322.
17 Pim Cuijpers, Filip Smit, Brenda W. J. H. Penninx, Ron de Graaf, Margreet ten Have
and Aartjan T. F. Beekman, ‘Economic costs of neuroticism: A population-based
study’, Archives of General Psychiatry 67, no. 10 (2010): 1086–93.
18 Tim Bogg and Brent W. Roberts, ‘Conscientiousness and health-related behaviors:
A meta-analysis of the leading behavioral contributors to mortality’, Psychological
Bulletin 130, no. 6 (2004): 887.
19 Roman Kotov, Wakiza Gamez, Frank Schmidt and David Watson, ‘Linking “big”
personality traits to anxiety, depressive, and substance use disorders: A meta-
analysis’, Psychological Bulletin 136, no. 5 (2010): 768.
 Notes 163

20 Donald R. Lynam and Joshua D. Miller, ‘The basic trait of Antagonism:

An unfortunately underappreciated construct’, Journal of Research in Personality 81
(2019): 118–26.
21 Delroy L. Paulhus and Kevin M. Williams, ‘The dark triad of personality:
Narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy’, Journal of Research in
Personality 36, no. 6 (2002): 556–63.

Chapter 3

1 François Mairesse and Marilyn Walker, ‘Automatic recognition of personality in

conversation’, in Proceedings of the Human Language Technology Conference of
the NAACL, Companion Volume: Short Papers (Association for Computational
Linguistics, 2006), 85–8.
2 Alastair J. Gill and Jon Oberlander, ‘Taking care of the linguistic features of
extraversion’, Proceedings of the Annual Meeting of the Cognitive Science Society 24,
no. 24 (2002).
3 James W. Pennebaker and Laura A. King, ‘Linguistic styles: Language use as
an individual difference’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 77, no. 6
(1999): 1296.
4 Pennebaker and King, ‘Linguistic styles: Language use as an individual difference’.
5 François Mairesse, Marilyn A. Walker, Matthias R. Mehl and Roger K. Moore,
‘Using linguistic cues for the automatic recognition of personality in conversation
and text’, Journal of Artificial Intelligence Research 30 (2007): 457–500.
6 Matthias R. Mehl, Samuel D. Gosling and James W. Pennebaker, ‘Personality in
its natural habitat: Manifestations and implicit folk theories of personality in daily
life’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 90, no. 5 (2006): 862.
7 Gill and Oberlander, ‘Taking care of the linguistic features of extraversion’.
8 Mairesse and Walker, ‘Automatic recognition of personality in conversation’.
9 Alastair Gill and Jon Oberlander, ‘Looking forward to more extraversion with
n-grams’, Determination of Information and Tenor in Texts: Multiple Approaches to
Discourse 2003 (2003): 125–37.
10 Jean‐Marc Dewaele and Adrian Furnham, ‘Extraversion: The unloved variable in
applied linguistic research’, Language Learning 49, no. 3 (1999): 509–44.
11 Mehl et al., ‘Personality in its natural habitat: Manifestations and implicit folk
theories of personality in daily life’.
12 Dewaele and Furnham, ‘Extraversion: The unloved variable in applied linguistic
research’.
164 Notes

13 Pennebaker and King, ‘Linguistic styles: Language use as an individual difference’.

14 Mehl et al., ‘Personality in its natural habitat: Manifestations and implicit folk
theories of personality in daily life’.
15 Mairesse and Walker, ‘Automatic recognition of personality in conversation’.
16 Christina U. Heinrich and Peter Borkenau, ‘Deception and deception detection:
The role of cross‐modal inconsistency’, Journal of Personality 66, no. 5 (1998):
687–712.
17 Mairesse and Walker, ‘Automatic recognition of personality in conversation’.
18 Mairesse and Walker, ‘Automatic recognition of personality in conversation’.
19 Pennebaker and King, ‘Linguistic styles: Language use as an individual difference’.
20 Mairesse et al., ‘Using linguistic cues for the automatic recognition of personality in
conversation and text’.
21 Mairesse and Walker, ‘Automatic recognition of personality in conversation’.
22 Mairesse et al., ‘Using linguistic cues for the automatic recognition of personality in
conversation and text’.
23 Mairesse et al., ‘Using linguistic cues for the automatic recognition of personality in
conversation and text’.
24 Pennebaker and King, ‘Linguistic styles: Language use as an individual difference’.
25 Mairesse et al., ‘Using linguistic cues for the automatic recognition of personality in
conversation and text’.
26 Mehl et al., ‘Personality in its natural habitat: Manifestations and implicit folk
theories of personality in daily life’.
27 Matthew L. Newman, Carla J. Groom, Lori D. Handelman and James W.
Pennebaker, ‘Gender differences in language use: An analysis of 14,000 text
samples’, Discourse Processes 45, no. 3 (2008): 211–36.
28 James W. Pennebaker and Lori D. Stone, ‘Words of wisdom: Language use over the
life span’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 85, no. 2 (2003): 291.
29 James W. Pennebaker, Cindy K. Chung, Joey Frazee, Gary M. Lavergne and
David I. Beaver, ‘When small words foretell academic success: The case of college
admissions essays.’ PloS one 9, no. 12 (2014): e115844.
30 James W. Pennebaker, Matthias R. Mehl and Kate G. Niederhoffer, ‘Psychological
aspects of natural language use: Our words, our selves’, Annual Review of
Psychology 54, no. 1 (2003): 547–77.

Chapter 4

1 Larry C. Bernard, Michael Mills, Leland Swenson and R. Patricia Walsh, ‘An
evolutionary theory of human motivation’, Genetic, Social, and General Psychology
Monographs 131, no. 2 (2005): 129–84.
 Notes 165

2 Daniel Nettle, ‘The wheel of fire and the mating game: Explaining the origins
of tragedy and comedy’, Journal of Cultural and Evolutionary Psychology 3, no. 1
(2005): 39–56.
3 Bernard et al., ‘An evolutionary theory of human motivation’.
4 Bernard et al., ‘An evolutionary theory of human motivation’.
5 Bernard et al., ‘An evolutionary theory of human motivation’.
6 Steven Arnocky, Tina Piché, Graham Albert, Danielle Ouellette and Pat Barclay,
‘Altruism predicts mating success in humans’, British Journal of Psychology 108,
no. 2 (2017): 416–35.
7 Bernard et al., ‘An evolutionary theory of human motivation’.
8 Bernard et al., ‘An evolutionary theory of human motivation’.
9 Syd Field, Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting (London: Delta, 2005).
10 Richard M. Ryan and Edward L. Deci, ‘Self-determination theory and the
facilitation of intrinsic motivation, social development, and well-being’, American
Psychologist 55, no. 1 (2000): 68.
11 Alexandra M. Freund, Marie Hennecke and M. Mustafic, ‘On gains and losses,
means and ends: Goal orientation and goal focus across adulthood’, in The
Oxford Handbook of Human Motivation, ed. Richard M. Ryan (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2012).
12 Edward L. Deci and Richard M. Ryan, ‘Motivation, personality, and development
within embedded social contexts: An overview of self-determination theory’, The
Oxford Handbook of Human Motivation (2012): 85–107.
13 Freund et al., ‘On gains and losses, means and ends: Goal orientation and goal focus
across adulthood’.
14 Raymond B. Miller and Stephanie J. Brickman, ‘A model of future-oriented
motivation and self-regulation’, Educational Psychology Review 16, no. 1
(2004): 9–33.
15 Alison P. Lenton, Martin Bruder, Letitia Slabu and Constantine Sedikides, ‘How
does “being real” feel? The experience of state authenticity’, Journal of Personality 81,
no. 3 (2013): 276–89.
16 Matthew Vess, ‘Varieties of conscious experience and the subjective awareness of
one’s “true” self ’, Review of General Psychology 23, no. 1 (2019): 89–98.
17 Katrina P. Jongman-Sereno and Mark R. Leary, ‘The enigma of being yourself:
A critical examination of the concept of authenticity’, Review of General Psychology,
no. 7 (2018): 32–9.
18 Stefan Bracha, Andrew E. Williams and Adam S. Bracha, ‘Does “fight-or-flight”
need updating?’ Psychosomatics 45, no. 5 (2004): 448–9.
19 Kasia Kozlowska, Peter Walker, Loyola McLean and Pascal Carrive, ‘Fear and
the defense cascade: Clinical implications and management’, Harvard Review of
Psychiatry 23, no. 4 (2015): 263.
166 Notes

20 Shelley E. Taylor, Laura Cousino Klein, Brian P. Lewis, Tara L. Gruenewald,

Regan A. R. Gurung and John A. Updegraff, ‘Biobehavioral responses to stress in
females: Tend-and-befriend, not fight-or-flight’, Psychological Review 107, no. 3
(2000): 411.
21 Henk Aarts, Kirsten I. Ruys, Harm Veling, Robert A. Renes, Jasper H. B. de
Groot, Anna M. van Nunen and Sarit Geertjes, ‘The art of anger: Reward context
turns avoidance responses to anger-related objects into approach.’ Psychological
Science 21, no. 10 (2010): 1406–10.
22 Antonio R. Damasio, ‘Emotions and feelings’, in Feelings and Emotions: The
Amsterdam Symposium (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2004),
49–57.
23 Erika A. Patall, ‘The motivational complexity of choosing: A review of theory and
research’, The Oxford Handbook of Human Motivation (2012): 248.

Chapter 5

1 Ulrich Orth, Ruth Yasemin Erol and Eva C. Luciano, ‘Development of self-esteem
from age 4 to 94 years: A meta-analysis of longitudinal studies’, Psychological
Bulletin 144, no. 10 (2018): 1045.
2 Erik H. Erikson and Joan M. Erikson, The Life Cycle Completed (Extended Version)
(London: W.W. Norton & Company, 1998).
3 Erikson and Erikson, The Life Cycle Completed (Extended Version).
4 Dan P. McAdams and Bradley D. Olson, ‘Personality development: Continuity and
change over the life course’, Annual Review of Psychology 61 (2010): 517–42.
5 Erikson and Erikson, The Life Cycle Completed (Extended Version).
6 Orth et al., ‘Development of self-esteem from age 4 to 94 years: A meta-analysis of
longitudinal studies’.
7 Erikson and Erikson, The Life Cycle Completed (Extended Version).
8 Dan P. McAdams, The Redemptive Self: Stories Americans Live By – Revised and
Expanded Edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013).
9 Martin J. Sliwinski, David M. Almeida, Joshua Smyth and Robert S. Stawski,
‘Intraindividual change and variability in daily stress processes: Findings
from two measurement-burst diary studies’, Psychology and Aging 24, no. 4
(2009): 828.
10 Beatriz Fabiola López Ulloa, Valerie Møller and Alfonso Sousa-Poza, ‘How does
subjective well-being evolve with age? A literature review’, Journal of Population
Ageing 6, no. 3 (2013): 227–46.
11 Elaine Wethington, ‘Expecting stress: Americans and the “midlife
crisis”’, Motivation and Emotion 24, no. 2 (2000): 85–103.
 Notes 167

12 McAdams and Olson, ‘Personality development: Continuity and change over the
life course’.
13 Orth et al., ‘Development of self-esteem from age 4 to 94 years: A meta-analysis of
longitudinal studies’.
14 David G. Blanchflower and Andrew J. Oswald, ‘Is well-being U-shaped over the life
cycle?’ Social Science & Medicine 66, no. 8 (2008): 1733–49.
15 Dan P. McAdams, Power, intimacy, and the life story: Personological inquiries into
identity (New York: Guilford press, 1988).
16 Abraham H. Maslow, Toward a psychology of being (New York: Simon and Schuster,
2013).
17 Gayle Privette and Charles M. Brundrick, ‘Peak experience, peak performance, and
flow: Correspondence of personal descriptions and theoretical constructs’, Journal
of Social Behavior and Personality 6, no. 5 (1991): 169.
18 Richard Whitehead and Glen Bates, ‘The transformational processing of peak
and nadir experiences and their relationship to eudaimonic and hedonic well-
being’, Journal of Happiness Studies 17, no. 4 (2016): 1577–98.
19 Whitehead and Bates, ‘The transformational processing of peak and nadir
experiences and their relationship to eudaimonic and hedonic well-being’.
20 Nina Sarubin, Martin Wolf, Ina Giegling, Sven Hilbert, Felix Naumann, Diana Gutt,
Andrea Jobst et al. ‘Neuroticism and extraversion as mediators between positive/
negative life events and resilience.’ Personality and Individual Differences 82 (2015):
193–8.
21 P. Alex Linley and Stephen Joseph, ‘Positive change following trauma and adversity:
A review’, Journal of Traumatic Stress: Official Publication of the International Society
for Traumatic Stress Studies 17, no. 1 (2004): 11–21.
22 Dan P. McAdams, ‘Coding autobiographical episodes for themes of agency and
communion’, Unpublished Manuscript, Northwestern University, Evanston, IL 212
(2001).
23 McAdams, Dan P. and Philip. J. Bowman. ‘Narrating life’s turning points:
Redemption and contamination’, in Turns in the Road: Narrative Studies of Lives
in Transition, ed. Dan P. McAdams, Ruthellen H. Josselson and Amia Lieblich
(Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 2001), 3–34.
24 Jeffrey R. Measelle, Oliver P. John, Jennifer C. Ablow, Philip A. Cowan and Carolyn
P. Cowan, ‘Can children provide coherent, stable, and valid self-reports on the big
five dimensions? A longitudinal study from ages 5 to 7’, Journal of Personality and
Social Psychology 89, no. 1 (2005): 90.
25 Jule Specht, Boris Egloff and Stefan C. Schmukle, ‘Stability and change of
personality across the life course: The impact of age and major life events on
mean-level and rank-order stability of the Big Five’, Journal of Personality and Social
Psychology 101, no. 4 (2011): 862.
168 Notes

26 Paul T. Costa Jr. and Robert R. McCrae, ‘Age changes in personality and their
origins: Comment on Roberts, Walton, and Viechtbauer. Psychological Bulletin 132,
no. 1 (2006): 26–8.
27 McAdams, The Redemptive Self: Stories Americans Live By – Revised and Expanded
Edition.
28 Paul Bloom and Karen Wynn, ‘What develops in moral development’, in Core
Knowledge and Conceptual Change, ed. David Barner and Andrew Scott Baron
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 347–64. John R. Snarey, ‘Cross-cultural
universality of social-moral development: A critical review of Kohlbergian
research.’ Psychological Bulletin 97, no. 2 (1985): 202.
29 M. Kent Jennings, Laura Stoker and Jake Bowers, ‘Politics across generations:
Family transmission reexamined’, The Journal of Politics 71, no. 3 (2009): 782–99.
30 Dean R. Hoge, Gregory H. Petrillo and Ella I. Smith, ‘Transmission of religious and
social values from parents to teenage children’, Journal of Marriage and the Family
44, no.3 (1982): 569–80.
31 Alain Van Hiel and Ivan Mervielde, ‘Openness to experience and boundaries in
the mind: Relationships with cultural and economic conservative beliefs’, Journal of
Personality 72, no. 4 (2004): 659–86.
32 Leon Festinger, A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance, vol. 2 (Stanford, CA: Stanford
University Press, 1962).
33 Claude M. Steele, ‘The psychology of self-affirmation: Sustaining the integrity of the
self ’, in Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, vol. 21 (Academic Press, 1988),
261–302.
34 Herbert C. Kelman, ‘Compliance, identification, and internalization: Three
processes of attitude change.’ Journal of Conflict Resolution 2, no. 1 (1958): 51–60.
35 Kelman, ‘Compliance, identification, and internalization: Three processes of
attitude change’.
36 Gregory R. Maio, Geoffrey Haddock and Bas Verplanken, The Psychology of
Attitudes and Attitude Change (Los Angeles, CA: Sage Publications Limited, 2018).

Chapter 6

1 Elaine Hatfield, John T. Cacioppo and Richard L. Rapson, ‘Emotional

contagion’, Current Directions in Psychological Science 2, no. 3 (1993): 96–100.
2 Soukayna Bekkali, George Youssef, Peter H. Donaldson, Natalia Albein-Urios,
Christian Hyde and Peter Gregory Enticott, ‘Is the Putative Mirror Neuron System
Associated with Empathy? A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis’ (2019).
PsyArXiv. March 20. doi:10.31234/osf.io/6bu4p.
 Notes 169

3 Dolf Zillman and Joanne R. Cantor, ‘Affective responses to the emotions of a

protagonist’, Journal of Experimental Social Psychology 13, no. 2 (1977): 155–65.
4 Robert L. Trivers, ‘The evolution of reciprocal altruism’, The Quarterly Review of
Biology 46, no. 1 (1971): 35–57.
5 Mina Tsay and K. Maja Krakowiak, ‘The impact of perceived character similarity
and identification on moral disengagement’, International Journal of Arts and
Technology 4, no. 1 (2011): 102–10.
6 Arthur A. Raney, ‘Expanding disposition theory: Reconsidering character liking,
moral evaluations, and enjoyment’, Communication Theory 14, no. 4 (2004): 348–69.
7 Paul Ekman, Wallace V. Friesen, Maureen O’Sullivan, Anthony Chan, Irene
Diacoyanni-Tarlatzis, Karl Heider, Rainer Krause et al. ‘Universals and cultural
differences in the judgments of facial expressions of emotion’, Journal of Personality
and Social Psychology 53, no. 4 (1987): 712.
8 Nancy Rumbaugh Whitesell and Susan Harter, ‘The interpersonal context of
emotion: Anger with close friends and classmates’, Child Development 67, no. 4
(1996): 1345–59.
9 Jesus Sanz, María Paz García‐Vera and Ines Magan, ‘Anger and hostility from
the perspective of the Big Five personality model’, Scandinavian Journal of
Psychology 51, no. 3 (2010): 262–70.
10 Lauri A. Jensen-Campbell, Jennifer M. Knack, Amy M. Waldrip and Shaun D.
Campbell. ‘Do Big Five personality traits associated with self-control influence the
regulation of anger and aggression?’ Journal of Research in Personality 41, no. 2
(2007): 403–24.
11 Louise Helen Phillips, Julie D. Henry, Judith A. Hosie and Alan B. Milne, ‘Age,
anger regulation and well-being’, Aging and Mental Health 10, no. 3 (2006): 250–6.
12 Christine Ma-Kellams and Jennifer Lerner, ‘Trust your gut or think carefully?
Examining whether an intuitive, versus a systematic, mode of thought produces
greater empathic accuracy’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 111, no. 5
(2016): 674.
13 Ken‐Ichi Ohbuchi, Toru Tamura, Brian M. Quigley, James T. Tedeschi, Nawaf
Madi, Michael H. Bond and Amelie Mummendey, ‘Anger, blame, and dimensions
of perceived norm violations: Culture, gender, and relationships’, Journal of Applied
Social Psychology 34, no. 8 (2004): 1587–603.
14 Steven Pinker, ‘Toward a consilient study of literature’, Philosophy and Literature 31,
no. 1 (2007): 162–78.
15 Olivier Morin, Alberto Acerbi and Oleg Sobchuk, ‘Why people die in novels:
Testing the ordeal simulation hypothesis’, Palgrave Communications 5, no. 1
(2019): 2.
170 Notes

16 Megan Oaten, Richard J. Stevenson and Trevor I. Case, ‘Disgust as a disease-

avoidance mechanism’, Psychological Bulletin 135, no. 2 (2009): 303.
17 Carlos David Navarrete and Daniel M. T. Fessler, ‘Disease avoidance and
ethnocentrism: The effects of disease vulnerability and disgust sensitivity on
intergroup attitudes’, Evolution and Human Behavior 27, no. 4 (2006): 270–82.
18 Jonathan Haidt, Paul Rozin, Clark McCauley and Sumio Imada, ‘Body, psyche, and
culture: The relationship between disgust and morality’, Psychology and Developing
Societies 9, no. 1 (1997): 107–31.
19 Barbara L. Fredrickson, ‘The role of positive emotions in positive psychology: The
broaden-and-build theory of positive emotions’, American Psychologist 56, no. 3
(2001): 218.
20 Julian Hanich, Valentin Wagner, Mira Shah, Thomas Jacobsen and Winfried
Menninghaus, ‘Why we like to watch sad films: The pleasure of being moved in
aesthetic experiences’, Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity, and the Arts 8, no. 2
(2014): 130.
21 Mary Beth Oliver and Tilo Hartmann, ‘Exploring the role of meaningful
experiences in users' appreciation of “good movies”’, Projections 4, no. 2 (2010):
128–50.
22 Sandro Mendonça, Gustavo Cardoso and João Caraça, ‘The strategic strength of
weak signal analysis’, Futures 44, no. 3 (2012): 218–28.
23 Jonathan Haidt, ‘Elevation and the positive psychology of morality’, Flourishing:
Positive Psychology and the Life Well-Lived 275 (2003): 289.
24 Dacher Keltner and Jonathan Haidt, ‘Approaching awe, a moral, spiritual, and
aesthetic emotion’, Cognition and Emotion 17, no. 2 (2003): 297–314.
25 Amie M. Gordon, Jennifer E. Stellar, Craig L. Anderson, Galen D. McNeil, Daniel
Loew and Dacher Keltner, ‘The dark side of the sublime: Distinguishing a threat-
based variant of awe’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 113, no. 2
(2017): 310.
26 Moritz Lehne and Stefan Koelsch, ‘Toward a general psychological model of tension
and suspense.’ Frontiers in Psychology 6 (2015): 79.
27 Lehne and Koelsch, ‘Toward a general psychological model of tension and
suspense’.
28 Lehne and Koelsch, ‘Toward a general psychological model of tension and
suspense’.
29 Brian Lickel, Toni Schmader, Mathew Curtis, Marchelle Scarnier and Daniel R.
Ames, ‘Vicarious shame and guilt.’ Group Processes & Intergroup Relations 8, no. 2
(2005): 145–57.
30 Lickel et al., ‘Vicarious shame and guilt’.
31 Robin L. Nabi, ‘Emotional flow in persuasive health messages’, Health
Communication 30, no. 2 (2015): 114–24.
 Notes 171

32 Kurt Vonnegut, Palm Sunday: An Autobiographical Collage (New York City: Dial
Press, 1999).
33 Matthew L. Jockers, Interview with author. Zoom call. June 27, 2019.
34 Andrew J. Reagan, Lewis Mitchell, Dilan Kiley, Christopher M. Danforth and
Peter Sheridan Dodds, ‘The emotional arcs of stories are dominated by six basic
shapes’, EPJ Data Science 5, no. 1 (2016): 31.
35 Jodie Archer and Matthew L. Jockers, The Bestseller Code: Anatomy of the
Blockbuster Novel (London: Penguin Random House, 2017).
36 Marco Del Vecchio, Alexander Kharlamov, Glenn Parry and Ganna Pogrebna, ‘The
data science of Hollywood: Using emotional arcs of movies to drive business model
innovation in entertainment industries’ (30 May 2018). Available at SSRN:​http​​s:/​/s​​
srn​.c​​om​/ab​​strac​​t​​=319​​8315 ​or ht​​tp://​​dx​.do​​i​.org​​/10​.2​​139​/s​​sr​n​.3​​19831​5
37 Del Vecchio et al., ‘The data science of Hollywood: Using emotional arcs of movies
to drive business model innovation in entertainment industries”.
38 Archer and Jockers, The Bestseller Code: Anatomy of the Blockbuster Novel.
39 Del Vecchio et al., ‘The data science of Hollywood: Using emotional arcs of movies
to drive business model innovation in entertainment industries’.
40 Del Vecchio et al., ‘The data science of Hollywood: Using emotional arcs of movies
to drive business model innovation in entertainment industries’.
41 Archer and Jockers, The Bestseller Code: Anatomy of the Blockbuster Novel.
42 Archer and Jockers, The Bestseller Code: Anatomy of the Blockbuster novel.
43 Del Vecchio et al., ‘The data science of Hollywood: Using emotional arcs of movies
to drive business model innovation in entertainment industries’.
44 Archer and Jockers, The Bestseller Code: Anatomy of the Blockbuster Novel.
45 Del Vecchio et al., ‘The data science of Hollywood: Using emotional arcs of movies
to drive business model innovation in entertainment industries’.
46 Archer and Jockers, The Bestseller Code: Anatomy of the Blockbuster Novel.
47 Shelley E. Taylor and David A. Armor, ‘Positive illusions and coping with
adversity’, Journal of Personality 64, no. 4 (1996): 873–98.
48 Tali Sharot, ‘The optimism bias’, Current Biology 21, no. 23 (2011): R941–5.
49 Ajit Varki, ‘Human uniqueness and the denial of death’, Nature 460, no. 7256
(2009): 684.
50 McAdams, The Redemptive Self: Stories Americans Live By – Revised and Expanded
Edition.
51 M. B. Oliver and A. A. Raney, ‘Entertainment as pleasurable and meaningful:
Identifying hedonic and eudaimonic motivations for entertainment
consumption’, Journal of Communication 61, no. 5 (2011): 984–1004.
52 Oliver and Raney, ‘Entertainment as pleasurable and meaningful: Identifying
hedonic and eudaimonic motivations for entertainment consumption’.
172 Notes

53 Hal Ersner-Hershfield, Joseph A. Mikels, Sarah J. Sullivan and Laura L. Carstensen,

‘Poignancy: Mixed emotional experience in the face of meaningful endings’, Journal
of Personality and Social Psychology 94, no. 1 (2008): 158.

Chapter 7

1 Dana R. Carney, C. Randall Colvin and Judith A. Hall, ‘A thin slice perspective on
the accuracy of first impressions’, Journal of Research in Personality 41, no. 5 (2007):
1054–72.
2 Alex L. Jones, Robin S. S. Kramer and Robert Ward, ‘Signals of personality and
health: The contributions of facial shape, skin texture, and viewing angle’, Journal
of Experimental Psychology: Human Perception and Performance 38, no. 6
(2012): 1353.
3 Jerry S. Wiggins and Ross Broughton, ‘The interpersonal circle: A structural
model for the integration of personality research’, Perspectives in Personality 1
(1985): 1–47.
4 Maarten Selfhout, William Burk, Susan Branje, Jaap Denissen, Marcel Van Aken
and Wim Meeus, ‘Emerging late adolescent friendship networks and Big Five
personality traits: A social network approach’, Journal of Personality 78, no. 2 (2010):
509–38.
5 Kelci Harris and Simine Vazire, ‘On friendship development and the Big Five
personality traits’, Social and Personality Psychology Compass 10, no. 11 (2016):
647–67.
6 Jochen E. Gebauer, Mark R. Leary and Wiebke Neberich, ‘Big Two personality and
Big Three mate preferences: Similarity attracts, but country-level mate preferences
crucially matter.’ Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 38, no. 12 (2012):
1579–93.
7 Gebauer et al., ‘Big Two personality and Big Three mate preferences: Similarity
attracts, but country-level mate preferences crucially matter’.
8 Beatrice Rammstedt and Jürgen Schupp, ‘Only the congruent survive – Personality
similarities in couples’, Personality and Individual Differences 45, no. 6 (2008):
533–5.
9 Michelle N. Shiota and Robert W. Levenson, ‘Birds of a feather don’t always
fly farthest: Similarity in Big Five personality predicts more negative marital
satisfaction trajectories in long-term marriages’, Psychology and Aging 22, no. 4
(2007): 666.
 Notes 173

10 D. Christopher Dryer and Leonard M. Horowitz, ‘When do opposites attract?

Interpersonal complementarity versus similarity’, Journal of Personality and Social
Psychology 72, no. 3 (1997): 592.
11 Kerry L. Jang, W. John Livesley and Philip A. Vemon, ‘Heritability of the big five
personality dimensions and their facets: A twin study’, Journal of Personality 64, no.
3 (1996): 577–92.
12 Tena Vukasović and Denis Bratko, ‘Heritability of personality: A meta-analysis of
behavior genetic studies,’ Psychological Bulletin 141, no. 4 (2015): 769.
13 David M. Buss, ‘Manipulation in close relationships: Five personality factors in
interactional context.’ Journal of Personality 60, no. 2 (1992): 477–99.
14 Kipling D. Williams, ‘Ostracism’, Annual Review of Psychology 58 (2007).
15 Buss, ‘Manipulation in close relationships: Five personality factors in interactional
context’.

Chapter 8

1 Jones et al., ‘Signals of personality and health: The contributions of facial shape, skin
texture, and viewing angle’.
2 Carney et al., ‘A thin slice perspective on the accuracy of first impressions’.
3 Jones et al., ‘Signals of personality and health: The contributions of facial shape, skin
texture, and viewing angle’.
 Glossary

adaptive behaviour Behaviour which allows one to adapt effectively to one’s

environment.
agency An individual’s desire to master their environment, assert the self, achieve
power and competence.
agreeableness The disposition towards acting in a cooperative and unselfish manner.
One of the Big Five personality dimensions.
altruism Seemingly unselfish behaviour which helps another at a cost to the
individual.
backchannelling (in speech) A brief vocal expression that doesn’t convey any
important information but that shows the listener is continuing to pay attention to
the speaker, for example, uh-huh or right.
closed to experience The disposition towards being closed to new cultural, aesthetic
or intellectual experiences.
coercion The process of attempting to manipulate someone through the use of threats,
force or other forms of negative power.
(cognitive) dissonance The unpleasant psychological state brought about by holding
two opposing views or any other inconsistency within the mind.
communal An individual’s desire to relate to, cooperate with and merge with others.
compliant The tendency to act in a submissive way.
conscientiousness The disposition towards acting in an organized, responsible, dutiful
and hard-working way. One of the Big Five personality dimensions.
counter-dispositional Going against a cognitive, emotional or behavioural tendency.
debasement (or self-abasement) The act of putting oneself down or acting in a
humiliating way.
disagreeableness The disposition towards behaving in a selfish and uncooperative
manner.
disfluencies (in speech) Vocal interruptions in the regular flow of speech, for
example, uh or um, pausing silently, repeating words, or interrupting oneself to
correct something said previously.
distal goal A long-term goal that is accomplished over a longer period of time.
elevation (or moral elevation) The warm emotion elicited by witnessing virtuous acts
of moral goodness.
emotional arc The emotional journey of a fictional character through the course of
the narrative.
 Glossary 175

emotional contagion The rapid spread of emotion from one person (or character) to
another.
emotional range The range of emotions that a fictional character experiences
throughout the narrative.
emotional stability The disposition towards having stable moods and acting in a
predictable and consistent manner.
extrinsic motivation Motivation that arises from the expectation of receiving an
external reward.
extroversion (also extraversion) The disposition towards directing one’s interests and
energies towards the outward world. One of the Big Five personality dimensions.
facet (of personality) A specific aspect of a broader personality trait.
fight-or-flight response A pattern of physiological changes elicited as a result of a
threatening or stressful situation that mobilizes energy towards either attacking or
avoiding the threat.
generativity Fulfilling one’s social obligations towards the next generation.
humanism Valuing the dignity and worth of every human.
intrinsic motivation Motivation that arises from taking pleasure in the activity itself
rather than through anticipation of an external reward.
introversion The disposition towards directing one’s interests and energies towards
the internal private world.
Kantianism Treating people as ends unto themselves and not as a means towards
achieving something else.
low point A difficult period during one’s life in which they experience negative
emotions including sadness, loss or grief.
Machiavellianism The personality trait defined by being calculating and treating
others as a means to an end.
mirror neurons Brain cells that respond in the same way to an action whether the
person performs the action themselves or sees someone else performing the action.
mixed affect (or mixed emotions) The simultaneous experience of both positive and
negative feelings.
moral disengagement The process of convincing oneself that ethical standards do not
apply in a particular situation.
moral emotions Social emotions that are linked to the welfare of society and are
involved in moral judgements, for example, pride and disgust.
narcissism Excessive self-love or interest in oneself.
negative emotions Unpleasant or disruptive emotions that include sadness, anger,
envy and fear.
neural reward circuits A group of neural structures that are associated with the desire
to receive a reward, which usually leads to a positive emotional experience.
neuroticism The disposition towards emotional instability. One of the Big Five
personality dimensions.
176 Glossary

neutral emotions Neutral feelings without a positive or negative valence.

openness to experience The disposition towards being open to new intellectual,
cultural or aesthetic experiences. One of the Big Five personality dimensions.
peak experience An emotional high point during someone’s life, characterized by
positive feelings of joy and transcendence.
positive emotions Uplifting emotions including contentment, happiness, joy,
amusement, awe and love.
post-traumatic growth Positive psychological change after experiencing adversity or a
traumatic event.
proximal goal A short-term goal that is achieved over a short period of time.
psychopathy (or antisocial personality disorder) The disposition towards
disregarding and violating other people’s rights.
PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) A chronic disorder, characterized by
flashbacks, avoidance and physiological arousal, that may result from experiencing a
particularly traumatic event.
reciprocal altruism The act of helping someone who later returns the favour.
regression Returning to a lower state of cognitive, behavioural or emotional
functioning.
sentiment analysis The use of natural language processing and computational
linguistics to analyze emotional states, for example, within text.
tender-mindedness The personality facet that measures the degree to which an
individual’s attitudes and judgements are influenced by their emotions.
turning point The critical moment at which someone has a major insight or makes
the decision to change.
unconscientiousness The disposition towards acting in an unorganized and
irresponsible way.
universal emotions Emotions that are universally experienced in very similar ways by
all cultures.
 Index

achievement-striving (facet of backchannelling 46, 50, 62

personality) 24–6 Baggins, Bilbo (fictional
action genre 74–5 character) 10, 29
activity (facet of personality) 12–15 beliefs 58, 78, 92–3, 105, 150
adolescence 83–4 belonging 77, 90, 140
adventure genre 74–5 Big Five/five-factor model 4, 10–11
aesthetics (facet of personality) 28–30 Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of
Affective Disposition Theory 96 Ignorance) (2014) 20–1, 51–2
agency/agentic goals) 77, 81, 86, 90–1, Bond, James (fictional character) 3,
93, 123–4, 128 13, 21
agreeableness/disagreeableness Bonfire of the Vanities (Wolfe, 1987) 109
characterizing 20 box office 22, 75
and character transformation 89, 90 Breaking Bad (2008–2013) 3, 24–5
dialogue 45–51 bribes/financial reward 139
facets of 17–19 Bucket, Charlie (fictional character) 71,
first impressions 121 110–11
and gender 33 Butler, Rhett (fictional character) 39,
Light and Dark Triads 34–6 128–29
in relationships 122–3, 127, 130
Alien (1978) 52–4 Caché (2005) 117
altruism (facet of personality) 17, 19, Carol (2015) 72, 129–30
72–3, 77, 118 character functions 126–33
ancestral environment 6, 70, 96 characterization checklist 157
anger 99–100 characters
anger hostility (facet of believable 1–4, 10, 14, 37, 121–2
personality) 20–3 complex/round 1–2, 4, 9–11, 13, 14,
Annie Hall (1977) 10, 17, 21, 46–8 33, 37, 78, 121–2, 148
antagonist 34–5, 81, 96, 98, 132–3 creating a new 10–11, 36–7,
antagonistic qualities 34–5, 140, 145–54, 160
156, 159 fascinating 14, 18, 133, 147, 156–7
antisocial personality flat 4, 122
disorder 34 great 3–5
anxiety (facet of personality) 20–3, likeable 17, 34–6, 97, 156
33–4, 51–2 memorable 4–5, 10–11, 33, 37,
appealing to responsibilities 133–5 63, 147
assertiveness (facet of postmodern 3
personality) 12–15, 123–5 strong 17, 124, 147
autonomy 76–7, 89, 91 sympathetic 17, 18, 34, 50, 98
Avatar (2009) 73, 76, 88, 91, 108 unpredictable 157
awe 88, 103–5 virtuous 34–6, 104
178 Index

character transformation/arc 75– debasement 133, 137

7, 83–94 deliberation (facet of
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (Dahl, personality) 24–5, 27
1964) 29, 110–11 depression (facet of personality) 20–2
charm 36, 133–4 detective stories 24, 147
Chernobyl (2019) 78, 80, 106 developmental psychology 7–8
childhood 76, 84 dialects 67
Cinderella story 113–14 dialogue
coercion 138, 143 agreeable 45–8
(cognitive) dissonance 105–6 closed to experience 60–2
comedy genre 75, 110 conscientious 55–7
communion 86, 123–4, 128 disagreeable 49–51
competence (facet of personality) 24, 26 emotionally stable 52–5
compliance (facet of personality) 17, 19 extrovert 41–3
conflict 69, 75, 78, 105, 116, 126, 159 fillers 41
conscientiousness/unconscientiousness fluency 40, 43
characterizing 27 introvert 43–5
and character transformation 90, 94 neurotic 51–2
dialogue 55–7 openness to experience 58–60
facets of 24–7 real-life vs. fictional 40
first impressions 121 unconscientiousness 57–8
and gender 33 disgust 96, 99, 101–2
and mental health 33 disposition 32–3, 37, 79, 147
in relationships 130 Dorothy (fictional character) 17, 117
conservative 30, 31, 92, 159 drama genre 75
context/situation 32–3, 37, 67, 125, 158 dread 105
contrast, between characters 126–33 dutifulness (facet of personality) 24, 26
conversational style 40
agreeable people 50 early adulthood 76, 77, 83–5
closed to experience people 59 Ekman, Paul 99, 103
conscientious people 59 elevation/moral elevation 96, 103, 104
disagreeable people 50 emotional
emotionally stable people 54 arcs 107–15
emotionally unstable people 54 contagion 95–6
extroverts 46 range 107, 154
introverts 46 rollercoaster 115–16
open to experience people 64 emotionally ‘thin’ 2, 6, 107
unconscientiousness people 59 emotions, universal 5, 99–107
Corleone, Michael (fictional empathizing with a character 95–8
character) 34, 63–5 emphasising the pleasure to be
Costa, Paul and McCrae, Robert 11 had 133, 136
counter-dispositional/out-of- endings
character 14, 32–3, 37 happy 117–18
Crown, The (2016–) 61–2 mixed affect 118–19
cultural influence 32–3, 101 satisfying 116–17
tragic 118
Dark Triad 34–5, 37, 132–3, 149 energy 11–13, 15, 41, 69
Darwin, Charles 99 Ephron, Nora 65–6
 Index 179

Erikson, Erik 83 short-term/proximal 78

evolutionary motivations 70–4 Godfather, The (1972) 34, 63–5
evolutionary psychology 6–7 Gone with the Wind (1939) 39, 48–
excitement-seeking (facet of 9, 128–9
personality) 12–13, 15 Goodfellas (1990) 134–5
extroversion/introversion Green Book (2018) 91–2
characterizing 16 gregariousness (facet of personality) 12–
and character transformation 90, 94 13, 15
dialogue 41–5 gut feelings/instinct 70, 79, 80, 156, 160
and emotions 98
facets of 11–16 Hall, Annie (fictional character) 10,
first impressions 121 17, 46–8
and gender 33 happiness 76, 86, 89, 94, 99, 102
in relationships 122–4 hardball tactics/violence 133, 140, 143
eye contact 16, 27 Hayes, Mildred (fictional
character) 98, 100
faith in humanity 36 Heathcliff (fictional character) 18
family love 70, 72 hero/ine, action 10, 13, 21, 22, 24
family members 131–2 Hobbit, The (Tolkien, 1937) 10, 29
fantasy (facet of personality) 28, 30 hot-seating exercise 150
Favourite, The (2018) 111, 133 humanism 36
fear 79–80, 99, 100 humour/playfulness 16, 42, 58, 97, 156
Fifty Shades of Grey (E. L. James,
2015) 114, 116 identification (with a
fight-or-flight 79 character) 17, 95–8
finding a partner 70–2 impulsiveness (facet of personality) 21,
finding identity 84–5 23, 100, 128, 157
Fleabag (fictional character) 3, 18, 96–8 Inside Out (2015) 84, 99
forming friendships and alliances 70, intelligence/mental skills 71, 97, 121
72, 77 internal conflict 78, 147, 159
Forster, E. M. 4, 10, 122 Interpersonal Circumplex 122–5
Freud, Sigmund 83 Iron Man (2008) 41–3
friendships 84–6, 89, 96,
98, 125–7 Jockers, Matthew and Archer,
Jodie 109, 115
Game of Thrones (2011–2018) 124–5 Jung, Carl 5, 32, 83
gender 33, 62–3
generativity 81, 86, 91 Kantianism 36, 149, 155
genetics 131 Killing Eve (2018–) 135
Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The (Larsson,
2005) 14 language of intimacy 65–6
Glengarry Glen Ross (1992) 49–50 Lannister, Cersei (fictional character) 18,
goals 35, 102, 123–5, 132
external/“want” 69, 75–7 Lannister, Jaime (fictional
extrinsic 76–7 character) 124–5, 132
internal/“need” 77, 78 Lannister, Tyrion (fictional character) 3,
intrinsic 76–7 28–9, 101, 124–5, 132
long-term/distal 78 Larsson, Stieg 14, 32
180 Index

later life 86–7, 94 displaying physical skills 71–2, 77

Lecter, Hannibal (fictional health 70–1
character) 134 improving appearance 71–2, 77
liberal 31, 159 legacy 73–4
Light Triad 34–6 meaning 73–4
linguistic style 40 play 16, 70–1
Little/Chiron/Black (fictional safety 70–1, 79, 96
character) 15, 43–5 wealth 71–2, 77
love interest 127–31 movement
low point 88–9, 102–3, 152 and agreeableness/
lying (and deception) 19, 34–5, disagreeableness 20
48–9, 140 and extroversion/introversion 16
and neuroticism/emotional
McCoy, Sherman (fictional stability 23
character) 109 Myers-Briggs Type Indicator
Machiavellianism 34–5, 133, 149, 155 (MBTI) 31–2
McKee, Robert 79
Maisel, Miriam “Midge” (fictional narcissism 34–5, 133, 149, 155
character) 11–12 narrative psychology 7
Mamet, David 49–51 narrative tone 146, 147, 154
Man in a Hole story 108–9, 111–12 nature vs. nurture 131–2
manipulation 19, 35, 133–42 neural reward circuits 117
Martin, George R. R. 28 neuroscience 7
Marvellous Mrs. Maisel, The (2017– neuroticism/emotional stability
) 11–12 characterizing 23
Mean Girls (2004) 85, 137 and character transformation 90, 94
meaning 69, 70, 73–4, 76–7, 88, 93 dialogue 51–4
media psychology 7 and emotions 99
mental health 33–4, 150 facets of 20–3
midlife 76, 85–6, 90, 91, 94 first impressions 121, 147
midpoint 76–7, 81, 86, 93 and gender 33
mirror neurons 95–6 and mental health 33–4, 150
mixed emotions/mixed affect 118–19 in relationships 126, 130
modesty (facet of personality) 17, 19 neutral emotions 23, 98
mood-board 146
Moonlight (2016) 43–5 Oedipus story arc 109, 114–15
moral disengagement 98 O’Hara, Scarlett (fictional character) 39,
moral emotions 96, 98 48–9, 72, 128–9, 138
Motion Picture Production Code 117 openness to
motivations actions (facet of personality) 28–30
affection 72 feelings (facet of personality) 29, 30
aggression 70–1, 79 ideas (facet of personality) 29, 30
altruism 17, 19, 72–3, 77 values (facet of personality) 29, 30
change in 75–8 open to experience/closed to experience
conscience 73, 75, 77 characterizing 31
curiosity 30, 70–1, 78 and character transformation 90, 94
finding a partner/dating/sex 71–2, 75 and conflict or drama 159
displaying mental skills 71–2, 77 dialogue 58–62
 Index 181

facets of 28–31 sadness 51, 99, 102–3

and political beliefs 92, 150, 159 Salander, Lisbeth (fictional
in relationships 126, 130 character) 14, 32
opposites, do they attract? 122, 127–8, 130 Schindler’s List (1993) 73, 91, 104, 137–8
optimism bias 117–18 secondary characters
ordeal simulation hypothesis 100–101 antagonists 132–3
order (facet of personality) 24–6 family 131–2
out-of-character/counter- friends 126–7
dispositional 14, 32–3, 37 functions 126–33
lovers 127–30
page-turners 115–16 partners 130–1
peak experience 87–8, 93, 102, 152 self-consciousness (facet of
personality development 90, 94 personality) 20–2
personality psychology 6, 10 Self Determination Theory 76–7
poignancy 119 self-discipline (facet of
positive emotions 11–13, 16, 102, 117 personality) 24–5, 27
positive psychological growth/post- shame 103, 106–7
traumatic growth) 88–9, 93 Shame (1968) 107
power 63–5, 70, 76, 85, 89, 94, 104 Sideways (2004) 126–7, 136
Powers, Austin (fictional character) 13 Silence of the Lambs (1991) 134
pressure 14, 33, 37, 79 silent treatment (and power of
Price of Salt, The (Highsmith, 1952) 129 silence) 140–2
protagonist, finding the right 145–6 Sixth Sense, The (1999) 103
psychoanalytic theory 5 Social comparison 84, 133, 137
psychological adaptations 6, 70 Social Network, The (2010) 55–6
psychopathy 34–5, 133, 149, 155 Social/socioeconomic class 67
post-traumatic stress disorder Song of Ice and Fire, A (Martin,
(PTSD) 34, 88–9 1996–) 28–9, 124–5, 132
spontaneous 27, 32, 81
Quest story 109, 112–13 Stark, Tony (fictional character) 10,
13, 41–3
Rags to Riches story 109–11 status 63–5, 71–2, 75, 86, 89, 123
reason, appealing to 135 straightforwardness (facet of
reciprocity 136 personality) 17, 19
recovery from trauma 89, 93 Study in Scarlet, A (Conan Doyle,
redemptive stories 118 1887) 22, 29
regression 138–9 substance abuse disorder/addiction 33
relationships Sully, Jake (fictional character) 76, 88,
family 92, 131–2 91, 92, 102, 105, 107–8
friends 126–7 surprise 99, 103
and Interpersonal Circumplex 122–5
lovers 127–30 Targaryen, Daenerys (fictional
marriage/long-term character) 102, 124–5
partnerships 130–1 Tarly, Samwell (fictional character) 17,
reluctant heroes 29 36, 123, 124
Revolutionary Road (2008) 141–2 Ted (2012) 25–6, 57–8
Ripley, Ellen (fictional character) 3, tender-mindedness (facet of
15, 52–4 personality) 17, 19, 128
182 Index

tend-or-befriend 79–80 Up (2009) 18, 36, 87

tension 69, 78, 103, 105–6 upbeat narratives 146, 147
Thelma and Louise (1991) 86, 90, 118–9
theme 6, 83, 117, 121, 146 Vonnegut, Kurt 107–9, 112, 114
Theory of Everything, The (2015) 59–60, vulnerability (facet of personality) 21, 23
72, 74, 89, 105
Thomson, Riggan (fictional Waller-Bridge, Phoebe 96–7, 135
character) 18, 20–1, 86 warmth (facet of personality) 12–13, 15,
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri 86, 123
(2017) 98, 100 When Harry Met Sally (1989) 65–6
thriller genre 13, 14, 74–5 Whiplash (2014) 24, 25, 140
tragedy 109–10 White, Walter (fictional character) 3, 22,
troubleshooting character 24–5, 29, 136
problems 156–9 Wife, The (2017) 130–1
trust (facet of personality) 10, 17, Wizard of Oz, The (1939) 17, 117
19, 35–6 Wolf of Wall Street, The (2013) 72, 85, 139
Tupes, Ernest and Christal, Raymond 9
turning point 81, 87, 89–90 Zillmann, Dolf and Cantor, Joanne 96