LOL! Gotcha again! The things I have to do to get people to read my blog. But you’re here and that makes me happy!
Today, we discuss a necessary component in a good story, the antagonist, also known as the enemy, nemesis, frenemy, etc.
Traditionally, an antagonist is usually an actual individual. But the enemy can be the protagonist’s environment, their situation and sometimes an inanimate object. Tolkien does crap tons of this in LOTR. While Sauron is the ultimate enemy throughout the trilogy, Frodo is also tormented by his environment and the heavy burden of carrying the ring. In fact, after reading LOTR for the eightieth time, I asked myself, is the ring itself the actual antagonist? I mean Sour – Sauron, was as much under the spell of the ring as everybody else. But we can argue this all day, point is, the antagonist is not always apparent or well defined. The hero just needs some sort of antagonism. Hell, even the warm and fuzzy Care Bares had antagonists. What was that annoying loud girls name? Shrieky? And the dude with the ugly hood, No Heart.
When you’re first starting out (writing), sometimes the best place to start when creating an antagonist is to recall those people who’ve antagonized you, or environments and situations you found difficult to function in and around. To show you what I mean, I’d like to tell you a little story about my arch-nemesis.
After washing the dishes one afternoon, I sat down to start my homework. I can’t recall what subject but I do remember that it was the beginning of the school term because I had brand new school supplies. I was most excited about using the “bright white, college ruled” leaf paper, mechanical pencils, highlighters and fine-tip ball point pens. To prepare, I organized all my text books in the order I was to complete assignments then carefully opened the package of leaf paper, gingerly pulling out three sheets. This part always required great focus, any distractions could result in me pulling too hard and ripping a sheet of paper. After successfully retrieving the leafs, I opened the box of blue pens, took one out, uncapped it and began to write my name at the top right hand corner of the first sheet. I was most pleased with the grip of the pen and the way it wrote. But this was where my bliss ended. The pen stopped working mid-stroke.
I got an old newspaper that was lying around and did what any secondary school student would. I scribbled all over the paper to see if it would write again, and it did. Relieved, I continued where I left off, only to have the pen stop working again! I tried the scribble again, and after a while it began to write – except when I tried to continue my name. Frustrated, I moved to the second step of pen troubleshooting. I began flicking it in the air so that the ink would find it’s way to the tip again. As usual, this worked but only long enough for me to cross the “t” in my first name. I repeated step two again and again, barely getting through my middle name before my arm got tired. I looked at the pen, the audacity of it to play games with me and my homework. Who did it think it was to withhold ink from my pristine white, college-ruled leaf papers?
A bit pissed off now, I did what any self respecting student would do, I took the damn thing apart! When I was down to the ball point and the ink cartridge, I carefully pulled the ball point off. Nothing came out and it appeared dry. So I got up, went to the bathroom sink and began tapping it like mad on the rim of the sink trying to force the ink down. But the stubborn liquid still defied me! There was nothing left to do, but to force the ink down by suction action. Finally, the ink began to move down, so I gave it all I had! Success!
Most elated, I smirked at the pen. Nothing gets between me and my assignments. However, my self satisfaction and smile were short lived when I looked in the mirror. My teeth, gums and tongue were blue, how I hadn’t tasted the ink, I still do not know. Needless to say I was completely mortified! Good thing we had some good old Hydrogen peroxide (H2O2, for inquiring minds) under the sink. I got it (ink) cleaned off but not before my big cuz P- money came barging in and alerting the household so they could laugh their backsides off at me.
What did I learn about my arch-nemesis? Nothing, except that BIC Ball Point Pens can be just plain evil.
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