One of the more useful writing tools I've come across is K. M. Weiland's description of the lie your character believes. It's an elegant and effective way to frame the problem that's preventing a character from getting what they want in life. We all know that stories are about the struggles a character faces to achieve this, and in most stories, it's the internal struggle that's more interesting.
Storytellers have known this since ancient times. In Poetics, the first great treatise on writing in Western culture, Aristotle noted that the hero must suffer not only from external antagonistic forces but from an "error of judgement" as well. This error, called "hamartia" for my literary scholars in the crowd, is also known as a character's ghost, wound, or tragic flaw. But whatever you want to call this internal problem, the best writers, whether we're talking about William Shakespeare or Stephen King, know it's the heart of every good story. It's the basis of the character's arc, a product of theme, and it's what makes storytelling such an important part of being human, in my humble opinion.
I believe part of the reason humans are so attracted to stories is because they are a fundamental part of how we understand the world and how we're supposed to live in it. I know stories aren't perfect facsimiles for life, and I've written elsewhere about how this belief has hurt me, but I think that looking at the lie a character believes can be helpful.
It's made me wonder what lie I believe and how it might be holding me back.
Of course, we all – humans and characters alike – believe lots of little lies, so the key to understanding the lie your character believes is how it prevents them from getting what they want in life. Consider Woody from Toy Story as an example. He thinks he'll only be happy if he's Andy's top toy. Because he believes this lie, he behaves in a way that nearly costs him all of his friends and risks losing Andy forever. It's only once Woody realizes he doesn't need to be Andy's one and only favorite toy that he is able to find the happiness he was initially after.
So while it might be a lie to believe that I'll ever start going to the gym or eventually start online dating, those aren't the lies that I'm talking about here. Those don't count as the lie my character believes because they aren't preventing me from getting what I want most in life—which is to be a writer. Full time. Professionally. Rewardingly. I want a career where I can write and be creative and for it to matter.
And I think the lie that I believe(d) is that if I worked hard and did my best, someone would eventually notice. A door would open up, and opportunity would present itself. I'd have an inciting incident! I, ever so naïvely, believed that I would be ready.
But it turns out life doesn't work that way.
You can do your best and no one will notice. At least, not if you don't put yourself out there. Not if you don't ask for it.
I think that's another lie that I believe—that if I have to ask for something, when I get it it won't count.
I'm not really sure why I believe that. Actually, I might have an idea, but we don't need to get into all that here. I guess what I want to say is this:
I realize I've been getting it wrong, and I'm ready to get it right.
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