The Germans have a phrase, 'to jump over one's own shadow.' It means to go beyond one's programming, to do something that isn't normally in one's nature. It's an important concept for writers, because we're often faced with the problem of confronting characters in our stories – whether totally fictional or the sort of 'as told to/researched by' nonsense that passes for factual – with dilemmas of all sorts. The problem is: will they or won't they? Jump over their own shadows, we mean. Can the character do something that goes beyond the time and place, and our readers' (and possibly our) expectations?

Take an example from the show I was watching the other night. It was an award-winning British series called City of Vice, all about the Fielding brothers, Henry and John, and their attempt to clean up London in the 1750s. It was historically very accurate, and extremely well-written. But Henry Fielding totally lost my sympathy by episode 3, and by episode 5, I was deeply offended by him. Why? Because he was 'of his time'. He hypocritically forgave the sins of the middle class, as long as they were heterosexual, while turning his back on a decent, loyal Bow Street Runner because he was gay – and sanctioning extreme violence against the inhabitants of Seven Dials.

Of course, that just made the drama more realistic. The writers couldn't have it both ways. You couldn't, at the same time, like the Fieldings and see 18th-century London for what it was – frankly, a cesspool that makes early New York City look good in comparison. (See the US series New Amsterdam.) It is very likely that Henry Fielding was as narrow-minded and wrong-headed as anybody else in that hellhole, and the writers read all his books and plays, so they'd know. You want realism? You lose heroes.

On the other hand, the writers of the Canadian drama series Murdoch Mysteries managed to cure the eponymous hero of homophobia. And he's a good Catholic family man with a sense of honour that would put Dudley Dooright to shame. How do they do it? Ah, there's the trick.

You see, Murdoch Mysteries is a long-running series. People aren't going to watch if they don't like the main character. No matter how much period detail you put in. It is Toronto, after all. So they make their character just unusual enough for it to be believable that he has a fresh take on his personal space/time. He doesn't have to jump over his own shadow, because his shadow is much smaller than most people's. In Murdoch's case, it's because he's a bilingual wanderer with an unhappy past and a minority religion. I've also been watching Remington Steele, about a no-name hero with an unhappy past and a dodgy skill set. Remington casts no shadow at all. Even trained investigators can't find the real him behind the five fake passports, all in the names of Humphrey Bogart characters. And yet, he's everybody's ideal detective, not only Laura Holt's. See? To get characters who can jump over their own shadows, you've got to do some adjusting to those shadows. Give the guy (or gal) a break. Come up with some unusual background.

• Edmund Dantes gets thrown in prison unfairly, meets another victim of injustice who teaches him skills beyond his pay rate.
• Sydney Carton has all the smarts in the world, but a serious drinking problem.
• How many fictional detectives can you name that have handicaps, sad backstories, or other reasons to be at odds with society?

You can think of more. Sure, you can. See how this works? The Scarlet Pimpernel may turn on the ladies, but frankly, he's a bore. Why? He's too successful. If the Baroness hadn't saddled him with a relationship issue, he would have been totally insufferable. Don't do that. Give your heroes and heroines hurdles they can't climb over: reasons to sympathise with the downtrodden of this world, insights into how the other half live. And then watch them leap over those shadows with a single bound. Like Bernard Cornwell's Richard Sharpe: miserable childhood, illegal career, hard slog across the battlefields of Flanders, India, Portugal, Spain, France… Boy, can he sympathise with suffering. He speaks Yiddish, too.

Think about it. Who would you rather be friends with, the Scarlet Pimpernel or Richard Sharpe?

Writing Right with Dmitri Archive

Dmitri Gheorgheni

27.07.15 Front Page

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