How to Write a Clever FMC, When You Really Aren’t Clever at All.
Look, I don’t consider myself clever. I suck at chess, am even worse at solving puzzles, and I’ve put down almost every brain game I’ve ever played. I often like to consider myself witty, or intelligent, or even rather quick, but it’s not quite the same thing as clever. I’m no Sherlock Holmes or Nancy Drew (evidenced by the great, unsolvable mystery of where I last placed my keys). When I set out to write Vaasa from my “Dark Inheritance” series, I knew from the beginning that cleverness was one of the characteristics I wanted her to have, for better or for worse. Especially as I embarked on the second book in this series, The Wicked and the Damned, I had to rely on this characterization in order to make the plot stick. Trust me on this: I frequently sat at my desk and wanted to keyboard smash. I got her into this situation, but how the hell was I going to get her out?
Here’s what I discovered: writing a clever character didn’t mean I had to be clever myself, I just had to remember what I was taught in my high school English class. Yes, I’m talking about literary devices.
Those pesky little strategies authors use to add depth and meaning to their work are more than just vocabulary words. This may sound rudimentary, but I taught this topic for years in my English classroom and found that most students had a difficult time believing these were actual strategies instead of just happenstances (yes, the curtains are blue for a reason). This is the foundation of all good literature, no matter the genre, no matter the time in which it’s written. If you want to convince a reader of anything, literary devices are precisely how you do it. This is because writing isn’t something that happens by merely sitting at your computer and wishing. Writing must be intentional, which means, despite what you may want to hear, in order to convince your readers that your character is clever, you probably need to…
Revise.
The first draft of The Wicked and the Damned did not feature a clever character. Vaasa was waffling, the plot felt far too convenient, and most of what happened at the start had no impact on the ending. I am what people call a discovery writer, meaning when I draft, I uncover the next piece of the plot as I’m writing it. My characters take me in completely different directions than I planned. Even those of us that yearn to just fly by the seat of our pants will, at some point, surrender ourselves to revision, and for me, this is where the magic happens. I think this is because I get to go back to those pesky little strategies I spent years teaching students to identify in literature. I have a very specific revision strategy, so please indulge me as I share with you the specific literary devices I added and the questions I asked myself as I revised my maniacal, ruthless, scheming, clever FMC:
Characterization:
This might seem basic, but it is the backbone of character-driven stories, which is what most people want to read nowadays. For this, I implore you to push past direct characterization (what you tell us about your character) and instead focus on indirect characterization (what you show us about your character). Do other characters speak about and react to them as though they are clever? Has someone called them a schemer, or warned others to be on their toes?
Foreshadowing:
What subtle hints can you give throughout the story that indicate the solution your character is supposed to stumble upon? Where can you feed the audience small, subliminal moments? Perhaps it’s a detail your character notices, or something another character says that you can call upon later. To make the ultimate solution feel believable, you must first make it recognizable to your reader. What small mysteries can they uncover on their way to execute the ultimate plan?
Dramatic Concealment:
This is one of my favorite strategies. This is basically the opposite of dramatic irony (where the audience knows something the character doesn’t). Is there something you can hide from your audience that your character knows or plans to do? Let your reader uncover the shocking solution at the same time the other characters do. Discerning when to reveal information is paramount to storytelling, and these moments almost always change in revision.
Revise, revise, revise. Drafting is supposed to be a mess, because implementing literary strategies in a way that propels the story forward is something that must be done after the initial plot is uncovered. These aren’t just glimmers we stumble upon, but are instead something that can be learned, honed, and practiced. I’ll tell you what I always tell my students, the one piece of advice that has stuck with me throughout my entire career as a teacher and an author (something I had made into a poster and hung on my classroom wall, actually). The first draft, it exists. The second draft, it makes sense. The third draft, it’s effective.
The third draft is where it gets clever.
Discover the Book
Torn from her husband Reid’s arms and dragged back to her homeland in chains, Vaasa is no longer a ruler, but a political pawn. Now under the control of Ozik–a cunning Zetyr witch with a stranglehold on her magic–she faces annulment, forced betrothal, and a kingdom that no longer feels like her own. As Ozik’s machinations aim to install himself as the true power behind the Asteryan throne, Vaasa is forced to take part in his game.
Meanwhile, across the continent, Reid is done playing politics. But waging war is never simple, and a soldier’s fury cannot stand up against Icruria’s bureaucracy. With allies fading and time slipping away, Reid may have no choice but to infiltrate Asterya on his own to find the woman he loves and bring her home.
