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Last week, one of our close friends texted my husband and me to invite us to spend her birthday—a mile-marker one—with her and her wife. Our friend had a whole day of activities planned: She wanted to meet at their house for cake (chocolate) and ice cream (vanilla) and prosecco; then go to a virtual-reality game room; have dinner at a restaurant we’d recently discovered together and liked; and then play minigolf.
We said yes immediately. Of course we did.
And we did it all, seven hours of everything our friend had wanted—and asked for. At dinner we said how happy we were that we were the ones she’d invited to join her and her wife to celebrate her big birthday, and she said, “I knew you’d both be up for whatever I wanted to do, just because I wanted to.”
Here’s what I loved about most about the day—and her answer: She knew exactly what she wanted for her birthday celebrations, and she flat-out asked for it without apology, without soft-pedaling or justifying it—and she trusted that we would give it to her.
Stifling Our Truest Desires
How often do most of us allow ourselves to simply ask for what we want?
Whether it’s as small a thing as stating a preference for what restaurant to eat at or movie to watch, or as big as asserting a desire to have children or get married or change careers or take a risk that matters to us, so often we hold back from doing what my friend did—straightforwardly outright asking.
We may hope others will intuit and offer what we want, might drop hints, or may even maneuver people into it (be honest—we all do that, however benignly), but somehow straightforwardly asking can feel taboo. It’s selfish; it’s manipulative; it’s arrogant; it’s controlling. Maybe we fear they will say no, or won’t want to, or will do it only grudgingly or resent us for it. Maybe we worry about seeming like a supplicant or as if we’re asking permission.
Unspoken desires are so often at the root of what may seem like arguments, misunderstandings, and conflict—and it’s a powerful concept to consider for both your writing and your life.
Maybe it’s just too scary to reveal our most naked and vulnerable longings.
So we don’t ask—and then perhaps we feel hurt or neglected or rejected or sidelined because we aren’t having those deep-seated needs met. At the very least, we give up our fullest opportunity, as Thoreau says, to go confidently in the direction of our dreams and live the life we’ve imagined.
These unspoken desires are so often at the root of what may seem like arguments, misunderstandings, and conflict—and it’s a powerful concept to consider for both your writing and your life.
Unexpressed Longings in Character Relationships
As is so often the case, what we want most in life doesn’t always make for effective storytelling, where challenges, obstacles, and conflict are the lifeblood of compelling story—and what so often lies behind them are deep unstated desires.
Read more: "Beyond Character Goal and Motivation: The Longing and the Lack"
Last week during a consultation with an author, we were discussing their protagonist’s dynamic with her husband.
On the page the warmth and love and connection that existed between the two weren’t quite reading, just annoyance and irritation. Their prickliness and rancor made sense under the circumstances, as they argued over a family matter—but if readers don’t also see what bonds these two, we may not invest in their marriage or have a reason to root for it, especially early in a story.
Thinking about unexpressed longings can be a good way to give depth to moments of friction like this, and convey the relationship and connection between characters. They may not be able to convey what they want, which leads to the conflict between them, but if you let your readers see those unexpressed longings you create the powerful push-pull of tension beneath all compelling story. And that’s what jacks up the stakes—readers don’t care about conflict if the characters don’t have any skin in the game.
Read more: "Character Stakes: The Key to Making Readers Care"
So many arguments and misunderstandings between people, no matter what they seem to be about, are actually about deeper unmet desires. You’re not really arguing about the dirty dishes; you may be longing to feel cared for and supported, or for more space in your busy schedule for things that matter more to you. We’re not upset because someone is habitually ten minutes late; it’s really because we long to feel important to them, or that they’re eager to see us, or that they respect our time.
I remember once bursting into uncharacteristic tears over some minor comment my husband made—I can’t even recall what it was, but I do keenly remember how desperately overwhelmed I was feeling at the time, in the middle of a move and a book release—and that all I wanted was his arms around me telling me everything was okay, that I could handle it, that he was there to help.
If I’d been able to simply ask for that, he’d have given it—gladly. But it’s that block that keeps us—and our characters—from stating our deepest, most naked, vulnerable desires that creates those potent miscommunications and conflicts, in story and in our lives.
Asking for What You Want
In fiction, stakes, depth, and impact often come from understanding what’s holding your characters back from what they most long for, and sustaining that tension—the push-pull—all the way through to your characters’ “point B” at the end of the story, when they’ve finally overcome those internal obstacles. That’s what creates meaningful character arcs.
It’s what can create meaningful experiences and relationships in life, too.
Letting people know what you really long for is such a gift—to yourself and to them. It says to you that you honor yourself and your desires, that you care about your well-being and understand your inherent worth. It lets you relate to people from a genuine and authentic place.
It says to whoever you’re asking that you trust them and your relationship enough to be vulnerable and naked with them. That you know they care about you and are worthy of that trust, as our friend implied to us when she said she knew we’d both be all-in on her request. That indication of our closeness meant a lot to me.
And it may open your loved ones up to experiences or opportunities they might not have had otherwise. I can reliably promise you I likely would never have wound up at that VR gaming place, but I also wish you could have seen me sniper-stalking around that nonexistent spaceship, firing my weapon at a succession of alien and AI threats like Ellen motherforking Ripley (same height too!).
I would have told you I’m not really into video games, that I certainly don’t like first-person-shooter games, and that I’m a terrible shot. But guess who was crisply calling out to her teammates to guard her six, and guess who came in third on our team of six in number of kills?
Except for the birthday girl, I don’t know how excited any of us had been about going, but afterward every one of us enthusiastically said we’d do it again, and grabbed one of the place’s frequent player cards on our way out.
I’m not great at minigolf and don’t go out of my way to play—but man, did we have a ball as the sun set on a Saturday night, among the families and young kids and teenagers on fledgling dates, making putts around and through impossible obstacles, smack-talking and cheering one another on, and laughing our heads off.
Maybe your partner wouldn’t mind having a solo weekend with the kids to spend more time than they usually get one on one while you go off on a writing retreat. Maybe your kids would have a blast spending an evening with you addressing envelopes and sending out promotional copies of your book, or brainstorming or working on clever little giveaway items for your readers. Maybe your friends would be thrilled to buy your book, review it, and help spread the word about it.
Even if they don’t, what if that’s okay? What if it’s fine to ask for things you want, that benefit only you, just because you want them? No one is under any obligation to say yes. But giving them the opportunity to can show love and trust and offer the chance to do something for someone they care about. I’m married to a man who rarely asks for anything, and when he does I’m so thrilled with the chance to make him happy—and isn’t that something most of us welcome with the people we love?
Ask for writing time, ask not to be disturbed, ask for support with responsibilities so you can take that time. Ask for the agent you want, the publisher you want, the readers you hope for. Dare to be vulnerable and show your deepest and most naked longings.
You won’t always get them—but you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take. And the very act of asking empowers you to go confidently in the direction of your dreams…and live the life you’ve imagined.
Authors, tell it to me: How do you dig down in your stories to what’s really driving your characters—that core need that’s going unmet and unexpressed, to maintain powerful conflict, stakes, and momentum? How do you pay attention to what you really want when you’re experiencing a difficult emotion or conflict? How does identifying—and expressing—that affect your actions, and the relationship?
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18 Comments. Leave new
The Real Person!
The Real Person!
So, in the example where two characters are arguing about the dishes but it’s not about the dishes, I think that, most of the time, the character wouldn’t know that the argument is about a deeper unmet need. How would you get that across on the page so she doesn’t look like a shrew for picking an argument?
It’s tricky to let readers infer or see what may be below characters’ radar. You could show the effects of the deeper unmet need–say, the character comes home exhausted after work and walks into a dirty kitchen and we see a flash of rage or frustrated tears. These are way out of proportion to the infraction, of course, so we start to put these clues together. Show her exhaustion, how much she wanted to come home, have a glass of wine, and unwind with her spouse, perhaps–only to find him video gaming in the media room, throwing her a distracted wave. Readers see her disappointment that he’s not picking up on her state of mind or available or seemingly interested in her; we see her go downstairs to at least have her wine and see the filthy kitchen when he’s upstairs gaming, etc. We connect the dots.
Like so much in story, you paint the full picture through brushstrokes, one detail and shading at a time.
The Real Person!
The Real Person!
I love this, Tiffany. Thanks for connecting all these dots for us.
Glad it’s helpful, Diane!
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The Real Person!
And remember that the antagonist would have these issues, also- make them more 3D.
Great reminder, Cris–antagonists should be as fully fleshed and complex as Our Heroes.
The Real Person!
The Real Person!
This post is so impactful! Wow. On so many levels.
Glad it was useful, Aleisha!
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The Real Person!
What terrific insights you offer. Thank you.
Two of the reasons I don’t ask are 1) If I get it, I feel obligated to return it, and I might not want to or even be willing to. 2) I’m afraid to. (Maybe number one is a cover-up.) I’m not asking why I’m afraid to, ’cause I’m not sure I’m ready to know.
My protagonists suffer from the same things. They have all sorts of cover-ups for not asking. Refusal to even acknowledge what they want is one, but some are even legit. ‘Creates some powerful internal tension and an epiphany when they finally admit to themselves what they want. Sometimes they have the gumption to pursue it.
I make a real effort not to engage in arguments; they’re often lost and seldom won by either party and rarely determine who or what’s right. My alternative is to detach and listen, agree where I can, ask questions where I disagree, and strive for shared understanding followed by resolution. Sometimes we actually get beyond ‘the dishes’ to what the issue really is. I hesitate to recommend this course of action, but it helps me avoid that emotionally charged fog that arguments used to leave me in.
Great post.
Oh, the obligation thing, Bob–I feel that. I hate to feel beholden to anyone…and yet it’s such a gift of trust to allow yourself to be–or better still, not to feel you’re beholden at all, or that there’s any score to be evened. I struggle with that too. And the fear–that’s probably at the root of most of my (most people’s?) reluctance to express those longings. It’s a vulnerable thing.
I like your approaching to disagreements/discussions. I’m trying to do more of that lately myself, and be less reactive, and less married to my position and my preconceptions. If we can connect on that deeper, human level where we share more longings that we may realize, I suspect that would go a long way toward bridging some of our divides. Thanks for this comment, friend.
The Real Person!
The Real Person!
Not many writing posts are as moving as this one. It could powerfully improve and deepen both our writing of characters, and our interactions with the people in our lives.
Thank you.
That’s a lovely thing to say, Julia–and to hear. Thank you! I’m glad it hit a chord.
The Real Person!
The Real Person!
I can’t say I have any answers to your questions because I am trying to better navigate my own unexpressed longings, which also exist in my protagonist. However, I greatly appreciate the parallel you drew between life and writing. A great piece and a much needed reminder.
Glad it resonated, Emily. And I hope you can dig down to those longings! I struggle with it too–it’s weirdly scary sometimes.
The Real Person!
The Real Person!
Thank you for a wonderful—as always—post. For my characters, there are multiple steps that lead to writing narratives about their lives and/or short stories from their past. I like to examine key moments that shaped them. Even after all that, they still talk to me while I’m drafting, and later during editing. I’m always listening.
As for me, there’s no one to ask except Evie the Cat, and she already gives me so much.
I love that you find your way into the character through writing key moments, Christina–those are so revealing, for us as well as our characters. And isn’t that how we really get to know people in life too–through multiple shared experiences, and the more personal, the more revealing, as with your characters?
Hello to Evie the Cat, from me and Gavin and Alex the dogs. 🙂
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The Real Person!
What a great life post! I’m fortunate to be like your friend and I ask (frequently) and get (frequently). I have no idea why people don’t ask more for what they want from life. Fear is the only thing holding us back. Don’t be afraid of fear.
That IS fortunate, Syl! And forthright, a quality I appreciate, and I imagine your loved ones do too.