Notes: Apologies for the long illustrative example at the end of this chapter. You may skip it if you like, it's just my love for manipulated ciches. XD

5a. The Good, The Bad and The Disturbing, Part 3

(ie; an attempt at defining the Mary-Sue)

5. Story Elements

Dealing with plot and sequence of the story. There are typically a few well-trodden avenues which are best left behind in the forests of cliché. Like, for instance;

a. The Spotlight Stealer

All right, so your OC is the Chosen One. He/she needs to save the world. He/she is important. He/she, therefore, needs a considerable amount of screen time to do all the things he/she is supposed to do. But in doing this, there is an exclusive-to-fanfics problem you might encounter, especially if the story you're writing uses canon characters in a large proportion.

Fanfiction takes place in an established world, with established rules and established characters. When the Spotlight Stealer enters, she/he effectively reorganizes the astronomical patterns of the PJO universe, becoming the sun (or the black hole) that everything else orbits around. Every other character, in contrast is reduced considerably in significance and screentime.

In PJOverse, the established characters are important. Demoting them to extras in a new story in favor of a more talented, more accomplished, more touched-by-destiny protagonist may not really be received well. Percy, Annabeth and all the rest have their own talents and strengths. Since a story is basically a latticework of many characters, try to allow everyone time to shine (or AT LEAST, try not to showcase them as completely incompetent or insignificant with respect to the main character), be it canon characters or secondary OCs. Equal opportunity rights, people.

b. The Deus Ex Machina (ie, The God out of the Machine)

For those of you who don't frequent TV Tropes, a dues ex machina is what you call a situation where a previously unheard-of event occurs, thereby solving a major conflict or a massive problem with very little effort. Effectively a god (or any unforeseen, influential force/character/sudden event) shows up out of a machine (ie, from something/someplace that does not logically make any sense) and clears everything up by casually waving a hand over the situation.

To say that this is annoying and anticlimactic would be an understatement. Take, for instance, the fact that Bella Swans newborn vampire abilities completely depower the main two offensive vampires in the Volturi in Breaking Dawn. I have lost count of the amount of times I've heard people complain about how the promise of a battle just went up in a puff of clear smoke. Try not to do this. If you're planning to avoid a battle, throw hints into the story that you are trying to avoid a battle, instead of spending the previous few chapters forming an army (most of whom, if you think about it, will have to feed on the humans from the nearby area). It'll help.

Coming back to the OC, try not to give them a last-minute superpower which is conveniently exactly what's needed to further the plot or solve a problem. While doing such a thing in a battle or situation which is not that important is just introducing a new power, doing it at the climax is just pulling random things out of nowhere.

c. The Perils in the Past

Ah, backstory.

Giving a character a unique and identifiable backstory is one of the most commonly used methods of generating interest in the OC. Sometimes, it works wonderfully well. Sometimes… it doesn't. How any backstory is received depends on both content and presentation. In content, attention must be given towards minimizing the volume. You may have possibly prepared a long, detailed list of all the events that affected your OC from birth to the moment she/he comes to CHB, which is completely fine and probably a very good thing to do. It is better, however, to exercise restraint when it comes to how much of said backstory you reveal in the story.

To illustrate; a while ago I finally got some free time, blew off the dust on my Pottermore account and slogged through the Philospher's Stone section. The rewards were detailed notes on Minerva McGonagall and her life; which were utterly delightful to read. However, as interesting as her backstory was, it wouldn't have played any part in the main storyline about Harry and him defeating Voldemort and thus never found its' way into the story. Similarly, all we know about Hermiones' parents is the fact that they are Dentists, because they don't play much role to the story apart from having and raising their daughter (admittedly something to be proud of, but still).

By contrast, we get quite a bit about Dumbledore by the end. We get plenty about Snape. Both of these characters have events in their lives which are integral to the plot of the series, and that is the only reason why it is mentioned.

Minimize your volume of backstory. Because if it does not matter to the story, the casual reader does not care. They don't want to know all the gazillion ways the world was unfair to your OC and nobody really, really wants to know about the amount of angst she/he went through in getting over (or not) it.

Which brings us to the angst. Dear god, the angst.

For the love of god, don't try to make characters' story an angst-fest in an attempt to gain sympathy from the audience. Angst in large doses results only in consistent eye-rolling and gagging, and does not equal a story. Because however tragic the dead goldfish may be, the OC is not going to think about it at a crucial moment and lose a decisive battle.

Then again, demigods are not known for their attention span, but still. Minimize angst. Give your character only as much angst they can handle. They'll function a lot better that way, and a non-functional character who can do nothing but whine is the last thing you need for a protagonist.

d. The Coddled MC

Okay, that thing about too much angst? Well, here's the other end.

Lois McMaster Bujold (author of the Vorkosigan Saga), sums it up pretty well. "The rule for finding plots for character-centered novels, is to ask: 'So what's the worst possible thing I can do to this guy?' And then do it."

When in the story, it is your sacred duty as a writer to be merciless. Your characters are wonderful, well-developed and you love them. But this should not prevent you from raining down horrors and complicated situations that then serve to develop the character in some way. Characters can make or break a story, and their struggles and conflicts are important.

This does not omit the possibility of happy endings, by the way. The additive to the above quote (which I can't seem to find) states that the character should be put only into situations he or she can learn from. You can learn a lot from a happy ending; just make sure the path isn't all about a well-adjusted, mature OC who experiences undying true love and easily defeated minions. Because that, of course, would be much, much worse than a downer ending.

e. Genetic Matters

We now move into the exclusive section for PJO. Which is to say, the kids with unusual/never-heard-of ancestry. Technically, it is one of the ways you can try to be original in your story but blatant disregard for all the rules of the PJOverse tends to spectacularly backfire on the ficcer.

Children of Virgin/Chaste Goddesses are by far the most abused of all the special-OC origin stories. Hera, Hestia and especially Artemis tend to end up with kids entirely too often, especially considering the fact that said goddesses have refrained from having children for literal millennia.

Titans, the very beings who despise mortals, tend to have a lot of kids running around too. Sure, I can understand a child of Prometheus, but stories about kids of Kronos are minefields just waiting to blow up in someones' face.

Children of monsters are… well, not a cliché really. If anything, it's an underused line of exploration. I recall, for instance, a fic (a Nico/OC-esque fic, even) about the daughter of a Fury. I thought it was a good concept decently written. But they're still being mentioned because they qualify and just in case someone decides to do a child of monster story (if you can get your head around the disturbing mechanics of it all).

Give reasons. I have no freaking clue what reasons they may be, but give reasons for the existence of the children. Particularly for the chaste goddesses. As can be imagined 'she fell in love!' is not going to be a good reason without some serious backup. It is not going to be that simple.

Note that I am not saying that you should never, ever even think of doing them. They're concepts with plenty of potential which just need some careful handling. In addition, if you want really, really badly to do an original bloodline tale, try using a mortal. And not in the Love Interest of Character sense, but in the Last Hope of the World sense. I'm pretty sure that's one avenue which has been left largely untrodden.

f. Romantic Plot Tumor Trigger

In which the character has to save the world (fair enough) but spends most of his/her time sorting through love isocahedrons and enough drama to turn a treatise on Roman sewers into a soap opera.

In other words, you can either have an epic romance or you can have people saving the world. It's really, really hard to do both at the same time, and I haven't seen anything which quite manages to do it properly. If your story has a plot or a theme or some sort of action-filled sequence which is the whole point of it, romance is best left understated and kept from taking over or eclipsing the main plot. On the other hand, if your primary motive is to bring two characters together, by all means, concentrate on the romance and only the romance; and keep saving-the world sequences to a minimum (which might be really, really hard given their nature- and seriously, that only serves to reinforce this bit of advice).

An Example/Conclusion/Connection Thing

So I said it once, and I say it again. The superficial traits and powers and in general any facts you apply to the OC is really not going to entirely make the OC a Sue. And now to follow that confusing comment up with a case study.

Let us move back to Tavi (the main character of the Codex Alera series by Jim Butcher), who was mentioned previously. He's remarkably intelligent, ridiculously inventive, good-looking, resourceful, a natural soldier, has a secret legacy and a backstory and was pretty much born to be special. His story is nothing but textbook clichés piled up one after another. Analytically, considering the many characteristics applicable to Sues, he is very, very thoroughly one.

Except, of course, that he really, really, really does not feel like one. Let's see why.

Firstly, for all his superpowers, his intelligence and tactics are what (or are one of the things that) sets him apart as an individual instead of your average hypercompetent hero. Asserting your character is not merely street/book smart but also tactically competent is risky area (I think, for example, that Annabeth really didn't shine in this potential part of her makeup- because even with her being the daughter of Athena, Percy is better able to adapt to battle situations than she seems to be. A talent for improvisation is one of Percy's reoccurring traits.), and to pull it off, you must show, by actions, that they really are capable of doing what they are implied to be capable of doing. By really showing the impact Tavis' plans and tactics have on the plot as a whole, there is defying of the Informed Ability problem.

Secondly, the foes he faces are always, always competent. As much as he grows in power, the enemies are more powerful than he is. In addition, he does not win all the battles. Overpowered/overcompetent hero? Make villains who give him/her a run for their money. Make villains who aren't your typical dumb powerhouses, but smart and adaptable. This would be the conflict.

Thirdly, there is growth. There is character development. He starts off underpowered, if still intelligent, and goes through a few dozen levels of physical, mental and emotional badass before becoming His Majesty Lord Wolverine the Great. And yes, that's an official title. He qualifies himself for it, via a long, dangerous and occasionally insane path. By the end of the books, he has very much earned it.

Fourthly, Tavi is umm… how do we put this? Oh yeah, he's bloody insane. He is completely, utterly out of his mind. Sure, he seems all sane and solid and generally perfect and the rest of it, until you realize that his latest plan involves skiing ships and selling a siege wall to the ex-enemy you've just made a shaky peace treaty with. To the point where another characters' reaction to him vanishing is to ask, "Quick. What is the absolute worst place in this Valley one could go? The most insanely suicidal place to be found? The place where only a great fool would venture—and only an insane fool would follow?"

(And of course, that was the right question to ask. She found him there trying to wake up a mountain.)

Being a mad genius is not a flaw, per se. But flaws are, like I mentioned, risky territory. What you really need is something that will pull your character away from the cardboard cookie cutout of perfection. And Tavi and his tendency to arrange circumstances and people in bizarre ways (often, if at all possible, without telling them why), is a deliciously quirky way of making him unique/individually identifiable.

Last, but definitely not the least, there is the narration.

The way you write a story plays a humongously, monstrously, indefinably large (I would use more superlatives, but I think that would make people inclined to skip them) part in how someone sees your story. Write a clichéd plot well (Jim Butcher aces at narration, especially with clichéd plots; but I guess that's not a universal opinion), and you have a fairly good to fantastic story. Write an original plot badly, and you have something which ranges from being mediocre to being terrible.

This is a complicated section, and the best advice is probably practice, revise and practice again. But for a set of general pointers to watch out for when writing an all-OC/mostly-OC/OC-centric story, see the next chapter.

End Notes: Again, apologies. I really think this chapter could have been a lot better. Suggestions are welcomed.