Are your fictional friends cutting it?
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Friendship in fiction is one of my absolute favorite things to both read about and write about. Which is why it’s a specific pet peeve when it’s done badly, so I will probably be doing more than one post on this topic in the long run.
I would say that there are three things that go awry when writing friendship in fiction.
Problem 1: Your character has no friends
It’s okay if your character has no friends if it’s part of the story that they have no friends. It’s also okay if you vaguely reference friends but they are off stage for the sake of the story— say a legal thriller where the lawyer spends all their time working on this impossible case, to the extent that the have no time for friends and family. What is not okay is if they have no friends because you never bothered to do any real character development for your main character—because most people have some friends. Or maybe your MC doesn’t have friends because it would be inconvenient for your badly-thought-out plot..? I wrote about this in another post (it’s paywalled)
but to quote myself:
As someone who’s read a lot of mysteries, I can’t tell you how many I’ve read that involve a woman with a husband who does a lot of mysterious and often bad things to her. And I’m always thinking, Where are this woman’s friends?? Because if it were me, the second I said, “Well, I called the number he said was his fishing buddy, and a woman picked up and hung up on me when she heard my voice, but my husband said I was confused, so I guess he’s right.” My friends would be giving me bombastic side-eye and no way I’m walking out of that brunch without having undergone an investigation so thorough it feels like a colonoscopy. The reason why cardboard cutout characters are often isolated in bad books is to prevent any questioning of illogical things that happen in the book. (This is also the type of MC who keeps making catastrophically stupid decisions over and over to serve the plot.)
Friends don’t need to be central, but in most cases they do need to exist. For example, in my current book Poison, there is a married couple. The man, Riley, in this couple does have friends, but they are not important for the story at all, which is focused on his biological family of origin. But Riley still triangulates some aspects of his life that are important for the story against his friendships: he is estranged from his family, so he mentions that he has spent all his Thanksgivings and Christmases with his Army buddies and their families until the point where he got married. His Army buddies don’t even appear in the story, but he mentions to someone that it was one of his Army buddies who was his best man, and not his brother. In the context of thinking about a lot of trauma he has survived in warzones (very relevant to his character), he thinks about a friend who died. So even if friendship is not relevant to your story, think about whether or not your MC would have NO friends, or if even off-camera friends could be used as mirrors to reflect back the central content of the story.
Problem 2: Your friend is a purse.
You know. An accessory your MC carries. As in, you’ve written a friend because the MC has to have friends. Maybe you need more diversity so you throw in a brown or gay person. (please tell me you don’t do that.) Maybe you literally just need someone to provide explanatory dialogue.
“But Jane you love your job! You’ve worked there for over ten years! Why would you quit!?”
Or maybe they are there to provide cheap characterization.
“Jane, you’re so sweet! I’ve never met anyone as sweet as you!”
Or maybe they are there to provide a sounding board.
“So you got a mysterious invitation to go to an island to check out an AI-enhance robot? Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”
Here’s the thing: actual human friends do provide sounding boards. I will go back to this in a second. My point is if the friend only exists to provide a one dimensional sounding board, they are not a very interesting character at all.
If you look at the HBO show Insecure, at its center is a close and very well drawn relationship between Issa (Issa Rae) and Molly (Yvonne Orji). Though the show is very much about career and romantic relationships, the most complex and most interesting relationship in this show is between Issa and Molly—there is a long history there, a lot of affection and love, but also some pent up frustrations. (My primary complaint about the last season was that the explosive fight between Molly and Issa —which was so real and understandable—is never resolved in a way that felt satisfying.) Molly does provide a sounding board to Issa, but her listening and advice is colored by the fact that she is a wholeass person. She has a strong personality, so she’s not going to be a pushover when Issa does something stupid. She’s also loyal, so she’s going to be angry when someone does Issa wrong. But she’s also increasingly aware of Issa’s character flaws, something that wears on her more and more as the show progresses, leading to some reasonable exhaustion.
Problem 3: Your friend’s full-time job is being your MC’s friend.
I pride myself on being an excellent friend. But nobody is anyone’s full time friend. Too often in fiction, particularly when the author has a MC they really want us to like, they have one or more sycophantic friends whose lives seem to revolve around being the MC’s friend. The friend’s main characteristic is “I am MC’s friend.” But no human being is like that. Not to keep picking on Sex and the City, but in the first movie, after Carrie is left at the altar they introduce Jennifer Hudson as her new assistant (?) / bff. Jennifer’s Hudson’s entire purpose is to help put Carrie’s life back together. At no point in time is she drawn as a person who has wants or desires outside of helping Carrie. She is literally rewarded with a purse that Carrie gives her.
Think of this as running along a continuum.
If the friend has one line in passing: probably okay that they are pretty one dimensional.
If the friend appears multiple times and has full conversations with the MC: make sure that friend is distinguishable from other characters and appears to be a person.
But if the friend is anything from a major minor character and up (a major character, a POV character), you need to go through the whole process to create a three dimensional character. Even if it’s just ten minutes. There is a difference between me making a desperate phone call in the middle of the night to my wayward friend who is always available but never has two cents to rub together, and my solid friend who is married with five kids and is president of the PTA. They are going to respond to my crisis differently and the way they respond should not be entirely dictated by what is convenient for the MC.
I could probably write entire posts about each of the following when having a major minor character, major major character, or POV character who is a friend but a few points to always consider:
Friendships involve a shared history.
A friend has their own lives.
One friend is different from another friend.
A bit about shared history. The below is a section from A Step Past Darkness, which very much focuses on a friendship between six people. When the book opens in 1995, Kelly, a 15-year-old high school student, is waiting outside the principal’s office to hand over some permission slips. Outside the text of the novel, I will tell you that James and Kelly are best friends. But look at the actual text—this is the first mention of James at all in the book—and walk through what I do to show you the nature of their relationship and it’s history.
________________________________________________________
Her ears perked when she heard a raised voice from inside the office. Possibly a familiar voice? She tried to appear casual as she turned to look behind her at the frosted glass door, but everything was blurry. Two people were inside, and one had to be the principal behind his desk.
Kelly scooted her chair over an inch, then turned to press her ear to the door.
Something something “this painting?” she heard Mr. Tedesco say. No answer from the other person. “You don’t have anything to say about this?” Apparently, the person did not. “What is this a painting of, then?”
“A gun,” a voice said. A familiar voice. [She recognizes his voice once it isn’t muffled] Kelly felt her stomach sink. Instantly, she knew what was going on behind the door. [She knows what is going on because she knows about things that are happening outside her own existence. She knows what James does with his time.]
“I understand that,” Mr. Tedesco said impatiently. He doesn’t talk to everyone that way, Kelly realized. He wouldn’t talk to her that way. [she understands that there are factors that make people respond to James differently than to her] And he would never talk to Maddy Wesley that way. Then again, Maddy would never make a giant, 4’ x 5’ painting of a revolver, floating inside the strangely cotton-candy pink space of a human intestine. [she knows what James was working on because her life doesn’t revolve around thinking about herself and friends know what their friends are up to] “Is there anything you need to tell me about this painting?”
“It’s just a painting,” said the sullen voice. It was definitely James. It was almost like he wanted to get in trouble sometimes. [Kelly actually understands this as a character flaw of James moreso than James does] And Mr. Tedesco was the sort of well-intentioned adult who was too obtuse to know how teenagers actually operated. Obtuse was one of the words on Kelly’s SAT word-of-the-day calendar. Kelly grew increasingly angry at the disconnect between what Mr. Tedesco was thinking—that James was making some suicidal threat, or perhaps a threat against others—rather than what was glaringly obvious. The painting was about his mother. [she knows James enough to understand the painting without it being explained to her. She is also defensive of him]
“You just like to paint guns?” Mr. Tedesco said. His tone wasn’t right. If anyone in any way, shape, or form thought that Kelly wanted to hurt herself, there would be no hint of sarcasm to their tone. [she knows the disparity between how they are treated is unfair]
“It’s a free country.” Stupid James. Why did he say stuff like that when it would only make things worse? [she knows he is self destructive, and this frustrates her even though she is sympathetic]
“You know I’m going to have to report this to the relevant authorities,” Mr. Tedesco said.
How do you not get this? Kelly screamed internally. James’s mother had died of colon cancer when they were twelve. Before then, he had been Jamie, the boy who lived in the trailer that abutted the Boyle property, her best friend since kindergarten. They ran through the woods at the base of Devil’s Peak, chewing sassafras, played with the Boyles’ dog and had long, meandering conversations while lying in the grass, fingers sticky with rocket pops. But then his mother grew sick; Jamie became less cheerful and in middle school, he accompanied her to her chemotherapy treatments because his father had skipped town during it all. [they have a real, actual three dimensional history together. we are not simply told “they are besties.” ]
She died. The memory of this was so sharp that Kelly’s mind involuntarily turned away from it when it tried to surface. Jamie became James, his skeptical nature turning to straight cynicism, his mischievous streak turning to occasional juvenile delinquency. The worst James did was deal pot and make fake IDs, though the reputation that preceded him was far worse. [she is capable of seeing change in time of James’ character] If Mr. Tedesco understood kids, he would understand how unrelentingly cruel they could be. Even four years after her death, kids at school sometimes called James “Ass Cancer,” and the last time Kelly had seen this it had been in a crowded cafeteria and James had responded by jabbing a metal mechanical pencil down so hard—narrowly missing his intended victim’s hand—that the pencil remained embedded in the table.
“I don’t fucking care,” James said finally. Kelly grimaced. If James enjoyed anything, it was to fan the flames of his own demise. [probably the most astute observation about James in the entire book]
“Then I’ll suspend you for the rest of today if you don’t feel like talking, and maybe tomorrow—”
“I won’t feel like talking tomorrow, either,” James said.
“Fine, you’re suspended tomorrow, too,” the principal said, now openly angry, which was probably what James wanted.
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Shared history is not “boy we sure had good times back at Harvard!” It is “I have known you across the passage of time.” It is “We went through something together and it means something to both of us.”
A bit about friends having their own lives. There’s a part in the video game Baldur’s Gate I really like. Yes, a video game, but this video game has better character writing than a lot of novels I’ve attempted to read. I played basically the entire game with Astarion—this snarky, evil elf character—in my party. In the second act of the game, you come upon this other character, Raphael who is basically a devil always trying to make deals with people. He drips untrustworthiness. The second you are introduced to him in Act 1, everyone is like, yeah that guy is bad, don’t trust anything he says. At no point in time are you like, it would be a good idea to do anything he says. So anyway, you come upon him in an inn and are having a conversation with Raphael about some totally unrelated thing, and all of a sudden Astarion interrupts you and asks for Raphael to help him with something in exchange for whatever Raphael wants. I literally yelled, Astarion what are you doing?! Here’s the thing. He’s his own person. In his case, there is something he wants so desperately (and it’s been made abundantly clear that he wants this thing desperately), that he is willing to deal with Raphael to get it (because Raphael reasonably is the only person who might have his information). As much as that was frustrating for my character—who want to stay clear of Raphael—I super appreciated the writing here. The reality is, “side kicks” are actually three dimensional people who have their own wants and motivations. If everyone wants what your character wants all the time, they are not full blown people. Sure, maybe we are all fighting the war against Sauron, but Aragorn is doing this for very different reasons than Gandalf. But in many cases, it helps to map out character motivations because cross purposes make for good drama. (In my case, there is a cost to helping Astarion fulfill his deal with Raphael, but there’s also a cost to not helping him.)
Lastly, friends should not be interchangeable. We all have that one friend who will love us no matter what we do. We all have that one friend who loves you but is a little judgy and will immediately tell her husband after we get off the phone. I am apparently the friend people have designated will be called if they accidentally kill someone and need to cover it up (I’m not sure why but … thanks?) I was recently catching up on HBO’s adaptation of My Brilliant Friend—which is among my most favorite books and possibly my favorite depiction of friendship ever. Anyway, Elena is having an affair with a man she secretly knows is a piece of shit. For extended periods of time, she does not talk to Lila—her oldest childhood friend—and it is because of this affair. Lila is That Friend. The one who will tell you exactly what she thinks. And Elena doesn’t want her to. However she increasingly gets to a point where she has her own suspicions. She doesn’t want to ask Lila what she knows or thinks about Nino because she doesn’t want to know. But she gets to the point where she has to know, so she asks. Both women are very aware of this dynamic. Lila is not the friend who is going to not say something about your piece of shit boyfriend. And she also knows that Elena’s avoiding her is because of this reason.
Sorry I don’t have a good “in conclusion” here other than “don’t suck” and I want to write some more how-tos on friendship in the future. It’s just late and I need to turn in.
Photo by Taylor Smith on Unsplash