Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
On Bad Writing
Knowing the day goes better if I start with a plan before I arrive, I searched for what I wanted to write. The conversation with myself wasn't going well.
"I've written everything I can think of in the last two weeks," I commiserated.
"How will I think of something?" I whined.
"How many more days do I left?" I wondered.
During the school year, I sit down most every Saturday morning to put words in a space. Sometimes during the week I manage a few other writing moments, but Saturday is really my writing day. As I move into summer my writing picks up a bit, but I still choose my moments. If I am feeling it, I sit down. If I'm not, I don't. (I know the problem with this, but I might as well be honest.)
Today, however, I need something to write about.
One of the best things about going through the writing project is I'm being reminded of the hard work we ask students to do every day.
Every.
Day.
As I got ready, I thought about the pieces I had completed. Having the time each day makes me write, but it isn't always easy. I'm sure I have some writing which would have slipped past me without making it to a page if I hadn't been given the time to sit down. However, I also have a lot of bad writing. A LOT of bad writing. In two weeks, I've written a piece or two that has some possibility. I've managed a sentence or two that might make me pause, but mostly I have a lot of bad writing.
My experience has me thinking about the expectations we have of our students. Are they realistic? Do real writers produce nothing but writing that gets better each day? I doubt it. I'll bet authors have a lot of bad writing too. Do we allow students the time for bad writing? Do we expect every piece to be better than the last one or do we make room for the messiness? So when the school year begins I'll be thinking a bit more about bad writing and its significance in mining the gems that could become powerful pieces of writing.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
Developing Leaders
This morning I woke up with leadership on my mind. When I stumbled on #satchatwc, it moved to my heart. After the chat, I went on a walk and felt it literally going to my feet and filling me with all sorts of plans for the upcoming school year in my new space at my new school, and now I'm really excited about developing leaders.
This weekly Saturday-morning chat, moderated by the motivational and effervescent Shelley Burgess, starts at 9:30 am CST and lasts an hour. I use TweetDeck to follow along and weigh in. On the chance that you've not been a part of a Twitter Chat before, here's how it goes.
On Twitter, we have 140 characters for our answer.
Today, that wasn't a hard framework to work within,
but sometimes it's tricky and we have to be creatively concise.
Our topic this morning was The Leadership Countdown.
Here are the questions {published with Shelley's permission} and my responses, followed by a few of my favorites.
Empathize, equip, empower, engage with energy & enthusiasm.
That's how I answered. Then I read through all of the other reflections and I truly connected with this heartfelt response from my friend Steph Frosh:
And I love this one, from Art Liberman:
How would you answer that reflection question?
Thank you for being here, friend.
Another favorite answer from Steph:
Talk about the power of collaboration, moving from me to we!
I know it won't work.
Here's a good one from Shelley: That's how it's always done.
and an illustration of Amos to go with it.
Don't these culture-killer reflections set your mind spinning?
Give kind, get kind. {Kindness is the real global warming, after all}
And one of my faves, this one from Jessica Torres;
Make your words count.
Another winner from Danielle Brown: Share your awesome today.
Be someone's SUPERHERO.
And this one, from Jonathan Kegler {and God}:
And a fan favorite from Beth Houf: Walk the talk!
Let's grow.
More wisdom from Steph:
Dave Burgess added these two words: Join Us.
My one little word: Kindness.
Other reflective OLWs I connected with:
impact, resilience, relationships, transparency,
authenticity, innovation, engagement,
passion, outreach, growth.
Shelley tells me that in just over an hour, there were some 2000 tweets, retweets, favorites, and interactions. Click {here} to read through the archives.
Now I'm heading to the pool for some reflection of a different kind along with some much-needed Vitamin D.
Before I go to soak up some sunshine, riddle me this:
How are you developing leaders for tomorrow today?
{Oh, and don't worry about your word count.}
{Oh, and don't worry about your word count.}
Monday, May 18, 2015
Maximising Want-To-Know Value
When someone is reading a story they are assigning a value to what they are reading. This value can be anywhere from �I have absolutely no interest in this� to �I have to know what happens next, sleep be damned�. Obviously you want them to be nearer one end of the scale than the other.
While it�s impossible to have a story where the reader�s engagement is turned up all the way to 11 from beginning to end, there are ways to help you get the most out of a scene, no matter what the premise might be.
Action, conversation, or even a familiar set up that�s been written about a zillion times before� they can all be vastly improved if the reader actively wants to know what�s going on. And there are ways you can help nudge them in that direction.
Often, when advice is given on how to improve a story, it is presented in the manner of a tutorial manner. Do more of this, less of this, this way is good, this way is bad. A lot of this comes down to wanting to be concise and get to the point, but it can lead to a lot of very similarly structured stories that end up feeling formulaic.
Your first priority should be to your own creativity. Whatever strikes you as interesting, wherever your imagination suggests you go, that�s what you should pursue.
That doesn�t mean it will be any good. It�s a process that takes time and you will eventually take out things you used to think were essential parts of the story. But trying to second guess yourself and write to a pre-approved template isn�t much fun.
If, for example, you think it would be good to start a story with an introduction of the main character, you might find, once it�s on the page, it feels a bit slow and not particularly interesting. The reader doesn�t know who this person is or what they�re going to do, but they�re expected to absorb all this information about them.
Imagine you�re in a park and you see a man under a tree. Up in the tree is a child, stuck. The man is trying to coax the kid down. You go over to help. How interested are you in who this man is, where he lives, what his employment background is?
You don�t need to know, and generally, other than for the sake of politeness, you aren�t interested. You help get the kid down and you go on your way.
This would seem to be me advocating for not bothering to give the reader details they don�t need. But just because they don�t need it doesn�t mean you can�t give it to them, if it happens to strike your fancy. The reader might not care all that much, but they aren�t going to throw the book down in disgust because your opening lines are:
Jack Brown, a 31 year old father of three, stood under a tree in the park, trying to convince his youngest son to jump down from the branches he�d managed to climb up into. Climbing down wasn�t proving to be so easy.
Does the reader have a burning desire to know how old Jack is? Probably not, but if I want to tell them, for whatever reason, I certainly can. But can I boost their interest if I wanted to?
Consider the same scenario, but suddenly a man in a cape flies down and plucks little Timmy out of the sky and returns him to his father. Do you want additional background on this guy?
The thing is we all have a general sense of curiosity, but we also have a sense of expectation. I may not know the personal details of the man under the tree, but I have a rough idea of the kind of information he might reveal to me. He lives in a house or a flat, he has a wife, or he�s divorced, he has a job, or not. I don�t know the specifics but I expect them to fit into my past experiences.
And, of course, I could be totally wrong. He might have the most amazing history and if I gave him the time he could tell me some things that would blow my mind. But probably not.
Unless we are give some indication otherwise, we assume the norm. And most of the time we turn out to be right, so our level of interest is low.
The man in the cape, on the other hand, clearly doesn�t fit into our preconceived ideas of what�s normal. His story is going to be something different and that increases our level of interest.
That doesn�t mean you have to go to fantastic extremes to grab a reader�s attention. If you went over to the guy under the tree and he spoke with a strong Swedish accent, that could also affect the level of interest, especially if the story took place in a remote part of Scotland. If the story took place in Sweden, not so much.
By being aware of what the reader expects, whether they�re are going to be told something that falls within their realm of experience or not, you can manipulate that level of interest, both in small and large ways.
Being able to judge this scale, and use it to your advantage, isn�t always obvious and you may not always get it right. If you think Marsha looks 20 and she�s actually 21, there�s not much to be gained from correcting you. If she�s 47, it might be worth mentioning. But if she�s 26?
You have to use your own judgement. but being aware of this ability to increase interest is very helpful when it comes to writing scenes that feel obvious, familiar or info-heavy.
Getting the reader to want to know, even in a small way, isn�t just good in the immediate moment, it can also have a snowball effect where one thing leads to another and the level of interest quickly escalates. At the same time though, it�s also possible to cheat, and if you�re caught cheating you can easily lose any momentum you�ve gained.
For example, if two boys at the back of a classroom are having this conversation:
�You sure the security cameras will be off?�
�For sure. I got the codes, we just have to avoid the guards.�
Here you are trying to get the reader to be curious about what�s going on. They�re planning something suspicious but it�s not clear what. This kind of mystery set-up can work in terms of piquing the reader�s interest, but essentially you�re focusing on the question, not the answer.
Having no idea what�s going on will pull a reader in to some extent, but you have to keep it up or otherwise once you reveal what it is, the interest can fade very quickly. For example, if it turns out the boys are talking about a video game they plan to play that evening, the reader would probably lose the curiosity they had built up.
Alternatively, if they had this conversation:
�You sure the security cameras will be off?�
�For sure. I got the codes off my Dad�s computer. The bank�s never had any kind of break in, so they use the same system they�ve used for years.�
It becomes clear these schoolboys are planning to break into a bank for real. This isn�t what you expect of kids, so why are they doing it? How? What makes them think they can get away with it?
Because it�s outside of what you would expect, all sorts of details become much more interesting.
On the other hand, imagine the same sort of conversation between two burly men in basement, standing over a blueprint of a bank.
Now that they�re two professional thieves planning a heist, the details of their personal lives become less interesting. It�s still a dramatic situation and can be great material for a story, but because it�s more in line with what you expect, you won�t be particularly surprised by the whys and wherefores. You don�t know the exact reasons why they�re robbing a bank, but you have a rough idea.
And, again, you could be totally wrong. They might have a very unusual reason for the robbery. But without any indication of that, the reader will default to assuming to it being pretty much what they�ve seen before.
This can be changed very simply. If it becomes clear that these men aren�t breaking into the bank to take money out, but to put a large amount of money in, then who they are, why they would want to do that, what brought them to this point all take on a lot more value for the reader.
Even though just about every story is probably not going to be about normal,everyday things, letting the reader know that in a definitive way by giving a clear indication within a scene is what snaps them out of their tendency to assume it is.
It�s very possible, even common, that as a reader progresses through a story, they will discover stuff that they will find interesting and engaging. After they find it out.
If, however, you present the story in a way they aren�t expecting, they will be interested and engaged before they find out the answers, and hopefully even more so afterwards.
If you found this post useful, please give it a retweet. Cheers.
Monday, May 11, 2015
The Other Senses
When writing a story, using the senses to make scenes more vivid and visceral is simple and obvious advice. You want the reader to feel like they�re right there with the characters, experiencing what they�re experiencing.
Using what the characters see, hear, smell, touch and taste will further reader engagement, but these are not the only senses people have. There are in fact a host of other senses that are often overlooked or are so abstract that it isn�t clear how to convey them on the page.
A simple google search will produce a list of senses other than the big five, but it isn�t enough to be aware of them, or to be able to define them. You want to be able to capture the feeling in a way that the reader will relate to, and relate to strongly.
The kind of senses I�m referring to are things like balance, hunger, time, unease, fear, pain, temperature. Everyone is familiar with these sorts of feelings, but it�s hard to describe. In fact it�s much easier to simply state it. I�m hungry. You know exactly what I mean and what it feels like to be hungry. But this kind of statement won�t put you in my place. It won�t make you feel hungry.
However, if I describe the kind of food I�m hungry for, the ridiculously indulgent cream cake sitting in my fridge, then I can not only make you feel hungry too, I can actually make you want to go open the fridge, even though it won�t do you any good because you aren�t here (and even if you were good luck getting any before I stuff it all in my face).
This is what you what to achieve with all senses, to make the reader have a mirroring physical response, and there are a number of ways to do this.
That�s not to say you shouldn�t use the big 5 sense also, but because they are used so often by so many writers, it can be hard finding an original way to put it. Somebody always seem to have already found the perfect phrase, and a bunch of other people have re-used it ad nauseam.
You can, of course, still have the hairs rise on the back of a character�s neck, or a cold bead of sweat trickle down their back, and the reader will have some kind of sensory empathy, but not as strong as they might have 50 or 100 years ago.
That�s one of the big advantages of considering the lesser known senses. They�ve been employed less frequently and so offer more opportunities for fresh ways to draw readers in.
So, here are a few different techniques you can use to accomplish this.
The most direct method is to go on the body. You literally describe the sensations evoked in you when you experience a particular event or stimulus and the reader feels it too, whether a nervously bouncing leg or a cold bead of sweat. But, as mentioned above, it�s hard to avoid cliches and some senses don�t really have this kind of physical component. What are the physiological sensations associated with time passing, for example?
Often, a more effective method is to use the scene to recreate the stimulus itself. Like in my hunger example, making saliva pool in the reader�s mouth can be more powerful than describing the saliva in the character�s, and it�s also one of the few times over-describing something can be a good thing.
You should also pay close attention to the words you use. Strong verbs, similes, alliteration can all affect how well a reader slips into the same mind state as a character. It takes a little thinking about, but it should quickly become second nature to go through your options and realise that jagged or scraping are more evocative words to use when describing pain than simply painful or very painful. Similarly Where, what, why? can convey confusion better than Where am I?
With similes and metaphors you have to watch out for clich�s since all the best ones seem to have been already written (multiple times) but if you can come up with a good one it can be very effective. Much like recreating the stimulus for a sense reaction, a related stimulus that has the same reaction will still put the reader in the right state of mind just as well.
The biggest problem comes with the really abstract senses. It�s hard to capture the way you feel when you�ve been writing for what seems like ten minutes and you look up and two hours have passed. And, to be honest, the absolute best way to recreate that kind of feeling is to pay attention next time it happens to you and make notes. There really is no substitute for personal experience when it comes to trying to present a fresh perspective on a universal feeling.
However, what you may find is that your observations seem very familiar. People react in similar ways and focus on the same things, in particular the small things. There�s nothing wrong with this, a small detail can very often pinpoint a feeling very accurately.
When you�re on top of a ladder feeling unsteady, the things you notice within yourself, the shakiness in your hand or the wobbly sensation running up your legs, are pretty much what everyone feels, and while that�s good in terms of being relatable, it�s not so good when you�re the umpteenth writer to make that exact same observation.
My point being it�s not just about noting the first thing that comes to mind, because chances are that�s going to be too obvious and predictable. You should also consider going outside of yourself.
When you�re on top of that ladder, once you become aware of the immediate sensation in your body, think about your surroundings, the consequences, the possible options to save yourself should you fall.
An image of yourself smashing your nose into the concrete floor below or a filthy gutter you could grab onto, hoping it won�t be wrenched away from the roof, can give just a good idea of losing balance as swaying left to right uncontrollably.
You can even go further out, using the environment to suggest a particular state of mind. So a spooky story set on a dark and stormy night can help establish a mood that in turn makes it easier to convey the character�s sense of unease.
Hmm, a dark and stormy night, I wonder if anyone�s used that phrase before. I should trademark it asap.
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Monday, April 20, 2015
Integrating Tone into Dialogue
Dialogue is a key part of any story and it�s usually what readers find most engrossing. They might skim long descriptions, but when they get to someone speaking that�s where they�ll get pulled back in.
What people say and how they say it not only tells the reader what�s going on, it also sets mood, gives an idea of character and provides a natural back and forth that will naturally keep readers engaged.
It helps to keep the flow going when characters are talking, and being able to convey how characters are saying things without explicitly stating it is a very useful skill.
Here�s a basic example of what I mean: �Go to Hell!�
You know how that�s being said without my having to put he said angrily in the narrative. Hearing how the character speaks in the moment is a powerful tool, but it�s easier for some emotions than others.
Anger, like in the example above, is pretty straightforward. Exclamation mark, swear words, all caps�these are pretty easy to work in and for the reader to pick up on. Other emotions and tones aren�t so obvious, but there are a number of techniques that can help.
The best place to see all the different approaches is to read plays and screenplays. These are very dialogue intensive media with a specific culture of putting the bare minimum of descriptors when it comes to what is being said.
Reading the scripts of plays and movies that you like or that are of the same genre that you write can be very illuminating, but it�s also very time consuming. You can�t just read them like you would a normal story, even though you may find yourself doing just that. You have to stop yourself from being swept along�which can be quite difficult since that�s exactly what it�s designed to do�and go over the same section repeatedly until you see exactly what�s being transmitted and how.
This is quite tedious and not for everyone, but if it�s something you find interesting, as I do, then it will prove to be very revealing. In the meantime, here are some things I�ve picked up.
It�s helps if we see the thing that causes an emotion. For example, if a mother is irritated by a child focused on their iPhone when she�s trying to tell him something, then that�s a lot easier to convey than the same woman still in a bad mood because of that child a chapter later when she�s at the shops.
Having the trigger in the same scene means you can establish the cause of the emotion, assuming you can clearly set up the situation (who doesn�t find being ignored by someone glued to their phone irritating?), and the reader will simply transfer their feelings onto the characters.
Using specific verbs that suggest a particular mind set also helps. If she takes the phone from him, it tells you a lot more if she snatches it or rips it from his hands.
This is particularly useful when you have a set of short question and answer type dialogue where you don�t want to break it up with descriptions of people�s raised eyebrows and tightened jaws.
Once the phone is grabbed, the tone of the conversation between mother and child is clearly defined and doesn�t need to be restated after every line.
One strong action, whether a pat on the back or a surreptitious look in someone�s shopping bag, can establish the tone for any length of interaction.
Another method to control the tone is to use tempo. If a character is asked a question and then gives a long answer, that has a different effect to a character who is asked a question, gives a partial answer, has to be prompted for more, and so on.
Who talks more, who interrupts, who holds back, these things give an indication of a character�s state of mind and attitude without having to say Dave paused and looked out of the window to tell the reader what�s going on if you vary the tempo and line length.
If you found this post useful please give it a retweet. Cheers.
Monday, April 13, 2015
Stronger Emotions Through Melodrama
Melodrama makes people think of bad soap operas. In fact, melodrama is about emphasising the emotional aspect of a story, but when you do that you can very easily tip over into hysterical characters who overreact to every little thing.
It�s a bit like overacting in a movie; a big performance can be enthralling if done right, and ridiculous if pushed too far. Melodramatic stories suffer a similar problem, although, like bad acting, they can still be entertaining when preposterous.
However, emotions are important in all stories. You want the reader to feel connected to the character and to empathise with their plight. And there are a number of techniques used in melodrama that can be applied (in moderation) to your story and help those feels reach your readers.
In melodrama the intent is to get characters to an extreme. While a sad character might be mildly upsetting, a character bawling their eyes out can make the audience feel distressed.
There are two basic ways to bring a character to this kind of emotional place. Either an event occurs that causes them to react, or you make them very sensitive so that they go off the deep end at the drop of a hat.
Making them overly sensitive is the easier of the two, and also one of the tropes of bad melodrama. You don�t have to come up with an involving narrative if your character is ready to die for the man she just met in the supermarket five seconds ago. Love can just strike you down sometimes, right? Cheap as this method might seem, that doesn�t mean it isn�t effective. Once you get the reader past the initial suddenness of the emotion it�s pretty much accepted as part of the story. Quick and big can pull the reader in, and from there they�re yours to lose.
The other approach, to have a dramatic, even sensational, event occur that causes the character to react emotionally may seem the more respectable route, but it also has its drawbacks.
If a nurse discovers she has cancer, that her husband is cheating on her and then the hospital catches fire, you can see that all of those events would be very emotional for her, but having them all happen at the same time would start seeming a little contrived.
If you have too many disasters occur in too short a time to the same set of characters it becomes ridiculous. The nature of fiction, though, is to have events escalate in a story, so if you start off in a heightened state you�re going to end up somewhere insane.
You can avoid some of this by making events connected and also by putting characters in an active role rather than just reacting to things happening to them. So, for example, if the nurse�s husband is cheating because her cancer makes her feel terrible and not in the mood for physical intimacy, and she�s the one that causes the fire in the hospital because she starts smoking (she already has cancer so who cares?) then the focus is more on her and not so much on the unlikely set of events.
It also makes a big difference how well you know someone. If a close friend breaks down in tears you want to comfort them and help them. If a stranger breaks down you feel uncomfortable and unsure what to say or do. It�s much the same for fiction.
The advantage of soap operas is that the audience spends a lot of time with the characters so they feel like they know them, and consequently respond like they would to a friend. With books, you don�t have the same kind of relationship unless you�re writing a long-running series (which is why Book 6 of a series can get away with far more outrageous stuff then Book 1). If you�re going to put a character through the wringer, it usually helps to give readers a chance to get to know them. You can do this by having them do interesting but not too emotionally draining stuff early on.
The desire of a character can also make a big difference in how they are perceived. A woman who loses a child to a miscarriage is a terrible thing, but if she was really desperate to be a mother than the loss is felt that much more keenly. This principle applies in most cases. If you can establish the depth of feeling within a character before something happens to trigger those feelings, it will be more likely to trigger similar sympathetic feelings in the reader.
The other aspect of melodrama that gives it a bad reputation is the voyeuristic. It�s important to show a character�s emotional reaction, after all this is what we have been building up to, but lingering on it too long can start to feel unseemly.
Knowing how much to show and for how long is a matter of personal preference, but once you realise the longer you milk it the more successful a connection you can make with the audience, it becomes very tempting to keep going for as long as possible.
Melodrama has a tendency to wallow in it to the point of drowning, but despite those people who look down on this sort of thing as exploitative and cheesy you should bear in mind that there is a huge audience for it, so it clearly works (for some).
That�s not to say I think writers should make all their characters run around in hysterics all the time, but at the same time being too restrained and controlled can make things a little bland and sterile.
If you found this post useful please give it a retweet. Cheers.
Monday, April 6, 2015
Bad Emotions Made Good
When writing a story you may find that the good guy has access to a limited range of emotions compared to the bad guy.
Basic emotions (happy, sad, angry, etc.) are easy enough to evoke, but more complex or darker feelings tend to be more difficult to justify.
For example, if the hero�s best friend wins the lottery, a good guy would react how? If he�s a decent human being, probably by being pleased for his friend.
If a friend of the villain�usually a not so wholesome individual�wins the lottery, then the response can be more varied. Pleased (because he plans to �share� in the wealth), jealousy, resentment, maybe even plans to steal the money. These darker thoughts are often more interesting and offer more ideas for where to take a story.
While making your main character evil but still likeable is a very hard thing to achieve, that doesn't mean you can�t give them (and the reader) the chance to experience the darker side of their personality.
The main character in a story has to appeal to the reader. They�re going to be stuck with them for quite a long time so making the despicable probably isn�t going to do you any favours.
But we all do questionable things and show poor judgement at times. Part of being human is making mistakes, often hurting others in the process. Exploring that side of person is a big part of fiction, and if handled well can be very satisfying.
The truth is though that readers often respond better to characters who do nothing bad, are never in the wrong and behave honourably. They might find themselves in trouble or accused of wrongdoing, but through no fault of their own.
It�s part of human nature to consider one�s own feelings of being unfairly treated as entirely justified, while other people�s are childish and petty. And in fiction we can easily relate to people who are suffering in similar unfair fashion.
Should you, however, wish to delve into the dark side of your characters a little more there are ways of keeping them likeable. These techniques can, like any, be abused. Used to their extreme they can even allow characters to do horrible things while seemingly still being on the side of good, but if used sparingly they can allow you to add depth to both your characters and your stories.
First and foremost it helps to make characters aware of their own shortcomings. That doesn�t mean they get to avoid them, but when they do behave less than perfectly, simply acknowledging that what they did wasn�t all that great can make them more human.
So, for example, if our hero whose friend wins the lottery feels envious and pissed off that he�s sitting in his studio apartment eating noodles (again) while his buddy is out having the time of his life, then addressing this emotion, maybe by talking to someone about it, makes him less of a bad friend and more of a regular human being struggling with feelings we all struggle with.
In effect he becomes two people, both a bad guy and a good guy, in the same person. The conflict between these two creates tension and drama, and it gives the reader someone to root for.
In addition to this, it also helps to raise the stakes to help justify those feelings. If our hero needed money badly, but it was his friend who got the windfall, you can understand his disappointment. Taken to it�s extreme, though, this can also allow you to take a character into very murky waters.
If a terrorist has planted a bomb that will kill thousands, is it okay to torture him? And to feel no remorse while doing so? This is a common trope in thrillers where it�s almost seen as the duty of a character to act inhumanely if the stakes are high enough, even to revel in it.
And readers will more often than not buy into this logic because a writer has the advantage of getting to show the methods used actually working�the disaster is averted, the kidnap victim is found�and out leave out any of the collateral damage.
At this point I'd like to take a moment's silence for the all those construction workers and janitorial staff who died on the Death Star and Death Star 2. Never forget.
Another method is relativism. If the hero is surrounded by people who are much worse than him, then his behaviour can seem quite honourable.
A bank robber who plans to steal a lot of money may not seem the likeliest of heroes, but if he is in a gang of vicious thugs and he tries to prevent them from hurting people then he becomes more likeable by comparison.
This is, of course, a very dubious line of thinking. If a man is a professional thief chances are he isn�t all that pleasant, but in fiction you can present characters in a flattering light even when they�re doing terrible things.
In cases like this it also helps to give them a good reason to behave badly. If the money is for grandma�s operation, the bank thief is seen as someone doing what he�s got to do, rather than just a greedy a-hole who can't hold down a job.
Again, it also helps if he is aware that he�s doing something bad and regrets it. You often see this through the �one last job� trope. The more reluctant he is, the less we blame him for breaking multiple laws and biblical commandments.
It�s very easy to end up in very clich�d territory here, as every character who is meant to be sympathetic has an excellent reason for doing what he�s doing, usually involving a dying relative. But there are other reasons out there. Probably.
You can also have a character have a change of heart. If someone who does bad things decides to change his ways and even uses his nefarious skills against his own kind, that is seen as a respectable pursuit.
The classic example of this is the hitman who refuses to follow orders and kill his target (usually a child or a woman) and then goes on the run, killing those trying to kill him and his new best friend. He�s still a psychotic murderer, but now he�s using his talent for shooting people in the face for good. Hooray!
But the dynamic works for less extreme scenarios. A character who decides to fix whatever problems they caused (even by questionable methods) can be quite appealing, especially if they have to become an outcast to do so.
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