My Fictional Character Got Canceled, So I Wrote Her a PR Strategy

I write fiction for a reason. I’ve always preferred the story of what didn’t happen to the story of what did.

But while revising my debut novel, Just Watch Me, I got stuck. My protagonist Dell is just so different from me. She is angry, brash, and belligerent, and makes one unforgivably wrong decision after another.

(The Difficulty of Writing Difficult Scenes.)

I needed to understand her better so I could write her story from a place of empathy. I needed to know why she did what she did so I could get her out of the horrendous mess she got herself into. So, I borrowed an external framework: a PR strategy.

This exercise not only helped me understand Dell better, but it also clarified my book’s core themes, and gave me insight into why I’m compelled to write certain stories in the first place. Here’s my PR strategy, written as a conversation between an author (me) and her (slightly hostile) creation.

Dell, I’m here to help you. But first you have to tell me everything. Tell me exactly what you did and we can go from there.

... Oh, wow.

I mean... I mean, that’s fine. We can work with that.

As a writer, my instinct is to protect all the lovely characters that sprouted from my brain. Looking at what Dell did objectively helped me take a step back.

Remember: There’s no such thing as bad press. Getting “canceled” can only happen if you’re famous in the first place.

Getting “canceled?” That just means you’re an underdog.

Now there’s nowhere to go but up.

I sat with what Dell did and tried to understand how she would best justify and present it. What’s her take on the situation? How does that fit into what my book is trying to accomplish?

Okay, okay. You don’t like my advice, I get it. You always need to get the last word in. That’s what got you in this mess to begin with.

Me? Why are you asking about me?

I guess I was technically the one who got you into this mess.

No, I’ve never been canceled. But of course I can put myself in your shoes. I think about it all the time. It’s one of my more dazzlingly delusional modern fears.

This is where the protagonist confronts the writer. After all, I chose this particular trouble for Dell. Why? What am I trying to say? What am I getting at?

I know it’s nonsense to be afraid of getting canceled, but the intrusive thoughts will not be placated.

Okay, Dell. Don’t give me that look. A lot of writers have anxieties about being misunderstood.

Our brains are hardwired for storytelling, so it’s not a stretch to imagine that we’re always about to enter the “Dark Night of the Soul” at the end of Act 2.

The fear that a scene will be misread, a conflict misunderstood, a character’s unsavory viewpoint will be misattributed—recognizing that fear and continuing regardless is a way to make sure that you’re writing towards painful truths in your writing. Fear can be a green light in this very specific way.

I guess I put you in quite a predicament, didn’t I? Using you to play out my worst fears. I promise I’ll do my best to get you out of it. We’ll get there.

This is where the exercise fully turned on me, and I started to feel a deep well of empathy for Dell. Yes, she was doing all these horrible things—but only because I told her to. The paths we set our characters on can only ever reflect our very personal and specific obsessions. She did these terrible things, yes, but I was the one who first imagined that they could be done.

In the end, Dell’s PR strategy was simple: Acknowledge, take accountability, and move on.

That’s true for characters and their various wrong turns. It’s also true for writing.

Writing is just survival through process. You get stuck. You get in a hole that you don’t think you can write yourself out of. But you keep going. Keep writing. It’s not over until it’s over.

The “Dark Night of the Soul” is a necessary step to reach the resolution.

If you’re stuck revising the aftermath of a difficult scene, or just trying to understand your protagonist better, an external framework like a PR strategy can help you gain distance and clarity.

Identify a moment where your protagonist has done the absolute wrong thing and royally messed up. Then, as if you’re trying to manage their image, answer these questions:

Approaching a scene or character analytically can help you take a step away in order to take a step forward.

In my case, the ultimate empathy and understanding was unlocked by the last question, connecting my protagonist’s messy, ugly decisions to my own writerly fears and anxieties.

Even the story of what didn’t happen can’t resist a little bit of truth.

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