Friday Tidbits: The Mask of Mary Sue

Absolutely ages ago, I promised to write up a Friday Tidbit dealing with the issue of Mary Sue. In response to a post where I urged writers to use pieces of themselves to create believable characters, readers asked me how they can do this without falling into the clutches of Mary Sue. Here (at last!) is my tidbit on that topic.

First of all, for those of you who don’t know Mary Sue . . . 
 

“Mary Sue” is a term used to described an idealized character used to represent the author in a story (often fan fiction) of wish-fulfillment. The character is typically the youngest, smartest, prettiest, best-liked, most awesomest character, who never ceases to impress those around her with her brilliance and know-how, not to mention fantastic good looks.
 

There are variations on the Mary Sue theme, of course. Some Mary Sues suffer from an inexplicable case of Nobody Likes Me Syndrome (which I will discuss in a future post). Some Mary Sues are feisty and sharp-tempered, lashing out at anyone and everyone around them for no particular reason. Some Mary Sues are geniuses, able to solve every problem that comes their way while the rest of the cast looks on, baffled. Some Mary Sues, by contrast, emotional, helpless, prone to weeping, and need to be rescued by the handsome hero.
 

The point is, Mary Sue represents how the author wishes to be viewed. She is distinctly lacking in motivation, but is possessed of singular skills in—you name it. Art. Karate. Science. Fill in the blank.

But here’s the thing: Mary Sue is never an honest representation of her author. She is a proxy. She is an idealization. She is a dream and wish. She is not a character.
 

By contrast, when I talk about taking a piece of myself and putting it into one of my characters, I’m talking about an honest piece of myself. You notice that Princess Una is not an exquisitely beautiful dancer/singer/swordswoman. She’s not an opportunity for me to write myself, in an idealized form, enjoying the attentions of invented suitors. She’s not a fantasy . . . she’s a person. And I gave her a piece of me—the immature, waiting-for-prince-charming to ride to the door piece of me. The spoiled piece of me that wants my own way, even when my own way would prove harmful.

There is nothing flattering about the bits of my heart which Una represents. There is nothing "Mary Sue" about her.

A little more flattering, perhaps, is Dame Imraldera. For I gave her what my husband calls my, “stray-kitten complex.” Imraldera has an enormous sense of empathy, and she wants to rescue and save any “stray kitten” that comes her way—be it a Black Dog, a selfish Faerie cat, a cowardly prince, a traitor etc. This is a virtue in me, and it is also a virtue in her.  But, like most virtues, when taken out of proper context, it can quickly overbalance and become a vice. It’s happened to me before! And it will happen to Imraldera, quite soon. Thus, she will continue to be an honest character, not an idealization.

But do you see the difference here between Mary Sue and a piece of your heart? Mary Sue is a mask, a dishonesty. A character truly based on yourself is a revelation. It’s even an embarrassment. It takes courage to write an honest character—to expose yourself to ridicule. Take a glance through my one-star reviews on Heartless, and look at the hatred spewed my Una’s way. My Una, who was an honest representation of a not-so virtuous part of my heart.

Mary Sue does not stimulate hatred. Mary Sue is safe . . . because she stimulates nothing.

So what do you think, dear readers? Any other thoughts to share on our friend Mary Sue? Do you feel more at liberty to use yourself as a “character reference” in the future? Are you currently writing a Mary Sue? I’m all ears!