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When I think of bad guys, Snidely Whiplash immediately comes to mind. I picture someone curling a long, dark moustache around gnarly fingers while emitting at throaty, evil chuckle at another's misfortune.
I mentally sifted back through my stories to see whether or not I've used someone similar, and I believe I haven't. I rely more on circumstances than a person who gets in the way. I don't need a physical presence in my novels to create obstacles and hardships.
In Time Invested, Megan's Father interfered with a budding relationship because he didn't trust enlisted men. In Sarah's Heart and Sarah's Passion, the villain was existing prejudice towards those born of half-blood Sometimes, I've used self-doubt, other times, I've used the ignorance of others, but I don't believe I've ever inserted someone like Snidely who you'd actually call a diabolical villain.
I've read books where there are actual villains, but I considered them more secondary characters, and as long as they had a personality and moved the story forward, I was fine with their presence, but I really don't see the need to have a "Snidely" in my stories. I think villains are more suited for cartoons...the mean guys who tie ladies to railroad tracks or foreclose on mortgages when the snow is three feet deep outside. Of course, if you ask me about someone riding in on a white horse to save the heroine, that's a whole different situation, and one I like to write. :)
Here's a little example of an obstacle that becomes a villainous circumstance in one of my current WIPS:
A glance at the shack they called home served as a reminder there was no reason to stay in this God-forsaken place, but Pa saw something she didn't and remained determined to make this their permanent home. Perhaps his resolve grew because they’d been driven from every other place they’d lived…either by crooked tax men or cattlemen who didn't want to share the rangeland. Pa came from a family that raised sheep and saw that as his calling.
Harlee cranked the bucket up and shielded her eyes against the sun while looking longingly at the sky for any hint of rain, A few wispy white clouds drifted across a sea of blue, and in the distance, vultures circled some poor critter either dead or dying. Her heart ached for such a gruesome end to life.
She turned her attention back to the chore at hand. The bucket crested the well’s top, only half full this time. The water used to be so high, she often bent over and stared at her reflection. Doubtful she could see it now, she crawled up on the stone ledge and peered over, searching for any hint of her likeness. Stretching farther . . . she still saw nothing but emptiness. The old stone beneath her grip gave way, sending her tumbling head first into the black abyss. Her screams echoed back to her.
BTW..this is called the Well and will be a historical time-travel.
Here's a little example of an obstacle that becomes a villainous circumstance in one of my current WIPS:
A glance at the shack they called home served as a reminder there was no reason to stay in this God-forsaken place, but Pa saw something she didn't and remained determined to make this their permanent home. Perhaps his resolve grew because they’d been driven from every other place they’d lived…either by crooked tax men or cattlemen who didn't want to share the rangeland. Pa came from a family that raised sheep and saw that as his calling.
Harlee cranked the bucket up and shielded her eyes against the sun while looking longingly at the sky for any hint of rain, A few wispy white clouds drifted across a sea of blue, and in the distance, vultures circled some poor critter either dead or dying. Her heart ached for such a gruesome end to life.
She turned her attention back to the chore at hand. The bucket crested the well’s top, only half full this time. The water used to be so high, she often bent over and stared at her reflection. Doubtful she could see it now, she crawled up on the stone ledge and peered over, searching for any hint of her likeness. Stretching farther . . . she still saw nothing but emptiness. The old stone beneath her grip gave way, sending her tumbling head first into the black abyss. Her screams echoed back to her.
BTW..this is called the Well and will be a historical time-travel.
Now...jump on over to my fellow Round Robin Bloggers and see what they have to say:
Anne Graham writing as Anne Stenhouse at http://wp.me/31Isq
Aimee writing as A.J. Maguire at http://ajmaguire.wordpress.com/
Marci Baun http://www.marcibaun.com/
Diane Bator at http://dbator.blogspot.ca
Fiona McGier at http://www.fionamcgier.com
Ginger Simpson at http://mizging.blogspot.com
Geeta Kakade at http://geetakakade.blogspot.com/
Connie Vines at http://connievines.blogspot.com/
Beverley Bateman - http://beverleybateman.blogspot.ca/
Rhobin Courtright - http://rhobinleecourtright.com
Anne Graham writing as Anne Stenhouse at http://wp.me/31Isq
Aimee writing as A.J. Maguire at http://ajmaguire.wordpress.com/
Marci Baun http://www.marcibaun.com/
Diane Bator at http://dbator.blogspot.ca
Fiona McGier at http://www.fionamcgier.com
Ginger Simpson at http://mizging.blogspot.com
Geeta Kakade at http://geetakakade.blogspot.com/
Connie Vines at http://connievines.blogspot.com/
Beverley Bateman - http://beverleybateman.blogspot.ca/
Rhobin Courtright - http://rhobinleecourtright.com
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