The Unlovable Heroine
The Unlovable Heroine
Unlovableness is a subtle beast. Most of us think we can detect it right off the bat, right there on the surface. We spot things like a tendency to pause too long before answering a simple question or a bad dental smell, or a habit of telling long, boring stories over and over again; or a simple lack of understanding of how close it’s okay to stand next to another person in an elevator. At one point, I became convinced that the single most outstanding feature of almost every single unappealing person’s behavior was their inability to calculate how loud they were talking. As annoying as all of these habits are, none of them are truly responsible for unlovableness. It’s something much, much deeper and much less complicated, and although it took me years to figure it out, I finally cracked the code — unlovable people simply want to piss people off. It’s not just a coincidence, it’s their calling.
Every single unlovable person I’ve ever met has one thing in common with all the others; they’re insulting. And they’re perfectly aware that they’re insulting. But, as it turns out, it’s worth it to them. An unlovable person would rather let you know they see right through you than have you as a friend — even if they like you! You’d think they’d choose friendship over dissection, but no. It’s more important to them to reveal your every weakness than to try to pretend they don’t see it.
Interestingly enough, these people exist everywhere, and yet you rarely see them manifested as main characters in novels. They’re much more likely to be cast in supporting roles, and here’s why: Writers, much like clowns, are willing to do pretty much anything to get you to fall in love with them. They want you to fall in love with them so deeply and profoundly that you’ll have to hold yourself back from calling them on the phone. Imagine sitting around all day for years trying to make up people. That’s what writers do. They make up fake people! How sad is that? They even dress their characters up in all sorts of costumes, give them funny hair, change their sex, sometimes they give them accents (this rarely works, but it happens), sometimes they even kill them. Anything to stir your heart. Because no matter how well the character is disguised, if you examine him closely enough, you can pretty much bet there’s an author under there somewhere, hiding, trembling, hoping to be and not to be discovered.
And that’s why you rarely meet an unlovable heroine. Where’s the love in creating an unlovable creature? It would be the equivalent of shooting one’s self in say, one’s foot. That’s why I was so surprised when I created Zoë. I’m not one to hide the fact that I am constantly seeking outward approval and that writing novels has become a great source of comfort to my ego. When people come up to me in the grocery store and say, “I love Chloe,” I always blush, because in my twisted little mind, I think they are saying, “I love you.”
There was this one young woman who came to see me speak at Boston University, who snuck in off the street pretending she was a student. That’s how much she loved me, I mean, Chloe. When she told me that she borrowed someone else’s i.d. to come see me, I came this close to proposing to her.
And as much as I protest, “I’m not Chloe! For the Millionth! Trillionth! Time! — I’m not Chloe!” — deep down I’m thinking, “I guess it’s not entirely out of the question that I’m a little like her.”
And so what do I go and do? I create the most demented, irritating, opinionated, insecure, insulting wretch on the planet. A creature born of my own rib and yet I despised her from the moment I met her. I rewrote her so many times trying to make myself not hate her; I finally gave up and just accepted the fact that she’s a bitch and that’s all there is to it. A short bitch with bad hair. Zoë criticizes everyone; she verbally abuses people right to their faces; she argues her feminist views, according to one reviewer, much like Andrea Dworkin — and more upsetting than anything, she’s “not funny.” (The truth is I thought she was funny, but I might be the only one). One can’t help but wonder why I didn’t feel the sting of the barrage of punishing comments that came my way for creating a character that was so blatantly offensive. The thing is, and believe me, I’m as shocked as the next guy, but I did it on purpose. So much for being loved, or knowing thyself.
There were definitely times when I tried to tone Zoë down a bit. In fact, there were times when I had to hold her down and cover her mouth, but she just kept talking.
“You’re your own worst enemy!” I told her over and over again, but she refused to back down.
“Actually, I’m just a girl,” she would yell back.
“An unlovable girl,” I screamed. “You’re lucky I gave you a boyfriend! And a sister! And
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