Creating a protagonist who is sympathetic can be difficult as the goal is to create someone people can empathize with. If your character is too flat, readers will not be able to connect with her. Negative characters are a little easier but here one has to portray an individual who’s not that likeable but still has positive elements which humanize him or her. Here you have to show them as people you might meet every day. Make them too dark or evil and you run into the risk of having readers lose interest because again they are too flat. In an odd sort of way, you need to write about someone people can empathize with. Make them too evilly evil and they just won’t seem believable. The character of Charlotte Sinclair is such a person.
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A memory from her Oregon childhood kept popping up in Charlotte’s mind. Fourth grade and the teacher had asked the class to write an essay describing their house. She remembered cringing at the assignment because she lived in a trailer park. Seriously? She lived in a crummy trailer and she was supposed to write something interesting about that? The worst part about it was that the teacher usually had them stand up in front of the class and read their work. Charlotte didn’t mind being the center of attention but she knew what would happen if she read her paper. The kids that knew her would start snickering, whispering her last name; Kettle, Kettle, making up mocking variations of it. The ones who didn’t know her would look down their noses at her. Trailer trash. She couldn’t lie about where she lived because she would get outed by the other kids and probably get a failing mark for the assignment.
So there was nothing for it but to write the truth. And it all happened just as she knew it would. She had tried to gloss over the fact it was a trailer as much as she could, describing her mother’s flower garden in meticulous detail. But she could hear the faint snickers, especially from Donna Devito. The smirks. The nudging. The B minus she got was okay but nothing could make up for the humiliation.
Divorce court had been like that. In place of the teacher Mrs Hudson, there had been the judge. Instead of Donna Devito, it was her soon-to-be ex-husband Peter, a faint smirk on his face, while the papers she was supposed to sign were handed out to her. She had to sign them, too. Peter had caught her red-handed, fingering the gold coins in that pouch he kept in his work safe. It did no good to explain she was only looking and didn’t intend to take any. It was either divorce or he would press theft charges. Either way the marriage was over and Charlotte had lost her stepping stone to the next level. She ground her teeth. The bastard had probably been planning to dump her anyway and the money had just been a good excuse.
It was all about status and nobody could tell her any different. Her transition into high school had seemed uneventful at first. It all looked like a dreary repeat of grade school except now she had to wear a bra. But it was her cousin Nancy who steered her in a different direction. She grabbed Charlotte one day when she came to visit.
“Did anyone tell you you’re a hot ticket?”
“Oh Jesus. I wish you wouldn’t needle me…”
“No, no! Listen to me. You need a makeover.”
“A makeover?” She looked at her cousin like she had grown two heads.
“Yes. I’m going to beauticians’ school next year. You wouldn’t believe what a difference a little makeup will have. And your hair – I definitely need to work on your hair.” Nancy was dragging her into the bathroom. Hair styling curlers and shampoo bottles were piled on the sink. Her cousin popped open what looked like a briefcase revealing more makeup than she ever saw before in her life. Charlotte stared bug-eyed for a moment but then allowed Nancy to have her way. After an hour getting her hair set and her cousin meticulously painting her face, she was finally allowed to look in the mirror.
She didn’t recognize the girl staring back. After a stunned minute, she turned to her cousin.
“Show me how to do that.”
The dramatic change in her appearance changed the way everyone treated her. At least the boys anyway. Now they followed her around. Getting dates was suddenly easy but breaking into the girl cliques proved a lot harder. She prowled through thrift shops turning up enough nice looking stuff so she finally didn’t look like she was wearing an older siblings hand-me-downs. But the red-neck tag kept haunting her. It wasn’t enough to buff up her appearance. She needed to change her surroundings as well. Go somewhere that the trailer trash label couldn’t follow.
Dates with boys quickly showed her the power of sex and she was astute enough to see how it could be used to get what she wanted. She sneered at the idea of having a ‘career’ the way the guidance counselor kept trying to push on her. That cost money and Charlotte wanted to marry money, not earn it. Why work her butt off when the right husband could do it for her? But the counselor finally managed to convey the idea that further schooling could open up doors for her which to Charlotte meant meeting a better class of people and in turn somebody with money. So finally she settled on modeling school, legally changing her last name to Sinclair.
Bettina’s Modeling School just outside of New York City was as far from Oregon as she could get. At first getting a decent apartment was a nightmare but she lucked out when she met Jillian West a fellow student who was looking for a roommate she could split rent with. Jillian was a bit of an air-head but easy to get along with. A tall lanky dish of a red-head, she often brought Charlotte with her when she got invited to parties. That was how she met Peter Mitchell. Head of a consulting firm, he was at a soiree along with a brunette mouse of a wife who looked bored stiff. He was cute after a fashion and being CEO of a consulting firm meant he brushed shoulders with plenty of important people seeking his services. Charlotte kept her eye on him while she circulated around the room checking out prospects.
Apparently she caught his eye as well because twenty minutes into the party, he introduced himself and offered her a drink. Obviously having his wife with him didn’t cramp his style. It didn’t take long to exchange cell phone numbers and arrange another meeting. Charlotte took her time with the affair, careful to remain on the pill and staying enrolled at Bettina’s just in case things fell through. But fortunately Peter was ready to dump wife number one and take on wife number two. Within a year came his divorce and then his proposal to Charlotte. Six months later they were married.
Now two years later it was over. She had met a state senator at one of the numerous parties Peter attended with her and things were definitely looking up in that direction. Her plans for the senator had been much the same as they had been with Peter. But she had made the mistake of pawing over Peter’s little private stash, unable to resist the sight of gold. It was difficult not to kick herself. She had forgotten how anal-retentive he was about his money.
Pacing back and forth in the apartment she got as part of the divorce settlement, she finally stopped herself and sat down on the sofa. She had to regroup somehow. Would it possible to pick up the modeling gig again? She had dropped out of Bettina’s when she got married, but she still had her looks. Would they let her start again? Jillian had gotten into a modeling agency and while she wasn’t a supermodel, she wasn’t doing too bad. Charlotte had seen her face in more than a few catalogs. She smirked to herself. That might be fun. Model for a few catalogs then every time number three wife left one open on the table, there would be his ex-wife staring back at him.
The ring tone on her cell phone started playing Beethoven. Now who the hell was that? Charlotte didn’t really feel like talking to anyone but she checked her caller ID. She recognized Jillian’s number. It could be a spoof but she had given Jillian her number. Sighing, she answered.
“Yeah, what is it?”
“It’s a party, that’s what!” laughed Jillian’s voice brightly. “I had a sneaking suspicion you needed cheering up, so I’d thought I’d give you a call.”
“Are you at a party or going to one?” asked Charlotte. Jillian could be a bubble head at times but she was so good hearted it was hard getting or staying mad at her.
“Well, going to one, of course. I haven’t seen you for a while and I know you’re probably bouncing off the walls after the divorce. Look, it’ll be a great party. It’s a recruitment drive for the Maenad Club. Lots of people will be there. There’ll be booze, sex, music, you name it. You don’t have to join if you don’t want. Just come for the fun.”
Charlotte almost wanted to say no. She had heard of the Maenad Club and thought it was a cock-eyed excuse for having a basic orgy. But maybe there was more to it than that. She had heard some odd intriguing stories. Who knows, she might actually meet someone interesting. After waffling a bit, she agreed.
“Great!” gushed Jillian. “I’ll pick you up at 7:00 tonight. You don’t need to get dressed up. It’s strictly casual. And I’ve got some exciting news to tell you too! See ya!”
“ ‘See ya’.” mimicked Charlotte after Jillian had disconnected, then laughed. Maybe it was just what she needed. Get out of the damn apartment and try having a little fun. If the party attracted a big enough crowd, there was bound to be somebody important there. Maybe even that senator she had been trying to cozy up to. She got up and headed for the shower. Might as well start getting ready now. It’s not like she had anything else to do.
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Charlotte’s reminiscing about her past gives us some insight into what drives her. While we might find her narcissism repellent, we can empathize with her shame about her poverty and the cruel treatment she received in grade school which fuels her desire to escape her past. How successful she will be and whether her life will be a triumph or a tragedy remains to be seen.
