Your Protagonist’s Worst Nightmare

I recently watched a workshop on screenplay writing that presented some ideas every novelist can use to advantage. With my own embroidery added, I’d like to share one of them with you (and my thanks to J.V. Hart). That idea is the nemesis. Not just an antagonist, an opponent, but a character that represents everything your protagonist fears, so that, in fighting her nemesis, your gal must confront her own self.

First, the Antagonist

Of course, they are also an opponent whose goals are contrary to the protagonist’s. They will do everything they can to thwart our girl, maybe even kill her—to conquer the kingdom, steal the Holy Grail, break the magic stone that holds the world together. But that’s almost the role of impersonal forces. That kind of opponent incarnates all the obstacles nature and Murphy’s Law can throw at a person. If a character can be replaced by a blind force in your story (hurricane, forest fire), they are not yet a nemesis. With exceptions, as we’ll see. The antagonist may be an evil person (and please give us enough backstory that we know why) or simply someone who nobly believes in a goal contrary to the one we know is best.

Now, the Nemesis

A nemesis is something more personal to your protagonist. A classic example cited by Hart is Darth Vader. Sure, he has goals that oppose Luke Skywalker, so he is an antagonist. He’s also ruthless and malign, so he is a villain. But then Luke finds out Vader is his father, and from then on the man in the black mask becomes Luke’s nemesis. Why? Because Skywalker is afraid of those bad genes in his own blood that may draw him to the Dark Side as well. It’s really himself he has to fight every time he confronts Darth Vader.

Can Nature Be Nemesis?

So what about that hurricane or forest fire? There are plenty of successful natural disaster stories, but the disaster is usually the setting, not the antagonist. Some member of the crew or some higher-up brass who refuses to understand the danger is more likely to be the antagonist. Yet that needn’t be so.

Dare to go the route of Moby Dick, an innocent animal. But the white whale is more than an animal for Ahab. It is everything he fears. Because of ol’ Moby, Ahab had a limb pulled from his body. He wants revenge, sure, but that’s this forceful, bitter man’s way of dealing with his fears. Strike them first before they can strike you. One can easily picture Ahab having chronic nightmares about his trauma and resolving to beat them back. It becomes his obsession: kill the poor whale.

Let’s look at the forest fire again. What if the protagonist lost his family to a fire and he alone escaped in an act he now feels was cowardly? Then he finds himself trapped in a neighborhood in the woods as a fire roars its way toward him. His neighbors’ house is directly threatened. He stays to help fight the blaze, knowing that if he can’t overcome his fear, it will rule him for the rest of his days.

Why Nemesize?

Not only does a nemesis generate more conflict, often a kind of irony (of all things to happen while you’re visiting your girlfriend in the woods…), it also takes us deeper into the interior of our protagonist, where the stakes are highest. Even in the more action-oriented type of thriller, that’s where readers really want to be because it’s cathartic to see characters fight their fears and win. It’s why close third person is probably the most popular point of view in novels these days—the interior of people, where the motives lie, is the most interesting. Seeing inside them makes them richer, more comprehensible, more authentically human. And watching your protagonist confront his deepest fears is surely the most humanizing view of all.

But explaining to the reader why an antagonist has become a nemesis also gives us a glimpse into their past and who they have become. They, too, become more three-dimensional. It’s a win-win effort!