Character death should serve some purpose in a story. When wielded skilfully, it is a powerful way to move and shape a plot. This is especially the case if it’s a main character or a long-standing side character in a series.

However, if it’s not handled well (and sometimes even when it is) there is a strong risk of reader backlash. So, it’s something that writers need to consider carefully before they do anything drastic to their core characters.

Who is most likely to end up on the chopping block? There are a few groups of people that an author might be tempted to knock off and these all affect the story flow differently. Come along on a macabre thought exercise as we take a closer look at character death.

The power of near-death

This is a blatant, cruel and wonderful way of punching readers right in the feelings. I am both a perpetrator and victim of this device. It’s effective because readers tend to get emotionally invested in prominent characters. Books can stir emotions and that enriches the reading experience.

When disaster or tragedy strikes, and someone you really like looks like they won’t pull through, you keep reading until you know they’re okay. Even if you trust the author not to betray you so completely. Even if you know the series continues on for another ten books. You have to see it for yourself, you have to make sure.

Change it up

I recently read a series of sci-fi romance books and this device features in just about every entry (and there are 16 and counting). One of the books saw the main male character almost killed off twice. I do think two near deaths for the same character in the same book runs the risk of being excessive, but that’s how it played out.

As a reader, it’s effective but gets tiresome if it’s overused or done badly. In the sci-fi romance I read, it wasn’t too bad because it was resolved quickly via alien wonderment. But I read, and soon abandoned, a very obnoxious mystery series for similar quibbles.

What was the difference between the two series? The skill of the writer, pure and simple. Neither series will ever be considered great literature, and that suits me fine, but the sci-fi alien love-fest was far more enjoyable to read. One of the many issues with the mystery series was an over-reliance on traumatic and critical injuries.

The main lady ended up being clubbed or flung off bridges and landing on her head in nearly every book. What followed were endless pages of her fighting blinding headaches and choking back vomit. It went on way too long and she never got any smarter…perhaps due to the head traumas.

The necessity of character appeal

Another key reason this trope wasn’t effective in mystery book example was that the author never managed to make the character truly likeable. I still didn’t want the poor thing to get perpetually bludgeoned, but it was immediately tiresome rather than stirring my sympathies and concerns. Actually, almost no one in that entire series was easy to care about. As a reader, I really felt like I was kept at arm’s length from everyone, so the sense of anxiety couldn’t fully bloom.

Anyway, having a beloved character’s life imperilled can be very poignant or very nerve-wracking. Either way, it gets the reader’s heart involved and that’s good. Just don’t overdo it and probably don’t resort to it every time.

The power of actual death

This is also powerful, or at least useful. In my mystery books, I kill off a lot of characters. In almost every book I try to have three or more deaths; that feels weird to say so plainly, but it’s all fictional. When I read other people’s mysteries and they have only one victim, I’m tempted to think the author must’ve gotten distracted and forgot to add the rest in. But perhaps I’m just odd.

In a scenario where you’re working to create uncertainty and speculation about a deliberate killing, you approach it differently than you would an epic fantasy battle. For mysteries, it often goes one of two ways: either it’s someone so hated that there’s too many likely suspects, or the victim is so benign or well-liked that there don’t seem to be any.

With fantasy, or any non-mystery really, the killer isn’t necessarily unknown because figuring out the identity of the culprit isn’t always the point. The death might result in personal grief that the other characters must grapple with, or a story-altering power shift, or a new quest for revenge. However unpleasant it might be, character death moves and deepens a plot.

The risks of killing them off

There is a danger, a cost and consequence, to character death. This danger comes from obvious things like reader backlash, the loss of all the effort that went into building an established character and a general lack of foresight. You might want or even need those victims later, so don’t be too quick to pull the trigger, as it were.

This isn’t an issue with characters that were designed to be victims, like in murder mysteries. In those cases, yes, have at them. Instead, let’s look at some other options for potential bump-offs that an author might meet in their travels. They are all viable, but they all need to be carefully considered.

Side characters

This ranges from obvious red-shirt death magnets to shocking twists when faithful sidekicks are unexpectedly wrenched from our grasp. It can be done and done well, and it’s more survivable than a main character death (more on that soon).

But take care and know your fan base. Some side characters have been transformed into main characters by sheer audience affection. Like Boba Fett, Fonzie and Steve Urkel. Know where your bread is buttered.

That’s not to say you should betray or water down the story that you feel most strongly about, but don’t take it lightly either. Respect that you’re dealing with other people’s emotions too.

Villains

This may seem to be a safe zone, and oftentimes it is, but still proceed with awareness. This is mainly the case when you’ve crafted a long-time or deliciously charismatic villain.

I’m not saying don’t get rid of them, but make sure you flesh them out and use them to their full potential first. Squeeze out all that goodness (badness) before throwing them in the bin.

Main characters

From Sherlock Holmes to Optimus Prime, woo doggie! Don’t make your audience love a character that strongly and then kill them off. Not cool and not good business sense. (But this is the ranting of an angry child who used to watch Transformers everyday.)

Why would a successful author or franchise kill off their big draw card? Isn’t that sad and wasteful? Possibly, depending on whether you’re the dewy-eyed reader or the well-meaning creator with some idealistic vision. Or if you’re the frustrated author who feels pigeonholed by their own invention.

Doyle’s well-loved Sherlock Holmes comes to mind. It’s easy to feel amazed that anyone would resent such roaring success, I know a lot of authors who’d love to be ‘saddled’ by a cultural phenomenon like Sherlock. Each to their own.

In all fairness, as I understand it, Doyle was genuinely sick of writing Sherlock’s adventures and felt he had more worthwhile projects to work on. You can feel trapped by your own creations if demand is high and you don’t particularly feel like supplying anymore. A dramatic escape from the situation may not be popular, but it is an escape.

In any case, if an author does manage to create a well-loved central and important character, and then decides to knock them off…they need to be prepared for the reader hate. Because it’s coming for them.

Reader trust

As an author, you must realize that many readers will come to trust you. Especially if you write in a series and create characters that are likeable. That’s a beautiful thing if you can do it. And if you can get a lot of people’s hearts involved to the point that they like and care about a person you’ve invented…that’s amazing.

Cherish that, take it seriously.

If an author feels compelled to do away with a main character, that is certainly their right and it can be very powerful. But they need to know that some readers will react very harshly. Some will get it, and they’ll embrace whatever deep emotional thing the writer was going for. Others won’t.

I’m an escapist. That’s why I choose not to read books about abuse and other atrocities. I don’t judge others for reading or writing them, but I don’t like it, so I steer clear. It’s old baggage that I can’t fully shed.

Many readers turn to books for escape, comfort, distraction. Genre has a large influence here. For instance, psychological thrillers aren’t intended to rock you to sleep or make you feel warm and fuzzy; their readers likely know that going in. But if you’re writing for an audience that doesn’t want the rug pulled out from under them, keep that in mind. Trust takes years to build and seconds to lose.

You can still achieve drama, hell, you can do whatever you want with your own books. But I feel that, when I try to make others care about the people and places I’ve crafted, I need to take that seriously and not needlessly take it from them.

Look at it this way, you can write a ten-book series and bugger the ending so badly that people will try to pretend that book ten never happened. Is that what you want? Choose carefully because trying to undo it later can be less than ideal.

How do you achieve poignant drama without cheesing everyone off?

You can’t please everyone; we all know that. But consider continuity of voice. Bringing up a shocking death fully out of nowhere may not have the effect that you’re hoping it will. Don’t be quick, after building all that foundation and care and personality, to then shatter it by changing voice too drastically.

As a writer, you set a tone, you have a style. It takes skill and imagination to maintain that voice and still keep it powerful and emotive. But it can be done.

Purely as a suggestion, if you’re going for a heavy and grim but morally cleansing finish, consider not waiting until the last minute to give people a hint of it. That can come across as jarring and rushed. Don’t lose the purpose of your big moment by making it seem too out of place.

In the sci-fi space-love series I mentioned earlier, the author used near death (often) but she hinted towards it enough to let the reader know it was a risk that existed but without giving the whole game away. You certainly don’t have to do that, but it’s an idea that’s worth throwing around a little.

Ultimately, if your goal is to shock your readers, you may prefer to go for the maximum effect. That’s fine. It’s your choice and totally okay, just brace for the aftermath. Even Doyle ended up bringing back Sherlock.