bring on the badass!

If you are writing YA and you'd like to breathe life into a badass character, pay attention to Margo Roth Spiegelman, who breathes life into John Green's Paper Towns.

Marvel, if you will, at the badassery of Margo's inciting incident entrance and speech. Be on the lookout for Green's expert sprinkling of the story spices of humor, action, intrigue, imagery, desire and conflict:

     I swiveled around when I heard the window open, and Margo's blue eyes were staring back at me. Her eyes were all I could see at first, but as my vision adjusted, I realized she was wearing black face paint and a black hoodie. "Are you having cybersex?" she asked.
     "I'm IM'ing with Ben Starling."
     "That doesn't answer my question, perv."
     I laughed awkwardly, then walked over and knelt by the window, my face inches from hers. I couldn't imagine why she was here, in my window, like this. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked. Margo and I were still friendly, I guess, but we weren't meet-in-the-dead-of-night-wearing-black-face-paint-friendly. She had friends for that, I'm sure. I just wasn't among them.
     "I need your car," she explained.
     "I don't have a car," I said, which was something of a sore point for me.
     "Well, I need your mom's car."
     "You have your own car," I pointed out.
     Margo puffed out her cheeks and sighed. "Right, but the thing is that my parents have taken the keys to my car and locked them inside a safe, which they put under their bed, and Myrna Mountweazel"–who was her dog–"is sleeping inside their room. And Myrna Mountweazel has a freaking aneurysm whenever she catches sight of me. I mean, I could totally sneak in there and steal the safe and crack it and get my keys out and drive away, but the thing is that it's not even worth trying because Myrna Mountweazel is just going to bark like crazy if I so much as crack open the door. So like I said, I need a car. Also, I need you to drive it, because I have to do eleven things tonight, and at least five of them involve a getaway man."

 

     When I let my sight unfocus, she became nothing but eyes, floating in the ether. And then I locked back on her, and I could see the outline of her face, the paint still wet against her skin. Her cheekbones triangulating into her chin, her pitch-black lips barely turned to a smile. "Any felonies?" I asked.
     "Hmm," said Margo. "Remind me if breaking and entering is a felony."
     "No," I answered firmly.
     "No it's not a felony or no you won't help?"
     "No I won't help. Can't you enlist some of your underlings to drive you around?" Lacey and/or Becca were always doing her bidding.
     "They're part of the problem, actually," Margo said.
     "What's the problem?" I asked.
     "There are eleven problems," she said somewhat impatiently.
     "No felonies," I said.
     "I swear to God that you will not be asked to commit a felony."
     And right then, the floodlights came on all around Margo's house. In one swift motion, she somersaulted through my window, into my room, and then rolled beneath my bed. Within seconds, her dad was standing on the patio outside. "Margo!" he shouted. "I saw you!"
     From beneath my bed, I heard a muffled, "Oh, Christ." Margo scooted out from under the bed, stood up, walked to the window, and said, "Come on, Dad. I'm just trying to have a chat with Quentin. You're always telling me what a fantastic influence he could be on me and everything."
     "Just chatting with Quentin?"
     "Yes."
     "Then why are you wearing black face paint?"
     Margo faltered for only the briefest moment. "Dad, to answer that question would take hours of backstory, and I know that you're probably very tired, so just go back t–"
     "In the house," he thundered. "This minute!"
     Margo grabbed hold of my shirt, whispered "Back in a minute" in my ear, and then climbed out the window.

I don't know about you, but Margo's badass antics make me want to assist in the planning of some kind of non-felonious heist – or at least write about one. Here's what I noticed in this most excellent passage:

Humor: 

• Myrna Mountweazel. Hilarious dog name. It's weird. It's alliterative. It's maybe slightly twisted. It's an unlikely, hence funny, way for the nearly unstoppable Margo to be foiled. Did you notice it's repeated 3 times for full comedic effect?
• "Margo! I saw you!" Margo's dad shouts at Margo without regard for the neighbors resting in peace. This callout is amusing both because it sounds toddler-esque and because it comically contrasts with Margo's larger-than-life display of intrigue and threat of impending crime. 
• "You're always telling me what a fantastic influence he could be on me and everything." A child using her parents' words against them never fails to tickle the funny bone. How can her dad disapprove of a "chat" with such a good influence as this boy Quentin?
• False concern. "I know that you're very tired." Margo acts as though she would tell her dad why she's outfitted like one of America's Most Wanted and yelling across the yard to him from a boy's window. She would, but it would take too long ("hours of backstory" – bonus writerly joke:) and she would hate to disrupt her dad's beauty sleep. That's funny. 
  
  

Action: 

• Sneaking out at midnight.
• Somersaulting into a neighbor boy's bedroom.
• Rolling under a bed to hide there.
  

Intrigue: 

• This all goes down midnight. Is there a more intriguing time?
• Margo's parents' extreme measures are intriguing: why do they confiscate her car keys and lock them in a safe under their bed?
• What do her confiscated keys imply about Margo's recent behavior? Past behavior? History?

• What does it imply about her parents' discipline in general?
• Maybe her parents' extreme measures fuel Margo's aberrant behavior?
• And maybe vice versa too?
• What is such a girl capable of?
• What is this boy getting himself into?
• What could Margo's 11 problems possibly be? 
• (Note that the 11 problems are terrific for the novel's story structure. Readers will anticipate the solving of each of the 11 problems. The idea is akin to Agatha Christie's nursery rhyme conceit in her classic And Then There Were None.)
  
  

Imagery: 

• Black face paint
• Black hoodie
• Floating eyes
• Cheekbones triangulating into a chin
• Pitch-black lips
• Two faces inches apart, an open window between them
• Floodlights in the dark
  
  

Desire: 

• Margo needs a car. 
• And a driver. 
• She needs Quentin's help.
• She desperately wants to solve 11 problems in one fell swoop.
• Quentin wants Margo. He has always wanted Margo.
• He also wants to be safe, to avoid committing a felony
• (Notice the juxtaposition of character traits: reckless/careful. Margo and Quentin complete each other.)
  
  

Conflict: 

• Margo and Quentin spar about whether he should help her. 
• If she could, Margo would break open her parents' safe and further break their broken trust. 
• She is at odds with some of her friends. "They're part of the problem."
• Her dad is pursuing her, floodlights and all, shouting for her in the still of the night.

Write scenes like this to solve at least 11 problems in one fell swoop.

Now you know. Go forth and bring on the badass!