Why Stranger Things Works

Are you sick of hearing about Stranger Things yet? With the finale still fresh in every fan’s mind and plastered all over the internet, I suppose this post was inevitable.

But there’s good reason to talk about Stranger Things. It’s one of the most popular shows of the last decade, and that’s about how long it took for the damned thing to come out. So as writers, we should pick it apart and talk about why it works as well as it does.

Before we begin, I’d like to point out that a lot of good can be said about the acting, the effects, and the overall morality that went into making Stranger Things. I’m not going to be talking about those things. Not because I don’t like them, but because gushing over practical effects doesn’t really help a writer, you know, write.

It’s okay to take your time

As I’ve already mentioned, and so has everyone else, it took forever for these seasons to come out. Literally nine years have come and gone from the first season to the last. It’s been long enough that one of the ‘child’ characters on the show has become a parent. And while fans complained, that didn’t stop anyone from watching.

I’ve mentioned this before, but I feel like it bears repeating. Especially since it’s something that I’m struggling with right now. Sometimes your writing is going to take a while. Sometimes you need time and space to write your best work. And a ticking clock of anxiety in your head isn’t going to do anyone any good.

I get the fear, though, when you’re not putting out books regularly. There’s always a fear of becoming irrelevant. But when a story is good, fans remember. Trust me, if Limetown season three dropped, I’d be right there. I still check for it sometimes.

Good writing takes time. Don’t beat yourself up for that. Give yourself the time you need to create your best work.

The characters grew naturally

Stranger Things was a masterclass in natural character progression. Steve went from being an angry, popular, pretty boy to a man who loves kids and wants to help them grow. Will went from being a scared kid to a damned superhero. Lucas went from being pretty mad at everyone to the bravest and most loyal friend anyone could ever ask for. And Dustin, well, Dustin got angry and started looking for fights.

These were all slow, natural progressions that were personal to each character. They made sense for each person and wouldn’t have made sense if swapped out for another character.

Dustin, by the way, had the most interesting arc in the last season. This brings up a point that is related, though slightly different. It’s okay for your character’s story to arch towards bad things. It’s okay for your character to be angry. Or over this whole save-the-world thing. Or unhealthy coping mechanisms. Basically, just because your character changes doesn’t mean they have to change for the better.

Though I do think his character is perfect by the end.

Everyone had a moment to shine

Stranger Things is a great example of an ensemble cast. There really is no main character. You could argue that maybe El is the main character. But then, maybe it’s Will. But it might also be Mike or Dustin.

There are a lot of options, because every character is acting like they are the main character of their own story.

Even better, every character is treated like the main character of their own story. Everyone has their own arc, their own goals. And while this can sometimes make things hard to keep track of, it also makes for a richer, more realistic story.

Multiple storylines help build suspense

Early in the season, there’s a scene in which something terrible happens to Dustin. And then, while we’re still not sure if he’s making it out of the graveyard alive, we cut to another scene. Another character is in mortal peril.

In fact, it’s a while before we come back to Dustin. And whether the scene in front of us was tense, thrilling, or just important to character development, there was always a layer of tension. Because what the hell was happening with Dustin?

This is a simple but incredibly effective way to have an audience on the edge of their seat.

They didn’t do anything unique. They just did it with heart

One complaint I’ve seen about Stranger Things is that it doesn’t do anything groundbreaking. Some don’t even know why it’s so popular. After all, everything they do has been done before. Mostly by Stephen King.

And while that’s true, I think the critics are missing something. There is so much heart in this show.

There’s so much love for the horror genre. Fans like myself can see the constant references honoring horror classics.

There’s so much love for the 80’s, for some reason. Likely pleasant memories of childhood washed in browns and hand-crocheted afghans.

There’s so much love for the story. The Duffer brothers even brought in their own teacher from childhood in to play Holly’s teacher.

Passion projects show. There’s no hiding it. Which is why it’s so important to write the story you’re passionate about, not what you think will sell.

A healing ending

Finally, let’s talk about the ending. Because it’s been quite contentious.

Some people say that El died. That the story of her finding a place to live in peace with two waterfalls was just a fantasy of Mike’s. That all of the happy endings are just made up.

This seems like a good time to remind everyone that this whole story is, in fact, made up. This isn’t a documentary. So this happy enough ending is just a clever way for the story to end. It’s a clever framework. A good way to show where everyone ends up without belaboring the point too much.

And yes, I do think the ending was happy enough. Sadly, I don’t think the story works if El gets to stay with her friends in Hawkins. I don’t think it makes sense within the rules set up by the story so far. So the ending wasn’t perfect, but it made sense. And sometimes, even in fiction, happiness has to compromise with the most sensible option.

Halfway happy.

So now I want to know what you think. Was the ending of Stranger Things worth the wait? Or was it all wrong? Let us know in the comments.

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Here to go, writing characters you plan to kill

Note: I’m going to be going into one big spoiler for the latest season of Stranger Things in this post. If you haven’t seen it yet and you plan to, maybe click away and read this later.

This title is inspired by an issue of Transmetropolitan. In it, the main character was talking about a boy his assistant was dating. He said the boy wasn’t planning to stick around. He was here to go.

There are times when writing that we’ve got to kill someone. Not for real, hopefully, but on the page. Maybe this doesn’t have to happen in all books, but it happens in all my books. 

In speculative fiction, not everyone’s getting out alive. 

In some cases, you might want to write a character that you know you’re going to kill off. Maybe to bring the team together, like in Avengers. Maybe to clear the way to a throne, like in Tamora Pierce’s Tricker’s Queen. Maybe just to make sure that the battle costs something, like in the latest season of Stranger Things. 

Joseph Quinn in Stranger Things.

Knowing that you’re writing someone that isn’t going to make it to the last page is kind of a bummer. So if you’re going to do it, wring everything out of that death that you can. 

What a here-to-go character isn’t

When I talk about a here-to-go character, I’m not talking about people like Snape. These are not characters who have been a part of the main cast and die in the last book. We expect to lose some of the main cast at the end of a series. I’m talking more about characters like Eddie or Bob.

I’m also not talking about red shirts. A red shirt is a nameless extra character, usually, one who goes along with some of our beloved main characters on a dangerous mission. They might also be considered cannon fodder for a writer. Someone’s gotta die when we’re facing a rock demon, and it’s not gonna be this MC that I spent three months writing journal entries for to get into their head. 

What we’re looking for is something in between. Someone who has a name, a background. This should be a fully fleshed-out character. You want your readers to have an attachment to this person. You want them to feel like this person has been around since the start, even though they haven’t. 

You want this character to fit right into the group. You want them to feel like they could be an addition to the long-lasting cast. 

There are several ways to do this, depending on what sort of story you’re writing. In our example, Stranger Things, they involved Eddie in the main cast’s favorite pastime, D&D. Bob was a friend of Joyce’s in school. They fit right in. 

Have two (or more) characters in this role

In season three of Stranger Things, two characters felt like here-to-go characters. There was Bob, who did eventually go. But there was also Robin. And Robin could have gone as well. She was new, but we were able to form an attachment to her right away. 

Sean Aston and Winona Ryder in Stranger Things.

By having two new characters, one to stay and one to go, your audience isn’t sure which is which. And that builds up the tension. 

It’s never a good idea for your audience to know who’s going to die. If you’re writing speculative fiction, they have to assume someone’s going to die. But they shouldn’t be able to tell who. 

If we don’t care that this character died, he might as well not have been there.

This is probably the most painful part. When you write a here-to-go character, you have to write them with as much care as you would the main character. Remember, you want to write every character as though they’re the MC of their own story.

You want your audience to care about the characters. I liked Eddie. I liked Bob. They were good friends. They were brave. They were funny. 

Their lives and deaths changed our main cast. And that’s the point of these here-to-go characters. They aren’t here for a long time, but they’re here for an influential time.

Otherwise, you’re just wasting everyone’s time. 

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