Mentor Monday: Developing Characters

“As you go about bringing your people to the page, remember this: Human beings are extremely complicated. Characters are enormously simple.” Bill Roorbach, Writing Life Stories.

A strong main character is the cornerstone of any novel. By strong, we don’t necessarily mean the hero-type. We mean a character that is so well-developed that the reader feels they have entered the body and soul of the protagonist. These feelings keep us up at night, turning one more page, when we should be turning off the reading lamp. They make us “miss” the character when the book is over almost like missing a friend that we will not see again.

We are often told, as writers, to first write a good story. It will find its audience. That audience finds our books because they become invested in our characters. Keep these ideas on character development in mind as you write your story:

1) Your characters should be distinguishable. The reader doesn’t need to know every mole and scratch on the character’s body. But, age, hair color or skin tone, tics or stutters, an odd choice in clothing, a constant sniffle, etc. can help the reader determine who’s saying (or doing) what. Authors writing in the first person often use the mirror technique whereby the character describes what s/he sees in the mirror:

“There is one mirror in my house. It is behind a sliding panel in the hallway upstairs. Our faction allows me to stand in front of it on the second day of every third month, the day my mother cuts my hair…

The strands fall on the floor in a dull, blond ring…

I sneak a look at my reflection when she isn’t paying attention—not for the sake of vanity, but out of curiosity. A lot can happen to a person’s appearance in three months…I see a narrow face, wide, round eyes, and a long, thin nose—I still look like a little girl, though sometime in the last few months I turned sixteen…” (Divergent, Veronica Roth)

Other writers use the method of showing us how other characters view the protagonist:

“Daddy named me Billie Jo.
He wanted a boy.
Instead,
he got a long-legged girl
with a wide mouth
and cheekbones like bicycle handles.
He got a redheaded, freckle-faced, narrow-hipped girl
with a fondness for apples
and a hunger for playing fierce piano.” (Out of the Dust, Karen Hesse)

2) Your characters should be human—meaning flawed. Even anthropomorphized characters need human frailties. They might be self-centered; have a weakness for chocolate or sports cars or be easily distractible.

The title of Barbara Seuling’s The Great Big Elephant and the Very Small Elephant gives us the most obvious difference between the main characters. The story wouldn’t resonate, however, if we didn’t know more about these two-similar shaped characters. We soon learn their personalities are quite different. When the GBE must go away for a while to help a family member, the VSE is not pleased:

“…the Very Small Elephant arrived at the Great Big Elephant’s house with a huge bandage on his head.
“What happened?” cried the Great Big Elephant.
“I’m sick,” said the Very Small Elephant. “I need you. I have a headache.”

In three sentences Sueling has let us know that the GBE is kind, and the VSE is dependent on his friend and scared to be alone. Throughout the book, we learn more about the VSE’s lack of self-confidence. In a later story, VSE’s actions will show that he is also a very good friend.

3) Your characters should create an emotional connection with the reader. Here’s the crux. Once we know a character is, say, a lighter-skinned African American teenager with dyed blue hair who chews her fingernails we have a mental picture but we don’t necessarily care about her. Now it’s the writer’s job to place that character in situations that show who she is: lonely even when surrounded by friends? quick with a joke even though she’s insecure? quiet until she sees that someone weaker is being threatened?

Situations are the third part of the character/reader connection. By placing your character in various situations, you not only show the reader the truth about the person you’ve created, you’ve allowed the reader to become part of the character’s world.

“Gilly,” said Miss Ellis with a shake of her long blonde hair toward the passenger in the back seat. “I need to feel that you are willing to make some effort.”
Galadriel Hopkins shifted her bubble gum to the front of her mouth and began to blow gently. She blew until she could barely see the shape of the social worker’s head through the pink bubble.
“This will be your third home in less than three years.” (The Great Gilly Hopkins, Katherine Patterson).

On the very first page of this novel Patterson has managed to make the reader feel conflicted. After all, who wouldn’t feel sympathy for any foster child? On the other hand, Gilly seems like a handful. We read on, wondering whether we’re going to like this kid or not. The situation (another move) and Gilly’s reaction (hiding the social worker’s head behind a gum bubble) tells us a lot about this character. We already know she’s tough.

As you revise your novel or short story check to see if you’ve given your reader enough knowledge about your characters. Get the reader involved in your character’s life.

Mentor Monday: My Deep Dark Secret

My name is Muriel and I'm a Twilight-aholic. I know what you're saying. You think you know someone... Then you learn something about them you wish you'd never heard...

Stephen King led me to Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series. He was quoted as saying something like, "The difference between Stepahine Meyer and J.K. Rowling is that J.K. Rowling knows how to write." I was intrigued. I would be giving a workshop on analyzing manuscripts and so I thought, if King was right, Twilight might be a good example of what not to do. A friend lent me the book on CD and, as I listened, I did find myself getting thrown out of the story by some of the writing. However, you can't take good notes when you're riding around in your car listening to a recording. So, I bought the book.

I read it again, Post-it page markers in hand, so I could mark what I perceived as weaknesses. I found a lot of them. Twilight began to look like a college student's text before the final exam. Dozens of orange Post-its floated from the edges of the pages.

So what bugged me? Meyer's preface has a dynamite opening: "I'd never given much thought to how I would die... The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me."

If this is the climax of the story, wow! What kid wouldn't want to read on? But...

The first chapter takes us back to the beginning of the plot. This is a love story. Meyer has taken the familiar nice-girl-falls-for-bad-boy plot to a new level. The Bad Boy is a vampire. A complicated vampire. A GOOD vampire. And our heroine is the only one who knows about this duality.

Eventually, following the dilemmas that only this sort of romance can cause, our heroine, Bella, faces death. But the author never brings us back to that moment on page one. The circle is never completed. I felt that the preface was tacked on after the rest of the book had been written.

The young lovers are compelling characters. I believe this is why Megan Tingley, the editor, might have seen promise in this book. Meyer didn't do as well with her minor characters. They spend a great deal of plot time in the high school cafeteria, staring into space. We learn little about their personalities and yet they all become integral to the climax of the story.

What bugged me the most, however, was the out-of-date style of much of the dialogue. It's perfectly sensible to make a 100 year old vampire speak like it's still 1918. Bella, however, does not sound like a modern teenager. Granted, she's a gifted student, but I've known lots of gifted students and they did not act like walking doctoral candidates. Meyer also makes the beginner mistake of trying too hard with her attributions. Here's an example:

"He's been too modest, actually," I corrected.
"Well, play for her," Esme encouraged.

"You just said showing off was rude," he objected.

"There are exceptions to every rule," she replied."

"I'd like to hear you play," I volunteered.

This whole sequence would have been a lot smoother if the invisible word "said" had been used or some other actions had been included. Here's how I might have fixed this section:

"He's been too modest, actually," I said.

Esme pushed Edward towards the piano. "Well, play for her," she said.

Edward grinned. "You just said showing off was rude."

Esme rolled her eyes. "There are exceptions to every rule."

"I'd like to hear you play," I said.

I don't blame Meyer for these weaknesses. She was a newbie with this title and the next 3 books show that she took critique and worked with it. Megan Tingley shouldn't have let these things go by. When we write for kids, we want to model good technique. The Twilight series is so popular, that I worry that young readers will emulate some of the style issues in the first book. Teachers may not be able to address these issues in class because the books deal with vampires and some conservative parents will not want them used in a classroom setting. It's up to us and our editors to give kids well-written books.

Mentor Monday - Props

We all know what props are. Charlie Chaplin had his hat and cane, Maxwell Smart had his shoe phone, and Harry Potter had his wand. A prop can be anything at all - clothes, food, tools, animals, even another person. If it exists in your character’s world, then it can be used as a prop.

The most obvious use for a prop is to tell us what your character does. Harry’s wand lets the reader know he’s a wizard, so we can expect to see some magic. The kind of wand he has also tells us what kind of person he is. Harry’s wand is sturdy and strong and similar to Lord Voldemort’s, so we can expect it to be powerful, which makes him powerful. Ron’s wand, on the other hand, is a hand-me-down, and at one point, broken and taped back together. We don’t expect any serious magic to come from it, or Ron. Ron’s wand relegates him to sidekick and comic relief status.

How your character treats their prop also discloses information. A teen-age girl with a brand new hot pink cell phone might spend more time wiping her fingerprints off the phone than using it, or she might toss it wherever when she’s not using it. A poor child living in a home with a broken window stuffed with newspaper might complain about it, live with it, or try to fix it. Each option creates a different type of character.

Props also help create emotion in your story, and in your reader. Let’s say Jack has been stuck in detention for something he didn’t do. When he finally gets out, he misses the bus home and has to walk. It starts to rain. Every step makes him madder and more aggravated. He reaches home and checks the mailbox for an invitation to Tommy’s pool party. It isn’t there and he realizes he hasn’t been invited. He opens the door and sacks out on the couch and thinks about what a lousy day he had. Pete was a jerk for getting him in trouble, and Mrs. White was unfair in giving him detention, and why’d it have to rain anyway.

What is Jack feeling in this scene? Well, he might be mad or he might be feeling sad, or disappointed. It isn’t quite clear. And what did you feel reading it? Probably not a whole lot.

Now add a prop. We’ll give him a dog. So now, after all his travails, he opens the door and there’s his dog, tongue lolling, tail wagging, behind wriggling, eager for some love.

Jack kicks the dog.

Now what do we know about Jack’s feelings? We know he’s not only mad, but he also has a cruel streak in him, which wasn’t evident in the previous scene. And what did you feel? Did you smile at the dog’s description? Were you taken aback when Jack kicked it?

Jack could just as easily have knelt down and hugged the dog, which would have created a different emotion in him and the reader, and would have shown him as a different kind of person. In any case, using the dog as a prop helps show who Jack is in a more effective way than the writer saying, ‘Jack could be a cruel boy when he got angry.’ Or, ‘No matter how angry Jack got, his dog could always cheer him up.’

And finally, props keep your story moving. If we go back to the above examples, nothing is really happening as Jack lies on the couch. He whines and feels sorry for himself, but that’s about it. Once you add a prop to a scene, it forces yours characters to act and react because the prop is tangible. It’s there and has to be dealt with. If Jack had walked in the door and ignored the dog completely, (which is a reaction) it still would have added more to the scene and his characterization than if the dog hadn’t been there at all.

The whole purpose of a prop is support. It aids and helps, whether in the real world or in fiction. Find one in your character’s world and put it to use. Even imaginary characters can use a little help now and then.