Motional Intelligence – New Tool to Build Characters

by Debbie Burke

Spell check thinks the word “motional” is a typo. But it isn’t.

Motional Intelligence: The Power of Movement in Leadership is the title of a new book by Dr. Scott Allison and Dr. George Goethals, professors emeriti at University of Richmond. Their premise is that humans register first impressions of others, not from physical appearance nor what they say, but from how they move.

They write: “Motion is core to social interaction. Before anyone speaks, a conversation has already begun…Speech came late. Motion came first.”  Motional intelligence sounded like a great potential tool for writers to build more interesting characters. So I reached out to Scott Allison to learn more.

Here’s our interview:

Debbie Burke: Thanks for agreeing to talk with me about Motional Intelligence. Would you please explain this concept to Kill Zone readers?

Scott Allison: Yes indeed. Here’s our definition of Motional Intelligence, which we abbreviate as MI. MI is the capacity to use one’s body movements intentionally to communicate and influence others, to accurately perceive, decode, and interpret the body movements of others across contexts, and to regulate one’s own movements – and one’s interpretations of others – in response to shifting social demands. So you can see there are 3 aspects of MI – an expressive component (how we display our own motions), an interpretive component (how we decode others’ motions), and a regulatory component (how we plan and adjust our motions to situational demands). We do these three things effortlessly and often without conscious awareness.

DB: What inspired you to write this book?

SA: One day, somewhere between burgers and coffee, my co-author George Goethals and I shared an epiphany: everything we were analyzing – heroism, leadership, empathy, influence, conflict – depended less on what people said and more on how they moved. Yet psychology had no comprehensive framework for this. This book began the moment we realized that these motions are not incidental to human life; they are human life. According to evolutionary biology, speech came late, and motion came first. George and I just had to write about this!

DB: You talk about familiar ways to measure intelligence like IQ (logical reasoning, problem-solving) and EI (emotional intelligence) but you say MI (motional intelligence) is different. Can you expand on that?

SA: Motional intelligence (MI) is one of many aspects of overall intelligence. MI is not the same as emotional intelligence (EI). EI centers on the perception, regulation, and expression of emotions, typically through facial cues, vocal tone, and affective appraisal. MI, by contrast, isolates a different communicative channel entirely: the dynamic language of body movement.

DB: Is “body language” the same as motional signals?

SA: Yes, in the sense that we use our bodies to communicate, to persuade, and to trigger emotional responses in others.

DB: What character/personality traits are revealed through MI?

SA: Pretty much every personality trait than humans possess can be revealed through motion. Kindness is revealed through a soft posture, a smile, a tilt of the head, and the reaching out of a hand. Dominance is revealed through very different posture, facial expression, and use of limbs. Before anyone speaks, a conversation has already begun. A stranger’s shoulders soften as you approach; a friend leans in before offering a word; a colleague’s foot angles toward the door long before they admit they’re late for another meeting. We live inside a constant choreography of meaning – signals given and received, often without our awareness.

DB: Do you have ideas how writers could use MI to bring fictional characters to life?

SA: Authors of fiction can use MI to animate characters in ways that transcend dialogue and emotional description. Rather than merely telling readers what a character feels, writers can reveal personality, motives, status, intentions, and inner conflict through patterns of movement—posture, gait, gesture, rhythm, pacing, stillness, spatial orientation, and bodily timing. A character with high MI, for example, may subtly mirror another person’s posture to build trust, regulate the emotional climate of a room through calm and deliberate movement, or communicate dominance through economy of motion rather than overt aggression. Conversely, low MI might appear in awkward timing, invasive spatial behavior, rigid posture, excessive fidgeting, or an inability to interpret others’ bodily signals accurately. Fiction writers can also use MI developmentally: a character’s evolving movement patterns may symbolize psychological transformation, growing confidence, moral corruption, intimacy, trauma, or heroic maturation. In this way, bodily motion becomes a narrative language that conveys character identity and relational dynamics at a pre-verbal level, making fictional people feel vividly alive and authentic.

DB: Writers are advised to show, don’t tell. Can you suggest how MI might be used to show relationships between characters? How about to show their conflicts?

SA: MI offers fiction writers a powerful “show, don’t tell” toolkit for revealing relationships and conflict through bodily movement rather than explicit explanation. Healthy relationships can be conveyed through movement synchrony—characters mirroring posture, walking in step, sharing relaxed rhythms, anticipating one another’s actions, or comfortably occupying shared space—thereby signaling trust, intimacy, affection, or familiarity. Romantic attraction may appear in subtle orientation cues, lingering gestures, or softened movement, while friendship may emerge through playful physical ease and unguarded posture. Conflict, though, often disrupts bodily coordination through avoidance, rigid posture, pacing, competing movement rhythms, territorial spacing, or emotional stillness. Writers can also show relational transformation over time by altering these movement patterns, allowing bodily synchrony, distance, hesitation, or tension to function as a nonverbal narrative language that makes fictional relationships feel psychologically authentic and vividly alive.

DB: I can imagine ways that misreads of a character’s MI could lead to misinterpretations and plot complications. You’re also a film expert and co-author of the book Reel Heroes and Villains. Can you give movie examples where MI (or lack thereof) was instrumental in driving the plot?

SA: Absolutely. MI is often central to cinematic storytelling because film is an inherently movement-based medium. In The Dark Knight, Heath Ledger’s Joker possesses a dark form of MI. He constantly manipulates spatial dynamics, bodily unpredictability, and movement rhythm to destabilize others psychologically. His erratic gestures, invasive proximity, asymmetrical posture, and sudden stillness generate tension and fear, driving much of the film’s emotional chaos. In The Devil Wears Prada, Meryl Streep’s Miranda Priestly uses highly regulated MI to project authority. Her economy of motion, precise pacing, controlled stillness, and minimal gestures create an aura of dominance that shapes every interaction around her. In Napoleon Dynamite, Napolean’s social awkwardness emerges through stiff posture, delayed reactions, unusual gait, and poor synchrony with peers, creating both comedy and emotional isolation.

DB: Where can readers find your new book?

SA: Our MI book is available on Amazon or Barnes and Noble. There is a kindle version, too.

DB: Thank you, Scott, for exploring this interesting topic.

SA: My pleasure and thank you for showing an interest!

~~~

TKZers: Can you think of film characters who use MI especially effectively? Do you see ways MI might help your work in progress?

~~~

Dr. Scott Allison and Dr. George Goethals graciously gave me major assistance with the psychology of villains for The Villain’s Journey: How to Create Villains Readers Love to Hate

Please check out The Villain’s Journey at: 

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Bookshop.org

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Two Things Every Novel Needs

by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Raymond Chandler

“Trouble is my business.”—Raymond Chandler

There are three kinds of people in the world: those who can count, and those who can’t. And there are two things every novel needs if you want to please readers—Conflict and Suspense. Let us examine.

Conflict

What is the goal of your novel? Is it to entertain? Teach? Preach? Stir up anger? Change the world? Make you a lot of money?

It might be any of these things, but in the end, none of these objectives will work to their full potential unless they forge, in some way, a satisfying emotional experience for the reader.

And what gets the reader hooked emotionally? Trouble. Readers are gripped by the trials a character goes through. It’s a human response called empathy. We “see” ourselves in a character’s problems, and follow the story from there. And story has to include a problem that arises from plot.

Someday I’ll do a deep dive into when plot, once proudly championed by writers, became a “four-letter word” to many in the writing game. At some time or other it became fashionable to assert that character is primary over plot. It’s actually the exact opposite: True character is only revealed in crisis. Plunge your character into big trouble (plot) and then we’ll see what he or she is made of (character).

If you don’t believe me, imagine a 400 page novel about Scarlett O’Hara where she just sits on the porch all day, sipping mint juleps and flirting with a variety of of beaus. Gone With the Wind only takes off (on page 6) when she finds out Ashley is going to marry Melanie (trouble). And then the Civil War breaks out (big trouble!).

Another way to think about it is this: We all wear masks in our lives. A major crisis forces us to take off the mask and reveal who we really are. That’s the role of conflict in fiction, to rip the mask off the character.

Now, this conflict must be of sufficient magnitude to matter to readers. That’s why I teach that “death stakes” must be involved. Your Lead character must be facing death—which can be physical, professional or psychological.

Genre doesn’t matter. In a literary novel like The Catcher in the Rye, it’s psychological death. Holden Caulfield must find meaning in the world or he will “die inside.” Psychological death is also the key to a category romance. If the two lovers do not get together, they will lose their soul mate. They will die inside and forever have diminished lives. (That’s the feeling you need to create. Think about it. Why was Titanic such a hit with teen girls? It wasn’t because of the special effects!)

In The Silence of the Lambs, it’s professional death on the line. Clarice Starling must help bring down Buffalo Bill in part by playing mind games with Hannibal Lecter. If she doesn’t prevail, another innocent will die (physical death in the subplot) and Clarice’s career will be over.

And in most thrillers, of course, you have the threat of physical death hanging over the whole thing.

That’s why, novelist friend, trouble is indeed your business. Without sufficient conflict readers aren’t going to care enough to finish the book.

Suspense

The second element is suspense, and I don’t just mean in the suspense novel per se. Suspense means to “delay resolution so as to excite anticipation.” Another way to say this is that it’s the opposite of having a predictable story. If the reader keeps guessing what’s going to happen, and is right, there is no great pleasure in reading the novel. It will, in other words, be boring.

We’ve all had the wonderful experience of being so caught up in a story that we have to keep turning the pages. This is where writing technique can be studied and learned and applied. For example, there are various ways you can end a chapter so readers are compelled to read on. I call these “Read on Prompts,” and it was one of the first things I set out to study when I got serious about writing as a career. I went to a used bookstore and bought a bunch of King, Koontz and Grisham. When I’d get to the end of a chapter I’d write in pencil on the page what they did to prompt me to read on.

Again, genre doesn’t matter. You have to be able to excite anticipation and avoid predictability no matter what kind of book you write. Suspense technique helps you to do that. (See also Brother Gilstrap’s post about tension.) I even wrote a book for Writer’s Digest Books with the clever title Conflict & Suspense.

The prodigious pulp writer William Wallace Cook put it this way back in 1923: “Plot…is life responding to environment; and not only is this response always in terms of conflict, but the really great struggle, the epic struggle of creation, is the inner fight of the individual whereby the soul builds up character.”

Believe it.

Comments welcome.

Living, Breathing Characters

by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Colin Clive in Frankenstein

In the classic Universal horror movie Frankenstein, Colin Clive, overacting as Dr. Frankenstein, shouts, “IT’S ALIVE! IT’S ALIIIIIIVE!” He’s thrilled to the core when his creation takes on real life.

The doc was onto something. Isn’t that how you feel when your character starts to come alive as you write?

While there are many aspects of great character work, I think the following three features are always present.

1. Attitude

Compelling characters have a way of looking at the world that is uniquely their own. This is attitude, and done well it sets them apart from every other fictional creation.

If you are writing in first-person point of view, attitude should permeate the voice of the narrator. Julianna Baggott’s Lead in Girl Talk, Lissy Jablonski, is smart, witty and a bit cynical. She describes an old boyfriend:

He’d been a ceramics major because he wanted to get dirty, a philosophy major because he wanted to be allowed to think dirty, a forestry major because he wanted to be one with the dirt, and a psychology major because he wanted to help people deal with their dirt. But nothing suited him.

We learn a lot about Lissy from her singular voice. One thing she’s not is dull.

A third-person character shows attitude primarily through dialogue and thoughts. In L.A. Justice we’re given a look into the head of Nikki Hill, the deputy D.A. who is the Lead in the Christopher Darden/Dick Lochte legal thriller. In one scene she reacts to her superior, the acting D.A. He’s a man of two personalities she had labeled “Dr. Jazz” and “Mr. Snide.” In the office he was the latter, bent and dour, with an acid tongue and total lack of social grace . . . At the moment, he was definitely in his Mr. Snide mode.

This is a quick look at Nikki’s attitude toward authority, which continues to be developed in the novel.

The best way to find your character’s unique views is to listen. You do this by creating a free-form journal in the character’s voice. It’s okay if you don’t know what the voice is going to sound like when you start. Keep writing, fast and furious, in ten to twenty minute stretches. A voice will begin to emerge.

Have the character to pontificate on such questions as:

  • What do you care most about in the world?
  • What really ticks you off?
  • If you could do one thing, and succeed at it, what would it be?
  • What people do you most admire, and why?
  • What was your childhood like?
  • What’s the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you?

Let the answers come in any form, without editing. Your goal is not to create usable copy (though you certainly will find some gems). Rather, you want to get to know, deeply, the character with whom you’re going to spend an entire novel.

2. Courage

A great novel, I say again, is the record of how a character overcomes some form of death—physical, professional, or psychological. Which means the Lead has to have guts.

In Rose Madder, Stephen King gives us a Lead who is weak and vulnerable—a terribly abused wife. In the Prologue we see Rose Daniels, pregnant, savagely beaten by her husband. The section ends, Rose McClendon Daniels slept within her husband’s madness for nine more years.

Chapter One begins with Rose, bleeding from the nose, finally listening to the voice inside her that says leave. She argues with herself. Her husband will kill her if she tries. Where will she go? But finally she works up the courage to open the front door and take her first dozen steps into the fogbank which was her future.

Every step she takes now requires courage. Rose is unprepared for dealing with the outside world, with simple things like getting a bus ticket or a job. And all the while she knows her husband is going to be tracking her. Still, she moves forward, and we root for her.

3. Surprises

A character who never surprises us is dull by definition.

Surprising behavior often surfaces under conditions of excitement, stress or inner conflict. Archie Caswell, the 14-year-old protagonist of Han Nolan’s When We Were Saints, is torn about his experience of the divine. Alone on a mountain he dug his hands into the ground beneath him, pulling up pine needles and dirt. He threw it at the trees. He picked up some more and threw it, too. He berates God, then asks God’s forgiveness.

It’s completely unexpected behavior from a heretofore normal, troublemaking kid. And bonds us to him all the more.

When your character has an emotional reaction, don’t choose the first one that comes to mind. That’ll be expected. Brainstorm. Make a surprise.

If you plumb the depths of your characters’ lives by exploring these three aspects, your fiction will truly come ALIIIIIIVE!

What do you do to bring life to your characters?

Reader Friday-Let’s Go To The Oscars!

Here’s your Reader Friday assignment for today…

Pick your favorite character in your favorite book—one that has not yet been made into a movie—a book written by you or by another author.

 

Now pick an actor to play that character in the upcoming movie. Give us the name of the book, the character, and who gets the part.

And, inquiring minds want to know: Why did you choose that book, that character, and that actor?

Bonus question: Name the actress in this photo, the movie, and the year she won this Best Actress Oscar. Should be a slam-dunk for most of us…

 

Building Character

By Elaine Viets

When I started writing Sex and Death on the Beach, the first mystery in my new Florida Beach series, I wrestled with a problem I hadn’t had for some time: Creating characters.

All my mysteries have new characters, but when I’m introducing a new series, I have to create characters I can use throughout the series. This took at least five rewrites.

My main character is Norah McCarthy, who inherited a 1920s apartment house in mythical Peerless Point, Florida. Norah was orphaned as a little girl and brought up by her grandmother, a Florodora Girl. She was a showgirl.

Version 1.0.0

The residents of Norah’s building belong to an exclusive group. They must be Florida Men and Women, but the benign variety. The exploits of Florida Man often include alligators and alcohol. You’ve seen the headlines: “Florida Man Busted with Meth, Guns and Baby Gator in Truck.” The residents are her adopted family, and they will appear in future mysteries.

Bare bones characters:

Some characters will probably only appear once, in Sex and Death on the Beach. Like Elwin Sanford.

Elwin is “a rotund man in a hardhat, neon safety vest and gray cover­alls. He had a wispy mouse-colored mustache and weedy patches of hair clinging to his sweaty scalp. In fact, with his round body, gray coveralls and twitchy nose, he looked like a cartoon mouse.”

Elwin’s appearance is a clue to his character. He, a city inspector, is a crook and looks like one.

Important supporting characters.

Norah McCarthy has two live-in staff members at the Florodora apartments. One is the handyman-gardener is Rafael, a native of Colombia. In the first rewrite, Rafael is “a dark, stocky man who knows inventive ways to repair ancient machinery, handles maintenance and takes care of the grounds. He keeps the building one step ahead of the city inspectors, who are determined to shut us down. Rafael has a bachelor apartment above the garage.”

Rafael ducks difficult questions by looking confused and saying, “No spik Engleesh.”

At that point, was Rafael a real character?

Not  yet. All I have are the bare bones. Rafael is simply someone who has a few quirky mannerisms.

For the third rewrite, I sat down and wrote a bio of every major supporting character. In that version, my main character Norah chided Rafael when he used his “No spik Engleesh” routine with a cop. Norah tells him:

“Eventually you’re going to get caught, Rafael. You speak excellent English. You were a judge in Colombia.”

Norah instantly regrets her thoughtless remark: “As soon as the words passed my lips I wished I could take them back.

“The sudden sadness in Rafael’s eyes was a terrible rebuke. Rafael fled Medellin in 1986, after Pablo Escobar killed his wife and baby son. Grandma hired him, and he’d worked at the Florodora ever since. His ambition died with his family.”

Late at night, Norah would often see Rafael sitting on the flat roof of his garage apartment staring at the ocean, as if he could see all the way to his troubled country.

“Rafael never discussed his family’s murders. He hid his heart­break with superficial jokes and his ‘no-spik-Engleesh’ routine.”

I also wrote this bio of Rafael’s red truck: “The old truck rattled and lurched. A loose spring in the seatback poked passengers every time Rafael hit the brakes.

“The air conditioning worked when it felt like it. Whenever the air-con quit, Rafael would give the dashboard a hearty whap and cool air would pour out again.”

The Florodora has five permanent residents. I’m partial to Billie the banana bandit. Billie held up a convenience store with a banana and stole three overdone dogs from its hot dog roller grill. Billie worries his crime will somehow come to light, even though there was no police report and he ate the evidence.

At first, that’s about all I said about Billie, except he was a movie buff who perpetually held his own personal filmfest.

Billie needed more depth, so I had him write retrospectives about movies and made his first book a New York Times bestseller.

Billie had “turned his obsession into a successful writing career.”

He was currently researching his new film “book, Seeing in the Dark. This week it was the Rocky movies, and Billie was looking for the thirty-five goofs and plot holes that were supposedly in the Sly Stallone boxing movies. That’s how he prepared for his work, by looking for the mistakes in the movies.”

Billie comes downstairs, “wearing baggy jeans and a red Bruce Willis T-shirt that read, “I survived the Nakatomi Plaza Christmas party 1988.”

Nakatomi Plaza. The setting for Die Hard.

Die HardNorah tell him, “Let me guess. You’re also doing a Die Hard retrospective for your new book.”

“Yep,” Billie said. “Did you see the first Die Hard movie?’

“It’s been a while, but I liked it.”

“Me, too,” Billie said. “But there are supposed to be more than a hundred mistakes in the first movie alone, and I’m trying to find them all.”

Billie will tell Norah about as many as possible.

Another favorite character in Sex and Death on the Beach is Mickey, the artist. At first, I described Mickey as single, “kind and gentle,” and wearing offbeat clothes, including “a funky orange-striped caftan.”

Boring. Mickey had to be more than a heap of clothes. Readers had to care about her.

So I added, she “works as a freelance artist, but she’s been known to vandalize for a good cause.

“When posters appeared on the local telephone poles insulting black people, Mickey was horrified. She went around Peerless Point, covering the offensive posters with her homemade one, which said, ‘I covered the ugly racist poster here with a cat photo.’

“My favorite prank was what Mickey did in the local gas station bathroom. In the restroom was a wall-mounted infant diaper changing station that pulled down into a changing bed. Mickey put a sign on the plastic baby bed that said, ‘Place sacrifice here.’”

Mickey drives a “powder blue VW Bug with a sign in the back window: ‘Adults on Board. We want to live, too.’”

For this series, I recorded how all my characters got around. Some took the bus or bummed rides, others drove.

The Florida Beach bios total 22 pages single-spaced, and describe buildings, apartments, cars and characters minor and major, first and last names. I hope you’ll enjoy them.

Writers, do you use character bios for your books?

Buy Sex and Death at the Beach online. NOTE: Prices may vary. Please check before you buy:

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/326up5ny

Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/3tx8x4fb

Thriftbooks https://tinyurl.com/3vk9yhb5.

Or order it from your local bookstores, including Harvard Book Store https://www.harvard.com/book/9781448314799.

 

Character Building

By Elaine Viets

When I started writing Sex and Death on the Beach, the first mystery in my new Florida Beach series, I wrestled with a problem I hadn’t had for some time: Creating characters.

All my mysteries have new characters, but when I’m introducing a new series, I have to create characters I can use throughout the series. This took at least five rewrites.

My main character is Norah McCarthy, who inherited a 1920s apartment house in mythical Peerless Point, Florida. Norah was orphaned at age four and brought up by her grandmother, a retired Florodora Girl.

The residents of Norah’s building belong to an exclusive group. They must be Florida Men and Women, but the benign variety. The exploits of Florida Man often include alligators and alcohol. You’ve seen the headlines: “Florida Man Busted with Meth, Guns and Baby Gator in Truck.” The residents are her adopted family, and they will appear in future mysteries.

Bare bones characters

Some characters will probably only appear once in Sex and Death on the Beach. Like Elwin Sanford.

Elwin is “a rotund man in a hardhat, neon safety vest and gray cover­alls. He had a wispy mouse-colored mustache and weedy patches of hair clinging to his sweaty scalp. In fact, with his round body, gray coveralls and twitchy nose, he looked like a cartoon mouse.”

Elwin’s appearance is a clue to his character. A city inspector, he is a crook and looks like one.

Important supporting characters

Norah McCarthy has two live-in staff members at the Florodora apartments. One is the handyman-gardener Rafael, a native of Colombia. In the first rewrite, Rafael is “a dark, stocky man who knows inventive ways to repair ancient machinery, handles maintenance and takes care of the grounds. He keeps the building one step ahead of the city inspectors, who are determined to shut us down. Rafael has a bachelor apartment above the garage.”

Rafael ducks difficult questions by looking confused and saying, “No spik Engleesh.”

At that point, was Rafael a real character?

Not  yet. All I have are the bare bones. Rafael is simply someone who has a few quirky mannerisms.

For the third rewrite, I sat down and wrote a bio of every major supporting character. In that version, my main character Norah chided Rafael when he used his “No spik Engleesh” routine with a cop. Norah tells him:

“Eventually you’re going to get caught, Rafael. You speak excellent English. You were a judge in Colombia.”

Norah instantly regrets her thoughtless remark: “As soon as the words passed my lips I wished I could take them back.

“The sudden sadness in Rafael’s eyes was a terrible rebuke. Rafael fled Medellin in 1986, after Pablo Escobar killed Rafael’s wife and baby son. Grandma hired him, and he’d worked at the Florodora ever since. His ambition died with his family.

“Late at night, I’d often see Rafael sitting on the flat roof of his garage apartment staring at the ocean, as if he could see all the way to his troubled country.

“Rafael never discussed his family’s murders. He hid his heart­break with superficial jokes and his ‘no-spik-Engleesh’ routine.”

I also wrote this bio of Rafael’s red truck: “The old truck rattled and lurched. A loose spring in the seatback poked passengers every time Rafael hit the brakes.

“The air conditioning worked when it felt like it. Whenever the air-con quit, Rafael would give the dashboard a hearty whap and cool air would pour out again.”

The Florodora has five permanent residents.

I’m partial to Billie the banana bandit. Billie held up a convenience store with a banana and stole three overdone dogs from its hot dog roller grill. Billie worries his crime will somehow come to light, even though there was no police report and he ate the evidence.

At first, that’s about all I said about Billie, except he was a movie buff who perpetually held his own personal filmfest.

Billie needed more depth, so I had him write retrospectives about movies. His first book was a New York Times bestseller.

Billie had “turned his obsession into a successful writing career.”

He was currently researching his new film book, Seeing in the Dark. This week it was the Rocky movies, and Billie was looking for the thirty-five goofs and plot holes that were supposedly in the Sly Stallone boxing movies. That’s how he prepared for his work, by looking for the mistakes in the movies.

Billie comes downstairs “wearing baggy jeans and a red Bruce Willis T-shirt that read, “I survived the Nakatomi Plaza Christmas party 1988.”

Nakatomi Plaza. The setting for Die Hard.

Norah tell him, “Let me guess. You’re also doing a Die Hard retrospective for your new book.”

“Yep,” Billie said. “Did you see the first Die Hard movie?’

“It’s been a while, but I liked it.”

“Me, too,” Billie said. “But there are supposed to be more than a hundred mistakes in the first movie alone, and I’m trying to find them all.”

Billie will tell Norah about as many as possible.

Another favorite character in Sex and Death on the Beach is Mickey, the artist. At first, I described Mickey as single, “kind and gentle,” and wearing offbeat clothes, including “a funky orange-striped caftan.”

Boring. Mickey had to be more than a heap of clothes. Readers had to care about her.

So I added, she “works as a freelance artist, but she’s been known to vandalize for a good cause.

“When posters appeared on the local telephone poles insulting black people, Mickey was horrified. She went around Peerless Point, covering the offensive posters with her homemade one, which said, ‘I covered the ugly racist poster here with a cat photo.’

“My favorite prank was what Mickey did in the local gas station bathroom. In the restroom was a wall-mounted infant diaper changing station that pulled down into a changing bed. Mickey put a sign on the plastic baby bed that said, ‘Place sacrifice here.’”

Mickey drives a “powder blue VW Bug with a sign in the back window: ‘Adults on Board. We want to live, too.’”

For this series, I recorded how all my characters got around. Some took the bus or bummed rides, others drove.

The Florida Beach bios total 22 pages single spaced, and describe buildings, apartments, cars and characters minor and major, first and last names. I hope you’ll enjoy them.

Writers, do you use character bios for your books?

Buy Sex and Death at the Beach online. NOTE: Prices may vary. Please check before you buy:

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/326up5ny

Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/3tx8x4fb

Thriftbooks https://tinyurl.com/3vk9yhb5.

Or order it from your local bookstores, including Harvard Book Store https://www.harvard.com/book/9781448314799.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Characters: Round and Flat

“You can never know enough about your characters.” —W. Somerset Maugham

* * *

In his work Aspects of the Novel, E.M. Forster introduced the concept of round and flat characters (i.e., three-dimensional and two-dimensional.)

Round Characters

Basically, round characters are defined by their complexity. They are likely to have complicated personalities and wrestle with life’s issues.

According to masterclass.com,

“A round character is deep and layered character in a story. Round characters are interesting to audiences because they feel like real people; audiences often feel invested in these characters’ goals, successes, failures, strengths, and weaknesses.”

Characters cited as examples of roundness are Elizabeth Bennet in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Jay Gatsby in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, and Huck Finn in Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Forster says most Russian novels are filled with round characters. He believed all the principal characters in War and Peace and all of Dostoevsky’s characters are round. Russian authors are apparently fond of complexity.

When we discuss characterization on TKZ, we often talk about adding complexity to our characters, whether they’re major or minor. We want multi-dimensional characters that engage the reader. But according to Forster, the use of flat characters can be very effective as well.

Flat Characters

For example, here’s an excerpt about flat characters from Aspects of the Novel:

“In their purest form, they are constructed round a single idea or quality: when there is more than one factor in them, we get the beginning of the curve towards the round.”

Forster goes on to explain that flat characters are easily recognized and easily remembered by whatever one quality defines them.

Flat characters are often humorous, and readers have a certain comfort in knowing the flat character won’t change over the course of the story. Their singular quality will remain intact. The bumbling sidekick is one such character. He breaks the tension in the story, and you know he’ll trip and fall into a mud puddle or spill coffee in someone’s lap whenever he appears.

Flat characters can often be summed up in one sentence. For example, in his audio course “Writing Great Fiction: Storytelling Tips and Techniques,” James Hynes defined Huckleberry Finn’s father, Pap Finn, as flat. Pap could easily be described as “a mean drunk.”

Although we think of flatness mostly in terms of minor characters, major characters can also be flat. Forster cites the author Charles Dickens as a case in point.

“The case of Dickens is significant. Dickens’ people are nearly all flat…. Part of the genius of Dickens is that he does use types and caricatures, people whom we recognize the instant they re-enter, and yet achieves effects that are not mechanical and a vision of humanity that is not shallow.”

In his lecture, James Hynes also mentioned Sherlock Holmes as an example of a main character who is flat. Holmes rarely changes in Doyle’s novels. He’s always the perfect human automaton who solves crimes by his amazing powers of deduction. Yet Holmes was such a wildly popular main character that when Sir Arthur killed him off, the public outcry was so loud, he had to find a way to bring Holmes back for future books.

* * *

But whether your characters are round or flat,

“Remember: Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations.”—Ray Bradbury

* * *

So TKZers: What fictional characters would you describe as round or flat? How about characters in your novels?

 

Private pilot Cassie Deakin struggles with her distrust of Deputy Frank White when she has to team up with him to solve a murder mystery.

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Seven Questions to Test Your Characters

By Debbie Burke

@burke_writer

How characters act under stress is one of the best techniques to show what they’re made of.

Photo credit: Lisa Brewster, CC-BY-SA 2.0

 

 

If there’s a minor hiccup in their routine, do they take it in stride or become a drama llama?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When life delivers an unexpected setback, do they pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and make a new plan? Or do they stand around wondering “why me”?

 

 

 

 

 

Photo credit: Pixabay

 

 

A catastrophe threatens their lives or the lives of others. Do they freeze, flee, or run toward the disaster?

 

 

 

 

Whether large or small, a crisis brings out new aspects of the character’s personality, thought processes, emotional reactions, strengths, and weaknesses.

Are they courageous? Cowardly? Indecisive? Altruistic? Sneaky? Conniving? Manipulative? Driven by selfish interests?

Do they take charge and tackle the problem head on? Or do they avoid it until forced to face it?

Recently I ran across a 1980 book by Terrence Des Pres entitled: The Survivor-An Anatomy of Life in the Death Camps. He did extensive research, studying the differing reactions of people who survived the Holocaust vs. those who didn’t.

In the introduction, he wrote:

“It turns out that survival is an experience with a definite structure, neither random nor regressive nor amoral. The aim of this book has been to make that structure visible.”

Two of his conclusions were startling.

First, newly arrived prisoners had the highest death rate.

Second, criminals had the highest survival rate.

Why?

Newcomers often froze. They went into shock and denial. They couldn’t adjust physically, mentally, or psychologically to their horrifying new circumstances. That paralysis and inability to adapt led to high death rates.

Criminals, on the other hand, adapted better and survived at a higher rate. Because they were used to living outside of society’s rules and norms, they changed their behavior more easily to avoid being caught in the daily dangers of the camps.

How do your characters handle stress? Do they freeze and withdraw? Do they pivot in a new direction? Do they react impulsively? Do they make a rational plan to overcome difficulty? Do they wait/hope for someone else to solve the problem? Do they seek guidance or cooperation from others, or are they lone wolves? Do they manipulate the situation to their advantage?

Here’s an unscientific quiz to test the mettle of characters in your WIP. The questions range from trivial annoyances to life-or-death disasters.

How characters react to small problems may indicate how they treat more serious trials.

Or not. A character who appears fragile or weak on the surface may rise up to show hidden strengths or talents.

Try running all your major characters through the quiz—protagonist and antagonist, as well as secondary characters who play important roles like partners, love interests, family, coworkers, mentors, etc. See what each one does. Discover what conclusions you can draw from their behavior.

There are no right or wrong, good or bad answers. The only meaningful answer is whether a character’s reaction is authentic and true to their personality.

Question #1 – Your character runs out of shampoo in the shower. What does s/he do?

  1. Screams for someone else to bring more shampoo.
  2. Uses soap instead even though it leaves hair greasy.
  3. Says screw it and finishes with water only.
  4. Wraps up in a towel and drips down the hall to find more shampoo.
  5. Fill in a different answer.

Question #2 – In a remote location without cell service, your character’s car doesn’t start. The only other vehicle around is a stick shift, which your character never learned to drive. What does s/he do?

  1. Tries to call Triple A, hoping for a signal.
  2. Tinkers under the hood to try to start it.
  3. Starts walking.
  4. Drives the unfamiliar vehicle, even though the gears grind.
  5. Remains in the broken-down car with windows up and doors locked.
  6. Jacks the first car that comes along.
  7. Fill in a different answer.

Question #3 – Your character lands in a foreign country and doesn’t speak the language. Luggage is lost and a pickpocket steals passport, credit cards, and cash. What does s/he do?

  1. Screams at airport employees.
  2. Tackles the thief and beats the snot out of them. And is probably arrested.
  3. Uses sign language to report thefts to the authorities.
  4. Contacts the embassy or consulate for help.
  5. Hopes a sympathetic stranger feels sorry enough to offer assistance.
  6. Fill in a different answer.

Question #4 – The electricity goes off and there’s no cell service. What does your character do?

  1. Starts up the generator that s/he bought to prepare for this contingency and proceeds with normal activities.
  2. Ambushes the prepper neighbor who has the generator and takes it away from them.
  3. Reads a book by candlelight and thinks “Gee, this is kinda romantic.”
  4. Hyperventilates. Alternatively, hides under the bed so the bogey man can’t get him/her.
  5. Goes searching for missing family and friends.
  6. Seizes this golden opportunity to commit crimes b/c the chances of getting caught or punished are low.
  7. Fill in a different answer.

Question #5 – The house/apartment catches fire. What does your character do?

  1. Grabs the already-packed bug-out bag which contains medications, passport, flashdrive backups, and cash.
  2. Grabs loved ones and pets and runs like hell.
  3. Grabs a fire extinguisher and fights the blaze.
  4. Stands and watches because s/he just dropped acid and is enjoying the far-out colors, man.
  5. Shoves an abusive partner into the flames, slams and locks the door, and runs like hell.
  6. Fill in a different answer.

Question #6 – Your character’s spouse and child are drowning. S/he can only save one. What does your character do?

  1. Saves the child.
  2. Saves the spouse.
  3. Saves the closest one.
  4. The decision is too impossible to fathom so they all drown together.
  5. Prays for a miracle.
  6. Drowns themselves b/c they can’t live with the guilt.
  7. Fill in a different answer.

Question #7 – Your character is facing death with no possible reprieve and no way out. What does s/he do?

  1. Prays.
  2. Requests a blindfold and a last cigarette.
  3. Weeps.
  4. Sends a last message to loved ones.
  5. Shivers with terror.
  6. Takes down as many enemies as possible.
  7. Screams, “This can’t be happening!”
  8. Fill in a different answer.

Did you learn more about your characters?

Do these insights help your story? Drive it in a new direction?

In a sad, ironic footnote, author Terrence Des Pres died at age 47 by hanging, his death ruled “accidental” by the Madison County (NY) medical examiner’s office.

~~~

TKZers: Please share “different answers” you filled in.

~~~

 

By book #4 in the Tawny Lindholm Thriller series, I thought I knew the two main characters well. But I learned surprising new facets when they are caught in Hurricane Irma in Dead Man’s Bluff. Stranded in an unfamiliar, flooded Florida landscape without electricity, they must hunt for a missing friend. Soon they discover predators, animal and human, are hunting for them.

Special price today only $.99.

Minor Characters to the Rescue

by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Today’s post is brought to you by the new Mike Romeo thriller, Romeo’s Justice, now available for pre-order at the ridiculously low deal price of just $1.99. (Outside the U.S., go to your Kindle store and search for: B0CHMTRC6N)

Which brings me to the subject of minor characters (you’ll find out why in a moment).

First, let’s define terms. Though you’ll find variations on how fictional character types are defined, I’ll break it down this way: Main, Secondary, and Minor.

Main characters are those who are essential to the plot and usually appear in several scenes.

Secondary characters are supporting players who have a more limited, though sometimes crucial, role.

Minor characters are those who are necessary for a scene or two, and may only appear once, twice or a few times throughout.

For example, in Dashiell Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon, the main characters are Sam Spade, Brigid O’Shaughnessy, Joel Cairo, and Casper Gutman. They recur throughout the book.

Effie Perrine, Sam Spade’s secretary, is a secondary character, who provides information and plot relief later in the story.

Wilmer Cook, Gutman’s enforcer, is a minor character, as is Tom Polhaus, Spade’s cop friend.

I call secondary and minor characters “spice.” They can add just the right touch of tasty flavor to a story. But if they’re bland or stereotypical, you’re wasting the ingredient.

So where do you start? By giving each one a tag (something physical) and a singular way of talking.

The Maltese Falcon is a masterclass in characterization. The following descriptions are for main characters, but I include them as examples of Hammett’s orchestration—making each character different in order to increase conflict.

Early on, Sam Spade gets a visit at his office from an odd little fellow named Joel Cairo.

Mr. Joel Cairo was a small-boned dark man of medium height. His hair was black and smooth and very glossy. His features were Levantine. A square-cut ruby, its sides paralleled by four baguette diamonds, gleamed against the deep green of his cravat. His black coat, cut tight to narrow shoulders, flared a little over slightly plump hips.

Cairo has a distinct way of speaking:

“May a stranger offer condolences for your partner’s unfortunate death?”

***

“Our conversations in private have not been such that I am anxious to continue them.”

Then we have the “fat man,” Casper Gutman, who—

was flabbily fat with bulbous pink cheeks and lips and chins and neck, with a great soft egg of a belly that was all his torso, and pendant cones for arms and legs. As he advanced to meet Spade all his bulbs rose and shook and fell separately with each step, in the manner of clustered soap-bubbles not yet released from the pipe through which they had been blown.

When he talks to Spade, he sounds like this:

“Now, sir, we’ll talk if you like. And I’ll tell you right out that I’m a man who likes talking to a man that likes to talk.”

***

“You’re the man for me, sir, a man cut along my own lines. No beating about the bush, but right to the point. ‘Will we talk about the black bird?’ We will. I like that, sir. I like that way of doing business. Let us talk about the black bird by all means…”

You get the idea. Physicality and speech pattern. Tags and dialogue. Even for minor characters. In Falcon, Wilmer Cook, the “gunsel,” plays a small but important role. Hammett describes him only as a “youth” wearing a “cap.” When he talks, he tries too hard to sound like a tough guy.

Dwight Frye as Wilmer Cook in the 1931 version of The Maltese Falcon

The boy raised his eyes to Spade’s mouth and spoke in the strained voice of one in physical pain: “Keep on riding me and you’re going to be picking iron out of your navel.”

Spade chuckled. “The cheaper the crook, the gaudier the patter,” he said cheerfully. “Well, let’s go.”

And while we’re on the subject of minor characters, I want to talk about how they can save your bacon when you close in on the end of your book. This happened to me as I was finishing the aforementioned Romeo’s Justice. My plot was rolling along nicely, unfurling several threads of mystery and suspense, strategically woven into the plot according to my outline. But when I got to the end, there was one thread that was still dangling. I needed to clear this up for the reader. But how?

I made up a minor character to explain it.

But wait, didn’t I just say this was at the end? You can’t just bring in some character at the very end, out of the blue, to save your keister, can you?

Of course you can! All you have to do is work that character into an early scene or two, setting him up for the big reveal.

I thumbed through my hard copy of the first draft and located a place in Act I where I could intro the character. I ended up with a minor character who I’m sure is going to show up in a future book.

This is what’s fun about being an author. You create your world and your people, and you remain sovereign over the proceedings. You can go back and move things around as you see fit. And then you can put the book up for pre-order.

What’s your approach to creating minor characters? 

Give Your Characters Memories

by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Whenever I think of the past, it brings back so many memories. — Steven Wright

We often talk about a character’s backstory, including a “wound” that haunts as a “ghost” in the present. It’s a solid device, giving a character interesting and mysterious subtext at the beginning. The wound is revealed later as an explanation. (Think of Rick in Casablanca. “I stick my neck out for nobody” and his casual using of women. The wound of Ilsa’s “betrayal” doesn’t become clear until the midpoint).

An often overlooked, but equally useful item, is a character’s memories. These can show up when we want a deeper look inside. It is sometimes recalled as a flashback, but can also be revealed in a dialogue exchange. One of my favorite examples of the latter is when the three friends in City Slickers are riding along together and share the best day and worst day of their lives.* In my workshops I have the students do a best day-worst day voice journal for their Lead, and suggest they do the same for other main characters, including the villain.

Another way to access this material is through your own memories. And a good way to do that is via morning pages. One exercise is to write I remember and just go. What’s the first thing that comes to mind? Follow the tangents. The other morning I did just that:

I remember a mobile hanging above my crib. Do I? Or did I formulate it later as a created memory? I don’t know, but I can see it even now.

A nursery school memory I know is real. There was a girl crying in the room, which had walls with nursery rhyme murals on them. I vividly recall a grandfather clock with a mouse running up. Anyway, I went up to the girl and started to pet her hair. I didn’t want her to be sad. 

In third grade there was a girl in our class named Leslie. She was sort of an outsider. Never said much. One rainy day I was walking home from school in my raincoat when I came upon Leslie crying her little eyes out. She was having trouble holding her books, lunchbox and umbrella. So I took the books from her and offered to walk her home. Immediately she brightened up and chatted away all the way to her house.

Not long after that I was riding my bike when I made a wrong move and crashed into a tree. Down I went. My arm exploded in pain. As I lay there moaning, a woman ran out of her house to check on me. She helped me up and into her house, where she called my mom to come and get me. Mom took me to our family doctor (remember those?), the same doctor, Dr. Depper, who had delivered me into the world. My arm wasn’t broken, but it got wrapped up and put in a sling. When we got home, Mom turned on the TV. My favorite show was on, Huckleberry Hound. Mom gave me some ice cream.

About forty years later, Mrs. B and I were having dinner at a Mexican restaurant when an elderly gentleman came in with his wife and was seated.

“You see that man?” I said to Cindy. “He’s the doctor who delivered me.”

I went over. “Dr. Depper?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Rosemary Bell’s son.”

“Well I’ll be!”

“I remember your office in Canoga Park. You had a great aquarium in the waiting room.”

“Oh, yes. Those were the days, weren’t they?”

Yes indeed, those were the days, and the memories are priceless.

Do you give your characters memories?

What’s your earliest memory? 

What act of kindness were you shown when you were young?

*Here’s that scene from City Slickers. It’s beautiful writing.