Category Archives: Character

Building Character

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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

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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

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“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.

Available at  Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books.

Seven Questions to Test Your Characters

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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

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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

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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.

 

Get That To-The-Bone Feel For Your Characters

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Some years ago, Kill Zone emeritus Robert Gregory Browne wrote this:

If my lead character is a divorced father of three who finds himself unwittingly involved in a conspiracy to overthrow the government, the first thing I ask myself when approaching a scene (even though I’m happily married and wouldn’t know a conspiracy if it jumped up and bit me) is this: how would I react in this situation?

Then I add the color (read: attitude/emotion). How would I react, if… I was a self-centered bastard… a no-nonsense cop… an officious political hack. And I apply this technique to every character I write.

In short, I’m like a method actor playing all of the parts. By using myself and a healthy dose of imagination, I can approach characterization from the inside out. And once I’m able to get into the skin of my characters, it’s much, much easier to create someone whom I, and hopefully the audience, can identify with.

As a former thespian myself, I’ve used (and teach) acting prep techniques for writers. This is the simplest, and perhaps the best one: first, be yourself.

Spencer Tracy in Captains Courageous (1937)

That is the sum and substance of the philosophy my favorite actor of all time, Spencer Tracy, used. He didn’t go for any of the fancy schools of method acting. He said he always started by imagining what it would feel like if he were a taxi driver….or a priest….or a Portuguese fisherman. That gave him attitude and emotion. From there it was just a matter of knowing his lines and listening to the other actors.

Back when I was lawyering I edited a little newsletter called Trial Excellence. It was a monthly dedicated to the lawyers who actually go to court and present cases in front of juries. In that role I had the opportunity to interview some of the top trial lawyers in the country. One of them was Don C. Keenan, who told me:

My rule of thumb is that I feel very strongly that the plaintiff’s lawyer, to be successful with the jury, you literally have to make the jury walk a mile in your client’s moccasins. They cannot be spectators. They cannot view their role as being a referee or a mediator. They literally have to fully understand and feel—and by feel, I mean, to-the-bone feel—what your client feels. So they then become an advocate in the jury room for you and not just some referee. As such, the only way that you can get strangers to walk a mile in your client’s moccasins is by you, the lawyer, not only walking a mile in the client’s moccasins, but sleeping in the same house, and washing the dishes, and going to the doctor’s visits with them, and living it with them. I’m a fanatic when it comes to up close and personal with your client.

I like that: to-the-bone feel. Spend time imagining yourself in your characters’ world, watching and listening to them, even being them. Do this until you feel your character in your very bones. Put that on the page and your readers will become participants, not just spectators.

What do you do to get that to-the-bone feeling for your characters?

NOTE: This post is adapted from my upcoming book Power Up Your Fiction (available for preorder). In other news, the book was kindly mentioned in The Saturday Evening Post!

Character Counts

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Sam Spade (Humphrey Bogart) with Brigid O’Shaughnessy (Mary Astor) in The Maltese Falcon (1941)

I’m a sports guy, so use a lot of athletic comparisons and analogies vis-à-vis writing. Learning the craft, for example, is like learning golf. You’ve got to master certain fundamentals if you want to prevent, as Twain put it, “a good walk spoiled.” You study, practice, get coaching, drill. But when you play, you just play. After a round you think about things you need to improve, and practice some more.

When you write, just write. Then get feedback and work on improving your craft.

In this regard, a certain sports story caught my attention recently. Out of civility, I won’t mention names because I don’t want to kick somebody when they’re down. There’s always a chance for redemption. I hope it happens, because I love redemption stories.

Anyway, a certain NFL team drafted a quarterback in the first round. He signed a $35 million fully guaranteed contract, to go with a $23 million signing bonus. Most of us could probably live on that.

But what dominated the news and social media was a rumor that this kid had bedded his mother’s best friend.

Hoo boy.

His performance over two seasons has been less than inspiring, though not without occasional flashes of promise.

Then came a recent game where the kid stunk up the field. The defense put up a mighty effort in the loss. At the post-game press conference the kid was asked if he felt he’d let the defense down. His answer: “No.”

That one word, as they say, “lost the locker room.” His teammates heard him throwing them under the bus. He later apologized to the team, but the damage was done. He was benched for the next game. The backup QB took over and played great. The kid, instead of standing on the sideline rooting for the starter, sulked on the bench. His future with the team is thus in doubt.

This issue here is character. As defined by the greatest dictionary of all time, Webster’s New Collegiate 2d, “character” is moral vigor or firmness, esp. as acquired through self-discipline.

Character doesn’t come naturally. It has to be taught. It has to be personalized by internal effort. And if you’re going to succeed in sports and in life, you gotta have it.

So does your protagonist.

The heroes I respond to most have flaws that are overcome through a vein of moral rightness. Mike Hammer, Philip Marlowe, Sam Spade—flawed all, but saved in the end because they have a code they stick with.

When Spade, surrounded by rogues and liars (and not above some roguishness of his own), is tempted to go away with the femme fatale, Brigid O’Shaughnessy, he instead turns her over to the cops. Why? He tries to explain it to her:

“Listen. This isn’t a damned bit of good. You’ll never understand me, but I’ll try once more and then we’ll give it up. Listen. When a man’s partner is killed he’s supposed to do something about it. It doesn’t make any difference what you thought of him. He was your partner and you’re supposed to do something about it.”

In Kiss Me, Deadly, Mike Hammer is sapped by some guys, and the women in his car is murdered. He’s told by the Feds to lay off finding out who it was. His friend, the police captain Pat Chambers, tells him the same. Of course, Hammer says he won’t, and explains, “Maybe I have too much pride, but I don’t let anybody get away with that kind of stuff. I’m going to knock he crap out of somebody…”

You will find a similar code embedded in Robert B. Parker’s Spenser. It is lifted from the mythos of the Old West, as in the gunslinger hired to clean up a town. This is not surprising; Parker received his Ph.D. in English literature from Boston University, where the title of his dissertation was The Violent Hero, Wilderness Heritage and Urban Reality: A Study of the Private Eye in the Novels of Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, and Ross Macdonald.

I’d like to read that sometime. (A copy is available for $1,000 at Abe Books. Dear Santa, I’ve been extra good this year…)

When I do my Story Grinder workshop, I have the students answer some questions about their Lead:

  • What is one thing they’d die for?
  • What would they have tattooed on their arm?
  • Who do they care about before the story begins? Why do they care?
  • What duty will they perform, even if they don’t want to?

On the other hand, there are memorable Leads who are brought down by lack of character at crucial moments. Their just desserts are also a moral lesson.

  • King Lear with his daughters.
  • Michael Corleone with his vengeance.
  • Gatsby’s obsession with Daisy.
  • Scarlett’s obsession with Ashley.

Character and flaws, that’s what a memorable Lead is made of. Give them passion and heat, cooled when it counts for a greater good. Or left alone for a tragic end.

Whatever your choice, go big on character in your characters.

When a Character Comes to Life

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Photo credit: Jaredd Craig – Unsplash

by Debbie Burke

@burke_writer

Fiction writers play with imaginary friends whenever we create characters. We put them in a pickle and see what they do; pile insurmountable challenges on them; make them fall in and out of love; tie them to the railroad tracks and see how they free themselves. They become as close and familiar as our own family and friends.

We design how they look—short, tall, slender, heavyset, muscular, flabby. Choose the color of their skin, hair, and eyes. Grow a beard or mustache. Add scars, tattoos, piercings.

Some authors cut out photos from magazines to use as their models. Or they draw parallels to real-life actors, musicians, celebrities, or politicians in the news.

Others prefer to keep descriptions minimal. They paint a general picture but let the reader fill in the fine details.

I lean toward minimalist but have an image in my mind. Often that vision shifts in the course of a story because of plot needs.

The main character in my series, Tawny Lindholm, is a fiftyish recent widow. She’s smart but also naïve and too trusting because of her sheltered life in small-town Montana. As the story unfolded, I piled on more flaws that enhanced important parts of the plot and themes.

She’s far-sighted and can’t read small print without glasses—also a metaphor for her initial blindness to danger.

Her meniscus is torn, which hampers fleeing from bad guys.

I broke the poor woman’s finger (how cruel, right?), which caused arthritis and permanent swelling. That injury means she can’t remove her wedding ring and becomes part of her personality, tying in the theme of mourning and loyalty to her late husband. More importantly, that seemingly insignificant detail served as a key element in the plot, proving her innocence.

Have you ever experienced a character who shows up in real life, as if s/he had just stepped out of your computer screen? Recently, that’s happened twice to me in a couple of unlikely places.

First incident: my car needed new tires. The manager at Les Schwab was fiftyish,  dark hair, barrel-chested, and muscular. He wore a blue uniform with his name on the pocket, hands a little dirty from showing tires to customers and helping out in the shop. His brown eyes twinkled with an inside joke he couldn’t wait to share. Although we kidded around as he wrote up my tire purchase, he was professional and business-like.

I don’t remember his real name because, to me, he was Dwight, Tawny’s dead husband. Through the series, Dwight occasionally appears in her memories with a joke or snippet of conversation.

Waiting time to install new tires was two hours. I grabbed a cup of coffee and a free bag of popcorn—at Les Schwab stores, you hardly smell the rubber because the popcorn aroma greets you as soon as you walk in the door (popcorn and coffee have since been discontinued since COVID-19). I settled in at a tall table, pretended to read a magazine, and did what writers love to do—people-watch and eavesdrop.

For two hours, I watched the real-life Dwight interact with other patrons, tire busters, and people on the phone. He was patient and polite with cranky customers, and firm but even-tempered when screw-ups happened in the shop. That twinkle in his brown eyes never wavered.

Not only did his appearance and manner exactly match the Dwight of my imagination, so did his personality. It was eerie but also thrilling.

Second incident: This happened in February while vacationing in Florida. When I’m there, I attend Zumba classes and, over several years, have gotten to know a number of regulars. I’m happy to reconnect with them because they’re loyal fans of my thriller series, bringing copies for me to sign, inviting me to talk to their book clubs, and eagerly asking when the next book will be out. They are terrific supporters for whom I’m very grateful.

One morning, I spotted a new woman in class—tall, willowy, with long red hair in a ponytail and a bright smile.

Tawny, my protagonist, in the flesh.

The woman must have thought I was weird because, for the next hour, I watched her instead of the instructor. After class, we chatted about dancing. She felt intimidated because it was her first time but she was game and didn’t give up. Persistence and determination are two major personality traits Tawny has and this lady checked off those boxes. She was also friendly, open, spirited, and a good listener. Check off more boxes.

After several minutes of conversation, I worked up the courage to tell her I was a writer and explained I’d been staring at her because she looked like the heroine in my books. Instead of being creeped out by a crazy old lady Zumba stalker, she was excited. A dozen other people who’d read the series also noticed the resemblance, affirming, “Yes! She does look just like Tawny.”

Her real name is Kim, a massage therapist from Minnesota and she was eager to read about her alter ego.

In #1, Tawny receives a confusing new smartphone that she believes is a gift from her son. The Instrument of the Devil actually came from the villain who tampered with the device as part of a terrorist plot. Tawny blames herself for the phone’s peculiar behavior when, in fact, he rigged it to stalk her and eavesdrop.

At the next Zumba class, Kim had read the first few chapters and said, “I totally identify with her struggles with the smartphone.”

As do all of us born before 1990!

A few days later, she finished the book and said, “She’s so much like me it’s giving me chills.”

That comment gave me chills.

As authors, connecting with readers is our best reward. But connecting in real life with characters we thought only lived in our imaginations is a close second.

This gracious doppelganger agreed to pose for a photo. Heeeeere’s Tawny!

Kim AKA Tawny

 

A big thank you to Kim for being an inspiration. She’s also a great sport as I continue to make her life miserable in the next books, Stalking Midas and Eyes in the Sky.

 

 

 

 

 

~~~

TKZers: Has a character ever stepped out of your book into real life? What happened? Did their appearance match their personality? How were they different from what you envisioned?

Bonding Character and Reader

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Lee Patrick as Effie Perine in The Maltese Falcon (1941)

What is the most important thing your novel must accomplish with the opening pages?

A gripping first line? An action-driven plot? World building? A compelling lead character? Style? Voice?

All of the above?

Well, sure! If you can do all that, do it. But let me suggest that there’s something else, without which these elements won’t be as effective.

What the author must do, as soon as possible, is bond the character to the reader. It’s an emotional alchemy that render fictive gold. When the reader is not just interested in, but emotionally connected to the main character, the urge to turn pages ramps up to its fullest potential.

This is why the concept of the opening disturbance is so crucial. When a character is confronted with threat or challenge, we have a naturally sympathetic reaction. We can identify. We’ve all been there. That’s why this a good first step to the bonding I’m talking about.

An even more powerful effect can be achieved by adding a second technique, one I call the Care Package. It’s one of my fourteen signpost scenes as laid out in Super Structure.

In the most basic sense, it refers to a caring relationship is in place before the story begins between the main character and someone else. This is to distinguish it from Pet the Dog, which is when the Lead, somewhere in the middle of the story, takes time to help another character who is weaker and in need.

A perfect example of both is in The Hunger Games. When we first meet Katniss, she is out hunting to feed her family—her mother and her little sister, Prim. Katniss’ actions are illegal, but she does this out of love. Those relationships are in place before the novel begins. Author Suzanne Collins also includes in this Care Package a scruffy cat that Katniss does not like. This is a skillful addition, for the Care Package works even if a character is resentful about the relationship and the caring is done out of obligation. That works because we admire those who do their duty, regardless of feelings.

In the middle of the book, Katniss becomes the protector of the weakest of the tributes in the Games—Rue. That’s an example of Pet the Dog. It is a relationship formed after the story is well under way.

I got an email recently from a writer who asked if the Care Package could be something the character is passionate about, like basketball or playing the piano.

The short answer is No. It has to be a human or an animal (as in Dorothy and Toto in The Wizard of Oz, or Terry Malloy and his pigeons in On the Waterfront). Being in love with an activity falls under the umbrella of self-interest. Caring about another person is the essence of selflessness.

Note, too, that the Care Package applies to any genre. Even the hardest of hardboiled fiction, as demonstrated in this passage from Dashiell Hammett’s classic, The Maltese Falcon:

When Spade reached his office at ten o’clock the following morning Effie Perine was at her desk opening the morning’s mail. Her boyish face was pale under its sunburn. She put down the handful of envelopes and the brass paper-knife she held and said: “She’s in there.” Her voice was low and warning.

“I asked you to keep her away,” Spade complained. He too kept his voice low.

Effie Perine’s brown eyes opened wide and her voice was irritable as his: “Yes, but you didn’t tell me how.” Her eyelids went together a little and her shoulders drooped. “Don’t be cranky, Sam,” she said wearily. “I had her all night.”

Spade stood beside the girl, put a hand on her head, and smoothed her hair away from its parting. “Sorry, angel, I haven’t—” He broke off as the inner door opened. “Hello, Iva,” he said to the woman who had opened it.

One action: smoothing her hair. One line, and not even one Spade gets to finish! This moment is the only bit of tenderness Sam Spade shows to anybody in the book. But Hammett knew it would stand out for that very reason. We get one peek that Spade is not made of pure ice…because he has someone in his life he cares about.

Simple exercise: Before writing your novel, take ten minutes to brainstorm a list of possible Care Packages for your main character. Make some based in love and others out of duty. Eventually you will find the one that feels just right.

It will feel just right to the readers, too.

The floor is open. What Care Packages can you think of from favorite novels or films? NOTE: I’m in travel mode today so my comments will be scarce. Talk amongst yourselves!