Tag Archives: character development

You Meet Characters in the Most Interesting Places

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Before I begin today’s post, I’d like to thank my colleagues at TKZ for their good wishes, and especially James Scott Bell and Dale Ivan Smith, for covering for me during my absence.

TKZ is the greatest. It’s nice to back.

Now on to some interesting fictional characters…

“Characters are not created by writers. They pre-exist and have to be found.” — Elizabeth Bowen

* * *

I’ve been spending a lot of my time lately in a few unfamiliar settings – at least they’re new territory to me – hospitals, rehab orgs, and skilled nursing facilities – as we deal with my husband’s recent medical problems.

Now you might think such places would be depressing. After all, they’re  home to the wrinkled and veiny aged population with their wheelchairs and walkers, prescription drugs and hospital beds. However…

I found these places not to be depressing at all, but fascinating. Most of the folks I’ve met aren’t persistent bellyachers despite their disabilities. Instead, they are people who have lived full lives and are up to facing adversity in their last years.

Take Jeb (not his real name). We met the 92-year-old at dinner one night in a skilled nursing home. Jeb is down to earth and fun to talk to, although he needs his hearing aids to stay in the conversation.

When Jeb noticed my husband was wearing a navy hat, our talk turned toward the military and veterans. We discovered Jeb had retired as a Colonel from the U.S. Army after thirty years of service and had served three tours of duty in Vietnam as a green beret.

Jeb is a relatively small man, not the muscle-bound giant I would have expected of a green beret, but he was a well-respected leader. He’s even the subject of a chapter in the book The Wars of the Green Berets by Robin Moore.

But in addition to his stories about the war, it was Jeb’s demeanor that captivated me. Although he lived through some horrific events, he is genial and warm, and his conversation is peppered with exclamations like “Oh heavens, yes!” and “Now, whaddya know!”

I realized after we’d spent a few hours with Jeb that he was the perfect model for Jake, a character in my WIP. I had been developing the character of Jake, a Korean War veteran who had lost his hearing in the war, and I had a good sense of who Jake was, but I couldn’t quite picture the physical character in my mind. Then I met Jeb and realized he was the model I had been looking for.

Jeb wasn’t the only character I met. Madeline (also not her real name) was another one whose determination to get out of the nursing home was funny and inspiring. As a matter of fact, it was during a conversation with Madeline that I suggested we form a team of residents to create a short story – a murder mystery set in a nursing facility. We’re getting suggestions for plot elements and characters from all sides to our tentatively named story, “The MerriLax Conspiracy” where the murder victim is, of course, one of the nurses. Madeline will play a leading role.

* * *

So TKZers: Where do you find characters for your stories? Are they based on people you know or always products of your imagination? Care to let the rest of us in on some of your experiences?

* * *

 

“DiBianca’s plot is tightly woven, but her cast of quirky and lovable characters steal the spotlight” —BookLife Reviews, Editor’s Pick

Click the image to go to the Amazon book page.

Time of Death Done Right

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Time of Death, Done Right: What Really Sets the Window

By Jennifer Dornbush

Somewhere on a crime show on television tonight, a medical examiner will dutifully glance at a body and announce that death occurred at precisely 10:42 p.m. It is a great dramatic dialogue line. It is also pure fiction, because it teaches readers and writers to expect a precision the science cannot offer. The truth is more interesting and far more useful at the writing desk. Estimating time of death is the careful art of reading a window of time.

I grew up around this work. My father was a medical examiner whose office was in our home, so I learned early that estimating time of death means reading several clocks at once, none of which keeps perfect time. This is how it actually works, and how to put it on the page so your scene earns a reader’s trust.

The body keeps several clocks

Forensic pathologists lean first on three classic post-mortem changes, often called the triad: algor mortis, rigor mortis, and livor mortis. Each one tracks a different process of body decomposition, and each is most useful in the early window of estimating time of death. This triad roughly occurs within the first three days after death, which is when most cases are actually examined. After that, the next stages of decomposition take over and that window of time estimate opens wide. Read together and against the scene, these three signs let an examiner narrow the time of death window. Read carelessly, they mislead. Learn the difference and hone your crime story craft.

Algor mortis: the cooling curve

Algor mortis is the body cooling toward the temperature of its surroundings once it stops regulating its own heat. The rule of thumb many writers have heard is a drop of about 1.5 degrees Fahrenheit per hour, close to one degree Celsius. That number is a starting point, and a shaky one on its own. Cooling depends on the air temperature, the body’s size, what it is wearing, body composition (fat), and whether it is in water or on cold tile or under blankets. A small, lean body in a cold room loses heat fast. A larger, more dense body under covers in a warm house holds it.

This is exactly why a careful examiner reaches past the rule of thumb to a tool like the Henssge nomogram, which factors in ambient temperature, body mass, and correction factors. For your fiction, the takeaway is simple and powerful: cold changes everything. A death in a freezing setting, the kind of subzero scene at the heart of Frozen Lives, slows the cooling clock and stretches the window wide. Your investigator should say so.

Rigor mortis: the stiffening clock

Rigor mortis is the stiffening that sets in as muscles are cut off from the living energy they need to stay relaxed. The classic progression begins about two hours after death, often first in the small muscles of the face, then spreads over the next several hours and reaches its full hold between roughly six and twelve hours. It stays for about half a day more and then eases as the tissue begins to break down, usually releasing across the following day or so.

Those numbers are only estimates and move with conditions the body is exposed to. Heat speeds rigor along, cold slows it, and heavy exertion right before death can bring it on faster. There is also a dramatic edge case worth a writer’s attention: cadaveric spasm, a sudden stiffening of the hands at the very moment of death that can leave a victim gripping a weapon or a fistful of fabric. It is rare and debated, and used sparingly it can give a scene a memorable, grounded detail.

Livor mortis: the story gravity tells

Livor mortis, also called lividity, is the settling of blood in the direction of gravity (aka: the lowest parts of the body once the heart stops moving it). It begins to show within the first hour or two as a reddish-purple staining in the dependent areas, deepens over the next several hours, and becomes fixed somewhere in the range of eight to twelve hours, after which it no longer shifts. Before it fixes, pressing a thumb on the skin pushes the blood aside and leaves a pale blanch. After it fixes, the mark stays.

Lividity is a gift to mystery writers, because it tells you about position, not only time. If the pattern of settled blood does not match the way a body is lying, the body was moved after death. That single observation has launched a thousand plots, and it is true to life. An examiner who finds lividity on the back of a victim discovered face-down knows the scene has been staged, and so does your detective.

When the triad runs out

The three classic signs carry the early window. Beyond it, the examiner turns to other clocks. Stomach contents can suggest how long after a known meal death occurred, though digestion is too variable to pin down tightly. The potassium level in the vitreous fluid of the eye rises in a fairly predictable way and can extend the useful window. As decomposition advances, forensic entomology takes over, reading the life cycles of the insects that colonize remains to estimate a longer interval. None of these is a stopwatch, so the honest method combines them, weighs each against the scene and any witness timeline, and reports a range.

Putting it on the page

The craft of it comes down to this. Let your investigator give a window with a reason behind it. “Based on body temperature and the early stage of rigor, I’d estimate she died between roughly ten last night and two this morning, and the cold room could push that later.” That line does three things at once. It sounds like real expertise, it builds in the uncertainty that good investigators carry, and it hands your plot a flexible timeline you can tighten with other clues.

The mistake to avoid is false precision. The 10:42 p.m. announcement closes a door your story wants open. A stated range, with the confounders named, keeps the mystery alive and makes your detective look smarter, because explaining why the window is wide is what real expertise sounds like. Dr. Emily Hartford works exactly this way across The Coroner’s Daughter series, giving ranges and reasons rather than tidy timestamps. Besides, ranges leave room for doubt. Doubt is the seed to obstacles. Obstacles are how you test and challenge your heroine.

If you want a deeper field guide to details like my Crime Writer’s Toolkit gathers the forensic tools writers reach for most.

A body is a clock that runs fast and slow at once, and reading it is a skill, not a guessing game. Write it that way, with a window and a reason, and your crime story will hold up under any reader who knows the difference.

Jennifer Dornbush is an author, screenwriter, and forensic specialist who brings crime stories to life with authenticity and heart. WALKING ON WHITE, is the latest novel in The Coroner’s Daughter mystery series. With a background rooted in real-world forensics and a passion for crafting unforgettable mysteries, Jennifer offers readers and viewers a front-row seat to the intersection of science, justice, and human nature. Jennifer’s crime expertise has made her a sought-after speaker, consultant, and educator. Through her webinars and master course, WRITING THE KILLER CRIME SERIES, Jennifer guides writers in melding suspenseful storytelling with forensic realism to the screen and page. Join her community at http://www.jenniferdornbush.com/

Sources

StatPearls, “Methods of Estimation of Time Since Death.”

StatPearls, “Algor Mortis.”

“Current Understanding and Future Research Direction for Estimating the Postmortem Interval” (systematic review).

American Military University, “How to Estimate Time of Death Using Algor Mortis.”

Characterization

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Characterization – noun – a description of the distinctive nature or features of someone or something.

* * *

I’m reading The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt by Edmund Morris. I don’t read a lot of biographies, and although I’ve only finished a few chapters so far in this one, I so enjoyed the setup to Roosevelt’s character in the prologue that I thought it would be a good topic for TKZ.

The prologue is set on January 1, 1907 when thousands of people are waiting patiently in line to enter the White House to shake the president’s hand and wish him a Happy New Year.

Through the description of that New Year’s Day, Morris alternates between the story of the crowd inching its way toward the White House doors, and descriptions of Roosevelt’s behavior, personality, and impact on others.

Take this example:

“Roosevelt may be the fastest handshaker in history (he averages fifty grips a minute), but he is also the most conscientious, insisting that all citizens who are sober, washed, and free of bodily advertising be permitted to wish the President of the United States a Happy New Year.”

The author gives us a good look at the crowd, the weather, and the overall state of the nation’s wealth. He enjoys using quotes from Roosevelt’s friends and others to help us define the man, as in this quote from Joseph G. Cannon, the Speaker of the House.

“Roosevelt’s all right,” says Cannon, “but he’s got no more use for the Constitution than a tomcat has for a marriage license.”

Others were quoted as calling him a “faker and a humbug.” No less a personage than Woodrow Wilson said, “He is the most dangerous man of the age,” and Mark Twain declared Roosevelt to be “insane.”

On the other hand, one veteran politician noted that Roosevelt had “unquestionably the greatest gift of personal magnetism ever possessed by an American.”

Such diverse statements interwoven with evidence of Roosevelt’s popularity and his delight in the job of the presidency give us a three-dimensional person who is so much more than the textbook president who created national parks, succeeded in getting the Panama Canal built, and had the Teddy Bear named after him.

As the crowd snakes its way into the room where Roosevelt is greeting them, Morris describes the president’s physical impact on the visitors. He quotes English statesman John Morley as saying, “Do you know the two most wonderful things I have seen in your country? Niagara Falls and the President of the United States.”

Although Roosevelt is often remembered for his pugnacity, it was his diplomacy in brokering a peace between Russia and Japan that earned him the Nobel Peace Prize. He was the first American to win a Nobel Prize.

And Theodore Roosevelt endeared himself to me by this statement: “Reading with me is a disease.” He managed to read at least one book a day. His interests varied widely, and he was himself an author.

After pages of defining the man by his behavior and the opinions of others, Morris finally gets down to specifics about Roosevelt’s appearance.

“Were it not for his high brow, and the distracting brilliance of his smile, Roosevelt would unquestionably be an ugly man.”

Morris then dedicates several long paragraphs to that dazzling grin that was so famous “that envelopes ornamented only with teeth and spectacles are routinely delivered to the White House.”

And he doesn’t stop there. Speaking of Roosevelt’s “white and even” teeth

“… they chop every word into neat syllables, sending them forth perfectly formed but separate, in a jerky staccatissimo that has no relation to the normal rhythms of speech… His very voice seems to rasp out of the tips of his teeth.”

A colleague of Roosevelt’s described its effect. “I always think of a man biting tenpenny nails when I think of Roosevelt making a speech.”

The nuance continues through the long prologue giving us a 360-degree view of the optimism, energy, love of power, and determination of our twenty-sixth president as he drives through life full speed ahead.

Only at the start of Chapter One does Morris back up and begin to tell the history of the man.

* * *

Theodore Roosevelt was a larger-than-life historical figure, so describing the many dimensions of his personality may not be surprising. But reading Morris’s work has made me put some thought into descriptions of characters in my own writing. Direct and indirect characterization can be powerful tools to round out characters and give the reader an entertaining story.

* * *

So TKZers: How do you describe your main characters? Physical description, speech, behavior, opinions of others? How much time and nuance to you put into your characters?

* * *

Note: Once again, I’ll be traveling between old and new homes as we try to finalize this (very long) move. I’ll respond to comments as soon as I can.

 

Another Side of Sunshine

“The story excels at honoring the emotional realities of childhood without veering into sentimentality. It’s a smart, well-constructed mystery that values relationships over rivalry, process over prizes, and growth over glory. Fans of From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler and The Westing Game will find familiar pleasures here, wrapped in fresh clues and grounded by a heroine who learns to trust her instincts—and the people around her.” —Prairie Book Reviews

Click the image to go to the Amazon book page.

Immersion Technique #WriteTip

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Every character is the hero of their own story. Even the villain.

We’ve talked many times about the importance of fleshing out characters. This time let’s reframe the narrative for those who may not grasp the finer details of crafting a compelling villain.

It’s easy to tell a fellow writer to slip into the villain’s skin and view the world through their eyes—I’ve given the same advice—but for those who haven’t mastered characterization, it may not be enough.

  • How does one craft a killer when they’ve never committed a crime?
  • How can we champion a villain’s efforts with no real-world experience?

Sure, we can draw conclusions and make assumptions. Is that enough for readers?

  • Is there a way to pull from life experience, to really feel what it’s like to transform into somebody else?

Yes, there is. And it’s called immersion. Method actors use the same technique.

The dictionary defines immersion as “deep mental involvement.” It can also mean engagement, as in a mixture of how much you’re paying attention, how submerged you are in an experience, and how it affects you emotionally.

Immersion, whether real or imagined, taps into fundamental psychological principles like perception, emotional engagement, and the sense of presence. It involves a combination of sensory stimuli, cognitive engagement, and emotional resonance that creates a feeling of being completely absorbed in the experience.

Immersive experiences are rich and complex, drawing upon personal experiences, and engage with emotions through the manipulation of the five senses. They’re described as transformational, intense, sometimes hectic, and provoking.

What we see tells us a lot about the world around us, but what the body experiences is much more powerful.

How we immerse ourselves in a life unlike our own starts with walking in their shoes. Listen to the villain’s favorite music. Eat their favorite foods. View the world through their eyes.

  • What’s their culture like?
  • What’s their theme song?
  • What’s their religion, politics, and views on other hot topics?
  • Do they like the rain? Cold weather? Scorching hot sun?
  • Are they happy with where they live? Or have they been trying to escape the area for years?
  • What do they do for a living? Do they have buddies at work?
  • Are they body conscious and drink water all day? Or do they drink black coffee till noon, then switch to scotch?
  • Do they smoke? I’m not proposing you start smoking but you can pretend.

Even if the character’s actions rub against your values and beliefs, you must find at least one redeeming quality, or at least be able to empathize with a part of them.

Take Ed Kemper, for example. His mother was a severe alcoholic who favored his two sisters and never missed the chance to belittle him. Ed’s father, a World War II veteran, hated his wife. The couple divorced when Ed was still in grammar school.

Living with his mother was no picnic. She locked him in the cellar for days and/or weeks at a time—alone—a bare lightbulb hanging from a wire in the center of the dark and creepy space. Since the door locked from the outside, the only way out was through a trap door beneath the dining room table.

Trapped, Ed lay on the cold cement floor staring into the flame of the furnace. And it was then, he later told an FBI profiler, he saw the face of the Devil for the first time. That period of his life exacerbated his already fractured mind.

Later, at age 14, his father sent him to live with his grandparents in California. Interestingly, Maude (grandmother) was an extra in Gone with the Wind and a writer for Redbook McCall’s. Even so, Ed hated living there, calling his grandfather “senile” and his grandmother, well, this is how he described her…

“She thought she had more balls than any man and was constantly emasculating me and my grandfather to prove it. I couldn’t please her. It was like being in jail. I became a walking time bomb, and I finally blew.”

And blew he did, with the murder of his grandparents. Authorities sent him to Atascadero State Hospital, a maximum-security facility where doctors subjected him to various tests. One of which illuminated his genius IQ. They also diagnosed him as a paranoid schizophrenic.

In the six years he spent at the institution, he became one of the doctors’ favorite patients. They even allowed him to assist in conducting tests on other inmates, until 1969 when they released him into his mother’s care.

Big mistake. At 6 ft. 9 inches tall and 250 pounds, Ed was a mammoth with a genius IQ and a rage inside him.

After killing and decapitating six young women, he finally turned his wrath on Mother—the true source of his hatred—murdering, decapitating, and using her head as a dartboard. He also tore out Mother’s vocal cords and shoved them down the garbage disposal. When the disposal spat the gristly innards back out, he said to himself,

“That seems appropriate as much as she’d bitched and screamed and yelled at me over so many years.”

With his personal monster dead, Ed turned himself into police. He had no reason to kill anymore. He’s lived at California Medical Facility in Vacaville ever since. As a model inmate, he’s allowed to work as an audiobook narrator.

If Ed Kemper was a fictional villain, how would you make him the hero of his own story?

We’d need to focus on the abused little boy, alone and frightened, that still cried inside him and the personable guy who doctors adored. Does that mean I agree with what he did? Absolutely not. But as writers, we must find a way to justify his actions. We must. Otherwise, the villain will fall flat.

Now, don’t tell the reader what redeeming qualities you clung to while writing. Show them a tidbit here and there—just enough to pique curiosity and drive the plot—that make him feel more human. Or let the hero figure it out on their own.

If the villain is a series character, only reveal enough to intrigue and drive the plot. I did this with my serial killer named Mayhem. In three books, I showed him as a merciless serial killer. I also showed his love of animals, especially his sidekick Poe, the crow, and how tender he could be when caring for a wife stricken with ALS and his close relationship with his daughter and grandson.

Mayhem loves fine wine and is an expert chef, but he’s offended by bad language and numerous other things, especially rapists, cannibals, and child killers. Readers fell in love with Mayhem. Deeply in love. So much so, I had to transform him into an antihero in later books.

Readers understand, even champion, why he kills.

We did the same with Dexter. Who didn’t love to watch him murder other serial killers? Genius on Lindsay’s part.

Find a different angle for your villain. Copycats aren’t unique or memorable. Villains are some of the most difficult characters to craft because they do bad things. I also find villains and antiheroes the most rewarding to write.

The next time you craft a character vastly different from yourself, try immersion. It works for the entire cast, including heroes, sidekicks, foils, secondary characters, etc.

Scars Tell a Story #WriteTip

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Close-up of a scarred male lion

Click to Enlarge

While watching my wildlife gorge on peanuts, bread, almonds, dates, and raisins one morning, an impressive male bluejay caught my attention. Tall, well-built, and mysterious. The moment he landed on the food table in front of my window, the scarring on his face came into focus, and I wondered what happened to him.

Scars tell a story, an undeniable truth of the past. Perhaps “Scar” had a run-in with a hawk in his youth. The scars looked old, as though they’d formed during his development years or changed him as a young adult. The feathers atop the usual bluejay markings were much darker — midnight black — the skin obviously disrupted by a traumatic experience.

What was Scar’s wounding event? Did he fight this battle alone? Or did a predator kill his entire family in the nest?

I can only speculate. The answers died long ago.

All in all, Scar is a happy little dude, but also more cautious than the others, which adds some validity to my hypothesis as to how he received the scars. I’m intrigued by Scar, and pray a human didn’t hurt him. He piques my interest. Keeps me guessing about his past.

If Scar was a character in a novel, I could never stop flipping pages until I’d unraveled the mystery behind his scars. The author would have hooked me simply by showing me his face. What seems like a minor detail like a scar adds to the hero’s characterization. And you can bet an emotional scar lurks behind the physical disruption. All species, including humans, are affected by past events.

bluejay on snow

Not Scar. I cannot photograph him while we’re building trust.

Take Scar, for example. He waits for others to sample the food before he takes a bite. He watches how I interact with the other bluejays before he approaches.

He’s careful.

Reserved.

Suspicious of humans or new food sources.

The rest of the party (my favorite collective noun for a group of bluejays) scream with excitement and joy.

Not Scar. He’s quiet. Hangs back. Learns. Only after he’s gathered enough intel to satisfy his inquisitive mind does he feel safe enough to fly closer. I admire that about him. It shows he’s intelligent.

As writers, we’re told to include emotional scars but we also shouldn’t avoid physical scars. And not only for villains. Heroes wear scars, too.

Tattoos are often reminders of a special time in one’s life or symbolize what the wearer loves, embodies, or believes in. They can also help the wearer regain control over a trauma or cover, even enhance, a physical scar.

Years ago, I knew a young woman who was born with a cleft palate and left with scars from the corrective surgery. She never felt beautiful. All she could see were her scars. But she was beautiful, inside and out. Since few could make her see herself through their eyes, she turned to drugs and alcohol and eventually lost her life.

Some say, it’s more difficult for women to deal with facial scars than men. I know from personal experience that isn’t necessarily true. Both men and women try to hide scars public. It’s easier than having to retell — or relive — the story behind them.

Back in 1995, I was involved in a car accident that threw me into the windshield. Half conscious, I opened my eyes while stuck in the glass and tried to break free. The movement tore off my left eyebrow, eyelashes, upper eyelid, a chunk of my nose, split open my upper lip, and cracked all my teeth. The hospital called in a plastic surgeon to repair the damage to the left side of my face. Doctors told me I’d never regrow my eyebrow or eyelashes. For a girl in her twenties, it was devastating news.

I’ve never been one to follow the norm, or listen to doctors who think they can predict the future. Instead, I prayed for a miracle. Little by little, as I picked glass shards out of both eyes for several weeks, tiny hairs filled in my eyebrow and my lashes sprouted new growth. The doctors couldn’t believe it. My progress from the accident to full eyebrow and lashes is now in medical journals.

The emergency plastic surgery left me with scars on my eyelid, nose, and above my left upper lip. If you and I met in person, you might never notice. I only allow those closest to me to see my scars without makeup. When I’m tired, they pop right out. Not sure why scars get more visible then, but I’m not alone…

A dear friend for the last 30+ years got badly injured on a motorcycle when his gas tank exploded. The melted skin covering his right armpit looks like it belongs to Freddy Kruger. And the deep scarring on his forehead and zipper-like indent in his skull are still prominent 40 years after the accident. I love his scars. He wouldn’t be the same man without them.

Not only are scars reminders of past trauma but how one dealt with the injury and pain, then and now.

Like me, my friend also covers his scars in public. Only those closest to him are allowed to see the extent of his old injuries (2nd dimension of character = the person family and friends know). Neither of us regret our scars. They remind us that we’re lucky to be alive, along with all our other physical scars. Doesn’t mean we want to share them with the world (1st dimension of character = one’s public face).

See how a detail like a scar can inform one’s character? Keep it in mind while crafting your hero or secondary characters. Just remember to note them in your story bible, so a scar on the left cheek doesn’t move to the right in subsequent chapters and/or books. LOL

Would anyone like to share their scars and the story behind them? Have you ever seen a scarred bluejay or other backyard bird? I don’t dare photograph Scar until he gets to know me better, or the trust we’ve built may crumble.

Does Your Story Have a Full Circle Moment?

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A full circle moment occurs when life provides clarity about the past.

The journey begins with an often harrowing event, we endure trials and tribulations along the way, then end up right where we started.

Only now, we have the wisdom of life experience and personal growth to view the past from a new perspective.

Have you experienced a full circle moment in your life?

I’m living one right now. As I mentioned before, I grew up in Massachusetts. When I moved to New Hampshire, I said I’d never return, that no one could pay me to live there again. And that remained my mindset for decades. But now, after a series of difficult personal experiences and a new, enlightened perspective, I plan to move back to Massachusetts. Everything about my decision feels right — it feels like I’ve finally found my way home.

If I were to write my life story one day, the jangle of the key in the lock of my new home would become a powerful full circle moment in the book.

A full circle moment completes the character arc.

Story Circle

Dan Harmon is the mastermind behind the Story Circle. Currently an executive producer at Rick and Morty, he also created and ran the NBC show Community. Dan consolidated Joseph Campbell’s classic Hero’s Journey from 17+ steps into a more contemporary set of 8, each with a punchy one-word descriptor that makes them easy to remember.

Please ignore my lame attempt at drawing a straight line with a mouse. 😀

click to enlarge

YOU: A compelling main character (YOU) has a problem.

NEED: YOU have a need.

YOU want something. YOU are not satisfied with a ho-hum lifestyle. Either this desire stems from an internal NEED before the inciting incident, or something or someone comes along to awaken the desire within YOU.

GO: YOU cross the threshold into an adventure.

YOU have packed your bags to search for a brighter tomorrow. Not only are YOU ready to GO but you’re going no matter what. No one can stop YOU. The NEED is too strong to ignore.

SEARCH: YOU find the answer to your problem.

Mission accomplished. Or is it?

YOU land in a new country and don’t speak the language, nor are YOU familiar with the culture.

Let’s see what YOU are made of. Will YOU adapt? Or fall apart? Perhaps a little of both.

FIND: Things are not how they appear.

This is a major threshold the character must cross, one that spins the story in a new direction. The protagonist has come this far. There’s no turning back. YOU must do everything within your power to fight to fulfill your NEED.

TAKE: But there’s always a price to pay.

How badly do YOU want it? This is where we see how steep of a price the protagonist is willing to pay to get what they NEED.

In this part of the story, the protagonist comes face-to-face with the villain and dangerously close to death, real or internal. The climax is the culmination of everything YOU have been fighting for since the beginning.

RETURN: After YOU slay the metaphorical (or real) dragon, YOU RETURN to the ordinary world.

YOU have fulfilled your NEED, defeated the villain, learned something about yourself, and are ready to RETURN home. In a romcom, it’s here where the hero races to the airport to prevent his soulmate from boarding the plane. In a thriller, the protagonist has defeated the villain and must RETURN home, even if there’s more danger in the near future.

CHANGE: The journey has changed YOU, for better or worse.

YOU are not the same person YOU were before. Are YOU wiser? Better prepared for the unexpected? Or more cautious, even paranoid? How has the journey changed YOU?

Wizard of Oz — Story Circle Example 

YOU: Dorothy is in the black-and-white world, dreaming (in song) about traveling over the rainbow rather than stay in Kansas.

NEED: A twister dumps Dorothy’s house in a colorful town square. No longer in a black-and-white world, she enters a land of technicolor and NEEDs to adapt to a new and unfamiliar place.

GO: When Dorothy first lands in Oz, she doesn’t know where she is or how she got there. Soon, she realizes she’s “over the rainbow” and her NEED now is to get home. The only way to do that is to journey to see the great and powerful Oz. She also must stay on the yellow brick road and watch out for the Wicked Witch of the West. But she must go. The NEED to GO home is too great. Dorothy begins her adventure.

SEARCH: With advice from Glinda, the Good Witch of the North*, and her ruby red slippers, Dorothy and Toto follow the yellow brick road toward the great unknown. For the first few steps, she literally focuses on putting one foot in front of the other until she moves farther down the road.

Along the way she encounters the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion. She also endures conflict and obstacles — facing her fears, traversing through the forest, and finding a way to meet the great and powerful Oz.

*In the original novel Glinda is the Good Witch of the South, but I used “North” from the 1939 film adaptation because it’s more well-known.

FIND: The Emerald City is finally within sight. Dorothy believes the field of poppies is a beautiful and faster way to get there. But all is not how it appears. To steal the ruby red slippers, the Wicked Witch of the West has placed a field of magical sleep-inducing poppies on the outskirts of the city, and Dorothy and Toto fall into a deep slumber.

This scene is a beautiful example of the fifth stage of the Story Circle that hints at the darkness that creeps within us all, even more so when we set out to make our dreams a reality.

TAKE: The Wicked Witch of the West sends her band of flying monkeys to bring Dorothy and her friends to the castle. But the flying monkeys can’t harm Dorothy because she wears the mark of the Good Witch of the North on her forehead. Dorothy is forced to choose between her magic slippers and Toto, whom the Wicked Witch threatens to drown if Dorothy refuses to comply.

When the Wicked Witch torches the Scarecrow, his straw is set on fire. Dorothy tosses a bucket of water to help her friend but also wets the Wicked Witch, who melts into a puddle on the floor.

Dorothy’s victory shows the reader/viewer she has the inner strength to complete her quest.

RETURN: Dorothy discovers the wizard is a fraud. But luckily, there’s still a way to get home. The answer has been on Dorothy’s feet the entire time. She clicks her heels three times and repeats, “There’s no place like home.”

CHANGE: Dorothy realizes her home and family are the most valuable treasures on earth. She’s no longer the dreamy girl who wishes to leave Kansas. She’s grateful for what she has and finds happiness in the simple things.

She is transformed. And it’s a powerful full circle moment.

Have you experienced a full circle moment in your life? Tell us about it. Or share your favorite full circle moment from a book or movie.

Are you familiar with the Story Circle? Pantser or plotter, it’s an easy way to test your character arc.

Thank you to all our military men and women for your service. Happy Veterans Day!

Please note: I’m on the road today, so I may not be available to respond to comments right away.

Characters: Round and Flat

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

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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.

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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

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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.

Tickling the Dragon’s Tail

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The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding, go out to meet it. —Thucydides

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Dr. Louis Slotin was a brilliant young physicist. Only thirty-four years old, he had been working at Los Alamos on the super-secret Manhattan Project since 1943. He was known to be a quiet, reserved man, and yet one who was attracted to dangerous assignments.

Perhaps that’s what drew him to an experiment that would ultimately kill him.

Most of us are in awe of the work done on the Manhattan Project. Names like Oppenheimer, Bohr, Fermi, and others who worked there defined much of nuclear physics research in the mid-twentieth century. Yet despite the magnificent brain power, one of the experiments that was required in order to construct an atomic bomb was surprisingly primitive.

“Critical mass” is a term that describes the condition that occurs when the amount of fissionable material brought together is enough to start a nuclear chain reaction. In an effort to determine critical mass in the Los Alamos lab, a human operator would bring two hemispheres of such material close together until the mass just started to go critical. A Geiger counter and a neutron monitor would gauge the radiation emitted by the two lumps of metal. The goal was to get the assembly to begin to go critical but stop before it became dangerously over-critical and released lethal amounts of radiation.

Louis Slotin had performed this experiment dozens of times using a simple screwdriver as a lever to control the approach of one lump of material toward the other. He referred to the procedure as “tickling the dragon’s tail.”

On a fateful day in May 1946, Dr. Slotin was in the lab. Amazingly, there were visitors in the room to observe the operation.  According to an article on the Canadian Nuclear Society website,

The experiment involved creating the beginning of a fission reaction by bringing together two metal hemispheres of highly reactive, beryllium-coated plutonium.

Seven people watched as Slotin brought one hemisphere close to the other. The Geiger counter ticked a little faster.

Then Slotin’s hand slipped, and the upper hemisphere of metal fell onto the lower one causing a hard release of radiation. The Geiger Counter went crazy, then stopped completely, and people in the room reported a strange blue glow.

Slotin lunged forward and flipped the top hemisphere of beryllium off and onto the floor. Nine days later, Dr. Louis Slotin died in a hospital from the results of radiation poisoning. Miraculously, none of the other people in the room succumbed.

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I have read “The Strange Death of Louis Slotin” by Stewart Alsop and Ralph E. Lapp several times. Each time I read it, I’m surprised by the crude contraption used to determine critical mass. The scientists at Los Alamos would have known better than anyone else how dangerous a mistake could be.

I’m even more surprised by the willingness of anyone, especially someone with a clear understanding of the risk, to volunteer to run the experiment. But there are those people who not only enjoy a sense of danger, but even seek it out. Those to whom “tickling the dragon’s tail” is an essential part of their lives.

* * *

It makes me wonder. Who are these people who enjoy living on the edge? Are there many of them?

Last week, Alan mentioned a test pilot friend of his had died while flying an experimental aircraft. It reminded me of books I’ve read about test pilots, and I wonder what it takes for a man or woman to climb into a contraption that’s never been tested before, and take off. I think of the Wright brothers, Charles Lindbergh, and Chuck Yeager.

And what about those ultimate test pilots, the astronauts? Can you imagine sitting on top of a rocket with a few hundred thousand gallons of fuel underneath you, and blasting off to be the first to land on the moon? Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were willing.

Maybe those are the extreme examples. More down to earth (pun intended) are police and fire fighters whose livelihoods embrace danger.

And then there are fictional characters who refuse to back away like Atticus Finch, James Bond, or Sam Spade. How about Nancy Drew?

Writing mysteries, thrillers or suspense means we create characters who deal with danger in a variety of ways. Some are attracted to it, some run away, and others don’t seek it out, but stand and fight.

So TKZers: Do you have favorite fictional characters who love to push the envelope? How about the characters in your books? How do they handle danger?

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Private pilot Cassie Deakin doesn’t go looking for danger, but she lands right in the middle of it when she searches for the key to a mystery—and finds a murderer.

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

The Deuteragonist

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Deuteragonist – noun — the actor next in importance to the protagonist.

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We all know what a protagonist and an antagonist are, but I had never heard the word “deuteragonist” until a few months ago. It comes from the Greek word “deuteros,” meaning “second.” But a deuteragonist is not just a secondary character, he/she is the secondary character.

Wikipedia tells us that ancient Greek drama originally had only one actor, the protagonist, and a group of dancers, the chorus. But then the playwright Aeschylus introduced a second character, the deuteragonist, in his plays.

Aristotle explained it in his work Poetics.

“Thus, it was Aeschylus who first raised the number of the actors from one to two. He also curtailed the chorus and made the dialogue be the leading part.”

So we can thank Aeschylus, who lived 2500 years ago, for the addition of the second character in drama, an innovation which enabled dialogue and conflict.

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“The more complex you make your secondary characters, the more lifelike and involving your story will be.” –Donald Maass

So how is the deuteragonist different from the other secondary characters in today’s fiction?

According to studiobinder.com

“A deuteragonist is the second most important character in a story. This person is also known as the ‘secondary main character.’ While the protagonist gives us our primary point of view of the story, the deuteragonist often provides a different, but often similar, outlook.”

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The deuteragonist can serve different purposes, depending on the author’s goals. But whatever role the deuteragonist plays, he/she should complement the protagonist  in a way that affects the main character’s arc in the story.

 

One possibility is as a supporter, friend, or assistant to the protagonist. Dr. Watson is a famous example of this type of deuteragonist in the Sherlock Holmes books. Watson not only narrates the stories, his gentlemanly compassion contrasts nicely with the purely logical Holmes.

 

 

The deuteragonist can also be a love interest. An example of this could be from the movie “Titanic” where Jack Dawson (Leonardo DeCaprio) plays the main secondary to Rose (Kate Winslet). In the movie, Jack shows Rose there is more to life than the suffocating high society she’s being forced into.

 

 

Villains are always useful in helping protagonists overcome their shortcomings and face down danger. An example of this was the film “Die Hard” where the protagonist John McClane (Bruce Willis) matches wits with the villainous deuteragonist Hans Gruber (Alan Rickman.)

So there you have it. A deuteragonist can add spice and complexity to a story while enhancing the protagonist’s character arc.

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“The three things that matter most in a story are characters, characters and characters.” –Bob Gale

* * *

So TKZers: Are there deuteragonists that you like from books or films? Have you used a deuteragonist in any of your stories? Do you plan to? Tell us about them.

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Protagonist Kathryn Frasier trains for a marathon, deuteragonist Cece Goldman rehearses for a play, and antagonist murderers hide in plain sight in The Watch Mysteries, an ebook boxset of three complete novels available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books. (Today is the last day of the 99¢ sale.)

What Would Your Characters Do?

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What Would Your Characters Do?
Terry Odell

In my last post, I talked about some of the mishaps on our recent European trip, and how a writer might use them. “Only Trouble Is Interesting.”

What do your characters do when things don’t go the way they want them to? You don’t need to be writing about travel. Stuff happens anywhere and anytime.

Image by Peter H from Pixabay

Take our neighborhood. We live in a rural area, in a housing development established back in the 70s. It was designed for weekend getaways. Time marched on, and more and more people decided this was a great place to live. Now, almost everyone lives here all the time, which puts a strain on the water system. Pipes from the 70s are wearing out, developing leaks. Cutting to the chase, there was a major leak that drained the entire system. We have people in charge of this, and they haul water as needed, but between how much water was needed, and the freezing temperatures and snow, we had no water for about five days. The loss showed up late on Christmas afternoon, and I feel for the people who were left with the aftermath of a Christmas dinner and no way to wash the dishes.

Most of us take it for granted that when we turn a tap, water will come out. That toilets will do what they’re designed for. Take all that away, couple it with a community Facebook page, and people’s true colors are waved for all to see.

There were those who said, “This is what rural mountain life is like. The people in charge are working long hours in miserable weather searching for the leak. They will find it, and all this will pass.

In a show of community, nearby RV parks, even though closed for the winter, opened up their showers. Places like Walmart donated cases of water.

Was this enough for some? There were those who demanded minute-by-minute updates. Wanted immediate solutions. “Threatened” to put their homes up for sale. (Good riddance, IMHO). Ranted and raved about how nobody was doing their jobs (they’re all volunteers, btw) and they should be replaced. These were probably the people who made no efforts to conserve water year round, I’ll bet.

Image by César Mota from Pixabay

Other colors were waved when one company’s trash pickup didn’t happen on schedule because of extreme weather (the first time they’ve missed since we moved here 13 years ago), posted their fury and immediately changed trash companies.

Regensburg

An example from our recent cruise. Because of a lot of recent rain and snowmelt, the Danube waters rose to the point that the riverboats couldn’t get under the bridges, even though they had wheelhouses that could be lowered to some extent. The authorities closed the river.

(You can click on the images to enlarge them)

Our ship couldn’t get to its next stop. A sister ship was coming the other direction and faced the same problem. Our cruise director—who probably had very little sleep for several days—and the other ship’s crew coordinated a swap. All our passengers would be bussed to the sister ship, and vice versa.

Yes, it was an inconvenience. We had to pack, but the cruise line took care of transporting our luggage. We got to our scheduled cities, but it required longer bus rides. The ships were in canals now, not in the Danube proper.

I’m glad to say that most of the passengers accepted this as something nobody could have predicted, and praised the crews of both ships for their efficient handling of the unexpected swap.

Historische Wurstküche

The cruise line did offer compensation. They gave us vouchers for lunch at a landmark restaurant. The next day, as we disembarked for the buses to the Nuremburg Christmas Market, they gave everyone thirty euros in cash. And, they refunded everyone the equivalent of 25% of one day’s travel, which was realistically about the only time we lost.

Yet there were some passengers who thought the cruise line should have known about the river rising and should have refunded everyone’s money for the entire trip.

Melk Abbey Courtyard

And then there are the rule breakers. We toured the Melk Abbey, and taking pictures inside was prohibited. Yet there were two people in our group who felt that this rule didn’t apply to them, because … they were photographers with expensive cameras? The guide was very polite, and said, “Please, no photography” but did nothing to stop them. Part of me thought she should have demanded their memory cards (or taken their cameras until the end of the tour), but she let it go.

What about your characters—or people you know—TKZers? Can you use the way they respond to “times of trouble” or “rules” in your stories? What about how other characters react to them? Have you already done so? Have you read books where this was handled well? Or not?

And two more things, totally unrelated to this post. Character naming caveats. Don’t name a character Al. I’ve read two books recently with this name, and my brain insists on reading it as AI, as in Artificial Intelligence. Depending on the font, the reader might not be able to tell the difference. At least if that reader is me.

And don’t give your male character a last name that’s a female name if you’re going to refer to him by last name. If you call Bob Patricia ‘Patricia”, you’re likely to give your reader the hiccups until they adjust. At least if that reader is me.

How can he solve crimes if he’s not allowed to investigate?

Gordon Hepler, Mapleton’s Chief of Police, has his hands full. A murder, followed by several assaults. Are they related to the expansion of the community center? Or could it be the upcoming election? Gordon and mayor wannabe Nelson Manning have never seen eye to eye. Gordon’s frustrations build as the crimes cover numerous jurisdictions, effectively tying his hands.
Available for preorder now.

Terry Odell is an award-winning author of Mystery and Romantic Suspense, although she prefers to think of them all as “Mysteries with Relationships.”