Tips for First Drafts: Characters
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Here is the second installment in our series on editing first drafts. Be sure to check out Part 1.
Note: This series is directed primarily toward fiction writers. Nonfiction friends are very welcome, but may not find as many practical takeaways as their fiction counterparts.
Enjoy!
Element 2: Characters
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Characters are the heart and soul of good fiction. They not only drive the plot; they give it meaning. They offer us insight into how to live, sometimes even how to die. They show us how to process difficult things. They help us sort out our values. They instruct us in the art of empathy.
Is it possible to come up with an exciting plot even if your characters are flat and boring? Well, sure. Can you write the crap out of your setting and deploy an arsenal of wickedly vivid vocabulary without having any characters at all, boring or otherwise? Yeah, of course. But will you secure your reader’s attention and investment in the story? Doubtful.
Anne Lamott expresses a wonderful perspective on effective characterization in her book Bird by Bird. I’ve quoted it before, but it’s worth quoting again:
Having a likable narrator is like having a great friend whose company you love, whose mind you love to pick, whose running commentary totally holds your attention, who makes you laugh out loud, whose lines you always want to steal. When you have a friend like this, she can say, “Hey, I’ve got to drive up to the dump in Petaluma—wanna come along?” and you honestly can’t think of anything in the world you’d rather do. (1994, 47) 1
This is not to say that all your characters need to be likable; but my goodness, they shouldn’t be boring (unless being boring is their whole schtick, in which case it’s still possible to present them in an engaging manner). We want our readers to think about our characters as they go about their day, to be reminded of them in line at the coffee shop or while dealing with a client on the phone. Characters can be instructive or inspiring, horrifying or hilarious—but they should always be authentic.
So, how do we write authentic characters? Or, to stick to the topic at hand, how do we edit our work to make our characters more authentic?
1. Be intentional
Consider which of the following paints a more poignant picture of a character:
She was tall and willowy, with blonde hair that fell in waves down her back. An elegant silver necklace hung around her neck. She wore a knee-length skirt and a silk blouse, both ironed within an inch of their life. It was obvious to John that this was a woman who cared about her appearance.
or
There was a stain on the woman’s left sleeve, a black circle that had bled slightly up toward the elbow. Ink, perhaps? Although everything else about the woman was immaculate, John found himself fixating on that single blot of imperfection—the sable smear marring white silk.
Second one. For sure.
Notice that the second paragraph is still telling us that the woman cares about her appearance, but it does it by focusing on one particular detail—the stain that is at odds with everything else. This not only sparks questions in the reader’s mind (What is the stain and how did it get there?), but it also makes the woman more relatable (we can see a hint of imperfection amidst her carefully curated appearance) AND it keeps us from getting bogged down with details that may not matter (height, hair colour, outfit, etc.).
Of course, there’s nothing wrong with telling your reader about blonde hair or silver necklaces, if you feel those things are important. But when you are describing a character, it’s worth asking yourself the following questions:
Is there a point to sharing this information with the reader? (And if so, is this the best time to share it?)
Is this information interesting?
Is this information specific?
If your answer to any of these questions is no, then you may want to reconsider your choice of details.
2. Be realistic
Think of your favorite fictional characters. What is it about them that makes them meaningful to you? Can you identify with their experience? Do they inspire you to change? Do they make you laugh?
Now, see if you can identify their flaws or shortcomings. Chances are the characters you love the most aren’t perfect. They may be the hero of the story. They may be wonderful, sacrificial people (or dragons or robots or whatever). But perfect? Likely not.
At the very least, shortcomings make our characters believable. At the most, they make them relatable and—depending on how they grow or change—inspirational. Character flaws also help to add conflict to our stories by introducing all sorts of uncomfortable scenarios, anything from simple miscommunication to near-death (or actual-death) catastrophes.
Readers watch carefully to see how characters work through their mistakes. This is one of the many ways we learn from fiction. Not only that, but character shortcomings are also a prime opportunity to tease out the theme of your work (see Part 1 for more on theme).
Point is, take a good hard look at your characters and make sure they’re not too perfect. There’s nothing wrong with admirable qualities, but if you want your characters to be relatable to your readers, you may need to add a dash of deficiency.
3. Be honest
This may be obvious, but if you want your characters to ring true for the reader, then your greatest asset is your own experience. We have a vast reservoir of memory and knowledge to draw from, the hard-won spoils of life lived.
Note that I am not prescribing you to base every scenario in your book off of something that actually happened to you. The whole point of fiction is getting to investigate something outside of ourselves—or sometimes so deeply inside of ourselves that it takes writing it down to realize it’s there. Over the years, my characters had diffused bombs, landed airplanes, and been locked in dank prison cells. They’ve been shot, dismembered, and promoted to royalty. They’ve walked tightropes. They’ve juggled fire. Once, one of them stole the British Crown Jewels.
Safe to say, I’ve never personally experienced any of those things. I do, however, bite my lips when I’m stressed, as one of my characters does. I like making people laugh, as does my fire juggler. I’ve been lonely, like my tightrope walker. (Fun fact: Another word tightrope walking is funambulism.) There are bits of me in every character I write, even the villains. It allows me to enter their journey, while using my imagination to fill in the gaps.
Planting seeds of yourself in your characters will certainly help them to be authentic. Equally as valuable can be considering how your characters are different from you. After all, you don’t just want to clone yourself every time you write a new character. Take the opportunity to explore new perspectives and new ways of operating in the world.
Are you typically an outspoken extrovert? Great! Try writing a quieter character, someone who doesn’t say much because they’re worried about making a fool of themselves.
Are you into sports? Throw in a character who could care less about scoring a goal in baseball or making a touchdown in hockey or whatever.
If you’re open to learning as you write, then perhaps your reader will be open to learning as they read. Enjoy the process. If you’re intentional about it, your characters will not only help readers to feel seen, but they will help them to see others more clearly.
References:
Lamott, Anne. 1994. Bird by Bird. New York: Vintage Books.