Module # 8 Building a
Character
Introduction
In our second piece from Whitbread award-winning novelist Rose Tremain (Restoration,
Music & Silence, Sacred Country), we examine the process and
pitfalls of creating believable and interesting characters.
This session includes:
- Essentials for Beginning
- Observation: Out and About
- Planning: Asking Questions
- Research and Personal Experience
- Entrances
- The Journey and the Process
Essentials for Beginning
The process of building a character whose journey will form the basis of a
novel is a long business. It shouldn't be rushed, any more than getting to
know a new real person should be rushed.
What may be there in your mind at the start are gender, physical features,
age, and status in life. Perhaps a particular mannerism or tone of voice
will also be there. You, the author will also have decided if this is a
character that you and the reader are going to love or going to love to
hate. It is important to determine at the start where you want reader
sympathy to lie. Readers are sophisticated and easily bored. Getting the
reader to care about a character is not necessarily an easy task and much
thought should be given about how you are going to address this hurdle.
Failure to care on the part of the reader will almost certainly bring
about the long-term critical and commercial failure of your book. So
ideally, every character in the novel - whether hero or anti-hero or
downright villain - will have something vibrant and unique about him or her
which will first grab and then retain the reader's interest right through to
the last page. Even a character whose chief predicament is a tendency to
bore everyone else in the book should not be boring to the reader.
One of your earliest decisions may be to give the narration duties to a
character, rather than an authorial voice. The choice of narrator is bound
by no convention that I know of. A story can be told by a dog, a wardrobe or
a shopping trolley, if that's your wish or your whim. But I think it's wise
to know why you're choosing Narrator X over Narrator Y, so that you
can first of all see and then make use of all the possibilities.
You could choose - as many writers do - to have the central character
narrate the entire thing. Classic first person narrators abound in fiction,
from Tristram Shandy to Catcher in the Rye. Remember here,
however, if this is your choice of narrator, that nothing in the book can
happen which is not witnessed directly or indirectly by the narrator. We
have to see the world entirely and absolutely through his or her eyes. And
the voice - if we are not to weary of it - needs to posses the kind of
quirky uniqueness that made both Tristram Shandy and Catcher in
the Rye so famously funny and beguiling.
Bearing all this in mind, then, you, the author, can now become God. You can
create and unmake at will. All the decisions are yours. And this, of course,
is what makes writing fiction so infinitely absorbing and enjoyable. But
it's also difficult work. You have to turn 'airy nothings' into flesh and
blood. And to do this I believe that it's necessary to know far more about
that would-be flesh and blood than you are ever going to reveal. In this
way, knowing what came before and knowing what comes after, you're never
teetering on the edge of the unknown, but on the contrary sure and certain
about how character X would react in situation Y and how character Z would
react to this reaction - and so on.
Out and About: Observation
Writers are gawpers. They stare and ponder and note and worry all the time.
It's a habit that's impossible to break. If you've decided you're a writer,
then you're probably already the kind of person who tries to invent private
lives for the people you see on the tube. So it won't be difficult to come
up with the questions that are going to be useful to you. I tend to try to
read levels of happiness/unhappiness in the faces of strangers. Other
writers will be asking questions about success/failure, sexual preference,
parentage, ambition, lovability, fashion sense, reading habits or pet
preferences. The list can be as long as you want it to be.
My very first published short story was inspired by the observation of a
group of two couples at an adjacent table in a London restaurant and it
might be useful to describe how this unfolded. Here's the scene (the data):
what I see is a man in his sixties, in a wheelchair, who has difficulty
sipping from his glass and cutting up his food. His wife, blonde and
forty-something, has to do most of this for him, but she does it
impatiently, not lovingly. She talks with an Eastern European accent.
She wears a ton of gold jewellery. Their lunch companions are two young,
fresh-faced Australians, who looked embarrassed and uncomfortable all the
way through the meal.
That's more or less it. At a certain point in my lunch, I moved my chair
round so that I could no longer see the group. I knew that I just the right
amount of outside material for my imagination to work with. I didn't want to
hear or see anything more. (In data-gathering mode, you sometimes have to
shout: 'Stop now! That's all I want to know!')
When I sat down to plan and write, the man in the wheelchair became the
wealthy owner of a nickel mine in Australia. He, who is the narrator of the
story, falls in love with a Paris whore of Russian origin and comes to need
her so much that he marries her and takes her from poverty to great material
splendour. Then he has a stroke and she is faced with the repetitive, empty
life of the nurse. She takes lovers. He knows she takes lovers but he
continues to love and need her. The story, which I called 'My Wife is a
White Russian', moves towards the man's understanding of his own
culpability. He decides that he's guilty of bringing this tragedy on himself
by his nickel-hard ambition to be rich. The Australians, who have jobs
connected to the mine, and who are very happy with each other, are innocent
witnesses both of the narrator's materialism, his physical deterioration and
the barely concealed tragedy of his marriage.
I can still see the real people in my mind. Or can I? Perhaps what I see are
actually the fictional constructs - with all the back-story and other detail
grafted onto them. I don't know. But I do think that it's often in that
blurring between the real and the invented thing, that moment when you turn
your back on the real and move towards the imaginary, that stories and the
characters in them begin to struggle into life.
Planning: Asking Questions
Before attempting to get a character down on the page, it's crucially
important to begin to feel as he or she does. Writing 'My Wife is a
White Russian' was primarily an exercise in imagining feelings. I think,
therefore, that it's interesting and helpful to pose for the character in a
number of different dilemmas and see how he/she reacts to these. For
instance, where is his anger level? How might he react to someone stealing
his parking space or stealing his wife? Is he a person - like you, or unlike
you - who has a calm inner centre or who walks the world on the end of a
short fuse?
As you plan, keep asking the question, 'Who is this?' Invent
scenarios and place the characters in these and then decide what they're
going to do or say. Ask yourself who your characters were as children and
who they will be when they're old.
Know what terrifies them and what comforts them. Know how much they love the
world and how much they despise it. Do they like or detest animals? Do they
have a god? If so, what kind of god? Keep trucking with this level of
enquiry until a real picture begins to emerge. Then magnify the picture. See
them in close up. See the colour of their eyes and the shape of their lips.
Reduce it again. See them from far away, within a landscape and among in a
crowd. How do they move? How do they appear in silhouette? Start hearing
their voices. How do these characters use language? Are they articulate,
verbose, mannered, pompous, shy, foul-mouthed, witty, jargon-bound,
repetitious, self-referring, spooky or what? Do some dialogue. Do more
dialogue. Do monologue. Are any of the voices acquiring anything unique yet?
If the answer is no, then try to decide why. Is it that they are still at
the caricature stage - with no depth to them or singularity? Have you
misunderstood one crucial element in their make-up? And, if so, what is that
element likely to be?
What are his territorial preferences? Is he a city dweller, who can't bear
to be more than a short walk away from his favourite local restaurant, or is
he a countryman who loves the sound of water or the cry of winter birds? How
does he like to decorate a room? Are his tastes fashionably minimalist or
Victorian cosy or ethnic shimmery or what? Is he untidy or ordered? Is he a
hoarder? If so, what does he hoard? What would you find if you opened
cupboards in his bedroom or kitchen?
Seeing the character in his actual environment and understanding how he
relates to it is a vital part of becoming him. In some ways, this
ability to visualise is similar to the way an actor prepares for a role.
This preparation goes way beyond the actual scenes to be played. Yet much of
the preparation remains, in a sense, invisible. What the reader/audience
will experience is a character who seems real.
Research and Personal Experience
Having the answers to these and many other questions, the idea that you can
feed 'chunks' of data into the creation of a character is a dangerous one.
Chunks tend to be indigestible and what I believe has to happen between the
period of researching a book and the period of writing it is precisely the
digestion of all the acquired data, so that, by the time it is recycled as
story, that data has become invisible to the reader.
Data should be big in the notebooks. Long research is good. The larder has
to be filled up. But then select carefully and cleverly from the larder and
let this selection appear small or even be virtually invisible in the novel.
For everything you take from your own memory bank or from any other 'real'
source, try inventing a parallel thing. Fiction can draw on any kind of
human experience and any mode of information-getting to fill the research
larder, but all of that will remain inert unless your imagination can begin
to work with it.
If you decide to take your own childhood experience, say, as the basis for
the childhood experience of your character, then I believe this should be
drip-fed very very slowly - like oil into egg yolks to make mayonnaise -
into the scheme of the book, so that inventions can begin to walk parallel
to it and a kind of alchemy can occur. If you discover, as you may if you
grab for chunks, that you're entirely relying on your own biography and your
imagination is standing idly by, then it's likely that the character you're
bringing into being is going to sound and look and feel and think very like
you. There will be no alchemy to give the character life, no transformation,
no mayonnaise, just a curdled kind of you. You will be writing a displaced
memoir, not a novel.
So try taking one minute incident out of your childhood and then altering it
just enough so that it can be owned by someone else. Re-imagine it with your
character and not you at the centre of it. Re-imagine it with a slightly
different outcome.
Turn what was happy into something frightening or disturbing or what was
worrying into something consoling. Then see what all of this reveals to you
about the character and how it has or has not moved your knowledge of the
character forwards.
Entrances
New characters always disturb the surface of a narrative. The reader has to
be persuaded to look in a new direction at a moment when he's grown
accustomed to a view with which he was becoming comfortable. He may
therefore be resistant to doing this. And this resistance will only be
overcome if the reader trusts the author not to waste his time populating a
book with characters superfluous to the story. Thus, deft integration of the
new with the already-known characters is paramount.
The reader needs speedy reassurance that another piece of the story is being
nudged into place - another piece of this story and not an alternative one
which has suddenly become mixed up with this one.
Jane Austen was extremely skilled at integrating new characters into her
novels. She often gives them an initial role which has immediate impact, as
a catalyst - rescuer, admirer, jealous rival - and then we watch as these
roles change and develop and find essential integration with the core
dilemmas explored in the novel. Giving a new character a task or role, then,
via which they come bursting onto the scene may be one way to ensure that
reader resistance is swiftly and effectively overcome and that the new
character has immediate life. Jane Austen brilliantly understood that with
the appearance of the new, we anticipate change or movement or alteration of
some kind as, for instance, the lives of the Dashwood sisters in Sense
and Sensibility are altered for ever by the appearance of the faithless
Willoughby. Here, the new has disturbed the surface of the narrative to
brilliant and devastating effect.
If we think of a narrative in musical terms, it can be extremely effective
to give to the new arrival a new and different tone or pace. Perhaps he
brings seriousness to what was a fast-moving scene or subversive wit to a
slow-paced one. Perhaps the cadences of his speech have a particularity
which sets him apart from everybody we've met up till now. Perhaps he brings
with him a sudden change of emotional key, steering the narrative towards
terror or sorrow, trouble or salvation.
Remember, above everything, that long, detailed descriptions of new
characters are likely to be indigestible (and therefore not absorbed by the
reader) and to slow the narrative. Only tell us what we need to know
in order to be able to visualise or hear the new arrival at the point of his
entry into the story. Reveal all the rest slowly, at moments when these
revelations will have meaning and consequence. We can't - and don't want to
- know everything about a new acquaintance in our real lives the moment we
set eyes on him; we enjoy making our own slow discoveries. So, in fiction,
gaining deep knowledge of a character is rewarding and absorbing and the
reader shouldn't be denied this pleasure.
The Journey and the Process
Some writers, the late Malcolm Bradbury among them, have told me that they
have to know the ending to a novel in advance of writing, otherwise they
don't know what they're driving towards. Bradbury suggested that, sometimes,
a novel is more or less written backwards, from that known ending. There's
no reason why this shouldn't be a fruitful way to work. But I would find it
very difficult to know precisely how the story was going to end up. For me,
the discovery of what happens is one of the greatest delights of
writing fiction. I would find it too imprisoning to plan an ending from
which I wasn't able to deviate.
I know also, that characters almost invariably develop on the page. You, the
author, will know a certain amount about them before introducing them, but
they will undergo some change as the 'journey' of the book unfolds. Be alert
to this alteration and make sure they don't start doing improbable things or
suddenly take on a fatal invisibility where once they were vibrant and
alive.
When I was working on my novel, Restoration, I imagined that, by the
end of the story, the anti-hero, Merivel would, through the good offices of
his Quaker friend, Pearce, have been able to rid himself of his tendency to
yearn for material possessions and for proof of the King's affection. By
page 100 or so, I realised that what I had created in the character Merivel
was a man who - however much he strove to be dutiful - would always
deviate in some measure from that honourable path. And it was precisely in
this deviation that his humanity lay, not to mention his wit and his ability
to survive. Thus, the envisaged ending had to be completely revised.
Ian McEwan has said that the endings to novels 'have to be earned'. By this,
he meant that only by actually writing the book, by laying down all its
various and complex threads, can you, the author, be absolutely sure where
the work is leading and into what shape those threads have to be gathered.
Novels are long and complex. Characters and their stories change, develop,
turn back upon themselves, take roads unforeseen at the start of the writing
process. I think it's not called a process for nothing. This word - for me,
anyway - presupposes an evolution, the working-out of complicated
experiment. And this experiment, however difficult it seems day by day,
provides the human mind with some of its most fascinating and absorbing
work.
Further Reading
Books
Edelstein, Linda N. - The Writer's Guide to Character Traits
A psychologist's flip-book of personality types including: child
development, psychological disorders, criminal styles, sexual styles, love
and marriage, life-changing events, physical problems, career. Contentious,
but interesting.
Walker, Brenda (Ed.) - The Writers' Reader
A collection of essays on the craft of writing fiction and poetry. Includes
a piece by Delia Falconer on the necessity of historical research, and
Marele Day's essay on creating characters.
Horton, Andrew - Writing the Character-centered Screenplay
If you like good character-driven films like 'Thelma and Louise' and great
TV drama, you should check out this step-by-step description of the
screenwriting process.
Salinger, JD - The Catcher in the Rye
A great study of first-person narration and exquisite character development,
this classic centres on a few days in anti-hero Holden Caufield's teenage
rebellion.
Austen, Jane - Sense and Sensibility
More understated than other Austen, the power behind her dramatisation of
delicate interactions between utterly unique characters is an education in
itself. The Dashwood sisters, one practical and one passionate, approach
romance in 19th century Devonshire.
Found other books more useful? Discuss them at the
Round Table.
Useful Links
writersroom - Insight Interviews - http://www.bbc.co.uk/writersroom/insight/
Interviews with top screenwriters like Lee Hall (Billy Elliot), Tony
Jordan (Eastenders) and Ashley Pharoah (Paradise Heights) with
information on writing characters for big and small screens.
Story Mind - http://storymind.com
A list of highly in-depth articles on creating character. Only for the very
serious writer (except the character analyses of South Park).
About.com - Psychology - http://psychology.about.com/
Lose yourself in this mammoth site full of psychological information. Put
your characters on the couch: take personality tests, read about
developmental stages, disorders and heaps more.
More on Get Writing
LEARN
Got a handle on your characters but want a quick refresher on choosing a
storytelling style? Check out
Develop Your Voice. Brush up on
Writing Believable Dialogue to give your characters voices of their own.
Be sure to read Rose Tremain's companion piece,
Fact into Fiction, if your characters are based on real people. Use the
Character Builder tool to visualise and begin work on your cast.
Find out more on
Rose Tremain.
WRITE
Use the 'Write' button to store your work online at your Portfolio. Submit
your works-in-progress to a
Review Circles for general feedback. Try out some quick writing
exercises from the community at the
Challenges area.
TALK
Critically examine the nuts and bolts of writing technique and shaping
characters at
Art and Craft. Share your general experiences of writing and reading at
WordPlay.
Good Luck!
Tip: Motivation
What drives your characters along are the things that motivate them.
Essentially, there are seven main motivators: Love, Money, Power, Survival,
Revenge, Glory and Self-integrity (a sort of psychological survival). These
need not be extremes ? glory, for example, might involve something as simple
as seeking praise from someone important to your character, not the search
for fame ? but shades of these motivators underlie most human actions. (OU)
Tip: Point of View
Before you start to write any story, you are going to have to decide on a
point of view and find an appropriate narrative voice to focus that point of
view. The narrative voice has a bearing on how you describe a character.
It's hard to describe the physicality of a character using the first person
voice. It might seem unrealistic for her to tell you what her face looked
like at a given moment, because she can't see herself. You might be able to
do this with a third person voice, 'shock flashed across her eyes', but this
will depend on how subjective or objective our voice is. It will give you a
constraint, but within that constraint you will know exactly what you can or
cannot describe. (UEA)
Tip: Discretion
Write about who you know and what you know, BUT not necessarily about
individuals who you know; don't use your friends and then tell them or make
it obvious by physical clues or events (they will always be offended). Make
character stew with your observations of strangers and tidbits about those
closer to you. (UOL)
Tip: Voice
How a character speaks, both in dialogue and internally, will be informed by
where she is from, how she was educated and what she does for a living.
Narrative voice also plays a part here. If a character is telling a story,
from where are they telling it? What is the narrative distance? After the
events? Is so, how far away are we from the events? The tone of voice of an
old man telling a story from his boyhood will differ from the same story
told from a closer vantage point. Or is the story set very much in the
present, as if we are inside the character's head as things are happening to
her? This will obviously have an effect on the diction and on the extent to
which you can meditate. (UEA)
Tip: Show, Don't Tell
Some descriptive statement is essential, but be careful not to tell the
reader things that can be suggested. Make the reader work, engage their
imagination. Don't tell the reader that someone is 'a jealous tyrant',
instead show the reader the person behaving jealously and tyrannically.
Describe what they do, not what they are. Don't tell the reader that someone
is fabulously rich, show the reader how the person lives. Describe their
surroundings. Don't tell the reader that someone is beautiful. Describe
them, and underline the impression that the reader receives by describing
other characters' reactions to them. (UOL)
Exercise: Task Setting
Compile a list of situations, some ordinary, like ordering a pizza, some
extreme, like ordering a coffin, and construct line of speech or observation
that sum up how your character would negotiate these occasions. (UEA)
Exercise: Character Description
Think of someone who you know reasonably well. It doesn't have to be someone
unusual, but it will be easier if it is. Write a description of that person
in such a way that if another person who had never met them read your
description and then saw them in the street, they'd immediately recognise
them. See how short a description you can write and still achieve this. It
will mean isolating their main individual characteristics. (UOL)
Exercise: Getting to Know You
Think about a person that you feel you know quite well (though preferably
not a partner, as this can throw up all sorts of problems!). First list
their good points - what it is that you like about them. Then list their bad
points - irritating habits, opinions and attitudes that you don't care for.
Now think back to when you first met her or him. Over time, how did you
discover the things that you know/feel about them?
Try to answer the following questions:
- What was the first thing that struck you about them?
- How were they dressed, and what did this tell you?
- Did they have any little gestures or ways of speaking that caught your
attention?
- Did they maintain eye contact or avoid it?
- Did they seek out physical contact or shrink from it?
- What did they talk about?
- Now that you've got to know them, what do you think makes them tick
(their motivators)? How does this knowledge differ from your first
impressions?
- Finally, what sort of person do you think they really are? Are they
straightforward or devious, honest or dishonest, tolerant or intolerant,
placid or easily roused, warm-hearted or aloof?
(OU)
Exercise: Hobbies
Imagine a character with an unusual hobby on which they spend all their
spare time. Write the first scene of a short story in which your character
is absorbed in their hobby. This kind of character study may require some
research, unless you have chosen a hobby you already know something about.
The reader's interest in your character will come as much from your
description of how they do things as what they do. (UOL)
Exercise: Chronology
Write the backstory of your character in 200 words, up to the point where
your story begins. Start by writing a chronology of your character. Think
about where they were born, what environment they grew up in, where they
went to school, first loves, first jobs, etc. Make this as detailed as
possible, adding as much anecdotal and descriptive material as possible. You
want a clear idea of where a person has come from if you are to have an
understanding of where they are going. What you are looking for here are
turning points, moments where the world changed irreversibly, where insight
and understanding was found, where the character experienced realisation or
was forced to act in a new way. When did he or she first realise that the
world is entirely different to what he or she had assumed? Moments of change
for a character are the stuff of fiction. (UEA)
Credit: Open University
Thanks to David Stephenson, Derek Matravers, Anne Stevens and Derek Sheills
for these tips and exercises. For more information on OU courses:
(OU)
Credit: University of East Anglia
Thanks to Lisa Selvidge and the continuing education department for these
tips and exercises. For more information on UEA continuing education
courses:
(UEA)
Credit: University of Exeter
Thanks to Anne Morgellyn for these tips. For more information on UOE
lifelong learning courses:
(UOE)
Credit:Lancaster University
Thanks to Hilary Thomas and the Department for Continuing Education for
these tips and exercises. For more information on LU continuing education
courses:
LU
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