Four Surprising Benefits to Letting Your Characters Take the Reins
By Guest | March 30, 2015 |
Please welcome today’s guest, Andrea Lochen, author of two novels: her first, The Repeat Year (Penguin 2013), was praised by Kirkus Reviews as “an engaging, satisfying read that explores friendship, love and who we really are when it truly matters.” A draft of The Repeat Year won the 2008 Hopwood Novel Award. Andrea’s second novel, Imaginary Things, is forthcoming from Astor + Blue in April 2015. Lori Nelson Spielman, bestselling author of The Life List, called it, “a beautiful book, filled with vivid scenes, unforgettable characters, and oodles of heart. With a page-turning plot and an utterly unique concept, Imaginary Things entertains, inspires, and provokes thought—a perfect book club pick.”
[pullquote]I’m completely fascinated and in awe of the highly imaginative process that authors undergo to write novels! I absolutely love the comparison of fictional characters as “imaginary friends” for adults.[/pullquote]
Andrea earned her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Michigan, where she was a Colby Fellow. She earned her Bachelor’s degree in English at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where she was the Fiction Editor of The Madison Review, a nationally-distributed, student-run literary magazine. Since 2008, she has taught undergraduate writing at the University of Wisconsin-Waukesha and was recently awarded the UW Colleges Chancellor’s Award for Excellence in Teaching. Andrea currently lives in Madison with her husband and daughter and is at work on her third novel.
Connect with Andrea on her website and on Facebook.
Four Surprising Benefits to Letting Your Characters Take the Reins
When I was doing research for my new novel, Imaginary Things, I read psychologist Marjorie Taylor’s book, Imaginary Companions and the Children who Create Them. I was delighted to come across a chapter devoted entirely to adults and imaginary friends, and I was downright tickled to learn she included writers among the people who cavort regularly with pretend companions: in essence, our characters. Because as complex and painstaking as the process of writing can be—inventing a setting, characters, and a storyline from scratch—how different is it really from that joyful act of make-believe in which children engage? Our version is perhaps a little more sophisticated and systematic, but doesn’t it spring from that same essential desire to use our imaginations to create a fantasy world and well…play?
Marjorie Taylor also brought up another point that resonated with me—that authors sometimes report feeling like their characters are real people with their own independent agendas, often surprising authors with their unexpected declarations and actions. English children’s writer, Enid Blyton, confessed, “Sometimes a character makes a joke, a really funny one, that makes me laugh as I type it on the paper—and I think, ‘Well, I couldn’t have thought of that myself in a hundred years!’ And then I think, ‘Well, who did thi
nk of it, then?’” Non-writers find this surreal experience difficult to understand: Well, of course you wrote it, they argue. It’s your subconscious mind. You made it happen. But in my opinion, these moments when my characters fully spring to life and take over the reins is one of the most magical and rewarding experiences of writing. Because when it happens, my characters start to truly live and breathe for me, which I hope translates into them living and breathing for my readers.
Authors ranging from Henry James to Alice Walker to Sue Grafton have experienced this phenomenon of being guided by their characters, and I interviewed many others to find out how common this is, and what we can learn from it. For many writers, giving up control over their carefully-outlined novel to their characters can be nerve-wracking. So what benefits can we gain from relinquishing the reins to our fictitious friends occasionally? Here are four takeaways.
1) Adding conflict or complicating the plot
Once in a while, we need a kick in the pants to raise the stakes in our novels. Maybe we fear “hurting” our characters, so sometimes a character’s unexpected bad behavior can give us permission to ramp up the tension. In Yona Zeldis McDonough’s most recent novel, You Were Meant for Me, she recalls wanting to tell her main character, “Oh honey, this is a bad idea—stay away from this guy!” But according to McDonough, “Her failure to listen helped add a deeper and tighter twist to the plot, which ultimately was a good thing. So I like it when the characters assert themselves and go off where they please; they lead me to new places that I might not have gone on my own.”
2) Observing and revealing character flaws
Lori Nelson Spielman, author of The Life List, reported feeling initially “shocked” by her character’s action, but then realized that “it made perfect sense.” She added, “I treasure these moments in writing when we’re no longer creating the story, but simply observing and reporting what we see happening.” Humans are imperfect, flawed beings, and the same should be true for our characters. We need to trust our powers of character development and let the rest unfold naturally.
3) Straying from the plan to allow for a more “organic” world
In John Fowles’ The French Lieutenant’s Woman, he wrote, “We (novelists) know a world is an organism, not a machine. We also know that…a planned world (a world that fully reveals its planning) is a dead world.” So maybe we have that nice, tidy story arc all planned out for our novel, but perhaps what we really need is to allow our characters to mess it up a little. This can make our stories feel more realistic, instead of forced, revealing the author’s hand.
4) Giving your creative side permission to play
Sue Grafton said it best: her strongest work happens “when I am able to get out of my own way. The object, as far as I am concerned, is to let what I call my ‘shadow side’ write the book.” Sometimes, as authors, we can be our own worst enemies. We micromanage and over-plot and second guess ourselves. Writing starts to feel more like work, a chore, or a mathematical equation instead of that beautiful, creative act that compelled us to write in the first place. At times like these, maybe the most helpful thing to do is allow your characters (or whatever you’d like to call them—your imaginary friends, your muses, your subconscious mind) to step in and have some fun.
What are some ways you’ve been guided by your imaginary friends? How do you let them take the reins?
Many thanks to today’s guest.
You can read more WU guest posts by visiting this link.
Hi Andrea, nice to see you here! I hadn’t ever thought of the parallel between my characters and imaginary friends, but I’m not sure why that’s so, when I can still be found saying things like “As Marty Kandelbaum would have said…” And, because I miss them so. I guess the only salve for that loss is to go out and create another set you love just as much.–and perhaps some of that love does come from the ways they surprise us.
I agree with you 100%, Kathryn! I love all of my characters and wish them well when we part ways at the end of the book. But it’s always exciting creating a new cast, isn’t it?
As the writer and director, costumer and set designer of my scenes, I do all the preparation.
I choose what will happen, set up who will be present, make a list of the questions I want answered and of new questions to leave behind.
And then I get out of the way, because the characters are the actors, and they are NOT me, and the actual scene is created in a whoosh that I hope for each time, but have no idea where it comes from.
I tell them what – they decide how.
I’m just as surprised as I hope the reader will be.
‘Getting out of my own way’ is a perfect description.
I really like you calling it ‘imaginary friends.’ I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I did the same thing when I was a child, and you’re right, it’s exactly the same.
What a great analogy, Alicia! Such a clever way of thinking about it!
Andrea,
I love talking about this! Whatever name we put to the phenomenon, it is certainly real . The beauty of watching a child embrace an imaginary friend is in the organic nature of the process. Kids don’t question or analyze. They just play. We’ve had this spontaneity ‘taught’ out of us, so no wonder we resist it when it happens. But once you’ve given in to a character’s demands and seen that impulse open up your story, its like you’ve been sprinkled with fairy dust. You become a believer in the magic. I think the tough part for me is in striking a balance between my (perceived) control of a story, and giving up the reins to another voice. Its a dance and a challenge. Thank you for a wonderful post!
Don’t you wish we felt like we were “sprinkled with fairy dust” as we write all the time? Thanks for your comment, Susan!
Andrea–
From start to finish, truth speaks in your post (as Sue Grafton might say, you let truth off the leash, and got out of the way). I especially like the quote you offer from John Fowles’ novel: “we (novelists) know a world is an organism, not a machine.”
In a way, this distinction represents the faceoff between pantsers and outliners, between those who follow where the story leads, versus those who lead the story along a carefully designed path or trajectory.
Outliners are likely to protest this distinction. They will argue that their outlines allow plenty of chances for characters to leave the path, and prowl around under the shrubs before being drawn back on the straight-and-narrow. And yes, there’s no doubting that outlines make for efficiency, that they serve to rev up the production schedule. So, for those whose pleasure lies in quantitative measurement–pages per day, titles per year (per month?), outlines are indispensable.
But for those of us whose pleasure comes mostly from qualitative results–in twists and turns, in delight at being surprised–there is something unignorably depressing about outlines.
Thank you. I think your post today is a must-read. But then I would–I’m a pantser.
In most elements of my life, I’m a total control freak! But try as I might with my writing, I tend to be more of a “pantser” than an outliner. Perhaps because there’s such joy in the unexpected? Thanks for your insightful response, Barry!
I’ve been led, to various degrees, by so many of my characters. But the thought of one in particular sprang to mind while reading this. Admittedly, at her inception, this character was a bit of a Mary Sue. She was designed as the love interest of one of my existing male characters – wealthy, well-educated, beautiful. But then something happened along the way.
In one of her earliest scenes, she interacted (this is ancient Rome, and she is the daughter of a senator) with one of her slaves – kindly, of course. But I suddenly knew she would be the flash-point for a slavery theme I’d already been exploring. And it led to a huge side-plot. She ended up risking much and was totally embroiled in a huge culture-clash conflict. She became a key to the culmination of an entire trilogy.
She was flawed and fiercer than she knew, and she became one of my favorites… In the most non-Mary Sue sort of way. ;-) She earned my admiration. Great topic – fun stuff, and fun comments. I hope more folks weigh in. Thanks, Andrea!
I love this story, Vaughn! Thanks for sharing! Isn’t it such a delightful (and powerful) experience when our characters and our imaginations surprise us like this?
Andrea, this is a fantastic post, and spot-on for me! I am working on my debut novel. I have known from the beginning that I wanted to make it a series. Why? Because it started with a character. Then I realized the perfect setting for her. The way she looked, the way she talked, her personality–all this was clear to me. The problem was she was not my protagonist. I had so many starts and stops with my WIP that it seemed I would never get to write. My other characters wouldn’t gel for me. I have a really hard time outlining, and I was stumped. Then, my roommate, who will be my first reader/critic, said to me: “Why don’t you tell her story first? You see her, she talks to you, write her story.” Well, duh! So, that is what I am going to do, and I think it will come together so much better! I can hear her saying, impatiently: “Well, it’s about damn time!”
Ha! I love this, Rebecca! Good luck to you as you set about telling her story!
I really like my MC in the book I am currently querying. Often she is with me so that I have to go back to the keyboard and change something or more often add something. She guides me. Writing is at its best when the muse is operating and sometimes that muse is the actual character on the page. An imaginary friend or a villain, but someone to listen to.
Thanks.
Thanks for sharing, Beth! Isn’t it wonderful when a character is so strongly present for you? I’m sure this will translate to your readers as well! Good luck!
Great post, Andrea! My characters definitely live with me, and they live with my family, too (even those who — ahem — haven’t read the books). The kids often point out that this thing reminds them of a certain character, or that thing does. It’s like we’ve amassed more members of our extended family through my writing. The best kind fo family though — the kind that doesn’t drop in unexpected!
PS – can’t wait to see you in WI in a few weeks. And related, good luck in the tournament. On Wisconsin!
Hi Julie! Fancy seeing you here! I love that your characters live for your family too. I’m so looking forward to our event together next month–will be in touch soon!
Thank you for amazing post, Andrea! Point about imaginary friends is just great, never thought about characters this way. I also like this thought “Humans are imperfect, flawed beings, and the same should be true for our characters”. When our characters make mistakes, or show their dark, imperfect side, then the story often makes a perfect sense.
Thanks very much! Glad you enjoyed the post!
Hi, Andrea:
I think we all seek a tipping point where we know enough about our characters and our story to simply let go and let the more intuitive, instinctive, subconscious aspects of our personalities take over the reins.
The question for every writer is simply: How much do I have to do before I get to the point where that surrender feels comfortable, profitable, wise?
I’m currently in the research/background stage of the new novel, where I’m trying to see what choices I have and decide which are the strongest. But I try never to lose sight of the fact that it’s my characters who will have to make those choices, justify them, live with them.
I won’t be ready to let go for some time. That’s how I work. But all of this plotting and scheming and digging and pondering is all in service to that moment when, with that wealth of stuff in my heart and mind, I can sit down at the keys and just let go.
Wonderful post. Thanks so much.
What an insightful way of looking at this, David! We can’t let go until we’ve done our work of fully developing our characters and can trust our instincts (and theirs).
I spent a long time trying to get two of my minor characters (my MC’s two best friends) together. Somehow, the chemistry was missing. On one of my rewrites, i realized that the guy was never going to be attracted to this pretty amazing girl because he was gay. It was a real duh moment for me.
This is a such a great example, Shizuka! I had an “aha!” moment like this with my first book, THE REPEAT YEAR, where I discovered something about my main character’s mother that really made so much snap into focus for me!
Good Day Andrea and WU,
Thank you for posting what I needed to read when I needed to read it. I’m not certain you’ll want to add “psychic to laboring authors” to your business stationery, but I’ll be a reference if you need one. ;)
I am in the early stages of my second novel and I have been getting bored and a wee bit nauseous from over-planning. I know the protagonist and antagonist well and even a few other characters. I know their backstories, what they want, why, their temperaments, flaws, and things I still haven’t figured out about myself yet. I even know some plot points–but not all of them.
Saturday, I took a break from planning and started writing page one because:
1. I missed writing.
2. I wanted the characters to start *doing* things.
Knowing the characters well, I wanted to put them in the sandbox and let them play. “OK protagonist and antagonist, here’s what you want and here are your circumstances–what are you going to do?”
Because I don’t know all of the plot points along the story arch, I felt like I was being lazy or sloppy or impatient.
Your article reminded of what had become obscured by spending hours each day reading about planning. It also provided a bit of validation to my nagging concern that over-planning can be as much a bane to creating a compelling story as not planning at all.
Because of your timely post, I am looking forward to some guilt-free time watching my characters tonight.
Kind Regards,
Howard Ravenkamp
Thanks so much for your nice note, Howard! I am so glad my post could be helpful to you and arrive at the right time! Isn’t that wonderful when that happens? I hope you enjoy your guilt-free writing and letting your characters take the reins for a while!
This so true. Initially, I was was intimidated to write character dialogue. But once I started, they seemed to take on a life of their own. At times I wanted to go down a certain path, but couldn’t because it went against my character’s character. Yes, I could have re-written them, but at the same I can’t. It’s like they exist in their own right and there’s nothing I can do to change them.
Writing dialogue is one of my favorite things! It’s certainly exciting seeing your characters converse back in forth like that, isn’t it?