Forging Character
By Kathleen McCleary | June 15, 2016 |
Flickr Creative Commons: Clarissa Blackburn
I recently attended my 35th college reunion. Of course it was fascinating to catch up with people I hadn’t seen in five or ten or 35 years, to spend three days eating and drinking and dancing and reminiscing. But what struck me most about seeing people at my reunion was the incredible window it provided into how character—the real, genuine character of real people—develops over the years. No one there felt any need to impress anyone. Instead, we all talked honestly about the successes we’d enjoyed, the failures we’d endured, and the losses we’d survived. Just the fact that we had thus far navigated a world that is often “violent and mercurial,” to use Tennessee Williams’ phrase, gave us a commonality of experience we all understood.
The people at my reunion were doctors, lawyers, social workers, artists, teachers, economists, artists, and travelers. Some were happily married, with kids attending prestigious colleges. Some were widowed, or divorced, or childless, or struggling to help a troubled child. Some were at the peaks of their careers; some were unemployed. Many had buried parents or were caring for aging parents or were watching parents slide into illness or dementia. Some had lost spouses; some had lost children. This is life; these are the realities that forge character.
It made me think about the process of forging characters in fiction. Unlike many authors, I do not write lengthy backstories for my characters that never make it into my novels. Nor do I make lists of my characters’ favorite foods and colors and hobbies, or write out answers to lists of 35 Questions You Must Ask Your Characters. For me, characters grow organically, as they do in real life. If I start out knowing everything about them, I can’t be surprised. Real people often surprise me; my characters should, too.
The questions we asked each other at my reunion, 35 years after graduation, were as good a roadmap as any for finding a way into character. Where are you living now? How’s your work going? How is your family? What happened to your mom/partner/sister/spouse/roommate/best friend? Have you ever heard from that guy you dated sophomore year who never comes to reunions?
The answers were stories, or the beginnings of stories. I left my medical practice after 25 years and went to work helping people who don’t have medical insurance. I moved to live closer to my parents because my mom was sick, and then she and my dad died within a month of each other and I thought I’d be over it by now but I’m not. My son is a dancer but he suffered a devastating back injury and we don’t know how it’s going to turn out. Yes, my college boyfriend wrote me five years ago and said his wife became an alcoholic and he went through a painful divorce and he’s trying to rebuild his life in a new marriage.
The common theme in every narrative was loss. I’m not saying my former classmates are a grim bunch—in fact they’re some of the most resilient, optimistic, creative people I’ve ever met. Our lives have been filled with gains, too—the blessings of children and grandchildren, deep friendships, faith, work that makes a difference, promotions, career pinnacles, travel, beloved homes. But now that we’re all in our fifties, we’ve all experienced the kind of losses that sharpen the senses and heighten awareness, the kind of losses that shape who we become.
In my creative writing workshops, I teach kids that stories are about a character wanting something she can’t have, and the obstacles she has to overcome to get it (or not). But if I were going to be really honest, I’d teach them that stories are about a character wanting something because they’ve lost something. Loss lies behind most desire.
Years ago I interviewed the filmmaker Ken Burns, whose mother died when he was 12. He was talking to a psychologist friend once about his work, about the documentaries he had made about the Civil war and baseball and jazz. “Look at what you do,” the friend said. “You bring Abraham Lincoln and Jackie Robinson and Louis Armstrong back to life. Who do you think you’re really trying to wake up?”
So ask your characters the questions you might ask of them at a reunion in the future. What happened to that woman you fell in love with? Where are your kids? How are your parents doing? What you’re really asking is: What have you lost? What have you gained? How has it changed you? How have you survived? What do you long for now?
And in those answers, you’ll find the heart and soul of your character.
Kathleen McCleary is the author of three novels—House and Home, A Simple Thing, and Leaving Haven—and has worked as a bookseller, bartender, and barista (all great jobs for gathering material for fiction). A Simple Thing (HarperCollins 2012) was nominated for the Library of Virginia Literary Awards. She was a journalist for many years before turning to fiction, and her work has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, Good Housekeeping, Ladies Home Journal, and USA Weekend, as well as HGTV.com, where she was a regular columnist. She taught writing as an adjunct professor at American University in Washington, D.C., and teaches creative writing to kids ages 8-18 as an instructor with Writopia Labs, a non-profit. She also offers college essay coaching (https://thenobleapp.com), because she believes that life is stressful enough and telling stories of any kind should be exciting and fun. When she’s not writing or coaching writing, she looks for any excuse to get out into the woods or mountains or onto a lake. She lives in northern Virginia with her husband and two daughters and Jinx the cat.
Kathleen, what a lovely post. I agree that loss creates a powerful desire. And there’s another thing; regret. I’ve spent a lot of time with older people and out of their regrets (and it’s usually about not having spent enough time with people, not things or positions) come powerful stories. Now that I’m 50+ years, I have my own regrets and they go to the core of my character. Yes, it’s growing older that shows what we’re really made of.
Thanks, Vijaya. You’re so right that regrets are often about relationships and time, not about things. That’s another key aspect of character. Thank you.
“The common theme in every narrative was loss.”
So true. My current MC is driven by layers of loss. The story peels them back. The thing is, he can’t recover what he’s lost. That’s not possible. What’s lost can only be replaced by something new.
That new something is what I would add to your wise observation of your classmates. Seeking what’s lost drives us onward, but we arrive when we have hope.
Beautiful post.
What’s lost is often replaced by something different—sometimes better, sometimes not, but different. Great point that characters can’t recover what’s been lost, and that’s part of the process. Thanks, Benjamin.
Loss doesn’t just forge characters, it forges writers. The losses of first my father then my mother-in-law prompted a life change for my wife and I, and the beginning of my writing journey. Among other things, loss made me realize that life is too short to not start striving for your dreams, to live the life you used to describe starting with the words: “Someday I’ll…”
Thanks for a revealing and thought-provoking post, Kathleen!
Such a great insight, Vaughn! Yes, loss forges writers. I didn’t publish my first novel until I was 48, and the writing of it was fueled by loss—by moving across country and leaving a home and friendships and a place I was deeply attached to. Similarly, I wrote a second POV in my second novel that arose out of a summer of loss I experienced, with the deaths of my father and father-in-law and other setbacks. And, finally, your comment that “loss made me realize that life is too short to not start striving for your dreams” hits home, too. The quote I had stuck to my computer throughout the writing of my first novel was this: “What would you do if you knew you could not fail?” Thanks.
Love it. “What would you do if you knew you could not fail?”
This thought struck me as I read it…
I would probably fail for sitting back and not trying.
:o)
My Motto?
Onward and Upward.
I like that, “What would you do if you could not fail?” Me? I’d be an artist.
“What would you do if you knew you could not fail?” I love this too!
And somewhat different: What if you knew you only had a year to live? The prospect of death urges me to write.
You’ve nailed it! Reading this post makes me more fully aware that each of my characters has experienced a major loss. I already knew that each one wanted something, and that their desires were in conflict (thus, the story), but a heightened awareness of their respective losses is giving me fresh insight into their depths.
As for those pesky lists of character traits, I think they are deceptive. Are they truly helpful, or do they serve mainly to prop up the writer’s insecurities and give the illusion that everything is neatly lined up even before the story is written? As this post points out, it’s essential to be surprised by our own characters and by their responses to events and to one another.
Now I’m thinking of a best-selling author who has also written a how-to book. She evidently knows everything about her story before each chapter is written: all about the character, exactly what will happen in each scene, long summaries of each chapter ahead of the actual writing. I realize that methods differ, but if I tried to follow her suggestions, it would take all the fun out of the whole enterprise. (Perhaps it is relevant that whereas I enjoyed her earlier books in the series, later volumes have nearly doubled in length and, to my mind, have become tedious to read.)
Thanks for these excellent insights!
Glad you found it helpful, Anna. I agree with you about knowing too much before the story is written—it always shows! Good luck.
To me you got it right off the bat with the title. We don’t like to think of ourselves as having been slapped in the fire and then hammered into shape. In the same way, not many characters jump straight from brain to page like Athena (though that’s what got me started with my current MC- Solemn Judgement was so fully formed at such an early age, I had to ask why).
Maybe the point about loss is that good people, effective or powerful spirits always put themselves fully into the path of difficulty in some way- whether to endure or cure. Sometimes losss can be a cold forge. I’m not sure how to say it, but the idea certainly explains a lot about what my lovely wife has gone through, starting with marrying me!
Hey, Will. (You were missed at the reunion, by the way.) I love the point that people often put themselves into the path of difficulty in some way in order to become better people. And lucky you for having an MC you know so well and came to you “fully formed.” It happens!
You know the word I was looking for, resolved. Good people don’t seek problems, but they won’t run, won’t change who they are to avoid suffering. Books like yours, it might be abandonment. Me, more likely a liche…
Wow, what a beautiful post! I never liked those character charts. They seem so static, and as you so beautifully stated, if we let our characters evolve, they can and will surprise us. For me, going back and looking at the early losses a character suffered will inform what she does on the page. So some background, but not her favorite flavor of ice cream. The questions you suggest that we ask our characters will make for much more interesting answers. Thank you!!
Thanks, Susan, I so appreciate your comments. Hope those questions you ask of your characters lead to some insightful answers.
I love this! Loss creating desire is a new way of thinking about character development for me, but it makes sense. I don’t create extensive backstories on my characters in advance either (they change on me if I do anyway), preferring to get to know them as I write. But I appreciate some new ways to think about getting to know them. Thanks!
Getting to know characters as we write is half the fun, in my opinion. Thanks, Gwen.
Maybe each character that we come up with who matters to us is a way of dealing with one of those losses.
In the same way each character is part of me (often a part I haven’t exercised), you are correct in stating that who they are has to do with how they were formed, and that forge was often a major loss.
Like the grain of sand that irritates the oyster into creating the first of many layers to smooth out the pain.
My characters are all parts of me, too, Alicia, and it’s interesting to think that maybe each one of them represents a different way of working through a different loss. Love that. Thanks.
Your post immediately brought to mind two quotes about character: “You cannot dream yourself a character, you must hammer and forge yourself one.” – James Anthony Froude; and my favorite, “Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.” – Abraham Lincoln
After attending a Donald Maass workshop last month, I came home, printed a copy of my WIP, and, per his instructions, threw all 81 pages into the air, then picked one page at random to see if, out of context, it had micro-tension. Some did, some didn’t. But the surprising revelation as I read individual pages was that most of my characters lacked character.
Result? I’ve scrapped that version, now outlining version #3 with an entirely new POV and POV character. My WIP is a children’s/MG story, and while children have distinct personalities, their character is still being ‘hammered and forged.’ Will they be a good sport? Will they take responsibility for their mistake? Will they tell the truth? How will they handle disappointment, embarrassment, success, etc.?
As for the Lincoln quote, I think that at the heart of most relationship issues there is a power struggle. Whether between spouses, friends, parents and children, co-workers, etc., who has power, how much they have, how, when, and why they use it, is the key to those relationships. While this is something I’ve believed for years, figuring out how to write about is a new challenge.
(BTW, thanks, Mr. Maass. Although this first story is taking much longer than I expected, I’m hopeful that what I’m learning will make the process much smoother for stories 2,3, & 4.)
Once again, another interesting and timely post from WU.
So much useful info in your comment, here, CK. Thank you. I love the Lincoln quote and think it is true that power struggles lie at the heart of most relationship issues. And the questions you ask about the values and forces that shape children’s characters are compelling. Good luck with your new version of your work.
Such a lovely, thought-provoking post. I’m writing my first novel at 76!! — though I have been a successful non-fiction writer all my life. I started it thinking what most shaped my main character was the loss of her daughter. But the more deeply I get into it, the more I realize her “wound” is her yearning for the freedom she desperately wanted but could never have.
So I wonder whether what shapes a character may be not the loss of something once had, but something never had at all.
Now that is something to ponder, Jean! Fascinating to think about whether the loss that shapes a character is something they never had. Thank you.
What a great post and so timely! An invite to my 35th Reunion came today…a week after a character in my series determined a pivotal event in her story would be…her 35th reunion. Although I’d done the math in her case, I’d failed to do it for myself. And yes, loss and regret are a theme in her story :-)
Hope you go to your reunion and enjoy it as much as I enjoyed mine, LG. Maybe you’ll find some inspiration there, too. Thanks.
“Stories are about a character wanting something because they’ve lost something. Loss lies behind most desire.”
Oooh, that gave me chills. I love it. This is exactly what I’m working on right now. The problem is that it’s really hard to funnel everything through the character’s eyes in such a painful space. I’m in a coffee shop trying not to cry or look foolish all because my protagonist lost his father, who was not only his hero, but a core partner in raising him … he’s about to lose his mother in a few chapters too. He already felt lost because he’s comparing himself to his parents, and comes up not feeling cunning, brave or in any way equal to them…omg I’m going on, writing a ‘who cares’ response. Point is, thank you for your post this morning. It’s helping to keep me focused and in the skin of my protagonist.
Also, in response to seeing where our characters go in an organic way: I’ve tried quite a few things over the years and what helps me most are asking questions about the characters that are relevant to the story I am trying to tell, and then diving into their backstories. … I find that I am still VERY much surprisedly what they do or who they become, but it takes them to a higher level, it pushes them further. If I don’t give them a solid, relevant backstory, they aren’t as layered and I don’t push them as hard. They come out like one-note secondary characters … they read like extras look on television. It shows. It always shows. Sigh… Now back to work. Thanks again.
Thanks for writing. I’m always fascinated to read about another writer’s process. I’m glad if my column helped you focus. Sounds like you’re dealing with hard issues in your book. That kind of emotional truth is at the core of every good novel, I believe. Good luck.
Hi, Kathleen:
What a wonderful, compassionate post.
I’m one of those who does write backstories for my characters, but I go about it differently than most writing guides suggest.
I don’t explore information, I look for key scenes: of loss, yes, but also shame and guilt and cowardice, combined with moments of connection, pride, forgiveness, and courage. I need to see not just how my character has fallen down but how she’s gotten back up, stood her ground.
This helps me understand the lack that defines the character’s life at the start of the story. That lack points to what she yearns for — the kind of person she wants to be, the way of life she wants to live.
It also helps me flesh out why she isn’t yet the person she wants to be, living the life she longs for.
This gives me sufficient ground to let my characters enter (or create) the story.
I agree, a character needs to surprise. But that suggests she needs to betray an expectation, and that expectation arises from the past.
It’s a question of balance, I guess. How much do you need to know before you can begin? I think that differs with every writer.
Your classmate comparison, I believe, is an excellent one. How much do you need to explore before the character appears in your mind like someone you know–not well, perhaps, but well enough? You can never know a character “perfectly” any more than you can know a real person in and out. It’s useless to try.
But once you have that sense of the character as a real person in your imagination, let go, so she can tell you the rest.
I love the idea that you search for your characters’ emotional backstories, successes and failures. Great idea, David! Thanks for that.
So often I read this article or that article on how to write this way or that and I yawn and move on. Your article nailed it. What a perfectly direct way to bring out the nature of a character one is developing. It’s exactly what we do in reality. And there it is. I am presently struggling with a particular character in a short story. I can’t wait to apply your suggestion. Thank for your thoughtful advice. I know I will thank you again, as this character comes out of her shell.
Thank you. I’m happy to know the column struck a chord with you, and hope it helps with your character. Let me know how it goes!
I read a lot of posts and this is clearly one of the best. Thank you for putting it into perspective. Of course, our protagonist longs for that which he can’t have. But the story really is about filling the hole. Great post. Thanks.
Thank YOU, Joylene. Made my day that you took the time to post such positive feedback.
Kathleen,
What a great post. While working on a series recently, I backstoried everyone so much that when it came time to write the actual story, I couldn’t do it.
This time, I spent a little time sketching out a beginning and an end with just a few middle plot points, and got to know my characters just enough to get them talking on the page. Then I started writing.
Every few scenes I go back to the brainstorming stage to ask a few more questions and let them and the story grow that way. It has been a lot more fun, the characters are so surprising, and the word count is just building up.
After the first few scenes I had asked what each character’s motivation was and what each hoped to gain from the journey. Now I am going to go in and ask “What has each character lost that propelled them on this journey? How does that loss color their perspective?”
Thanks for such a great article.
Thank you Kathy. This is a wonderful blog and a reminder of how to create true characters. Appreciate it greatly.
I found this incredibly inspiring and it really lit a spark for me in terms of my own characters I’m writing. Thank you for the insight!
Hi Kathleen:
I have been traveling so am late in posting. I lost my father when I was three. I know that loss fuels much if not all of my writing as I seek to fill some void, to conjure lives that are not like mine and yet to find within each life a hint of salvation, of achievement despite loss. I don’t feel I have a negative view of life, but certainly a very realistic one. Great post and thank you.