Reaquainting Ourselves with Our Characters
By Sarah Callender | January 2, 2025 |
While I have earned nothing beyond a BA in English, I’ve never let that stop me from pretending I have a vast array of training and advanced degrees at my fingertips. Need a marriage therapist who’s willing to work for free? I’m your gal. Looking for a pro bono private investigator? You’ve come to the right place! Hoping to stumble upon a psychiatrist who specializes in diagnosing those who don’t know they need a diagnosis? Yep, I can do that too.
On December 24th, I found myself at Safeway, picking up the items I had forgotten to purchase on the grocery runs I had made on the 22nd and 23rd. Safeway is my go-to because I grew up shopping at Safeway. And I am a cheapskate. It’s also a little gritty, which I appreciate, because at the chichi grocery store that’s a little closer to my house, the apples are too beautiful, the specialty items too special, the shoppers too coiffed. At Safeway? I feel perfectly at home log-rolling myself from bed to car to Safeway. No coiffing required.
It was in the produce section that I found myself picking green beans from a heap and standing about fifteen feet from a couple near the potatoes. I noticed them because they appeared both too coiffed to be shopping at Safeway and too calm to be shopping on Christmas Eve. But there was something else about them that piqued my interest.
Summoning everything I learned while earning my pretend PhD in Psychology, I began my initial assessment of the couple. I guessed they were in their early 40s. She had a sassy blonde bob and wore denim trousers and a Santa hat. He was well-dressed and conventionally handsome; if you Google “generic handsome man,” you will see many iterations of him. They each wore a ring on their wedding finger. Mr. Handsome was pushing the cart.
They looked nice enough, but something was vaguely rotten in this aisle of Safeway.
Knowing I needed to move physically closer to the couple, I called on the acting skills I had learned during my pretend years at Julliard. Pretending to be checking my grocery list, then pretending I had ALMOST forgotten the onions, I pushed my cart over to the onion section. Sometimes you pretend you need a Walla Walla sweet, even if you already have onions at home, so you can eavesdrop on a couple in the nearby potato section.
And eavesdrop I did! I listened as the couple spoke of their butter lettuce options as if butter lettuce could make or break Christmas. They discussed the gift card they had purchased for his parents (at the fancy Italian restaurant down the street) and the gift card they would buy for her parents (at the fancy bakery up the street). They discussed stocking stuffers for their kids, the wrapping of gifts they needed to do that evening, the bourbon they wanted to get at the fancy liquor store. All this, while I committed, acting-wise, to finding the most perfect onion I didn’t even need.
It wasn’t the content of their conversation that felt off; it was their tentative, cautious tone and the formal, stilted style that startled me.
By that point, I no longer wanted to eavesdrop. Their dialogue made me sad and lonely, because it seemed they didn’t even know each other. And if we don’t know our life partner, how can we trust their grip, their timing, and their presence as we’re flying through the air in this wild trapeze act called Life?
I thought about this couple a few days later when I was listening to Elizabeth Strout’s most recent book, Tell Me Everything. In this novel, Strout crafts yet another story filled with quirky, ordinary people doing regular, mundane things. It was in this novel that a theme emerged: We can never truly know another person.
I didn’t like this idea. I want to believe I truly know my husband, my children, my closest friends. I especially want to believe I know myself.
But in the novel, Lucy, a main character, explains that “nobody can go into the crevices of another’s mind. Even the person can’t go into the crevices of their own mind” (Audiobook, Chapter 4, 15:20-16:00).
I was struck by this idea when my husband and our two college-age kids spent a stormy, rainy week in an Airbnb on the Washington coast with my parents, my dear sister, and her hilarious husband. Chatting about our childhoods, I became aware of the large chunks of my sister’s life that were totally unknown to me.
I was equally surprised while listening to my son tell my parents about a research project he was creating. Who was this mature, articulate man-child talking to my parents? Because he has been away at college for four years and has been busy working out of state in the summers, I hadn’t really known, in a day-to-day way, the current, much more mature version of my kid. There is so much about him I can never know. I dislike this fact very much.
I have also been humbled by the questions my editor had about a major character in my manuscript–the mother of the 13-year-old narrator. My editor didn’t understand her, her motivation, her needs.
Pshaw! It was all right there in the book. Okay, maybe not in the book, but definitely in my head and in my notes.
Except it wasn’t in those places either.
I thought I knew—really knew—this character, but I didn’t.
Or, maybe I thought I didn’t really have to know this mother character. No child really can know her parent, and I didn’t want to inadvertently “give” the narrator more wisdom than a 13-year-old should possess.
But this was stupid. And I had been stupid to forget something so important: a character doesn’t necessarily need to know another character, but the writer needs to know everything about every character.
We probably can’t fully know our loved ones or even ourselves (nor can we understand the mechanics of grocery shoppers’ relationships). If, however, we want to build stories where our characters’ motivations, fears, secrets, and desires are clear, if we want our characters to feel more real than real people, to be known intimately by our readers, we writers must force ourselves into the crevices of our characters’ minds.
And not just once. In scene after scene, we must continue to scrutinize our characters’ words and actions, we must listen to them with open minds, we must return over and over to ask them questions, and we must constantly readjust and reorient ourselves and our story when they surprise us. We must get right up in the faces of even the minor characters, grip their shoulders, look hard into their eyes and say, “Please. I want to know you. Tell me everything.”
Who in your life (real or fictional) has surprised you recently? What question should you ask one of the characters in your WIP? What degree or certification do you pretend to have?
Thank you, as always, for reading and sharing. May your 2025 be filled with deeply satisfying relationships in which you feel fully and happily known.
A Middle Grade novelist (and Middle School English teacher), Sarah Callender lives in Seattle with her family. Because Sarah dislikes cleaning anything that will just get messy again, she tidies the house and weeds the yard only when absolutely necessary. This allows her time to focus on her true–and somewhat fraught–passions: writing, Abe Lincoln, and Tony’s Chocolonely chocolate bars. Equally passionate about mental health advocacy, Sarah is a member of The Stability Network. Sarah’s first novel, LUCY IN BETWEEN, will be published by Margaret Ferguson Books/Holiday House in 2026.
Sarah, if you were to write a novel about a pretending-eavesdropping-acting writer as above, I’d be first in line to order it. I was hooked!
Me too! I was riveted. The writing was so, so, so good!! Loved this piece so much.
And yes. We writers need to know far more about our characters than will ever appear on the pages. That’s the magic of authenticity vs something that feels thin, contrived, distant. It’s the flip side of the cliche about showing, not telling. We do not need to show or tell everything about every character. But we need to know it in order for the reader to feel it.
Yes! And why do I always manage to forget this? It’s shocking how often I don’t remember the basics of fiction writing. Shocking and humbling.
To be honest, whenever I write these WU pieces, they turn out to be for ME … reminders of what *I* need to remember.
Thanks, Barbara for the show/tell analogy. That’s one of the tricks, right? Knowing how much to show the reader … kind of a Goldilocks situation, really.
That’s so kind, Anmarie. Happy writing and happy 2025 to you. Thank you for taking the time to comment. :)
I should say someone surprised me by their actions but really, deeply inside, I already knew they were just who they showed me and I being me – reclusive, reserved at times, often disconnected from people, finding people exhausting at times or maybe I am exhausting with my overactive mind that goes zippy zip zippy zip – chose to ignore it because it’s easier to ignore sometimes and la-tee-dah it, and of course one or two or three of my characters are like that too. I don’t pretend anything, but I’ll tuck things away, out of view. Ha.
Lovely insightful article.
Thank you, Kathryn, for your words here. I read your comment three times because I loved the rhythm so much.
You are wise … I stupidly think that people can suddenly, magically become something other than what or who they are. And even worse, I think that if I can only find the right words, I can help someone be happier than they currently are. Add this to my pretend degree: A double major in Delusions of Grandeur and Ridiculous Optimism, with a minor in Banging Head Against Wall.
I pretend to know broadcast journalism, how to conduct a therapy session, and law enforcement methods. After reading the following prompt in The Emotional Craft of Fiction, I added 200 words in the middle of a scene that surprised and delighted me as much as my beta readers. Now I want to question all my other characters.
Ask your protagonist: If you could do anything you wanted to in this story, what would it be? What are you dying to do that I’m not letting you?
Dawn! Your detail about law enforcement methods made me laugh-snort. Seattle has a big grafitti “problem” right now … what are your thoughts on that? Is grafitti art or crime? And do you think Miranda rights should be read in a more friendly, less agressive manner? Or maybe with a British accent?
I LOVE the question you pose via Don Maass’s The Emotional Craft of Fiction. Thank you for sharing that here. I wonder … when you consulted your character and added those 200 words, did you allow the character the freedom to do as they pleased, or did you further constrain them? I am genuinely curious.
I will carry this question with me as I am working on my “new” manuscript.
Whether graffiti is art or crime feels like it’s in the eyes of the beholder (or the talent of the graffiti artist!), which confirms that I’m no expert–just winging it. And doesn’t everything land better with a British accent?
In my additional 200 words, I allowed the character the freedom to do as she pleased. When I read the prompt, I immediately knew what she wanted to do. The reader could anticipate it from chapter one, but I’ve definitely thwarted reader anticipation in this story line, hoping everyone, like me, believes the new direction is better for my character. But she’s definitely been torn about the other choice, and I gave her the chance to test the “what if.” It settled the question for her and will for the reader too. And it’s a little shocking, unexpected, and definitely fun.
Onions — it had to be onions. Because as *Shrek* tells us, onions and people always have more layers.
And no connection to the fact that both are delightful, and both can make us cry. Like your thoughts — thank you, Sarah.
Such a lovely comment, Ken. Thank you for the Shrek reference too.
Years ago, I was in this very same Safeway, rummaging through the very same onion bin, when an older fellow told me that onions with a flatter top and bottom (as opposed to a more pointy top and bottom) cause fewer tears. I have never found scientific evidence that supports his claim, but now, whenever I am buying onions, (and when I am not distracted by eavesdropping), I think about the wisdom he imparted and avoid the pointy-ended onions. I cry easily enough without the help of onion fumes.
And I like to study this poem with my students: https://poets.org/poem/monologue-onion
Thanks, Ken, for sharing your words here!
My grandmother told me that blunt onions are more sweet (good to serve raw) and pointy ones are more bitter (better for cooking).
No scientific citation. Yes citation of “childhood homesteading in rural Texas.”
Thank you, James! My grandmother grew up on a watermelon farm in east Texas, and I trusted her her completely … I think it’s safe to say that grandmothers from rural texas are wise and know their produce. :)
Add to your CV the ability to make people laugh and think at the same time. If there isn’t a degree for this, there should be. I think my biggest surprise came from a character who began his life as a garden-variety bully but turned out to be a teen exposed to toxic male violence via his father and who, two books later, acknowledges his homosexuality. I went from hating him to adoring him in one paragraph. As for my pretend degree, it is definitely in creative cookery. Ask my husband how that’s going. I love you and this post. Happiest of New Years!
Sarah, wonderful post. As usual…and I am an Elizabeth Strout fan, took a class with her, have read EVERYTHING she has published. But your scene in the grocery store is a teachable moment for all writers. We have so much around us to view and listen to. BUT, it is all about capturing the details and knowing how to use them.
HAPPY NEW YEAR, I think you found more than you expected at the grocery store.
YOU TOOK A CLASS WITH ELIZABETH STROUT!?!? Oh my gosh, how was it?!? I would have been a giggly wreck in her midst … have you read Tell Me Everything yet? I absolutely know Elizabeth Strout is not Lucy Barton, but there are those details where Lucy talks about taking that writing class from that famous writer, and I wondered how much of Strout’s own experiences were present in that scene … or were those details in My Name is Lucy Barton? The lines are wonderfully blurry in Strout’s fiction.
Happy New Year to you too, Beth. You’re so great.
Thanks, Sarah. I was living in Iowa and took classes at the Iowa Summer Writing Series. So this was just over a weekend…but I knew she was going to be GREAT after reading her first book, AMY & ISABEL and I have read EVERYTHING since then. You might say I’m a fan. What is so wonderful, as things have progressed, she pulls ALL of her previous and precious characters back into her work. They might get a paragraph, but they are all alive and well. But LOL, not sure she has robbed off on me. Happy New Year.
Creative cookery! I love this … does it mean that you can never recreate the same amazing meal because you can recall the creative liberties you took? Or does it mean your husband often needs to make himself a sandwich (and maybe one for you too) after dinner?
I read the details of your bully character, and immediately exhaled and said, “Oh. Yes. That’s right.” What a moment for you … and that’s the beauty of fiction, right? When we are open to others’ stories, we see how similar we all really are. We also see how bullies are (as Elizabeth Strout writes in Tell Me Everything) just people who are terrified. What a beautiful character you have breathed life into!
Thank you, Susan, as always, for being here.
This was so lovely! It made me laugh and made me think—thank you for the wonderful reminder.
Thank you, Jo! I so appreciate that you took the time to read and comment. xox!
What a great reminder, Sarah! My father died last week, and both as we helped him make his farewell tour phone calls and as we’ve let people know that he passed away, we’ve gotten to hear so many stories about him we didn’t know. None of them are shocking, but they give me a fuller picture of my dad.
Oh Natalie. Thank you for this. I’m so sorry about your loss … my dad has Stage IV cancer, and I dread the idea of losing him. I know you have a good support system to hold you, but in the end, it seems we have to bear our own unique grief (and our own unique journey in our grief) on our own. I hope you are managing under its weight.
I love that people who loved your dad are sharing their stories with you. xoxo!
I have a brother who has always been a bit of a bully, who never got along with our father, though the bullying behavior was allowed under the “what, don’t you have a sense of humor” clause. Years after our father died, he has suddenly, out of the blue to me, begun to venerate our father and absolutely denigrate our mother, who has also passed on, though several years after my father. I don’t know why, or how this came about. It is a puzzle to me. If I ask him about it, he acts as if it’s always been that way, and I am “not remembering”. Though out other siblings remember the same as I do. That is definitely a surprising behavior.
Thank you, Siobhan, for this beautiful comment. I so appreciate it. Just this morning, I read this article:
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/cut-off-communication-parent-what-to-expect_n_67608973e4b000ebe4d67f5c
It helps me understand the powerful dynamics and messy myths that exist within a family. Maybe some of the details here are pertinent in your situation? I have a close family, but man, families really are complex organisms, and this article made me think, “Yes. I get that.” We are all such interesting creatures!
I really do love what you shared here. xox!
Sarah, I was watching you in a 7/11 the other day, and while I understood the large clock hanging from your neck, the ice-skates were puzzling. I finished Strout’s “Tell Me Everything” in audio the other day, and loved its plunge into the dark grottoes of human character. (Though I am mixed on listening to literary fiction, because I can’t easily go back and look at—something I do constantly with print—what the author is doing with a paragraph or sentence.)
So much truth in your wry post; our onions have many skins, and even in careful efforts to peel them, some will remain hidden or lost. Or the tears will obscure them; heck, I barely understand my own history and motivations.
I am SO glad I’m not the only stalker here! And it’s funny that you were watching me at the 7/11 because after I went ice skating, I was watching you making that bacon-cheddar omelette. I thought you were vegetarian, but maybe 2025 is your Year of the Pig? Regardless, your meal was a work of art. If you could get me the name of your non-stick pan, that’d be awesome. I just decided that 2025 is going to be my Year of the Omelette.
And this: “our onions have many skins, and even in careful efforts to peel them, some will remain hidden or lost. Or the tears will obscure them; heck, I barely understand my own history and motivations.”
Perfect words, Tom. All true.
Sarah, I loved this so much–your eavesdropping and realizing that people don’t always know each other. Even after 40 yrs of being together with my husband, there are depths of each other we’ve not yet plumbed. We are constantly discovering new things. And as Tom said above about barely understanding his own self, it is true for me too. It’s one of the reasons I often have the blind man’s prayer upon my lips: Lord, let me see. To see as You see. Btw, a year ago at a religious retreat, one of the priests spoke about intimacy and I almost typed it as he said it: into-me-see.
My daughter got married during the Christmas Octave and we’ve had family in town to witness and celebrate the nuptials and I’m always surprised how quickly the time apart disappears. We return to our old ways but discover that time and different experiences have changed us. It’s been the best Christmas ever! And I can’t wait to see what the New Year holds. I’m excited. A blessed and happy New Year to you and all yours.
I love the idea of a Christmas wedding … congratulations on welcoming a new member into your your family.
Into-me-see is absolutely beautiful. I am going to adopt that one. It will be helpful in ALL of my relationships. xox!
Such a delightful read, you’re teaching us and entertaining us at the same time. I’ve just started a new novel with five women characters and the most wonderful thing: sometimes one of the characters will see something in another character I did not know and probably would never have thought of. I love interviewing these women and having them reveal themselves to me.
Thank you for this great post.
Yes, Judy! Isn’t it amazing how our characters and our brains work in the process of writing fiction? It’s astounding … and I’m glad I don’t understand why or how. I like that there’s a lot of mystery in the process.
Oh dear. Unfortunately I think I know exactly what is going on with that couple, and maybe anyone who’s been there knows it too. They’re shopping at a store they don’t usually go to because they don’t want to run into anyone they know. And that’s because something has happened in their relationship, and they are trying to figure it out. Maybe they decided to work it out, maybe they’re not sure yet, because it’s too fresh, but don’t want to be hasty because of the kids. They’re too brittle and need to save up their energy at acting happy and normal for their kids and holiday gatherings. They don’t want anyone to notice before then. This thing that happened has caused them to be strangers to each other, because neither of them thought it was a thing they would do. However, life goes on, the holidays go on, and they are attempting to act as if things are normal. Grocery lists, gift lists, everyday plans – attempting to fill their minds and their words with comforting mundanities. Anything else would shatter it all over again, and they don’t want to do that right now.
So I guess this is also maybe about perspective. If there’s a thing you haven’t been through, you don’t recognize it in another. But once you’ve been through it, you know it when you see it and there’s another crevice that you can shine a light on.
Or you THINK you do, anyway. Interesting considerations, either way!!!
Yes, this is all so true, Elizabeth! There were SO many stories I created about this couple … and probably all of them inaccurate, silly, presumptive, etc. It IS all about perspective. Thanks so much for sharing that reminder here. :)
Such a great point–about both story and life–told in a great narrative! Love this post, Sarah, and will be sharing.
xoxo, Tiffany. Thanks so much for the comment and kindness.
What fun, Sarah! And so true. It wasn’t until my third full revision of my WIP that I discovered an essential aspect of my MC. Maybe I should sidle up next to her in a grocery store.
In the days when I was a single mom working three jobs, I used to do my grocery shopping at six or seven am at the Giant (another no-coif-needed chain) and often ran into the reclusive novelist Ann Tyler there at that early hour. Of course, I respected her privacy, but was not above moving nearby in the produce section in the (vain in both senses of the word) hope that she’d speak to me. After all, Baltimore is known for the way strangers strike up conversations. Maybe I gave off too many worship-vibes.
Thanks for this reminder that it’s not too late (round 4) to have a good heart-to-heart with my MC.