This is such a simple sounding tip, but it is of the upmost importance. I’ve often said, if you create great characters and place them in an interesting landscape, the book pretty much writes itself. All you have to do, is think of how that character would react in a situation and simply transcribe their actions to the page. But how do you create great characters?
How I create my characters is I begin with a name (I usually find that completely unique names, or extremely average nicknames are the best). Then I ask myself, what does this character value most. Wealth, family, loyalty, love? Then I think of how that person would act in a situation. I place this person in extremes, such as, if they valued love, how far would they go to find love? How far would they go to avenge the ones they loved? Then a subscribe another trait and view it in extremes. Then I throw a party and invite other characters over that I am creating and see how they react with each other. How characters interact, is often the best way to find out who they really are. All of the following is an actually conversation that took place in my head.
· So, let’s create a great character. Let’s start with a name, Tim.
· That’s pretty ordinary (sometimes that is a good thing), but for this example, let’s bring it alive some more.
· What about Tithinus. All right, that is certainly more unique. What does Tithinus value above all? How about death? Why would someone value death! I don’t know, let’s find out.
· What would he do to achieve death? Who would he betray? Lets say, the only person he would not betray is another person named Bartheus. Why? I don’t know, let’s find out.
· Let’s paint more of a picture of Tithinus. Pick an age. He’s old, so old he can barely walk. His appearance, grim, austere. Why? Great question (your readers will be thinking the same thing).
· Why is he so grim? What has he seen, to justify how he sees the world? Now, be careful at this point. It is often tempting to tell the reader who this person is, not show the reader. As I said before, the best way to reveal a character is to see how they interact with each other (for this reason, very few books are written about hermits who don’t interact with anything).
· Let’s start describing this guy.
If first impressions were the only impression, no one would ever talk to Tithinus twice. There was nothing striking in his presence; no magic in his eyes. His body was curved into an ‘L’ when he walked, and hunched over when he sat, like a barn weathered by snow. When asked what he wanted or whence he went, he could only give a frown, which looked much like a grimace. His milky eyes scanned the village, searching for the one individual who could change everything. The one man who could grant him is only desire—Bartheus.
· All right. We’re off to a great start. So much is contained in these few sentences. So let’s follow old Tinthinus and see what he is up to. Is he a villain? Is he the hero? I don’t know, let’s find out.
“Bartheus!” Tithinus cried, his voice cracking. “Where are you Bartheus? Show yourself.”
The village was bland as oatmeal and twice as boring. An ill-planned path weaved through the center. The most popular residents were easy to pick out since their grass-paths were ground down to stubble. A woman exited her hut just as Tithinus was coming into view. Her red hair twisted back, her hand going to her mouth. As Tithinus spoke his jaw adjusted, as if being broken by the words it uttered.
“Where is he!”
Her words shook as she spoke. “He’s in the last hut, this side of the river.”
Tithinus’ eyes fell on a hut in the distance. No path led to the door. He set his jaw as he slowly began to close the distance. He felt his bones fracturing with each step, the pain rifling through his body. He pushed it down, his training kicking in. He could deal with pain. Or at least, this type of pain.
· All right, your reader is starting to wonder, what is wrong with this guy? And why is Bartheus so special? How do these two know each other? We also get a hint that Bartheus is not as well liked either, since no path is leading to his door. We also get a hint, that Tinthinus has been trained. Trained in what? Great question.
By the time the old man made it to the door, his feet left a trail of blood behind. But he was so close, he could make it. It was still possible. He knocked once, twice, three times. The third time his fist hit the door, his hand broke.
“No,” Tinthinus screamed in pain. “I will not be beaten. Not now, not ever.”
· Ok, I just learned something about Tinthinus. He is full of determination, so much so, he is willing to continue, despite his injuries. Despite the pain. What could be so important at the end of this horrible journey? Let’s find out.
Bartheus opened the door. It was a large door, but he filled it well, standing like an impenetrable wall. His expression was not that of surprise, nor was it of kindness. He stepped aside, allowing the old man to enter. The hut was large, bigger than expected, having been dug deeper into the ground so the owner’s ceilings could be vaulted. Two steps led down into the only room. Tithinus struggled to step down, but it was too much for him. He fell, his hip hitting hard. The pain exploded through his body, momentarily crippling his breathing, as if he had just plunged into icy water. Bartheus only stared, watching the other man twist and turn in agony.
· A lot is learned here by these two characters. Bartheus is a large individual (although he is never described as being large). He is tough and firm, with little compassion for this poor old man on the floor. At the same time, however, he did let him in. He could have just shut the door, and sent him away. So what binds these two characters together? Why does he have no compassion for this old man, and yet, still invite him into his life?
· So, some reading this will say, you’re describing actions more than you are the character. And I would respond by saying, exactly. Who we are is made manifest by what we do. If you say someone is greedy, it does little to further your readers perception of the character. Instead, let their actions dictate who they are. Of course, you will need some direct descriptions (as we used above), but that’s only to add “shading.” The real color of someone’s character comes from what they do.
Now to finish this exercise, I want you to complete the story. Email me your story, and I will post the stories I find the most intriguing. The more you do this drill, the more real your characters will become. Each time, try not to use material from past stories. You will find that after doing this several times, you will automatically start applying this to the way you write your characters.
The story as so far:
If first impressions were the only impression, no one would ever talk to Tithinus twice. There was nothing striking in his presence; no magic in his eyes. His body was curved into an ‘L’ when he walked, and hunched over when he sat, like a barn weathered by snow. When asked what he wanted or whence he went, he could only give a frown, which looked much like a grimace. His milky eyes scanned the village, searching for the one individual who could change everything. The one man who could grant him is only desire—Bartheus.
“Bartheus!” Tithinus cried, his voice cracking. “Where are you Bartheus? Show yourself.”
The village was bland as oatmeal and twice as boring. An ill-planned path weaved through the center. The most popular residents were easy to pick out since their grass-paths were ground down to stubble. A woman exited her hut just as Tithinus was coming into view. Her red hair twisted back, her hand going to her mouth. As Tithinus spoke his jaw adjusted, as if being broken by the words it uttered.
“Where is he!”
Her words shook as she spoke. “He’s in the last hut, this side of the river.”
Tithinus’ eyes fell on a hut in the distance. No path led to the door. He set his jaw as he slowly began to close the distance. He felt his bones fracturing with each step, the pain rifling through his body. He pushed it down, his training kicking in. He could deal with pain. Or at least, this type of pain.
By the time the old man made it to the door, his feet left a trail of blood behind. But he was so close, he could make it. It was still possible. He knocked onces, twice, three times. The third time his fist hit the door, his hand broke.
“No,” Tinthinus screamed in pain. “I will not be beaten. Not now, not ever.”
Bartheus opened the door. It was a large door, but he filled it well, standing like an impenetrable wall. His expression was not that of surprise, nor was it of kindness. He stepped aside, allowing the old man to enter. The hut was large, bigger than expected, having been dug deeper into the ground so the owner’s ceilings could be vaulted. Two steps led down into the only room. Tithinus struggled to step down, but it was too much for him. He fell, his hip hitting hard. The pain exploded through his body, momentarily crippling his breathing, as if he had just plunged into icy water. Bartheus only staired, watching the other man twist and turn in agony.
