Building Believable Characters

Believable characters are the mainstay of every piece of fiction. Writers know this, but how often are short cuts taken? You know the sort of thing:

A 60 cigarettes a day, overweight PI is spotted by his youthful target as he's being followed along the street. A chase ensues. Passers-by are sent reeling, the PI is attacked by a loose pitbull terrier but manages to shake it off; traffic is negotiated, fences climbed, parklands crossed. The PI makes a magnificently timed rugby tackle to bring down the target, fastens the rogue with his own trouser belt and in a half page of dramatic dialogue exhorts the felon to change his ways.

By all means smile at the clichés, but let's face a few facts. Overweight and on 60 a day, no one short of a cartoon character is going to run 50 metres, never mind shake off pitbulls, climb fences and cross parklands. Have you tried to pull down someone with a rugby tackle? A mouthful of feet - guaranteed. And that half page of dialogue at the end of it all? If the overweight investigator has managed to get that far he is more likely to throw up or succumb to a coronary.

The telling phrase, of course, is cartoon character. The investigator is two-dimensional, good for a quick wry smile but hardly the mainstay of a short story, never mind a novel. If the players in your fiction are not taken seriously by you, the writer, how do you expect your readers to take them seriously? Characters need to be as close a facsimile as you can get to the people you meet in the street.

Who do you know the most about? Easy - yourself. Now for the tricky bit: do you know your true self? I would suggest that anyone who answers yes is, perhaps unwittingly, lying to themselves.

From the moment we first draw breath barriers of one kind or another develop around us. Society in general demands a certain level of behaviour
       stealing an envelope from your employer isn’t regarded as stealing;
       stealing a week’s takings is;
       killing your employer to steal the takings is a definite no-no.
Our perceived position in that society also defines expected behaviour
       not dropping our trousers in public
and our families set all sorts of sometimes absurd demarcation lines based on how they view their own barriers
       “I didn’t go to university, what good do you think it will do you?”

People we meet on the street didn’t become complicated overnight, and the people in your fiction aren’t found, fully clothed, under a gooseberry bush. They have past lives which impact on their current life – the life being examined within the fiction. They were born of parents. Who were those parents? What did they do? Where did they live? How did they react to their child? When were the apron strings cut? Why did the child leave home?

This set of questions needs to be asked about the person’s childhood friends, teenage contemporaries, love affairs, marriage(s), work colleagues, neighbours, badminton partner, ad infinitum, until a point is reached in that person’s life where he/she steps from under the gooseberry bush and on to the page. And not just asked, but written down and studied like an alibi to ensure that there are no loopholes. If that person knows how to defuse a bomb on page 47 of your novel, then he/she had better have had more than a passing acquaintance with an army unit, a terrorist group, or some other organisation equipped with the necessary expertise.

You, the writer, are the core of every person portrayed in your fiction. Male or female, rich or poor, beggar, thief, angel of mercy, serial killer, they are all you. Because each and every person is an extrapolated facet of yourself, there will be certain kinds of people with whom you will feel easier than others. This is only natural. Empathy does know bounds, no matter how great a writer you are.

So when you are scouting for a character to star in your forthcoming opus, pick someone reasonably close to home – not necessarily with the same life experiences, but someone whose hopes and fears are within hailing distance of your own. Then add copious amounts of what if…?

What if…? is the key that unlocks the shackles from a fiction writer’s mind and is just as important as the Who, What, Where, When, How and Why that places the fiction on the page.

What if…the overweight investigator had been the only child of a chain-smoking unmarried mother who had consoled him with sticky buns while she scraped together a living? Is that why he is overweight? Did he initially become a PI in an attempt to find his father?

What if…the investigator, the only child of an unmarried career woman, had enjoyed the companionship and love of a set of doting grandparents who had taken an interest in his hobbies. Would he have become an overweight, 60-a-day man? Would he have become a PI?

What if…as the only child of a widower, he had been at the centre of a psychological tug-of-love war between two sets of doting grandparents? Would he have grown up distrusting the motives of all adults? Did he become a PI as a subliminal reinforcement of his belief that he is right to distrust everyone he meets?

A little What if...? opens all sorts of doors to the people you are auditioning for roles in your fiction. Write it all down. In the cold light of day some of your notes will be discarded, but among the dross will be the gems which will make that person live on the page and in the minds of your readers.

© Linda Acaster

Planning a Novel: Theme & Thinking

It is not my habit to copy other people's blog posts, but when I logged on to Avril Field-Taylor's blog and read her interview with Stuart Aken, I asked both of them for permission to link to it and give extracts.

Stuart is explaining how his novel Breaking Faith came about:

"AFT: Breaking Faith is set in the Yorkshire Dales during the 1976 heat wave. What prompted your choice of location and period?

SA: In the words of Max Boyce, ‘I was there.’ Believe it or not, the initial inspiration for the book came to me on a visit to the Buttertubs, in the Dales, at that time. I looked into the depths and wondered how I would feel if I discovered a body down there. From that simple question, the rest of the book eventually flowed. The Yorkshire Dales is acknowledged for its exceptional landscapes and it’s a place I know well. The heat wave was a useful backdrop to a story which needed a credible climate in which the action could take place: few would enjoy being naked in the area’s usual weather conditions. 1976 was long before the era of the ubiquitous mobile phone, an item that would have altered the tone of the novel. It was a time when fashion and the ideas of youth were still fresh enough to encourage experimentation. Cameras used film and a good printing assistant was still necessary for any professional photographer."

Note the way planning choices were made: none in isolation, each reliant on its neighbour, not in a serial progression but in a 360 degree world view.

Read the full interview to get a glimpse of how one writer conjures with theme, research and characterisation before a word of the story hits the page.

Thanks to Stuart and Avril for allowing me to link to this interview.

Talk Notes - Huntington, York

I want to thank everyone who attended Huntington's Community Centre, York, last night, to hear myself and Penny Grubb speak about our new novels, Torc of Moonlight and Like False Money. It's great to have such a receptive audience willing to ask questions.

We were there to help launch the La Scala Short Story Competition (theme Equestrian & Countryside) and as promised I am posting below the gist of my talk for beginners how to write a short story:

"Anyone can write fiction - it's just a snapshot of normal life with all the boring bits taken out. If you think there'd be nothing left once the boring bits were removed, consider this: the life you write about doesn't have to be your life. It can be the life of...

• the confident/beautiful/witty/rich person you've always wanted to be (but don't choose a real living person; they won't appreciate it and could sue you)
• a historical person, real or imaginery
• a fantasy person - if you are a rider in real life, might your fantasy person ride a unicorn or be a groom for Sleipnir, Odin's eight-legged flying horse?
• you, where something fantastical happens - you find Sleipnir in the stables. How do you hide an eight-legged horse?

Think round the theme. The easiest way of doing this is to create lists: every animal you could come into contact with in the country, people you are likely to meet, people's jobs. Pin it up somewhere you'll see it every day. Cross out those that don't interest you, tick those that you find interesting. Once your lists shrink to a manageable size...

•  invoke the writer's magic words, What if..? and mark all the problems that might occur.
• choose a problem, and decide how you want that problem to be resolved for the person - the character - you are writing about: well or badly - never indifferently because the ending has to matter.
• decide how you want your reader to react: frightened, sad, happy, laughing? This is the tone of writing you will use.

You've now got the story's scenario, the problem, the ending, and you know the type of story you are going to write. It's time to focus on the writing.

• choose a character and let the reader experience the story through that character's eyes
• ensure that character has a big problem central to the story - wet feet is not a big problem
• be spare with description: use only enough so characters aren't moving in a vacuum
• make dialogue snappy, 2,000 words might seem a lot, but there's not enough space to waffle
• don't just think visually - readers don't want to watch your story unfold, they want to experience it unfolding. Humans have five senses, so make use of hearing, touch, taste and smell as well as sight

Then go for it! Remember, this is only a first draft so you can make changes later. Even professional writers write several drafts. Get it on paper and then leave it a few days before reading it again so that it settles in your mind. Look at every word:

• does the story make sense?
• have you covered all the main points: who, what, where, when, how, why?
• is the problem big enough?
• do you feel sad, or frightened, or happy reading it? Is this what you intended?

Be aware that you will never feel that the story is "brilliant" - no writer ever does, not even published writers. We all think we could have done better. Now complete the competition's entry form and send it off.

Then write another story. That's how you hone your writing skills - by practising. Good luck."

Tips for Entering Competitions

Often with a theme, always with a deadline, competitions are great motivators to write, write, write. A list of competition placings can enhance a thin cv when submitting to magazine and book publishers, but competitions are no easy option. Entries, and standards, can be high. Try these tips for making the most of your entry fee:

• Read the rules. An unbelievable percentage of entries are binned without even being read because the rules are not adhered to. Aim below the maximum allowed word-count, and if your name should not appear on the script, ensure it isn’t sitting in the strap-line with the page number.

• Weigh the tone of the organising body. If the competition is being run by a literary magazine the chances of the judges looking favourably on your story of a lonely three-legged donkey in a cabbage patch is pretty remote, unless, of course, it is dripping in metaphor. However, a competition run by an animal charity... For the same reason check out the writings of the judges to gain a feel for what they consider ‘good’.

• Write for the reader, not yourself. Reader reaction is often ignored by beginning writers whose prose can resemble aide memoirs to their own imaginations. Readers – the judges – need to experience the story, not watch it unfold through a telescope. An intriguing beginning will draw the judges in; the pacing should undulate, rising to the denouement; the ending should leave the judges feeling satisfied that no other ending could work as well.

• Believable characters carry fiction. Ensure that your story isn’t populated by stereotypes. Complete a history sheet on your main characters prior to writing the story so that you know what motivates them. Wallowing in physical descriptions is no substitute. Write through their eyes, not your own.

• Keep the prose focused. Remove all adverbs and exclamation marks. Adjectives should not arrive like carriages of a trains, but should be used individually to highlight. Write narrative in sentences, not phrases; keep those for dialogue. Paragraph correctly, especially within a dialogue exchange.

• Presentation matters. Coloured paper, fancy fonts in small or large point sizes, single spacing, block paragraphing, sloppy keying-in... if you want your story to fail, try any one. There won’t just be your entry to read, there could be hundreds, and the judges will be burning the midnight oil to complete their task to a deadline. Ensure when they pick up yours they can immediately relax into the fiction.

• Finally... remember that professional eyes will be assessing your story. Paying the courtesy of being professional in return could move your story through the ranks.