Four ways to Make Interesting Characters


Boring Characters
Photo by MoonSoliel

George was tall and thin, with light brown hair.  He wore a white shirt and denim jeans, new

and unwrinkled.  He was going bald but still had strings of hair on his head.  As he spoke, he held a cigarette, heedless of the ashes he spread over my rug.


Do you want to read about boring characters?  Sorry, but old George here, is pretty bland.  How can we improve him?  Let’s look at a four ways to do that.

1.  Focus and detail.  This is not two ways.  You really need both.  For example, focus without detail is this:  He was tall and thin.   Detail without focus is even worse: He was tall, nearing seven feet, and thin with knobbly arms like a skeleton wrapped in tight flesh.  He was lanky and tall, like a man walking on stilts at a circus.”  Instead of this kind of thing, it is best to choose one or two details–the things that best define your character–and focus on those.  Something like this: He towered over me, nearing seven feet like a man on stilts.  Here, rather than just explain or describe show the character doing something as you describe her or him.  For example, look at this scene from Moby Dick where Ishmael first meets the harpooner:

The stranger entered the room, and without looking towards the bed, placed his candle a good way off from me on the floor in one corner, and then began working away at the knotted cords of the large bag I before spoke of as being in the room. I was all eagerness to see his face, but he kept it averted for some time while employed in unlacing the bag’s mouth. This accomplished, however, he turned round—when, good heavens! what a sight! Such a face! It was of a dark, purplish, yellow colour, here and there stuck over with large blackish looking squares. Yes, it’s just as I thought, he’s a terrible bedfellow; he’s been in a fight, got dreadfully cut, and here he is, just from the surgeon. But at that moment he chanced to turn his face so towards the light, that I plainly saw they could not be sticking-plasters at all, those black squares on his cheeks. They were stains of some sort or other. At first I knew not what to make of this; but soon an inkling of the truth occurred to me. I remembered a story of a white man—a whaleman too—who, falling among the cannibals, had been tattooed by them. I concluded that this harpooneer, in the course of his distant voyages, must have met with a similar adventure. And what is it, thought I, after all! It’s only his outside; a man can be honest in any sort of skin. But then, what to make of his unearthly complexion, that part of it, I mean, lying round about, and completely independent of the squares of tattooing. To be sure, it might be nothing but a good coat of tropical tanning; but I never heard of a hot sun’s tanning a white man into a purplish yellow one. However, I had never been in the South Seas; and perhaps the sun there produced these extraordinary effects upon the skin. Now, while all these ideas were passing through me like lightning, this harpooneer never noticed me at all. But, after some difficulty having opened his bag, he commenced fumbling in it, and presently pulled out a sort of tomahawk, and a seal-skin wallet with the hair on. Placing these on the old chest in the middle of the room, he then took the New Zealand head—a ghastly thing enough—and crammed it down into the bag. He now took off his hat—a new beaver hat—when I came nigh singing out with fresh surprise. There was no hair on his head—none to speak of at least—nothing but a small scalp-knot twisted up on his forehead. His bald purplish head now looked for all the world like a mildewed skull. Had not the stranger stood between me and the door, I would have bolted out of it quicker than ever I bolted a dinner.

2.  History:  Everyone has a history, and so must your characters.  Some details are probably not important, but you need to think out the history as it relates to the story.  I always write them out, but there are different ways to do this.  One is to write out a brief summary.  Another is to make a conversation of two other characters talking about the first (for some reason, this often teases out new information).  One thing that I found was that in some stories, my characters had met and struggled in the past, so that past needed to be written about in some detail, and from there, I got a better hold on my story and, of course, my characters.  This is a small piece of the history of Sauron, the villain in Lord of the Rings:File:1165596377sauron1.jpg

Sauron was originally known as Mairon the Admirable, a powerful Maia of Aulë the Smith, who was a Vala, creator of Dwarves. However, Mairon was soon corrupted by the Dark Lord Morgoth (“The Great Enemy” in the tongue of men) an evil Valar and Dark Enemy of Arda, and turned evil, taking the name, “Sauron.”

3.  Flavor:  All writers want to create memorable characters.  Think of the great characters in the stories you’ve read.  Wouldn’t you like to make characters like that?  One thing that most great characters have is flavor, by this I mean that your characters need to be unexpected.  For example, your cowboy sheriff should be mainly good and ethical.  However, he can also have some bad qualities to make him more human and this memorable.  Perhaps he is jealous of his brother.  Maybe he is a womanizer or a “man” izer.  He might be an excessive drinker, gambler, or simply extremely selfish.  Perhaps you could try something less cliche, such as he enjoys torturing small bugs, loves or hates children, has a deep dark secret, or something like that.  For example, this is Watson describing Sherlock Holmes.  Note how Doyle uses the contrast of cold logic and hot passion here to define not only Holmes, but also ‘the woman’ and also Watson:

To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer—excellent for drawing the veil from men’s motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable memory.

4.  Reputation:  This can be a really fun one, though often challenging.  You have seen it used above also.  The way other characters talk about someone is often one of the best ways to describe him to the reader.  The describer can also be characterized, an added bonus.  You can also use it to give information that is hard to get in elsewhere.  Look at how Conrad describes Kurtz in Heart of Darkness.  This is Marlowe the narrator (kind of) who tells of his conversation with the Company’s chief accountant:

“One day he remarked, without lifting his head, ‘In the interior you will no doubt meet Mr. Kurtz.’ On my asking who Mr. Kurtz was, he said he was a first-class agent; and seeing my disappointment at this information, he added slowly, laying down his pen, ‘He is a very remarkable person.’ Further questions elicited from him that Mr. Kurtz was at present in charge of a trading post, a very important one, in the true ivory-country, at ‘the very bottom of there. Sends in as much ivory as all the others put together. . . .’

There you have it.  Four ways to liven up your characters.  Sure, there are more, but these will get you started.  This will work for fiction, and with a little imagination, memoirs as well.  I have even seen it used in non-fiction like magazine articles.  Give them a try.

Beating Writer’s Block–three ways

Most writers hit a part of their story where their creative juices dry up, or they are unsure of how to go on.  Sometimes, it is just the fatigue of writing the story and living with the same characters for days, weeks, and months. Other times, you may not like the direction the story has gone.  You may be unsure as to what to do next in your story.

Hit a wall? (Photo by Eddie07)

And, you hit a wall.  That, my friend, is writer’s block.

To start, you need to figure out what your problem is, or rather where.  Where in the story are you being blocked?  Isolate and identify the part that is giving you writer’s block.

Here are 3 ways to break or surmount writer’s block:

1.  The first way is to muscle through the writer’s block.  Many writers, as well as myself, attempt to break through.  After all, it is a block, so let’s break it.  Why not?  Well, as Michael Banks says in Writer Magazine, “This brute-force approach rarely lends itself to writing.”  However, there is some things that you can do here, if you must keep going.

You should take a short break.  Get a cup of ocha or something.  Then in another file on the computer, write a summary of what you want to happen.  For example, you know that your main character has to escape from Mr. Dastard, but you are not sure how.  Write out a summary of the struggle, and think of something for the escape (anything is okay for now), and what you want to happen afterwards up to your next plot point.  You now have something.  If you must keep going, go ahead and write the parts after the escape.  If you do not need to keep going, put your writing aside, and go walk the dog.  After a little bit of time, you will start coming up with alternatives to the escape that you just wrote.  Simply having something will tease your mind into coming up with a better something.  Then, go back to your file and rewrite it.

2.  Another way is to skip the section that is giving you writer’s block entirely.  If we use the same example, you would write XXX  in the escape section of your character’s story, and just keep going.  Also from Michael Banks, quoting the great Jerry Pournelle:

Write what you know. “Get as much as you can on paper as fast as you can,” Pournelle says. “Skip ahead and write the parts you already know how to write. You can go back later and fill in the rest.” As you jump ahead, write notes to yourself about what you intend to write-or just leave a place marker, like “XXXXX.”

This way works also with 1, if you leave a note instead of XXXX.  Something like, “escape scenes go here.”

3.  The third way is somewhat similar to number 1.  To beat writer’s

Photo by Skinnyde

block, think.  Take a few moments and look out the window.

Many times, we start a story with one end in mind, or perhaps no actual ending visualized.  As time goes on, we get so deep into the narrative that we lose our way, or our characters do.  Maybe we have gone off the course we originally intended into the jungle of plot threads.  We cannot see how to get from here to the ending we had planned (hopefully) or we have no ending planned and no idea how to end the story.  In such cases, some moments, or even hours, of quiet reflection can give you the time you need to pull it all together or perhaps to find the missing piece.

There are other ways to beat writer’s block, but these are the three that I’ve found most useful.  Give them a try.

Have any good ideas to beat writer’s block?  Leave me a message.

Apr 5, 2013 - fiction writing    No Comments

Does Fiction Increase Empathy?

If you lost your home, fortune, and many of your friends in a war, how would you feel?  What would you do?

What if you lived on the edges of society, and your father was a drunk?  What if your closest friend was an outcast?  How would you feel?

What if you joined the army, but in your first battle, fear overcame you.  You fled.  What would happen?  What would you do?  How would you feel?

How would you feel in these situations?  For those of us stuck in our comfortable lives, it seems hard to even imagine such things.

Can you have empathy with someone you have never met?  Can we even begin to imagine such things?

Yes.  Yes, we can.

Reader Girl Clip Art

These are the settings of Gone with the Wind, Huckleberry Finn, and Red Badge of Courage.  Most of us have read at least one of these, and I think everyone has seen the movie of the first.
By reading these, we can imagine situations that we would, hopefully, never be in.  We have empathy with the characters there.  We can imagine what it would be like to lose our homes in a war.  We can imagine what the outcast Huck feels like.  We can imagine and empathize with the frightened (and perhaps sensible) boy who runs away from battle.
Reading gives us the empathy to imagine situations far different from our own and anything we might encounter.

By exercising this imagination, we can imagine things further afield, situations we read about in the news, the lives of the poor in other countries and cultures, and even imaginary lives of imaginary people in other galaxies.

Our empathy grows as we exercise it.

This is the power of fiction.  In Scientific American, in an article about research in fiction and empathy by psychologist Jerome Bruner, Keith Oatley summed this up and added:

A love affair with narrative may gradually alter your personality—in some cases, making you more open to new experiences and more socially aware.

That is a very good thing.

Do not Revise–Rewrite your Story

There are two sides to writing a story–writing it and editing it.  Writing is exploring your story to get all of what you have imagined out onto the page.  Editing is taking that and polishing it, or for most of my stuff, cutting then replacing.

I often find myself rewriting large parts of my story, and I have decided that, often, this is actually a better way to work.  When I rewrite, I already know the story I am working on.  I know where it is going to go, probably, and I also have a good idea of where the problem points are.  By rewriting it, I can focus on where improvements are needed.

These improvements come down to things that I tend to hurry through in the first draft in my drive to get the story down on the screen.  Things like suspense, background, character traits, and simply drawing connections between things.  I also always find a place where two minor characters can be rolled into one or where a character can play an usual role later on.

You may wonder why rewriting is better than revising.  The reason is simple: ego.  You wrote these wonderful words on the page the first time.  There are certainly some very clever bits.  Can you just cut them out?  It is hard.  It is even harder to rewrite scenes that you spent ages developing, although you know in your gut they need to be completely redone.  That is another kind of writer’s block.  An ego and laziness block.  It is easier and safer for your ego to just tweak them by revising.  Don’t do it though.

You know you could rewrite them better.  Go ahead.  Give it a shot.

Dec 26, 2011 - Uncategorized    No Comments

The End of the Year or “Where have you been?”

It’s that time again.  The end of the year is coming up.


For most of us, this is not a big deal, but I think that we stop and take a few moments to look back at the last year.  What did you want to get done this year in your writing that you could not?  What did you accomplish?  Where do you want to go from here?

The end of the year is an important time to take stock of where we are in our lives and careers also.  Take a few moments, get a beer or a nice glass of wine and stare out the window.  Think about it.