Revealing Character

So as a follow up to my post about reading Orson Scott Card's book, I thought I'd talk a little bit about revealing character versus having a character growth arc.

I think, especially for childrens books, characters aren’t going to always have a huge growth arc because in childhood we’re always growing to new awareness, new life lessons, mastering new skills. In general, kids are more malleable, their growth more ongoing and continuous until they reach their adulthood. Then, dramatic or profound occurrences or situations are usually required to propel us adults toward change and growth.

In fact, I've heard it said that a book should be about a person's most profound and dramatic life experience. And I would argue that kids have so many, each coming rapidly on top of the other, that that doesn't necessarily apply to kid's fiction.

Which is why I was so struck by Card’s reminder that some characters are revealed rather than grow. But how do we resolve that with today’s reader (and agents and editors!) who tend to look for a growth arc of some sort? How can one satisfy that readers longing for an internal journey and yet remain true to our character's core if they don’t change significantly over the course of the book?

I think having the character come to terms with who they are, which is a form of personal growth, can also make for a satisfying growth arc. In order for a character to do that, they have to recognize who they are, they have to strip away all the pretenses—the persona they cloak themselves in—and meet themselves face to face. They sort of have to see themselves, warts (emotional scars) and all, and come to terms with that. So if they aren’t going to change, consider having them learn to accept who they are or their role in their family or school or whatever.

But that needs to be developed over the course of the entire book. We have to feel we know more about the character at the end of the book than we did at the beginning. Which makes sense since it is the crucible of hard choices that the character goes through that enables him to finally reach a higher level of understanding.

One really effective tool can be to peel back the layers of a character, like an onion, to reveal his innermost nature to the reader. By doing that in stages, it gives a sense of internal movement and forward momentum as the reader comes to learn more and more of the character.

If you think about it, there are things about all of us that we wish the world didn’t see, but is often plain to most people who know us well.

Then there are the things that only our best friend or close family members know or understand about us.

And finally, there are those parts of us that are so painful, we can hardly stand to admit them to ourselves. For some, facing these painful truths will cause the entire world to shift. For others, it will shift only a little bit, but in a vital way that helps us continue on.

So for Theo, in Book I, she was lonely, anyone could see that. (First Layer) And on some level she worried it was because she was doing something wrong, that she was lacking in some fundamental skill needed in order to form friendships. (Second Layer) But the thing she was terrified of acknowledging, was that she was so flawed, that something was so wrong with her that even her parents couldn’t muster up the emotional connection necessary to love their child. In fact, that’s part of what propels her to such huge risks, trying to earn their love. (Third Layer)

Of course, in the end, this is proved wrong and Theo learns her parents do value her more than she realized.

So while Theo didn’t change, her understanding of the world and her place in it and her value to others did.

And I think, to address another point that was brought up in the comments, it can be smart to mention in a synopsis or summary that the character is wrestling with trying to come to terms with a particular emotional issue so that it will be clear that there are two layers to the story.

And thus endeth today’s lesson….

Questions to Reveal Character

One of the things I need to know kind of early in the process of writing a book is my turning points. I write to the turning points and acts, rather than to the end. The benefits of this are that I am writing three or four smaller stories within one larger narrative, and not having one long endless slog through a never-ending middle.

It is also the way to check and be sure that the events of the story are forcing the necessary character changes so that they will have undergone a true transformation by the end of the book. Which is why I am so married to the idea that plot is character—the external plot is often the construct an author uses to effect the internal change in their characters, which is where I think the true juice of the story is.

And I know all my turning points for this medieval French book—except the first one, which comes at about the 1/4 mark in the mss. That first TP is so important! It launches the character on their external journey, or if the character is already moving along that path, it ramps up the action, increases the urgency, or throws a major kink in the works.

Or it should, anyway. Mine? Not so much.

I have a really soft turning point, which is bugging me because it should be, at the very least, the moment the two forces in the novel, the protagonist and antagonist (or antagonistic force) cross swords and agree to duel

And I got nothin’. Well, there’s something there, I’m sure of it, I just have to find it.

Which is where these questions I mentioned the other day came in so handy. They are from a workshop Michael Hague gave at the RWA National Conference a couple of years ago. He suggests that the internal journey of a character is a transformation from persona (the construct that they show the world) to their essence (their true nature). Now, I’ve looked at these questions before, and they never really clicked for the Theodosia books or the Beastologist books. Maybe because those are series and the process happens throughout the course of bookS rather than A book. But boy, the questions clicked for me with this manuscript. Which is one of the reasons I like having a collection of writing processes and approaches up my sleeve, you just never know which one will coax which story into being.

So, onto the questions. The first two are ones I already ask myself, but the way he worded them triggered something this time. I think one of the reason these questions worked for me is because they echo something I do instinctively, but give it a bit more form and cohesion.

What is my character's longing? What is their deeply held desire they’re only paying lip service to, that they’re not pursing. Now some characters are so shut down or disconnected from their selves that they don’t even have a longing. Instead they have a need, a hole inside that must be filled.

And that hole is usually caused by the answer to the next question…

What is my character’s wound? What past traumas have shaped them and profoundly altered the way they see the world?

Third question, What is my characters belief? How has my character’s wound shaped his way of seeing the world? Of seeing other people? This is the one that really helped me this time because it gave me a sense of what the scenes needed to reveal about my character.

My character’s belief is that her only value or worth is in her usefulness as a tool to her organization. In fact, she clings to the fact that she’s a tool and uses it to disconnect from her emotions, her self. If she clings to the fact that she’s a tool—separate from the needs and desires other people are subject to, then she doesn’t have to admit they are lacking in her life, that she isn’t worthy of them.

This belief is used to keep fear and terror at bay.

The fourth questions is What is your characters’ identity? Which for me was answered in the belief question. She is naught but a finely honed, fully committed tool.

And the fifth question, What is your hero’s essence? When you strip away all the roles they play and the beliefs they protect themselves with, what are they at their core?

Now I have to admit to not being certain what essence was, so I rephrased it like this:
Who would my character be if she had the courage? If she wasn’t afraid of anything? It turns out my heroine’s essence is that she is a merciful, compassionate person who is being used for the purpose of judgment and punishment.

And then of course the story is about her movement from her persona to her essence, learning to step away from being a tool for a punishment she finds she doesn’t actually believe in.

Again, this doesn’t work for all stories, this is the first one of mine that it really generated an aha! moment for. Maybe it will be helpful to you at some point.