Who's On First?
...but it’s not about what base a ball player is on.
Enjoy the original “Who’s on First?” by Abbott and Costello on YouTube.
.
We’ve discussed a little about who you write for, the people you call your audience. Now let’s talk about who peoples your story.
Every writer has their own approach to writing. Some build an entire world before they begin putting down their actual tale. Others start with a plot incident and work out the characters they want to resolve it. Another approach is to start with a theme or idea and craft the characters to fit the theme.
Regardless of where your characters come from or when you place them in your story, you need to know your characters fairly well before you begin to write. Not to say that a character can’t surprise you mid-write and turn out differently than your initial mental picture. Just that you can’t begin to write about a character with consistency unless you set up some of the details before you begin.
A few years ago, in a doomed attempt to enter a movie-writing contest with an entry deadline only one month away, I created characters for a new holiday novel. To guarantee (to myself, anyway) that I’d complete the task, I needed a coach and editor. A family member took on that task, and he is responsible for the novel reaching the finish line in good order. He kept up with my production deadlines, did both developmental and line editing, and generally cheered me through the finish line. And while it didn’t win, the book received some nice compliments both from readers important to me and, later, from critiquing judges at Writer’s Digest.
So, how did I begin?
This book was going to be about a relationship. Actually most of my stories are. It was to be a holiday romance with both serious and comic moments. There needed to be (per me) a good side- and/or back-story about the couple, an issue to overcome that would affect their relationship, and good reasons for how that happens. All of these things are—or can be—driven by who the characters are.
In this case, my characters came to me almost whole, and the story began living in my head. Bret and Molly Small. Sweet, artistic, energetic—with big plans and dreams. Molly is a ‘Christmas nut’, passionate about the holiday in a way that sometimes surprises herself. Bret, while having an artistic side in his woodworking, is nevertheless practical in his planning for the future.
I wanted to present them to the world demonstrating those characteristics, as well as showing the reader where conflicts might begin. The pair needed to be the first to appear in the story.
Here’s what I wrote in my meager notes on the two characters.
Molly Small (early 30’s)
Molly is a crafter, designer, caterer, and baker
A little self-absorbed, and definitely impetuous.
She is a little nervous about child-rearing
Getting a new house, renovating it, and starting a Christmas-based business is all her idea.
She is a self-avowed Christmas nut, decorating every available surface and hook with decorations of her own design and crafting. For her ‘Christmas is IT.
Bret Small (early 30’s)
Bret takes responsibility seriously.
Also good with crafting, woodworking in particular, but modest about his skills
Forward-facing, seeing their marriage and children as their future path
Eager to start that family
Bret responds to Molly’s entrepreneurial scheme with a certain amount of reluctance. He’s recently quit teaching Technology Arts to start his own furniture and woodworking business. He doesn’t fully appreciate the scope of his own skills, and this makes him cautious about undertaking another task—especially if it means delaying children.
It’s clear from these notes where conflict might begin. It’s built in, intentionally.
You’ll also notice a serious absence of physical detail in these notes. I had clear mental pictures of each character. But, remember how I said that I write about relationships? The descriptions here are all about the characters’ traits and er-- well-- character. For me, these are the most important aspects that need defining early on. Because regardless of what part of the story you write first or what you decide they look like, if you don’t know what makes your characters tick, you really don’t know what to write about them.
[ I did receive criticism when I brought a chapter to our critique group. I didn’t have enough physical description, they said. And they were right. In the first draft of chapter one, the first element of physical description is a single line from page 4. Physical description does need to come earlier, but it needs to be incorporated unobtrusively. And, to be fair, there are quite a few readers who would rather fashion a character’s appearance in their heads than have it dictated. I think there can be a middle ground. ]
By the final draft, I had figured it out. I wanted to show Molly and Bret—literally--in their element. The opening scene shows them walking in the snow, looking at neighborhood Christmas decorations.
Shiny packed snow crunched and squeaked beneath the boots of Bret and Molly Small. Fresh flakes fell silently around them as they walked home midnight Christmas Eve. Lustrous moonlight highlighted the two figures of similar height: him, a tad stocky; her, long and slender with soft dark carrot-colored hair that kept escaping its crocheted winter hat.
As they walked, they pointed out decorations to each other, sharing friendly critiques of the homeowners’ tastes. Molly giggled as Bret held up his cell to focus on the house eight doors down from theirs. The yard was filled with a Santa vacation theme. Pink flamings. Lime green palm trees. And reindeer sporting sunglasses frolicking against a turquoise blue backdrop. Purple balloons floated in the cold air, tied to bricks so they wouldn’t fly off. The colors were mildly Seussical, and Molly knew that, but the preponderance of lime green and absence of red put her off..
“You know I love Mrs. Pointer, I really do, but I don’[t see how she can put those colors together and call it Christmas!” Molly declared.
“Well, she married Mr. Pointer, didn’t she?” asked Bret.
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” she said, pushing at his shoulder, dislodging a clump of stubborn snow. “Even if it’s true. But at least she means well. Better to decorate with a full heart and empty palette than the other way round.” She did a little pirouette and coughed.
“Easy there, sunshine.” Bret waited for her to stop, then gathered her in close to keep her warm. “I knew you should have worn that scarf I gave you. I guess I’ll have to keep you warm ‘til we get home.”
“I’m fine,” Molly insisted. “It’s just me being hoarse from the singing.” She pulled gently away and started walking again, holding onto his hand. “Thanks for backing us up tonight. I know you were nervous using a borrowed guitar.”
“Well I hope it sounded all right. I’m still a little rusty. You, however, you sounded like an angel.”
“O Holy Night does that,” Molly agreed, oblivious to the beauty of her own voice. “Oh, look, the Merriweather’s Rudolph has gone out. Wait, wait a minute, I think I have a spare—Yeah, here it is. Come on, this’ll just take a sec.”
(she then goes on to replace the bulb in her neighbor’s reindeer’s nose)
Granted, this scene mostly sets the characters up as a loving couple who enjoy Christmas and sharing each other’s activities. But Molly’s brash desire to help her neighbor out unasked makes Molly seem a little pushy and over-the-top. Sufficiently so that in the ensuing scene, her loving Bret is uncomfortable with it, referring to Molly not being the Holiday Police and that he’s not sure what the Merriweathers will think.
The key is to work these things into the action of the story. Gestures, hair color, even eye color, are added as action is shown. Dialogue amplifies a character’s emotions and point of view while moving plot forward. It is never a good idea—okay, almost never, as I’ve recently done this myself—to stand your character still and categorically list their traits. Not unless there is a logical reason to do so, and it fits the overall style and situation of the scene.
If you find on reviewing and revising that you’ve left relevant information out, don’t brazenly drop it into the passage. Smuggle it in through what playwright’s call ‘business’. This can resemble a character fiddling with pencils on their desk while their superior asks them pointed questions—a sure sign of nervousness. It can be the stance of a person listening to a dogmatic lecture—are they putting their weight on one leg, arms folded, head tilted? Do they close their eyes and sigh? Signs of someone neither at ease nor persuaded by what they are hearing. Showing these aspects of your character is far more entertaining and revealing than simply telling your reader about them.
It takes to the third chapter in the book for another significant character to join them. Hank, owner of the tree farm where Molly and Bret get their Christmas tree every year, welcomes them to their new neighborhood. He is a lanky older gentleman who favors Stetson hats and was once married to a Christmas nut of his own. His quiet demeanor is evident in the dialogue and serves to establish him as a solid secondary character in the book.
As he gives them some advice about their new property, it doesn’t take much for the reader to anticipate Hank’s importance to the Smalls’ story. That advice and a shared connection to Christmas makes it clear that he’ll be their ally.
Every story has a ‘heavy’. Christmas House is no exception—and in my next post we’ll discuss how the traits of those characters can drive the direction of your story.
Those of you interested in reading Christmas House can find the book in print or ebook format through online bookstores, including Amazon and Smashwords.