People You Know

 Good fiction is people. And people are people you know. —Theodore Sturgeon

A novel should give a picture of common life enlivened by humor and sweetened by pathos. To make that picture worthy of attention, the canvas should be crowded with real portraits, not of individuals known to the world or to the author, but of created personages impregnated with traits of character which are known. To my thinking, the plot is but the vehicle for all this; and when you have the vehicle without the passengers, a story of mystery in which the agents never spring to life, you have but a wooden show. There must, however, be story. You must provide a vehicle of some sort.

        —Anthony Trollope, Autobiography, chapter 7

It seems to me, everything a writer needs to know about writing good characters, life-like characters, is in these two quotes. For they are saying the same thing: Fiction is all about people.

Trollope states and Sturgeon implies, the plot of a story is merely the carrier. It is, in fact, the least important part of the book. Without living, breathing characters, the plot is merely a bunch of sticks.

People turn the plot into a story; and people make the story come alive.

Events in our own lives happen because people set them in motion. All fiction is every day, ordinary life presented at large. No matter the genre. And then, just like our own lives, something comes along and turns the world upside down.

So how do we create characters readers will love? According to Sturgeon, our characters are people we know. That is, they are drawn from real life. Or as Trollope wrote, “created personages impregnated with traits of character which are known.”

Justinia Wright is a created personage. And while a tad over the top (not unlike Sherlock Holmes or Nero Wolfe), she exhibits all the personality traits and quirks of people we all know.

Tina smokes and drinks. She is emotionally reserved, yet very much wants love. She’s secretive and manipulative, yet devoted to her brother, Harry, and his wife, Bea.

I simply took traits from people I know, and put them together to create a unique person.

Bill Arthur, the narrator and hero of The Rocheport Saga, was created the same way. He’s a regular Joe. He worked as a low-level bureaucrat before That Day  brought the world as we knew it to an end. His interests are what enable him to survive: guns and target shooting, and alternative and old technology. 

He was also a low-level prepper before the catastrophe. He knew the importance of being prepared for any sort of emergency.

His knowledge is what sets him apart, yet everything about him I drew from people I know. I just put all of the varied traits into one person.

Pierce Mostyn, the monster hunting agent of the OUP (Office of Unidentified Phenomena), exemplifies G-man gravitas. Cool, calm, distant, reserved. Yet, he loves two women. He yearns for a normal life. Enjoys a good cup of coffee. And loves his antique car. Again, all things I mined from real people. And in Mostyn’s case, even a fictional one: Detective Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle of the TV series Foyle’s War.

To create a character, simply think about all the people you know. Pick a trait from one, a different trait from another, and so on, until you have a rough sketch of your character.

It’s best to leave your character in an unfinished state, so he or she has room to grow in your book and series — room to develop his or her own personality.

I’m constantly surprised by all the little things I learn about my characters — even the minor ones — as the series develops.

Now I know some of you have a need to know everything about the fictional world you’ve created. You want to know everything about the people you’ve put in that world. I urge you to resist that temptation.

Fill in the border of the puzzle, but leave the middle empty. As each story and book is written, your characters and their world will grow. Readers will grow right along with them. It is how things work in real life. We don’t know everything about a person when we first meet him or her. We learn as the relationship develops.

You see, my characters are real people to me. With each book and story the relationship between us deepens as trust grows and we learn more about each other.

I think writers make a mistake when they view their characters as simply elements of a story. If your characters aren’t real people to you, the writer, they will never be real people to the reader.

Yes, I know that comes across as somewhat mystical, or even a bit wacky. But, the one thing that I’ve gathered from reviews and comments about my books is that readers love the characters.

If your characters are real to you, they’ll be real to your readers.

And the process starts by assembling traits from people you know, putting them together, and then breathing life into them.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy creating!

The Christmas Season

 Advent is nearly over and the Twelve Days of Christmas are soon to begin.

Whether or not we believe in the Christ story, I believe the Christmas season speaks to everyone. We all want peace. We all want to be persons of goodwill. We all want others to be persons of goodwill. We all want the troubles of this world to go away. And Christmas expresses these desires that everyone has — whether a Christian, or not.

To my mind, Christmas is the perfect time for all of us to come together, commit to practicing the Golden Rule, and move forward together. A time to put aside our sectarian differences and to acknowledge that we are all people who want the same things out of life. We are, in fact, all one.

This Christmas season I am going to re-read Seabury Quinn’s Roads. It is a charming Christmas story that expresses our hope for a better world.

Merry Christmas to you all!

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

Good Fiction Is People

 Fiction is all about people. At least good fiction is. That’s why good fiction stays with us. Why it’s memorable.

Theodore Sturgeon once said, “Good fiction is people. And people are people you know.” Which is probably the point of the old writing adage: write what you know.

It’s all fine and dandy for the writer to show off his or her knowledge about cars, or cooking, or stamp collecting, or orchids — but if those things don’t touch people, so what?

A few months ago, I was watching Colombo. It was a trip down memory lane, as I watched the show when it first appeared on TV.

The lieutenant is a wonderfully drawn character, and certainly went a long way to contribute to the show’s popularity. What I find of even more interest, is that Colombo knows people. He knows what makes them tick. What is likely and unlikely behavior. He’s a shrink masquerading as a police officer in a rumpled raincoat.

Columbo is all about people: their greed, their habits. And how it is that in the end, who they are is what ultimately trips up their attempts to get away with murder.

Good fiction is about people, because without people there is no story. How can a story exist without people? Sure, we can substitute animals for people, but that’s just a camouflage. The story is still about people, and still tells us something about the human condition. 

It is as Ray Bradbury noted: create your characters (the people), let them do their thing — and there is the story.

There are writers who get hung up on plot. They have to detail each little action in the story. Too often, what gets lost along the way are the people in the story. And the reader knows it. The characters are flat, lifeless paper dolls.

Now some readers don’t care. They devour the story and move on to the next one. Those readers are kind of like junkies just looking for a reading fix.

Other writers get hung up on world building. They have to know every little detail about the world their story is set in before they can even write a word. I think what these writers are forgetting is that it isn’t the world, it’s the people in the world that make the story memorable.

And while there are readers who are not very discriminating in what they demand from the writer, I believe most readers want a quality reading experience. They want to read about people like themselves, or about people they would like to become, doing wonderful and amazing things. They want to be moved, to live vicariously.

Tarzan is memorable because he personifies the best in us and is ultimately someone who we’d like to be.

I believe Jack Reacher is popular because he beats up bullies. And who of us hasn’t been bullied? We get our vicarious revenge through Reacher’s exploits.

Rex Stout gave us the sedentary eccentric genius, Nero Wolfe, and the wisecracking man of action, Archie Goodwin. I find myself drawn to both of them, but particularly to Wolfe. Why? Because I would like to be the master of that brownstone. Good food, good books, the big globe, beautiful orchids. I’d just sub tea for the beer.

I can’t recall a single story that I remember solely because of the plot. Why? Because the plot is usually meaningless unless it’s peopled with memorable people. The plot is just a string of events, which generally have no meaning apart from the people in the story.

I do, though, remember many stories because of the characters. Bilbo Baggins. Hercule Poirot. Sherlock Holmes. Carnacki. Jules de Grandin. Rona Dean (from RH Hale’s Church Mouse). Tony Price and Chris Allard (from Richard Schwindt’s two mystery series). Tatsuya (from Crispian Thurlborn’s 01134). Roland Sand, the Quiet Assassin (from Caleb Pirtle III’s Lonely Night to Die). And more. So many more.

Fiction is all about people. Fiction is us.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

To Right A Wrong — Is Live!

 

The latest Justinia Wright mystery, To Right A Wrong, is live!

Get it on Amazon!

And here’s a snippet to whet your appetite.

Gavin, maintaining his innocence, said the only conclusion was that someone had shot his uncle.

The jury agreed. They also agreed with the prosecutor that the someone was Gavin Gamble.

I set the papers on my desk. It all seemed to be there: motive, means, and opportunity. I picked up the copy of the anonymous letter Molly Gamble received. The penmanship was elegant, but the hand that had written the note was not a steady one. The message was simple:

Your husband is innocent. One of the witnesses is lying.

The message was signed, A Friend.

A friend. Ha! If the person was truly a friend, why didn’t he or she say something at the trial? Why wait until now? Indeed, why now? Why send Molly Gamble this note at this particular point in time?

It seemed to me we had more people, a lot more people we needed to talk to before Tina could decide if the note sender was a liar or not.

And how did the note sender know Gavin Gamble was innocent in the first place? Now that was a question I’d like an answer to.

Tina walked into the office and sat at her desk.

“So did Chopin confess? He did it, with the revolver, in the study.”

My sister poured herself a glass of Sercial madeira, the cheap fifty dollar a bottle stuff. “What are you talking about?”

“Apparently he didn’t confess, because you’re still a crabby puss.”

“I am not.” She took a sip of wine. “Did you read the transcripts?”

“I did.”

“Thoughts?”

“In spite of his claim to innocence, the evidence is pretty damning.”

“As I recall from the news coverage, the case was more or less open and shut.”

“So how are you going to spring our jail bird out of the slammer?”

“I don’t know. Who else had a motive for killing James Bowen?”

“Beats me. Gavin Gamble admitted he felt hurt and betrayed because his uncle decided to give him the boot. It could be he also felt angry and decided to get even. That was the prosecution’s line of reasoning, and the jury bought it.”

“Yes, they did. The question is whether or not they bought a snow job. The question we must answer is simple: who else had motive to kill James Bowen, because if Mr Gamble is innocent then someone else not only had motive but acted on it — and then framed Mr Gamble.”