Shaping Characters

If you should spot me in a coffee shop staring at someone, please feel free to march up and tap me on the shoulder. It’s likely I’m stuck in a character reverie.

That happened to me recently when I was in Manhattan Beach, California, in a little café bakery. That is, I caught myself staring.

A woman walked in, a very pregnant woman wearing an ankle length sun dress, with a brown bob of a haircut, and a prominent, straight nose. As I continued to stare at her profile, I imagined that if she were to turn toward me, I’d discover that one eye was blue, and the other a silvery gray, due to blindness. I went on to imagine her as a highly proficient, in-demand assassin…on maternity leave. And so formed the character, in my head, of course. Now, what to do with her?

I shelf these characters in a file, in case I can use them in a story. It could take years to find them a home, but I’ve actually done just that with some of my imaginary peeps.

A man once walked into the legal non-profit where I work, an older man wearing older man clothes and sporting older man style, along with black space invader type shades that entirely blocked his eyes. He claimed he was a retired teacher with a workers’ compensation issue. But that’s not what he was to me.

I saw an older gent, in blacked-out shades who was a former DEA agent, forced into retirement by his failing vision, perpetually on the hunt for suspects. He still had what it takes, but one by one, his health and limbs were failing him. He needed a partner to take on what he could not.

This character found a home in a story. It took a few years, but he settled in quite nicely and found an able-bodied partner. And together, they made a solid team. More on that story to come.

Rewriting is Writing

Here’s the quote of the day by Michael Crichton:

“Books aren’t written – they’re rewritten. Including your own. It is one of the hardest things to accept, especially after the seventh rewrite hasn’t quite done it.”

I wish it only took me seven or eight or twenty times. But the fact is, with the first chapter especially, rewrites happen. I usually lose count after thirty. If there was an AA for authors (Authors Anonymous), I’d be a card-carrying member so I could commiserate with kindred spirits about self-editing.

Yesterday, page after page of my draft was turned without touching a word…until I came to a spot where I referred to my heroine in the third person (e.g., Corrie stepped in front of the guy). Only problem is, my book’s written in the first person. AAARRGGG!

I don’t mind editing and rewrites, really I don’t (excuse me while I find a fire extinguisher for my pants). In fact, I welcome them because every rewrite brings me that much closer to the novel I aspire to write.

But I have hope. Book 2 took me fewer rewrites than Book 1. That’s progress, right?

So here are three tips I humbly offer to assist in making the editing process more efficient:

1. Keep a checklist
I would show you mine, but I’m afraid you’d be traumatized. It’s a bit of a jumble. I use a yellow legal pad and write notes by book page. Then I either place a box, circle, triangle, star or whatever captures my fancy to group my notes together. For instance, on every page where Corrie mentions her late, great PI dad, I place a circle around the number. This is to make sure I’m not redundant.

2. Highlight dialogue
To ensure our characters don’t sound alike, it helps to highlight their distinct individual speech. For example, pink for Corrie, yellow for Veera, etc. If I were to cut out the speech of each character, put it in a hat and draw it out, I should be able to know who said what by personality.

3. Read the manuscript out loud. This is a HUGE help. But before you do, listen to an audiobook by your fave author. This will help you understand the proper rhythm of words and sentences.

4. I know I said three tips, but it’s my blog, isn’t it? Always, always make sure you enjoy the writing process. It’ll come more easily, and happy writing = happy reading.

A Day in the Writing Life: At the Post Office

The small, pastoral, yet somewhat sophisticated area (population 5000) where I live, boasts three post offices. During peak time (which could occur at any moment), the amount of frustration generated by the action or inaction of some postal employees wastes enough energy to operate 23 cell phones on the planet Pluto. That’s no small feat. Postal employees make it a habit to keep one worker behind the counter per every twelve patrons in line, keeping employee #2 within view, reading the local paper or braiding her hair. By the time I reach the counter, I’m ready to pull the safety pin out of the nearest hand grenade.

Much to my surprise, I encountered an entirely different post office last week.

I entered our main branch (I know it’s the main one because it’s open for limited hours on Saturday, and it sports its own parking lot with four parking spaces). The moment I stepped inside, I was immediately whisked away into a Hallmark film.

The place seemed brighter, unusually cheerful, and surprisingly welcoming. There was a glow about the room despite the same drab walls, dull interior, and cement floor. Granted, I was pleased that only one customer stood between the postal worker and me, but not pleased enough to hallucinate. Then it hit me. It was Chris, the jolly, in his late twenties or so, government issue employee.

His smile was so bright that he could have lit all the candles on an octogenarian’s birthday cake.

He looked so happy that he’d made the place come alive.

My turn came early because the lady before me kindly offered to step aside to an empty counter to properly lick the hundred or so envelopes she planned to mail. Typically, post office patrons do no such stepping aside, but do all their licking, lamenting or labeling right there at the counter making all behind them wait. I knew it had something to do with Chris and his luminous smile. His winning grin and benevolent words could have made the moon weep for joy.

At the counter, I told Chris that I needed postage for my oversize envelope #1 as well as the self addressed envelope #2 folded inside #1 which was to be sent back to me by the recipient. Proper procedure is to weigh each separately because envelope #2 usually weighs less on the return trip. Chris only weighed envelope #1, holding his smile of contentment and sheer delight the whole time and muttering sweet nothings. How could I quibble over a quarter or two with the very personification of bliss? It was easy to overlook his negligence. I dared not rain on his happiness.

Chris’ cheery demeanor encouraged me to overlook any shortcomings and treat him with patience. And he reminded me of the importance of utilizing kindness toward all…all the time. Kindness can benefit the giver even more than the receiver. I had a skip in my step when I left the place.

If every person in our society made a point of acting kindly, more often, life would be far more pleasant for all of us. Imagine that.