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Writing PromptIntroduce your character fromthe POV of another player. Whatis the narrator’s first impressionof the character? Whatconclusions does he draw fromthe way the character dresses,handles his body, speaks to thosearound him? Are the narrator’sconclusions correct? What doesthis tell you about bothcharacters?heads. But more important than just imbuingour cast with scintillating personalities andrapid-fire wit (although neither of thesequalities should ever be underestimated), isgiving the reader a reason to care about thecharacters.Young authors are often encouraged to beginwith action. The theory is that if you throw anobvious protagonist into a harrowingsituation, the reader will love him just becausehe’s in trouble. Not so. Someone in troublemay elicit a sympathetic response from me ona surface level. But to make me reallyconcerned about what happens to this person,I first have to care about him.Let’s say we pick up a story that begins in themiddle of a fistfight. Probably we will be atleast marginally interested in what the fight isabout. But we aren’t going to particularly carewho wins the fight unless we care about oneof the contestants. Beginning the story with afistfight is definitely a good idea (as opposedto, say, opening with the protagonist warmingup before the fight), but unless you throw in areason to make the reader care, you’reprobably sunk.For years, I struggled with the idea of addingnarrative to my openings. The “call to action,”as it were, became a major stumbling block.My gut kept telling me I needed to introducea character, not an event. I fought the idea,thinking I’d lose the reader’s attention if Islowed down long enough to sketch a fewimportant details about the protagonist. But itdawned on me, as I pondered this question,14

that I had never been turned off by a fewartfully placed paragraphs of narrative in abeginning’s opening. In fact, it was the straightaction openings that completely turned meoff.Don’t get me wrong: action (aka conflict) andsuspense is the heart of any story anddefinitely an essential factor in a successfulbeginning. But, without a strong characterintroduction, action isn’t going to be worthvery much by itself.“The best booksThis one facet of the beginning is the singlecome from someplacemost important factor, not just in opening adeep inside.story, but in setting the tone for the entiretyBecome emotionallyof the tale to follow. So what’s the best way toinvolved. If youintroduce this dazzling character of yours,don’t care aboutwithout overloading the reader withyour characters,unnecessary facts? Following is a veryyour readers won’tnonexclusive list of suggestions that can beeither.”used, in any order and any combination:—Judy Blume Name the character. Give thereader a name to build on. It’s easier tosucker readers into caring for a characterwhen they know his name. Obviously,this isn’t a hard and fast rule, sincenumerous first-person narratives don’timmediately name their characters (suchas Daphne du Maurier’s classic Rebecca, inwhich the main character is never namedat all).Show the character in a“classic moment.” If possible, use15

the opening scene to exemplify a part ofthe character’s personality that will play avital role later on. For instance, in mymedieval novel Behold the Dawn, Iintroduce my hero Marcus Annan, aninfamous champion of the violenttourney games, in the midst of acompetition in Italy. Exemplify attitude. Show thereader, through your character’s words,actions, and internal narrative, how heviews the world. Is he a cynic? Anidealist? How does he view the conflicton which the story has opened?Granted, character is only half of the delicatebalancing act presented in a story’s beginning.A good character in a boring story is stillgoing to be about as flat as yesterday’s soda.But if you can master the art of characterintroduction, you’ve already licked threequarters of the battle.16

In the 2005 blockbuster hit Batman Begins,Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) returns toGotham City, ostensibly as an irresponsibleplayboy loser, and secretly as the unorthodoxcrime fighter known to the press and thepublic as Batman, and reencounters his oldflame Assistant District Attorney RachelDawes (Katie Holmes). Rachel, who’s not yetin the know about Bruce’s alter ego, isunimpressed with his apparent apathy andsuperficiality. He attempts a crypticexplanation: “Inside, I am more.” Rachelresponds, “It’s not who you are underneath.It’s what you do that defines you.”What rings true for Batman also rings true forfictional characters everywhere. If we expectreaders to take our characters seriously, if weexpect them to be impressed, if we expectthem to remember them long after the backcover has been closed—we can’t rely on thecharacters’ good intentions or impressivespeeches. Just like Bruce Wayne, charactersneed to do something to prove themselvesworth defining.As writers, it’s often very easy for us to talk onand on about our characters’ intentions. Ifwe’re not careful, we often let our characters’mouths run away with them, as they spendchapter upon chapter sitting arounddiscussing and planning their next move. Butguess what? Most readers don’t care about17Write a short scene featuringyour character in a “typicalmoment.” Try to choose anactivity that will allow yourcharacter to illustrate the coreof his personality, as well assomething that is a typicaloccurrence in his life. Thisdoesn’t mean you have tochoose a mundane dailyroutine; if your characterroutinely gets into scrapes, hisscrape could be somethingwildly out of the ordinary.Writing PromptIt’s What YourCharacters Do ThatDefines Them

what your characters are planning to do. Theyonly care when they actually do it.“If your novelseems to bedragging, one ofthe first placesto look is at theheart of yourlead character.Is he giving uptoo easily? Hasshe been takingit too long? Arethere too manyscenes where he’sthinking and notdoing?”—James Scott BellThis is so for a couple of reasons. Reason #1is easily the most obvious, since it doesn’t takea trigonometry professor to figure out thatwatching soldiers fighting in a battle is farmore interesting than watching the politicianssit around in a boardroom discussing thebattle. Action is always more attentiongrabbing than inaction. This isn’t to say thatscenes in the boardroom or periods ofinaction are unacceptable—only that theyneed to be recognized for what they are andappropriately rationed.The second reason is probably even moreimportant. When we show our characters inaction, we move beyond simply telling ourreaders who these people are (“Joe was a niceguy”), to the much more powerful plane ofexhibiting the characters’ actions and allowingreaders to draw their own conclusions (“Joeemptied his wallet into the hand of the beggaron the corner”).Readers find it affirming when what they’vebeen told about a character is proven by thatcharacter’s actions. When we give our hero theopportunity to exhibit his bravery (or hiscowardice), his empathy (or his selfishness),his brilliance (or his stupidity), we are doingmore than just imparting the facts. We’rebringing this character to life on the page.We’re making him a living, breathingpersonality, who acts and reacts in a palpableway, just the same as the rest of us.18

Seek out opportunities to let your characterdefine himself by his actions. Don’t let himstand around for pages, doing little more thantalking or thinking. Shove him into themayhem of life and force him to get his handsdirty. Create situations and scenes that willprove his strengths and his weaknesses,instead of forcing the reader to simply takeyour word for it. If you do, you’ll emerge witha character—and a story—that’s vibrant,visible, and memorable.19

Naming CharactersCreativity ExerciseDon’t settle for obviousnames. Look beyond AngloSaxon staples. A characternamed Gradikowski has awhole different set ofpossibilities from onenamed Griffith, even if younever discuss his ethnicity.Be wary of “hero” names,—unless, of course, that’swhat you’re going for.Naming every charactersomething bold andadventurous dilutes thepower of strong names.Names are important. Mention a name, andinstant preconceptions spring to mind.Although our names may not play a role inshaping our personalities, they certainlybecome a reflection of our background, ourethnicity, even our religion. They can evendefine our relationships. So it should come asno surprise that naming a character isprobably the single most important momentin defining his personality and the role he willplay in a story.Names can prove both a tremendousstumbling block and a huge inspiration. For along while, the hero of my forthcomingfantasy Dreamers Come was named ChrisFoster. And for a long while, he refused tocooperate. He shuffled around, mumbledexcuses, and was generally ineffective andcallow. I changed his name to Chris Redston,and—presto chango!—strange and wonderfulthings started happening. Suddenly, I had anaggressive, swashbuckling hero on my hands.And all because of a simple name change.I defy any parent to produce a more batteredand dog-eared collection of name books thanthose I possess. (Unless, of course, you’re aparent and an author.) I’ve spent many anhour thumbing through my collection ofname books, skimming Internet name sites,and even blearing my eyes over the telephonebook. I drive everyone around me crazy withmy demands of “Help me think of a name.” Iread movie credits religiously, and I keep listsupon lists of names that strike my fancy. A20

character without a name—or, worse, acharacter with the wrong name—rankles inmy brain like a mosquito bite I’ve sworn notto itch. As Mary O’Hara puts it in her TheMaking of a Novel:I work at their names awake andasleep, driving, resting, eating, visiting.For days or weeks I would strugglewith one single character rightly toname him, actually a sort of madseizure, shaking him by the throat—“Tell me! Tell me! What is your name?Your real name?” . For me, at least,the naming—right naming—is partof the very structure of the character.With the wrong name, the characterlooks wrong, talks wrong, does thewrong things.I wish very much I had a magic equation togive you, to help you instantly find the perfectname for every character every time. But, inlieu of that, I offer a handful of the pointersI’ve always found helpful.Avoid names that begin with thesame letter. It’s been my policy (althoughadmittedly not always strictly observed) toavoid using two names starting with the sameletter in the same story. After beingintroduced to a character, most readers stopreading his name and simply recognize thecharacter by the shape of the letters as theireyes skim over the page. If two charactersshare names that begin with the same letter—and particularly if the names are similar in21“A well-chosen namecan evoke imagesand feelings inreaders’ mindsbefore thecharacter evenwalks on stage.Tolkien knew this.Doesn’t ‘Sauron’sound a bit like‘Satan’? Anddoesn’t ‘Frodo’remind us of thatrotund, slowmoving, extinctbird, the dodo?”—J.V. Jones

size and shape—readers can easily misreadand confuse them. For example, in DreamersCome, I had originally named one of my minorcharacters Choc. But when even I startedconfusing his name with my hero Chris’s, Iknew I had to change it.Writing PromptChoose realistic names. It’s easy toget carried away with the naming game.Remember Anne Shirley and her penchant foroutlandishly romantic names? Cordelia?Geraldine? Roselia De Vere? These namesmay have fit very well within Anne’s romanticfantasies, but they would hardly have workedso well had L.M. Montgomery chosen toscatter them among her own characters.Names invariably carry certainpreconceptions. (In fact, anentire name book wasconstructed to help parents—and authors—choose a namebased on what a survey revealedabout the preconceptionsconnected to names: The BabyName Survey Book by BruceLansky and Barry Sinrod.) Writedown every preconception youhave about your character’sname. How can you effectivelyplay on—or against—thestereotype?Granted, some characters and some storiesdemand extraordinary names (can youimagine Dickens’s A Christmas Carol with ahero named Eric Schmidt?). But for the mostpart, it’s much better to stray on the safer sideand choose sensible, hard-working names. Ifyou find yourself with a cast of characterswho mostly bear names you’ve never runacross in your own personal experience, you’dbest hunker down and submit to inserting atleast a couple Johns and Marys into the mix.Choose historically/geographicallyaccurate names. In the same vein, it’salso vital to seek out historically andgeographically appropriate names. Because it’shighly unlikely that a MacKensie Diaz wouldhave been a lady-in-waiting to QueenElizabeth I, the author of said MacKensieDiaz would be wise to change the name to22

something more fitting, lest she shove herreaders right out of their bubble ofsuspended disbelief.One of my characters in my historical westernA Man Called Outlaw insisted her name wasAleis, but because I knew the name worked inneither the historical setting nor thegeographical setting, I forced her intoaccepting Anna as a fair exchange.Establish gender with neutralnames. If you’ve chosen a gender-neutralname, such as Tracy or Drew or any otherwithin the host of recent crossover names, besure to immediately establish the character’sgender. Don’t open your story with acharacter named Kelly, only to reveal twoparagraphs down that this Kelly person isactually a man.Don’t be afraid of changing nameswhen necessary. I very rarely nail mycharacters’ names on the first attempt. Inoptimal situations, I have their nameshammered down by the time I start the firstdraft, thus ensuring the names mesh perfectlywith their personalities. But, despite my care, Iinevitably find myself with at least one (six inmy last project) character submitting anapplication for a name change.This can be frustrating, not to mentionperilous, when it occurs in the middle of thestory. After all, the demand for a name changeoften signifies the necessity of some majoroverhauls in the character’s general portrayal.23

But it’s always worth the headache of draggingout the name books for one more go. A roseby any other name might smell as sweet, but acharacter with the wrong name causes oneheck of a stink.Name resourcesThe Greatest Baby Name Book Ever by CarolMcD. Wallace—A comprehensive andentertaining standby.“Advice to youngwriters who wantto get aheadwithout anyannoying delays:don’t write aboutMan, write about aman.”—E.B. WhiteCharacter Naming Sourcebook by SherrilynKenyon—Organizes names alphabetically, byorigin and popularity according to year.Alchemist Name Generator e forty random names (first and last)at a time.Popular Baby Names (http://www.ssa.gov/OACT/babynames/) The Social SecurityAdministration’s records of baby names.Behind the Name (http://www.behindthename.com/) Provides thehistory and etymology of first names. Allowssearches by meaning and includes a handygenerator.Victorian Era Names, A Writer’s Guide (http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/ poindexterfamily/OldNames.html) Namesfrom the turn of the century.Fantasy Name Generator (http://www.rinkworks.com/namegen/) Set thespecifications to your needs and generatedozens of names at a time.Sean Puckett—Random Word Generator(http://www.nexi.com/fun/rw/index.html)24

According to the site: “.if you want togenerate some new girl’s names, feed it a list ofgirls’ names, and it will take them apart anddiscover how to make girls’ names, then comeup with a list of words that are very similar, butprobably never before seen.”25Writing PromptThink of the one action yourcharacter would never take. Thenforce him into a situation where hehas no choice. What happens?

DescribingCharactersFiction once began with the face, withthe act of observation of the faces ofothers. Does it still? It’s arguable. Ican imagine a skeptic wondering whatdifference it makes whether writersdescribe faces or not. Does anythingof importance really hang in thebalance? Who cares? Does it makeany difference to the operations ofthe world? Who cares about the faceanymore? Is reading the face still asurvival skill. and if so, for whom?—Charles BaxterThe Art of Subtext: Beyond PlotIn recent years, a minimalist trend hassurfaced regarding character descriptions.Common opinion these days states thatphysical descriptions are unnecessary,distracting, and even poor writing. “Dickens,”these minimalists claim, “might have beenable to get away with a page and a half of indepth description, but that sort of verbosity isnot only intolerable in modern fiction buteven retroactively ridiculous.” Having read fartoo many novelists who abuse and misuse theart of description, I’m in utter sympathy withwhoever decided the character descriptionwas passé. But I’m not in agreement.Most of the fuss over descriptions is primarilythe result of two pitfalls:1. Clichéd descriptions that add nothing tothe characters, but rather render them ascaricatures.26

2. Inappropriate usage, placement, andemphasis.Let me address these one at a time.ClichésThe only reason any description deserves tobe included in a novel is because it addssomething vital to the narrative. A romanticheroine with Barbie blonde hair and a supermodel figure doesn’t add much. Telling thereader the bad guy in a western is squintyeyed, dark-browed, and narrow-lipped doesnothing to bring freshness to the story. (But,of course, this is a problem that goes muchdeeper than description and finds its root in aclichéd personality.) But to take the otherextreme and delete description entirely addsnothing either. You can’t put nothing into astory, and expect the reader to gain something.As readers, we read in order to be told aboutpeople other than ourselves. Can ourunderstanding of these people really becomplete without some concept of theirappearance—and thus how other peopleperceive them and how they perceivethemselves?Inappropriate usageDescriptions need not be long; sometimes asingle detail can anchor a character morefirmly in the reader’s mind than a list ofattributes two paragraphs long. Avoid“laundry lists” at all costs. Rattling off a27“Try to key yourdescriptions toone or twofeatures, anemotionalsketch. Tryrecalling someoneyou met a longtime ago; whichfeatures can youstill visualize?”—Anne Perry

character’s hair color, eye color, height, andweight isn’t going to bring the reader anycloser to the charact

what makes characters unforgettable is the possession of “at least one of the following characteristics—grit, wit, and ‘it.’” We love characters who are courageous, characters who are smart or funny, characters who have that special “star power,” or what Bell “The moment comes when a character does or says something you hadn’t .