The other week I picked up some writing manuals from the library. I don't read them often but I do enjoy a good writing book. There's something about them that just gets me fired up to write, write, write. And any motivation is good motivation, right?
Anyway, yesterday I cracked one open: The Plot Thickens by Noah Lukeman (the fact that the author's name is so close to "Noah Puckerman" is a happy coincidence). All in all, it's a pretty full on book, lots of discussion on character, the journey, suspense, conflict, context and transcendency.
I admit, I didn't get very far, but not because the book is poorly put together or because I didn't find the advice helpful. It was more that the content of the first couple of chapters made me dizzy.
The first three chapters of the book are: Characterization: The Outer Life; Characterization: The Inner Life; and Applied Characterization. At the beginning of the first, Lukeman says these three chapters are different from the rest of the book in that they're 90% questions/prompts and 10% discussion.
"All right," I thought. "I love character questions."
So I started reading. Two pages in I knew I was way out of my league. These questions are hard core. They prompt thoughts down to the most minute detail of a character. But they weren't pointless questions either because, of course, everything that makes up a character, no matter how small, influences how they react and behave.
The questions did exactly what they were supposed to: they got me thinking about the characters in Long Road Home. What I realised was both shocking and terrifying.
I don't know nearly as much about Andie and Doyle (and everyone else, probably) as I thought I did. This isn't surprising, I know. All writers are constantly learning new things about their characters. But I'm talking about the little things you think about during the creation process. Doyle is, without doubt, the character I know and understand the best (I also love him the best which makes me feel insanely guilty, but that's another story). But thinking about it, I realise that I only know his life up to a point. I don't, for example, know anything about his school years. Actually, I don't know anything in great detail before the age of about 30 (he's 34 in the novel). I know general things, but anything else is just a blank. Why this is is not a mystery. Everything that Doyle is most influenced by in LRH happened in the last few years, so I never went back to consider anything else.
Andie is a little different in that what influences her happened ten years back, so when I created her, I focused the most on her life growing up and her late teens. But do I know her present state as well as I know Doyle's? No, not even nearly.
The other characters are even worse than that.
A few months ago I was all set to finish the novel this year. Today, I shake my head at my ignorant self.
This all probably sounds like I'm complaining, in despair at all the extra work ahead of me. I'm not. Working on character is one of my favourite parts of the writing process and anything that adds to the character's makes the writing itself easier. Overall, I'm excited and really looking forward to what I'll discover.
Fellow writers: has something like this ever happened to you? How did your character searching end up? What did you discover that surprised you? Let me know!
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