A good ice storm will slow you down. Send you walking instead of driving. Make you wait.
I was caught in the thick of the ice this last weekend having flown home to Texas to spend time with loved ones, and in the first few days, I did a lot of waiting. Waiting for the roads to clear, waiting to be told what I could do to help with my grandmother’s funeral, waiting for the inevitable.
Waiting isn’t all bad, though. It pulls at your perspective until you notice less of the big picture and more of what’s right in front of you.
It tethers you to a moment in time.
For the last several days, I’ve sat quiet, looked at old photos, listened to stories. Filled in gaps in my history. I would not have wanted those moments to be rushed.
~
While I was home, a piece of my fiction was published online, a story that speaks of something similar: slowing down, looking back, finding that lifeline. You can read The Continental on Deep South Magazine HERE.
When I started writing my current novel (every writer has at least one hidden away in a drawer, right?), I insisted on pre-writing and planning: outlines and character worksheets and even a concept map.
I did all of those things. But, when I sent off the first 20 pages of my manuscript to be critiqued at the Salt Cay Writers Retreat, I knew my work was lacking and fell flat in places. I just didn’t know exactly how or what I might do to set it right.
Every morning in Salt Cay, a handful of other writers and I gathered at a picnic table and–under the guidance of Chuck Adams–workshopped the pages of someone’s manuscript. When I learned my pages were up for a turn in the spotlight, I first broke out into a sweat. Then I mustered a meek, Looking forward to it (thumbs up), and wondered how I might get hold of a Bahama Mama before this whole thing got started.
I had no reason to be anxious; the critique sessions were all about encouragement and moving the story forward, not about pointing out where the story failed. But in the process of critique, weak areas become clear. On my manuscript, we talked about character, specifically the antagonist in my story, Victor Manning.
Here’s where I remind you (and myself) that writers should never take themselves too seriously. Otherwise, we lose perspective and learn nothing in the process. And, we miss out on a good time.
That’s right, Critique and Good Times can go together.
First, my colleagues at the table circled around Victor’s dialogue in a gentle sort of way. But eventually, they said my villain was too villain-esque, too sinister, to the point of resembling someone like this:
“Boo, my pretty!”
Okay, the bow tie is deceiving, but the twirling of the mustache fit the profile. Their feedback was funny and spot-on and exactly what I needed to hear. Victor was a little too bad and completely unrelatable.
In taking a closer look at him, I also tuned into a few other overlooked (and crucial) characters’ details. I hadn’t yet figured out the name of the protagonist’s mother, first or last. While her mother doesn’t play a leading role in the story, family history does, especially names.
I had a lot of work to do, not in going all the way back to the beginning but in working on aspects of the story I wished I’d fine-tuned earlier.
There are two reasons why I struggle with character development, especially when it comes to longer projects like a novel.
1. I can be L.A.Z.Y.
I’m a born pantster when it comes to writing. That might work well when cranking out a 1500 word short story, but not a novel. In plotting and planning out the basics–I had a protagonist in mind and the skeleton of an antagonist–I figured I was good to go. I had pages to fill, after all, and a word count to meet. And laundry and dishes and lunches to make and…who has time to dig so deep into characters, major or minor? I wanted to believe that they would all flesh themselves out more fully as the story unfolded.
Even when I met with Michelle Brower for my one-on-one at the retreat and she pointed out the same issues, suggesting I sketch out my characters more, I said, “Each one?” As much work as I knew I had left to do, I was still hoping for a shortcut all around.
Lazy might not be as fitting for me as Stubborn.
2. I lack the right tool.
Stubborn isn’t all bad when I use it on the flip side. I had already bookmarked links to character worksheets and filtered through old photographs online for a face that resembled the person I aimed to grow. While physical description helped, it didn’t probe deep enough. What I needed was a way to uncover the history of these characters, so that I might discover their goals, their secrets, the good side to the antagonist, for example, as well as the bad. What I needed were more options.
I listened to the writers at critique and to Michelle, and then I asked around some more, learning about Character Interviews. Not structured interviews, but organic Q&A’s that might begin with a predictable, “In what year were you born” but lead to a more personal, “What would your father say of you now?” Questions that evolve from “listening” to the character tell his or her story.
Later, when I interviewed Victor on paper, that cartoon villain not only lost his mustache but he became flesh and bones, soul and spirit, and introduced new twists and layers to the story as a whole.
The Lessons
Writing on the sidelines is as important as working on the first drafts when it comes to characters. I remind myself of that daily, because I’m still itching to get back to the real draft, even if my characters aren’t yet ready.
If a certain kind of exercise or technique doesn’t give you what you need, keeping searching for one that does. Nothing is wasted in writing, even if those words never make it to a final printing.
While cold and white winters in Wisconsin aren’t unusual, wet mittens and drippy snow pants tossed on the back steps before dinner–before Thanksgiving–are always a bit of a shock. At least for this misplaced Texan. It means mopping up slush on a regular basis and holding my thermals hostage until well into March.
And, it means dreaming of Salt Cay–aqua blue waters and hot sun and bare feet in sand.
Lisa Romeo (author, instructor, and colleague at COMPOSE Journal) invited me to write a guest post about my time at the Salt Cay Writer’s Retreat and allowed me to relive those moments for a while. She was also quite patient with me (like any good teacher) as I fumbled through a number of drafts, because writing about such an experience wasn’t easy. Especially when much of the retreat played out like a movie, with its beautiful cinematography and lingering dialogue and characters not soon forgotten.
