Stubborn Characters

September 9, 2013 / Lisa / Leave a comment

I’ve said this before, but I have fun with Yahoo Answers. I go to the books and authors section and read posts about writing. I answer quite a few, and in answering am forced to pause and think and learn. I see many topics that come up repeatedly. Some of the very, very common questions include ‘what should I name my character’, ‘what do you think of my story’, ‘I want to be a writer but need an idea’, ‘how do I get published’, ‘can I write a story when I’m only twelve’ and so on, each one so earnestly asked and so deserving of time.

The most recent one I saw asked for tips on how to develop a stubborn character. The person wanted to know what to do with an annoying character that refused to have the personality the questioner wanted.

Sounds like my kind of character. Or at least some of my friends. Stubborn, unique, individual, doing what they want. I like the character already.

Seriously though, I responded because I think all writers have had that happen. Matter of fact, those can be the best characters because they don’t do what we want.

There can be so many reasons for this. One thing I usually ask first, is if I am trying to force a particular character into the wrong role. Sometimes that character belongs in a different part of the story.

It reminds me of the time my friend (and author) Susan Schreyer, had problems with this one very meek character who just wasn’t doing what Susan wanted. Turned out this very meek character actually wanted to be the villain. When Susan realized that, the whole story took on a different shape and pieces fell into place.

Sometimes the character won’t do what you want because you let personal feelings get in the way. I actually had a character who reminded me of someone I did not care for. I so wanted that character to be the villain. Vicarious revenge. I struggled with the plot line until I realized that my personal emotions had to get out of the way of the character, and then the story line developed easier. Kind of the opposite problem that Susan had.

Sometimes it’s as simple as the writer not having fully developed the character, so that the character isn’t understood.

And sometimes the plot develops in a way that pulls out action from the character that the writer didn’t plan for.

There are so many reasons for something like this to happen. But it brings home to me just how wonderful it is when a character is so alive that they become a life outside of our expectations. If the character is alive like that, then I’m willing to bet the story will be, too.

Not a character in a story, but still a character.

Tension?

July 26, 2013 / Lisa / 3 Comments

I’ve mentioned before how I usually know the ending of a story before I know anything else about it. I end up writing my way to the very last line, which is always there during the process.

I’ve also mentioned before what my theory is on stories. That they are all around me, and really, really want to be told and don’t care how they’re told. So if I outline, or talk about a story before I’ve finished writing it, then it’s been told. The story is happy and it goes away and I’ll never finish it. Which is why I’m careful not to talk a lot about a work in progress.

So this week, while visiting with my friend Jenni, we got to talking about the writing process and I realized that my two comments above are connected in a way. If I don’t know the ending, there’s no tension. If I talk about a story, basically tell it instead of writing it, there’s no tension. And without that tension, I won’t write.

That got me wondering if ‘tension’ is the right word. Could it be anticipation? Is it the mystery of the unknown? Not knowing the story, discovering it as I write it?

Well, what’s the definition of ‘tension’? Skipping over to an online dictionary I find the expected definitions of stretching and tightening. But then I also find this: ‘a balance maintained in an artistic work between opposing forces or elements’ and ‘an inner striving, unrest, or imbalance…’.

For all you artistic types out there (not just writers), isn’t that what it feels like before the project is finished? A simmering sense of anticipation, inner striving toward something unknown, and a lack of balance? These things, I think, are what drives someone to create. Would I take the time out of my busy life to write 100,000 words if I wasn’t striving toward fulfilling the anticipation, toward finding that balance? Think of the huge, heavy mental sigh you give when your creativity is captured on paper or canvas or even in your job. I know I usually am overwhelmingly relieved that I made it to that very last line before the story escaped.

So I guess ‘tension’ is a good word. However, I read a blog post a week or so ago about how, when you’re struggling to find just the perfect word in your story, and nothing seems to work, to use the definition instead. I agree with that because the phrase ‘an inner striving or unrest’ explains the writing process, for me at least, much better than ‘tension’.

How does it feel for you, before you pick up the pen, the paint brush, the crochet hook, the garden trowel, the hammer?

Beginnings

June 20, 2013 / Lisa / 7 Comments

I’m pondering beginnings.

1. A young friend is a writer. I’m hoping to interview her, here, mainly for selfish reasons. I want to remember what it was like when I started out. Which means I’m trying to find the right questions to ask. I remember the feeling of secrecy as I sat alone in my room with lined paper and pencil, afraid someone would walk in and ask what I was doing. I’m not sure I was consciously aware of the world opening up, but I remember realizing that dreams were, in a way, coming to life on the page. When I read things I wrote a long time ago, I cringe. But at the same time I laugh and don’t make changes because there is so much enthusiasm in those stories, even if the craft of writing still had to be learned. Heck, I’m still learning. But you know what I mean. Those early pieces are just dang fun to read.

Have I lost that enthusiasm? No, but the stories don’t overflow, meaning I don’t write non-stop all day. Now I’m more inclined to write while the muse is flowing and then go back and revise. Back then, I just knew that everything was perfect. So maybe the naiveté has been tempered by craft.

2. A story is finished and waits on cover art. I have another story I’m fiddling with and a bit overwhelmed by. I also want to start on a third in the series. I know I want it to be a prequel as several people liked a character that is killed off in the first book. I can feel the tiny, faint, niggling feeling that tells me an idea is there, but still buried. I have some thoughts, I’ve jotted a few notes, but I can also tell it’s too soon. If I try to jump in and force the beginning, to start before the idea is firmed more, then the whole story will die.

That itch is there but it’s too soon to scratch.

3. And then there’s the beginning a poet starts. She has finished her radiation, her chemotherapy, and the changes to her body. Now she starts the healing. Those who haven’t been through it assume it’s the start of a joyful time, of relief, and there is that, in a small part. But it’s also the start of anger and deep sadness, and feeling like you’re going insane. Few people realize that some who have had to deal with cancer, end up with PTSD afterwards. Few people want to talk about that. And so she begins the uphill battle to regain who she was, and learn who she is. As part of that she wrote an amazing poem that I hope she will allow me, some day, to share here.

The thing about all these beginnings, that I hope she realizes, is that they pass.