I was thinking the other day that writing is like poker.  Style is important (the quality of the writing), and we strive for it to be an ace in the hand… but that is not what this series of posts is about.  Setting, Character and Plot are the other three aces a writer needs to have that ultimate winning hand.  True, four twos can be a powerful hand, so the analogy breaks down at that point, but in so far as possible, we strive for four aces.

The fifth card, the joker, is a post I may attack at a later date.  For the present, I want to focus on these three:  setting, character and plot; and this time the topic is character.

Action:

If we understand that character is a matter of internal dynamics, we understand that the insides of a character may be full of doubt and conflict.  Most of us are.  Plenty of writers warn against cardboard characters.  Cardboard characters supposedly lack depth because they are either too good or too evil without mitigating traits (internal doubt and conflict).  That certainly can be true and it is worth being careful to be sure your characters are not cardboard.  Even so, sometimes (some might say too often) cardboard characters do happen, but just to go against the grain, let me also say this:  Sometimes, a character may very well be single minded, without any doubt or conflict, like Gollum in The Lord of the Rings who had a only one motivation:  for his “precious.”  Sauron, also, had no good (conflict) in him, but then he did not exactly play an active role in the story…

Consider this note from real life:  Despite our best laid plans (which oft gang agley, like, for example, our New Year’s resolutions) it is important to understand that our actions are determined by our motivations (what we truly feel, believe and think important) and our motivations are determined by who we really are on the inside.  It is no different in stories.  Actions will always be determined (apart from some mind control) by what a person believes, feels about things and knows to be true.  It will be determined by what they are capable of doing on the inside, not what the writer or reader wants to happen on the outside.

When your character walks into the room and finds the monster, what will they do?  Will they run back the way they came, cower in the corner in the hope that they will not be seen, draw their sword?  Will they freeze in panic, fear or indecision, or will they have the presence of mind to try and find a way out? 

People will respond differently to the same situation.  They will even see it differently, such as the six different versions of what happened when the two cars met head-on.  The reason for those differences is on the inside of those people.  In the same way, characters in a story will not act, respond, or process their experiences in the same way, nor should they.

Dialogue

Likewise, we should understand that dialogue is a result of those same internal dynamics.  People sometimes wonder and ask how to make their dialogue “realistic.”  Suggestions range from eavesdropping to examining your own conversations to seeing how other writers do dialogue.  None of these suggestions are bad (other than possibly the eavesdropping one), but I would suggest instead taking a look at the characters themselves.

Dialogue, like action, comes from the inside-out.  Who we are inside will determine what we notice, what we are likely to say about events and how we are likely to say it:  gruff, kind, shy, loud, etc.  It will also determine whether or not we keep our mouth shut.  We all use the same words, in case you never noticed, but as with action, our dialogue will vary based on what we feel, believe about things, what is important to us, and what we know to be true…even when we are mistaken.

There is no substitute for a writer knowing their characters in the depths of their…character.  In fact, I believe the better we know our creations, and the more we let their internal being show itself on the outside,  the more “realistic” both their actions and dialogue will be.

Doctor Martin Luther King Jr. was right.  Character is what matters.  Before I begin discussing the issue, though, there is something important to say:

A Character is NOT a story.

Some believe that character is “all that matters” or “the most important thing.”  Some believe that with a brilliant, magnificent character, the story will practically write itself.  That may be the way you write best, but let’s not carry this too far.  The character must start somewhere and end up somewhere (setting).  AND,  something must happen for there to be a story (plot).  The character must experience something, and experience it in relationship with other characters lest you end up with nothing but one giant soliloquy. 

Characters (and setting in the background) are what a reader “sees” in a story, to be sure.  But from the moment the story trigger is pulled and the main character’s motivation is set, every story might be honestly described as:  Characters in Experience (not characters in a vacuum).  Characters experiencing something in relationship and how they respond to their experiences is the plot.  You can’t have a story without a plot.  But this post is about characters…

Character

Doctor King had it right when he said people should not be judged by the color of their skin (hair, eyes, height, weight, beauty or lack) but by the content of their character.  That is absolutely true of stories.  Appearance matters little.  Character matters much, hence the name “character.”  To that end, allow me to make two points:

First, character, by which I mean the kind of person a writer portrays, matters absolutely in terms of a reader’s like or dislike and subsequent expectations with regards to the story. 

Even in a post-modern world where morals and values are deemed to be relative, people are instinctively drawn to these:  Love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, gentle-kindness, faithfulness, humility and self-control…  By contrast, hate, anger, murder, torture, sadism, masochism, treason, betrayal, flaming ego and hedonism are not endearing qualities. 

Any story worth reading will show these traits (pro and con) in action (in relationship with other characters) and in the deeds and thoughts of the main character.  If the story is an external one, it will be more in deeds.  If it is an internal story it will be more in thoughts, but the traits will be the same.

It is one thing to describe Cinderella as a good girl, but it strikes home when she responds to her insensitive stepsisters with kindness and positive words.  When she responds to her stepmother’s demands with faithfulness and hard work (and no complaints) we begin to really see her goodness and begin to see the unfairness of her position.  At that point, we begin to root for her.  That we will be happy at the end is already a foregone conclusion, but that brings me to my second point about character:

Second, characters are understood by readers by what they show, not by what they say.  This is NOT a post about “show, don’t tell.”  That overused expression is not exactly true, anyway.

The Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz (wise but terrible and mysterious) is told about through most of the book/movie.  Dorothy and company (and the readers/viewers) are set to believe the terrifying show when it happens.  Only Toto, the dog, is not fooled.  When the dog pulls back the curtain, though, and they actually get to meet the man, he “shows” himself to be a nice, kindly old man and very different from his P. R. 

People believe what they see, and the people they meet, not just what they are told.  Set your friend up on a blind date and tell them the date “is a nice person.”  See what reaction you get.

Likewise, in Cinderella, the Stepmother is called “wicked,” a telling term.  She also shows that wickedness in her treatment of Cinderella and in piling on the work, but there is nothing wrong with the description, “wicked.”  The stepsisters are selfish, lazy and insensitive.  In some shortened versions of the story, they are simply named that way.  In most, though, they are also shown lazing around on the couches, eating candy and making snide and cruel remarks while Cinderella cleans out the fireplace.  OK.  To some extent, show, don’t tell matters, but it isn’t an absolute.  Even so, it is important to understand that characters are known by what they do (show) not by what is told about them or even by what they say.

Consider politicians.  The words are great… but then they get into office… (action and dialogue in the next post).  Characters must be seen to be believed…

Apart from location, there is another important aspect to setting that must be considered.  I call it props (comes from too much work on stage), but in the analogy of the house, we should think of it as the furniture and all of the things and knick-knacks that make a house into a home.  This does not mean that everything needs to be mentioned.  Too much period detail can put a reader to sleep.  Instead, like the location of the story, the props must also advance the story and move it forward, and if it does not, why bring it up?

Continuing with the story of Cinderella, we can see immediately that there are several vital props

First:  There is her mother’s old dress which the Stepmother finds and shreds. 

Now, I was thinking in the Too Big to Fail storyline (from the last post), and instead of a Christmas party, it could be some excuse for a masquerade party.  The Boss might let slip to the Stepmom that he is proud of his son’s MBA, but he really wishes the boy would find a nice girl and settle down.  The stepmom promptly gets her daughters dressed and ready.  Cinderella might also find a party costume in one of her mother’s old trunks, but Stepmom can find out and shred the thing.  Same business, but something has to happen for the reversal—for the story to work

Second:  There must be some way to tell the time.  In an ancient setting, the rising or setting of the moon might work, but otherwise the story must be set far enough in the direction of the present for there to be clocks to chime.  Did you think of that?

Third:  The slippers.  Can’t have Cinderella without slippers.  At least it must be something that comes in pairs.  I suppose gloves might work, but the Prince (or boss’ son) and Cinderella should have the chance to touch, hand to hand.  Anyway, a pair of something is vital for the final reversal, where the Stepmother breaks the slipper rather than let Cinderella try it on.  (aha!  Cinderella has the other one). 

When looking at props, even from scene to scene, you need to consider carefully what to include and what not to include.  Perhaps the most important point to remember is that for most of the time, the world must be filtered through the senses of your character. Like us, your character will notice/perceive the world based on who they are (what they enjoy) and what has meaning for them in their lives and the situation in which they find themselves. For example:

When the time traveler is ushered into the room to await her host, what will she notice? The Victorian loveseat, the drapes, the crossed swords over the fireplace, the large portrait of her host’s dead wife or the grandfather clock that chimes 4 o’clock, tea time? The only wrong answer is probably none of the above.

One might think the clock is a given for a time traveler, but she might make furniture as a hobby (or her husband might) and so the loveseat might be scrutinized and seen as well made with an expensive fabric. Then the drapes might be an Indian fabric, indicating that her Victorian host served time in India. Or if the host is a suspected vampire, she might notice that the drapes are drawn tight against any possible sunlight. If she is in a dangerous situation, her eye will be drawn to the swords (and any other potential weapons in the room), and then maybe the portrait looks like her, or someone she knew or met (time traveler) or like her Aunt Grace, or perhaps she might look at it to try and get some insight into this former Indian military officer who might be a vampire and is certainly a threat…

With all of that she might hardly notice the clock, time traveler though she is.

You can see that props in the overall story and from scene to scene must be chosen with care.  A typical home is full of junk, especially if you are like me and keep things.  Only make sure you don’t fill your story with junk.  Every piece should relate to the story you are telling.  Every piece should relate to the characters, too; but to get a handle on “character in setting”, as you might call it, we will need to look a character formation… next time.

Have you ever touched a dead body.  Cold Brrr!  I have to laugh when I hear people talk about how “hot” that vampire is…  In my universe, as always, there has to be some understandable reason as to why dead flesh should reanimate.  For me, there are several ways in which that can happen.

In ancient days, the gods were responsible for keeping the spirits of the dead until the time of dissolution.  For the gods, it was an easy thing to reanimate flesh and blood.  As Doctor Who once quipped, (for the gods) “life is just nature’s way of keeping meat fresh.”  A simple decision on the part of a god could bring the dead back out of the ground.  They could be cleaned up, as needed, and endowed with a task or whatever.  With a special dispensation from the King of the gods (or community of gods) the spirit of that dead person could re-inhabit the flesh; though if the idea is to bring a dead person back to life it would be simpler to simply re-clothe the dead spirit with a freshly made flesh and blood form.

In my universe, there is almost nothing a god cannot do, but for the rest of the universe, such a thing might not be so easy.

Magic can certainly be used to revive the dead, but it is not an easy thing to do and there is a risk in doing so.  Science, as in the virus from “Night of the Living Dead” or as in Doctor Frankenstein’s monster, can do much the same.  But the risk remains.

That risk is found in the spiritual realm where the demons cast from Heaven remain disembodied spirits not permitted to take on flesh and blood.  They can certainly possess a living person if invited in, but otherwise they look for just such an opportunity.  A reanimated dead body just calls for inhabitation, and then the magician had better beware, big time.

Zombies are the reanimated dead.  Even in such a state, they have a limited lifespan.  For one, they are still in a state of decay, so it will only be a matter of time before the form becomes untenable.  They avoid fire, certainly, but also running water or anything else that might hasten the decay process.  A demon inhabited zombie can respond and relate to people and situations to the extent that the brain remains more or less intact.  This is why zombies are often attracted to people and places they were attracted to in life.

Vampires, on the other hand, might be called the reanimated undead.  Generally, vampires are brain-dead, as a doctor might describe it, but not exactly “body” dead (yet).  In that case, a demon can get long life out of a form.  As long as the heart is still pumping, even if all the other organs have stopped functioning, the demon can live. 

Of course, with the reanimated brain once again getting the blood it needs, memories of that person, personality traits, even conversation is possible.  Thus a vampire (unlike a zombie) can appear as a normal, functioning person (as long as it is in the dark – demons instinctively avoid the light).  They can appear like the person even to the point of fooling those familiar with that person that they are that person…  It’s all in their head.

Now, with the organs not functioning correctly, including the spinal cord, there is a need for fresh blood, human blood to keep the body cells from deteriorating.  Live forever?  No, but for longer than a normal life?  Certainly.  Of course, a stake through the heart…  No, not a steak dinner and a movie…

In my universe, history begins on the plains of Shinar where the human race gathered under the guidance of Nimrod to build a tower—a tower that came to be called Babel.  I date this to around 4500 BC. 

At that time, the young gods (children of the Nature Spirits called the Titans) fretted that the rest of the world was somewhat emptied of self-directed life.  Thus they imported other “people” to fill the spaces.  These included the Centaurs, Mermaids, Fauns, and many others, including the Were people: shape shifters located in Eastern Europe and Southern Russia.  The gods acclimated these various strange people to life on earth, redesigning them , more or less, to fit in to their new environment. 

The Were, for example, learned to shift into the shapes of omnivores and carnivores (predators) native to this planet.  What such animals might have been native to their home planet was unknown, even to them.  For daily life they lived in human form and could not be destinguished from you or me.

Of course, when the tower fell and the human race was scattered around the globe, that had to be accommodated for by the over-zealous gods.  In time, the human race put pressure on these other “peoples,” limiting their range and competing for resources.  One thing that happened was the inter-breeding of the species.  (When the gods acclimated the various peoples to Earth, they used the human model, which may have been a mistake since it made inter-breeding possible).

Eventually, the gods deleted these non-humans by various means in order for the human race to have the world according to the original design.  What they did not foresee, however, was the transmission of a recessive Were gene among the human population, nor the virus associated specifically with the Were wolf form, that could lay dormant in the earth for thousands of years.  It is a very rare person who carries the gene, and rarer still are the ones who contract the virus, but when they do so together…

Of course, the human species, in bones and muscles, is not designed to transform its shape.  It is very painful.  What is more, the Were were adept at taking on the characteristics of the beasts they portrayed; but for a human to think like a wolf is shear madness.  More than wolf, though.  Human wolf.  An insane, intelligent killing machine.  A werewolf.

From Rome Too Far, the Tale of the Traveler, Greta:  After the Werewolf

Hans waited for her where the road turned.  After the obligatory, “What kept you?” they crossed the last, short meadow to Mother Hulda’s house.  All the while, Greta shook her head.

“Something’s spooky.”  Hans said.  Even he felt it.  When they saw the house, the feeling intensified.  By the time they reached the porch, Greta could hardly keep from turning and running away.  She stopped at the door and told Hans to get behind her.  He did not argue. 

When she opened the door, she screamed, and this time she knew what she was screaming about.  There were bits and pieces of Mother Hulda thrown all over the room.  Her head was on a corner of the bed, facing the door.  One eye was missing, but she stared at them with the other.

Greta could neither move nor stop screaming.  Hans pushed passed and promptly threw up behind the door.  That probably saved his life.  There was a noise in the back room.  A man shuffled out of the dark.  His eyes were wide with madness.  He was naked and filthy, and he looked as if he had been burned everywhere.  His body was covered with sores and open wounds where there had once been blisters, and his face looked like it had been melted. 

Greta still screamed but her legs were like rubber.  She could not abandon Hans.  She could not move.  She cried out for help, and someone answered from deep in time. 

The madman clearly sensed the change.  He sniffed and howled after a fashion before he dove through the window and headed toward the forest, moving at a speed which was remarkable for a man who was half dead.