I Do That Too!

In class last week one of the students wrote about sucking polo mints and having competitions on who could make them last longest when children. We all recognised that feeling of sucking them down to the finest ring of white neatly speared on the tip of the tongue, that sense of sadness when they broke up unexpectedly, or the hope that everyone else would forget what they were doing and just crunch.

Having a character do something, and for the reader to recognise that it's something they do is an easy way to make characters real. The first time I did it was by accident. I wrote about Isabel, the main character in Adultery for Beginners, trying on clothes to go to a job interview. She's not very confident and at one point she tries on a skirt:

"She sucked her tummy in as she pulled the zip up and looked in the mirror, arching round to check her rear view. No excessive bulges, although her legs looked ridiculous protruding from the bottom hem, two inches of solid white flesh then black ankle socks. Her feet looked enormous, and strangely flat."

At the time I was still doing my MA and one of my fellow students commented, 'I didn't know anyone else felt like that, that's just how I think mine look.' I was pleased, but didn't think much more of it. Now I realise that it was a clue to how to write believable characters: have them think real stuff, that real people think.

It's the basis of a lot of comedy, that feeling of recognition - I once saw a stand up do twenty minutes of hilarious routine based entirely on people's body language at check out queues. It was funny because, well, we all recognised ourselves and our little wiles and secret thoughts and unspoken etiquette. Your characters may be imaginary people, but give them real thoughts and they will become real.

Gladiator Rules

Rules for Heroes: 4: Want what we want

I'm very fond of the film Gladiator, both to watch and as an example of scripting. Apparently they were floundering with the script and at the last minute William Nicholson was brought in to be the script doctor. He realised that a film about a bloke chopping and hacking his way through swathes of other gladiators lacked a certain something. The character wanted to survive his ordeal, which we could understand and sympathise with, but it wasn't going to put enough bums on the seats to recover the investment in reconstructing the Colosseum in CineCitta outside Rome.

What he needed was a character want we could all really buy into. So, he added to the script the horrible murder of Maximus' wife and child. Now, while the character was still fighting for survival, he was also a father and husband after revenge.

Gladiatorial fights were specific to that culture in that period of history. A parent wanting revenge for the death of a child is universal throughout history everywhere. Hence Gladiator's amazing success across the world. We may know nothing of the Roman Empire, but we can buy into what Maximus wants.

When we're writing it's a good idea to check that what your main character wants is something that is going to chime in with what readers want. The more people can identify with the character's wants, the more people will want to read the book.

If a character wants a beautiful pair of shoes, then that's limited. But if they want a beautiful pair of shoes because they believe it will make them fit in with the in-crowd, or make the man of their dreams fall in love with them, or transform them from an ugly duckling to a swan, then these are all things that have a wider appeal. Make sure your characters want what lots of people want.

Warthogs and Lions

Years ago I went on a safari to Kenya and on the first day out witnessed three lionesses hunting a warthog. It was a thrilling ten minutes: the lionesses took up their positions, crouching low among the sparse grasses, bellies inching over the dusty earth. Then in turn they made sudden dashes towards the warthog, who wheeled and squealed, little black tail twirling frantically as he twisted away from the claws and jaws, making a run for safety - but there was always another lioness blocking his path. Oh, how I wanted his courage and agility to be rewarded with escape, but I also wanted the lionesses to get him, I wanted to see the kill.

I was on both their sides, but if I'd been writing the scene I'd have to chose a point of view: lioness or warthog. Why? Well, imagine it. As the outside observer in real life I often didn't know where to look - at the warthog in the centre, or one of the lionesses stealthily sneaking round the side to spring a surprise attack. Sometimes I was confused - how had the warthog escaped again? where had that lioness come from?

Changing point of view backwards and forwards can be like that, confusing and lacking focus. Which character is the reader rooting for? If we were following a pride of lions and knew there were starving cubs to be fed, we might be sympathetic for the warthog, but we'd know how important success was to the lionesses. If it was the story of one little warthog then, while we'd thrill to his perilous adventure, we'd long for him to get away. Switching between the two points of view would make it harder for the reader to empathise with either. Emotions would get cloudy and muddled.

Of course, some writers do manage to write dramatic scenes from both viewpoints without losing or confusing the reader. But generally that's the exception. It's a good idea when you're writing a scene to decide: warthog or lioness. Then keep the focus, keep the tension, keep the reader. And I'll tell you what happened to the warthog tomorrow.