She's a Real Character....

...is the way one of my friends always describes someone she wants me to meet. But as a writer, I'm never really sure what this expression means. If I create a character, let's say, for a story or a novel, I'm always trying to make this character be a unique individual; so that he or she will bear no resemblance to anyone I know, yet, heaven forbid, will not be a stereotype either. This is actually impossible, by the way, because when you write a story, you either write about what you know (as Hemingway would advise) or you make something up that has no connection with anything or anyone in your life. The latter often gets the delete button almost immediately, because it's so awful you can't even read it yourself.

Here's what happens with the first choice. You go to a family dinner bringing copies of your first novel (signed, of course, and inscribed with some loving message inscribed as well) and after everyone oohs and aahs over your "great achievement," they spend the rest of the evening arguing over which character in the book is "me." Later, your best friend emails you and warns you that you "better hope ______ (insert name of another friend or relative here) never reads this" because "I'd hate to imagine how they will feel." This is because your friend has decided that character A is "so obviously" that other friend or relative, and is trying to protect that person's sensibilities from your poison pen. Thus my confusion over what constitutes a "real character." And isn't that actually an oxymoron?

In my first book, Scraps of Eternity, the protagonist is basically (okay, I'm admitting it) me. Naturally I made "Eleanor" somewhat younger and more attractive, as well as infinitely wiser and more capable of dealing with the vicissitudes of her life. In other words, I gave her a more challenging personal situation, but better emotional tools with which to deal with the whole thing. Here was the problem: as soon as I let her loose in the story, she started doing and saying all this unpredictable stuff, and next thing I know, she's completely changed my life, not to mention the point of the story. In Hemingway's case, of course, he made himself a war hero who wins the love of the woman who actually dumped him in real life, so it could have been worse.

In my second book, Some Things are Better Left Unsaid, the protagonist is less me, but still, we have enough in common to create a plausible point of view. "Maggie" is also far more secure and independent minded than I am; but this was somewhat helpful, in that I resented her for it, so that made it easier for me to let her screw up, which in turn, made for a better plot. In addition, it was fascinating to watch my friends and family try to squeeze themselves into the infinitely more fictional personalities of the other characters in this novel. In fact, there is only one character actually modeled heavily after a real person, and that real person is the same one who informed me, on learning that I was writing a novel, that "I never read fiction." I guess I'm safe with that one.
  
I once taught a short story writing class in which I used a paperback "how-to" book called Shaum's Quick Guide to Writing Great Short Stories as a basic text. Keep in mind this was a class of 12 teenagers to whom the expression "quick guide" was inspirational in itself. The book was also only 144 pages long, with lots of credits at the beginning and end, which also added to its instant popularity among my students.

Anyhow, in the section on "characters," it offers the following advice: "get them in trouble, then get them in more trouble, then get them in the worst possible trouble..." I did, of course, emphasize to my students that this advice was only in regard to fictional people, lest they misunderstand the concept. But of all the techniques the book advocated, this is the one that stuck with me the most when I started to write my novels, and I soon recognized that I was too fond of my characters, at first, to follow this advice.

One of my favorite books is Frederik Backman's A Man Called Ove. The main character in this novel is first introduced when he is in the process of trying to kill himself after losing his wife. The thing is, he is trying to do it neatly and efficiently, which is an integral part of his personality, and because this takes time, (sorry, spoiler alert) he is constantly interrupted by other people he ends up helping, and eventually caring too much about. I was totally frustrated by his curmudgeon personality and also loved him for it in the end. Perfect, I thought.

So, even though I was still pretty fond of Katie in Home to Trout River, I did choose a twenty something young woman for a protagonist, which made it easier for her to make annoyingly bad decisions. This was the point, by the way, when everyone I know gave up trying to find their alter egos in my novels and, go figure, this was the one more people seemed to really like. 

Encouraged by my apparently improved characterization skills, I decided to create a male protagonist in my next book, Taking Flight. My readers told me that "Walter," who again is modeled after no one, was very "believable," which was definitely rewarding, even though only eight people I know have actually read the book and seven of them were women. But it did seem like the more fictitious the protagonist, the more successful the novel, at least in the available sampling.

However, the characters in my most recent novel, Inheritance, are also modeled after no one and less people have read that book. One friend who did, actually confessed she didn't like it. "I couldn't relate to the characters," she told me. "None of them were recognizable. Do you actually know anyone like this?" I think I might be right back where I started. Maybe what I should do is try listening to Hemingway's advice again; after all, I hear he was a real character.