Kitten or Lion? A Character Development Technique

I saw a great photo affixed to my hairdresser’s license today.  The picture showed an orange tabby kitten looking in a mirror that reflected back the face of a lion.  It occurred to me that this could be a great question to ask when you are flushing out a character for a novel.  For example, how does your protagonist see themselves—as an innocent victim or a fierce fighter ready to take on the world?  Does this self-image vary between interactions with different people?  Does his or her personality change during the course of the novel? 

After you have answered the above questions, dig a little deeper:

How would the character’s parent or spouse describe your protagonist? 

More importantly, how do you, the writer, see your protagonist?  Have you captured that personification on the page?

A Story Published

I have some good news to report. Another of my children’s stories has just been published in Stories for Children Magazine. “Sock Monster,” a humorous mystery for young readers, appears in their Holiday (Dec/Jan) 2011 issue. You can find it here at:

 http://storiesforchildrenmagazine.org/InThisIssue.aspx

- Cheryl Spanos

Her Christmas Tree

December 25th was my mother’s birthday. I wrote this poem for her after Christmas last year. I post it now in her memory.

 

HER CHRISTMAS TREE

By Cheryl Spanos

 

Decorating the Christmas tree for Dad

I unwrap ornaments

Felted angel, painted sled

Ones I had made when I was young.

Each a memory Mom had wrapped

Carefully preserved in tissue.

Touching them like holding a part of her

For one brief moment, having her back.

 

Later, at the cemetery

Hanging ornaments on the pine near her grave

Crystal snowflake, golden dove

Tinkle of wind chimes and glass bells

Each a tribute left in remembrance.

Even on that windswept hill

Overlooking the frozen lake

Mom has a Christmas tree.

 

Character Development: Memorable Moments

I was driving to my early morning dog agility class, trying to remember why in the world I signed up for a 7:30 a.m. class, when I remembered how grateful I’d been for this jaunt just a few months ago.  To understand how unlikely gratitude might be used in the same sentence as any morning decimal with starting with a seven, I should mention that I am not one of those people that bounce out of bed, bright and chipper, even on vacation.  Nor do I have a coffee habitat to induce caffeine to jump-start my brain cells.  I roll out of the sack, grope blindly for my glasses and stagger bleary-eyed to the bathroom.   I kid you not, a scalding shower is the only reason I’m able to put on clothing and reasonably tackle my job responsibilities. 

However, this last September, changed my attitude.   One particular Saturday morning, the road was empty of traffic. When I glanced in the rear view mirror, my senses were flooded with the pink and orange and blues and yellows of a magnificent sunrise bursting through the cloud cover of Mount Diablo.  The beauty was beyond postcard worthy.  Even as I committed this spectacular natural phenomenon to memory, I knew that this was a one of a kind event.  The clouds were perfectly positioned, the air quality crystal clear.  The reflection of light illuminated the mountain in a red glow that seemed to radiate life itself.  I realized I would never would have witnessed nature at its finest hour had I not been slogging my way to dog class.  I knew this was an unforgettable experience. 

It occurred to me that listing memorable moments could be a useful tool when developing characters for a novel.  In the case of my memorable moment, think about how much information it revealed:   my appreciation of the natural world, the activity I was about to engage in, you could infer a love a dogs and, of course, my natural sleep patterns.

Exercise:  Create a memorable moment for your protagonist and see what it reveals about his or her character.

Posting Stories: Make Your Writing Public

Last month I went to a Wattpad MeetUp in San Francisco.  Wattpad is basically a website for Young Adults and their stories.  It was started out of someone’s garage in Ontario, Canada, but the response has been fabulous.  Today, Wattpad has grown to over 1 million registered users with approximately 2 million stories to offer.   A Wattpad MeetUp is a social event for all Wattpadders, family, and friends to get together in person. 

I had no idea what to expect.  When the meeting was announced, comments came in from Africa and England begging the organizers to come to their neck of the world.  So I was intrigued, but also a little shy.  Would I fit in?   Would it all be young adults? 

The event was smaller than expected and a round table format.  The majority of the participants were teens and the parents that drove them to the event.  Nina led the event and was warm and gracious.  We had a good discussion and I enjoyed the event.  Nina indicated that Wattpad was interested in attracting professional writers and I even received a follow-up email for her, encouraging me to post my work on-line.

I have always been hesitant to post excerpts from my novel on Wattpad or any public form before it is published.  My logic is three-fold.  Why send out teasers and potentially spike reader’s interest in the book when I can’t deliver an option for my readers to finish the story?   On Wattpad, writers often publish the whole book over time.  However, this to me seems counterintuitive.  If you give your readers the whole story, why would they buy the book when it goes to press?   Lastly, and maybe most importantly, novel writing is organic.  What may seem like a critical component of the story during the development of the novel may end up in the circular file before the novel is completed.  

When I explained my hesitation to post on Wattpad, Nina indicated that agents have been known to troll posts on their website looking for new talent and for popular stories that have gotten a lot of hits.  She also said that writer’s often get valuable feedback on their work.  So there could be perks to making your work public.   While the idea of writing just for social media does hold some appeal, for now, I’ve decided to keep my novel nestled inside my computer and get input on my work from my critique group.  But, I am interested in hearing your viewpoint on this issue.

Have you ever posted your work on a social media website?  If so, have you shared excerpts or published the whole novel?  Was your work already published or did you use your posts to create interest before you had an agent/publisher?

Halloween and Halloween Costumes

I like Halloween.  I think it’s because it’s an opportunity to become something or someone you are not any other day of the year.  Either that, or I enjoy flights into fantasy.

When I was a kid back in Orange, Texas during the 1950’s, I usually dressed in my dance recital costume from the previous May.  That is, unless I had grown four inches like I did one year.  My dance costumes attached the top to the ruffled bottom by a series of hooks.  If I could get the front hooks to connect, I looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.  If I miraculously got all of the hooks, my hinny cheeks popped out from under the panties – not a good look for a child.  If it rained or the weather turned cold, my dance recital costume became an automatic Mother reject.  Then, I dressed in long pants, a flannel shirt, and stuck the made-at-school brown paper bag scary mask onto my head and proceeded to trick-or-treat.  Or, I would wear one of Daddy’s old felt hats, put on a black eye mask, and hang a red kerchief stuffed with newspaper on the end of one of Mother’s yardsticks.  Instant hobo.

When I was in the second grade, our school gave a “Peter Rabbit” musical play.  Each class was a different vegetable in Mr. MacGregor’s garden.  My class was carrots, probably because I was the tallest second grader in school.  In my costume, I looked like an orange colored string bean with a green whiskbroom stuck on top of my head.  I hated the girls in the class next to mine.  They were lettuces with green, ruffled skirts and frilly tops with sequins.  When Halloween came around that year, there was no way I was stepping outdoors in that stupid, straight up and down carrot costume.

When we moved to Maracaibo, I only went trick-or-treating to the few Texas families that lived in our immediate neighborhood.  Venezuelans did not trick-or-treat at all.  Since there were no more dance recital costumes for me, and since Mother had given my sister’s square dance dress to the maid, it was up to me to concoct a costume for my American school’s Halloween celebration.  Once I was a gypsy.  I wore one of Mother’s skirts held up to my waist by several large safety pins overflowing with fabric, a scarf around my hair, and all the costume jewelry anyone would loan me.  Another time, Mother made a costume for me out of an old white sheet.  I was a flapper.

When I attended San Marcos Academy in San Marcos, Texas (where students were under Baptist scrutiny at every moment), we likewise did not go trick-or-treating.   There was a dance-less Halloween party or carnival in our gym.  Our cadet officers patrolled the SMA campus all Halloween night to prevent the townies and the local college students from pushing our canon off its hill.  Nothing’s worse than finding your school cannon has taken a nocturnal nosedive, barrel first, into the ground.  I peeked out my third floor window after lights-out and caught moonlight glimpses of cadets on tour in front of the girls’ dorm, in uniform, with lit cigarette in hand – the epitome of teen “machismo.”

Halloween 2011 brought clever and well thought out costumes to our door – except for the boys who came as soccer or football players.  One leggy high school girl arrived at our door with her friend.  She wore the shortest, smallest pair of cutoffs I have ever seen.  Not only cut high on the thigh, but low-cut on the waistband, front and back.  I paused as I reached to hand her treats.  The “mother” in me got the best of the situation.

“Honey, does your mother know you’re dressed like that?”  I asked.

Without batting an eye, she said, “No, she doesn’t.”

“I can see why,” I said.  Thank heaven our children are adults.

This year’s cutest costume came on a little boy about four years old.  He wore a head-to-toe fuzzy green dinosaur suit complete with spikes down the back and a long, forked tail.  When I opened the door, he looked at me with a gleeful smile, his hands posed in front of his chest like claws.  I waited for him to growl or pounce at me.  Instead, he looked at me with a devilish grin and said, “Roar, roar!”  I, naturally, collapsed in laughter.  That dinosaur kid got more treats from me than anyone that night.

 

 

Surprise! A Way to Develop Character

On our first day in Paris during a family vacation, we were hit with a number of surprises. It got me thinking that the element of surprise is a great device to develop the characters in a novel. Using my own experiences as examples, I’ve categorized them into three types: observational, experiential and thwarted expectations.

Observational surprises can be physical or a change in self-awareness. For example, during our airplane descent, I caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower and the structure a reddish brown, not silver as I had expected. I also notice a change in my typical behavior. I’ve been accused of planning every second of vacation time. A reputation I have earned over the years. I had a plan of attack for activities our family would do on arrival. My husband and I had worked on this itinerary for months. Instead, during our first day, we left our rented apartment and randomly walked the streets. Rather than being disappointed in the change of plans, I felt a strange sense of freedom.

Experiential surprises are those that I define as those derived from interactions with people or things. In Paris, I was totally caught off guard when a French woman asked me for directions. Another experiential surprise was how much I enjoyed taking photos of my family imitating poses on statues. Here we are in Paris, looking at the Louvre and Norte Dame, and that silliness will be a highlight of my first day in Paris.

Thwarted expectations are surprises that are unpleasant. Our shuttle driver in Paris was 20 minutes late in meeting us, during which time I kept thinking we were either waiting in the wrong area or we’d been scammed (we’d prepaid). I had not used the restroom and when our driver said it would only take 20 to 30 minutes to get to our apartment, I decided to wait. Two hours later, and I suspect several wrong turns later, we arrived and then I had to wait even longer for the apartment key. Also, I went in search of lunch and the crepes I brought back for were blackened on one side. Not overdone, but charred. I was famished and ate them anyway. But I expected the food in Paris to be perfect. But it got me pondering the question what a given character in a novel would do – storm back to the restaurant and ask for his or her money back? Throw the crepes in the garbage and shrug it off? Take his anger/disappointment out on his or her family?

Which of these categories do you think is the most valuable for character development?

The Need For SetUp

I attended a professional conference this week at a government building.  The meeting kicked off with a few building facts, including a side comment that they had been having fire drills on a daily basis.  The participants in the audience were instructed to listen to the announcement and determine whether the fire hazard related to only specific floors or if the entire building must be evacuated.   Sure enough, several hours later an alarm sounded and floors 12 through 14 were asked to vacate the building.  Ever since 9-11 when I heard that occupants of the twin towers were advised to remain in the building and, those that followed instructions, perished, I have wondered whether or not I would listen to a nameless voice that asked me to remain inside.  I honestly don’t know how I will respond to a given an emergency, so had I not had the heads up about the fire drill, I may very well have left the premises.   

The point of this anecdote is that an advance warning was given which set the stage for a forthcoming event, something that is critical in a good novel.  If you have a cat that is about to thwart a killer by batting away the murder weapon, said cat must be introduced to the room at the beginning of the scene.  If it magically appears at the 11th hour, readers are likely to be annoyed that there was a cat in the room all along and the writer never bothered to mention its presence.   Likewise, if a long lost boyfriend is going to appear at a wedding to stop the ceremony, this event should be preceded by both the introduction of the boyfriend as a character and some indication of the bride-to- be’s feelings for the interloper.  Not only will the reader not feel cheated by the sudden turn of events, but the setup can lend itself for more story tension.

Have you ever read a book or a story where you felt cheated by the appearance of an undisclosed character?

Retreats – Proof That Writing Does Not Have to Be Solitary

My critique group organized a local writer’s retreat at Westminster Retreat Center last month. This was my second retreat experience. The first time I had joined a group where I knew no one. My productivity was fabulous, the setting was beautiful, but I did not experience a sense of comoraderie, so last fall I proposed the idea of a getaway for my critique group. The idea was well received and within a month we’d settled on a location.

A contract was signed, checks were written, and we issued a few invitations to expand our group to meet the required head count.

The lodge grounds were quiet and peaceful and the food was fabulous. We were fortunate to have mild weather and a swimming pool where we could cool off. At 5:00 p.m., we had a wine and snack gathering.

I suspect this will become the first annual WOTJ retreat. Participants had an overwhelming positive response by the morning of the second day. It was a privilege to spend time amidst talented, creative individuals. Not only did my novel improve in leaps and bounds, but I had a marvelous weekend.

Writing for the Ages

My wife and I sit on our deck enjoying a rare lightning and thunder show in the clouds to the east.  Sunset earlier displayed spectacular colors, from vivid pinks and oranges in the higher clouds to ominous grey-blue streaks below.  Our small market umbrella protects us now from the spit of raindrops shared wth us thirsty ground dwellers.

This is an ancient late summer theme.  A worldwide occurance that reminds us that the BIG change of seasons is just around the corner. Time to move – to get your act together.  Clean out those rain gutters! Unclog the drains. Find safe haven for those garden shovels and picks that have leaned in the open air since May.

It is also time to reflect on some enduring lessons of writing.  The pieces I have written often reflect on the timelessnes of life.  Whether or not we human hangers-on are around tomorrow is of no consequence to the bigger picture. Nature has her way of both accomodating us and leaving us to our destructive ways. She will be here tomorrow, and the next day. We may not.

There is a timelessness to writing also. It endures beyond us. Our writing is a leaf that blows down the path on the right breeze. And if we are so fortunate to have a piece published, it lingers in a lee, sheltered from the relentless wind a moment or two, but not forever. What is timeless though is the act of writing itself. As long as we breath, we will write. Perhaps of the simple act of breathing, and perhaps of something more profound. But we will write until we rejoin our earthly family.

I try to capture in my writing this timeless quality. The unbending laws of nature, of survival, demise, and regeneration. I also try to communicate the everlasting bonds of love. Between a granddad and his cherished grandson, between college sweethearts that find themselves in their sixties and still in love.  Between dogs and cats, birds and bees. While we are focused on the stock market ups and downs and whether our nesteggs will outlive our livers, we lose sight of the amazing relationships that surround us every moment.

Writing reminds us.  Refocuses us.  Grounds us in universal truths and unending struggles.  I remind myself that it is okay for my stories to take the reader back to simpler times, gentler relationships.  Stories don’t need to be “edgy” to be remembered, to be “”dark” to change someone’s life.  Stories have a life and vividness of their own. Whether they are set in 8th century England, 18th century Hawaii, 20th century Venezuela, or in your own backyard this morning, the lines you write may save – or destroy – someone’s life.

Be careful! The castles of Europe have stood for a thousand years.  The writings of Aesop, Chaucer, and Shakespere have changed many lives.  Our humble contributions to the human experience may also live well beyond what we could imagine.  What a glory! Immortality may be within our grasp.

Write as if every phase were  devinely inspired.  As if your words will save a life.  I know they have saved mine.