A Character Comes to Life

I was up late last night suffering from what I can only call book fever. The light was out in my bedroom but turned up bright in my head and I was too excited to search around for the switch to turn it off.

Photo Credit: Cristina Chirtes

A few months back, I had a great idea for a new novel. The more I thought about it, the more I liked it. Turning it over in my mind, examining it from all angles, I reckoned it was pretty damn good actually. So I kept it tucked away in a special compartment labeled 'next book ideas' and every now and then I'd go back and take another peek. I liked it every time I thought about it, except for one thing: I couldn't get a handle on the main character. She was elusive, not telling me much about herself, except that she gets tangled up in something extraordinary.

But as to whom she really was, I had only the vaguest idea. I thought maybe she was a bit older, that she probably lived with a long term partner, and that these two women might have a couple of teenaged kids. But all that didn't feel right. I couldn't get it to gel together properly; the set up wasn't quite right. So back into the special compartment the idea would go, and I'd look at it every now and then, knowing it would work but puzzling over the various pieces.

The main reason this character eluded me was that I had the feeling she wasn't very nice. How do you write a decent book if the main character isn't that nice? A main character needs to be, I thought, someone you can understand, sympathize with, root for, and this one just wasn't living up to the hype. I found myself exasperated with her and totally unsympathetic. Her family didn't deserve her, and I felt quite certain that if I put her into the situation I had planned, she'd let me and everyone else down.

Then last night, as I was making dinner, the light bulb in the old brain turned on. Just like that. In the little movie theatre in my mind, a scene unreeled across the screen. A phone call. My character answering it, talking to someone, complaining about being interrupted when she was working. I abandoned the meal I was making and came upstairs to grab a pen and notebook. I wrote 'the phone rang.' Then I carried on for a few more pages and my main character revealed herself to me.

Later I lay in bed and thought about her some more. Finally I could see who she was and where she lived and what she was like, right down to the way she dressed, moved, talked. It turns out she doesn't have a wife or any kids. She's still not all that nice, but hot damn, she's incredibly interesting and I just know we're going to get along fine.

So I couldn't sleep for thinking about her. I know just about everything I need to about her now. I know her background, her history, where she lives, what she likes to do; I even know what her voice sounds like. Hours I lay in bed thinking about her, hoping like hell I wouldn't forget any of this come morning.

I haven't forgotten; I'm not going to. This character's ready to step onto the page. She and her friends and the extraordinary thing that will happen to them: it's all there, ready for me, then eventually, for you too.

It's magic, I tell you. There's no other word for it. How can something imaginary take on such a feeling of reality? Ah, and that's a little bit of what the book will be about. I can't wait to get started.

Filed under: Writing Journal