A writer friend and I commiserate about our troublesome characters

October 10th is another slow history day. The Black Prince did wed the Fair Maid of Kent, but since neither of them has figured in any of my novels, I can’t muster up much enthusiasm for doing an entire Note about them. It is like inviting perfect strangers to be my houseguests, usually not a good idea. And for me, October 10th matters most as the entrance upon the world stage of my friend Paula Mildenhall. Happy Birthday, Paula!
Now, as promised yesterday, here is a repeat post going back to 2012 (yikes) about the problems of dealing with strong-willed and arrogant fictional characters. Not all writers have this problem, of course. I once read an interview that Vladimir Nabokov gave to the Paris Review in which he was asked about a comment by E.M. Forester that his characters sometimes took over and dictated the course of his novels. Mr Nabokov rather snarkily replied that he’d only read one Forester novel and disliked it; he then went on to dismiss the idea as a trite whimsy and bragged that his own characters were all galley slaves. (He probably scared them into submission) No galley slaves in any of my books and I do a lot of moaning and groaning whenever Richard or Eleanor or John give me a hard time. But it is not just me. When Ken John is not chartering arks or exercising his superb talents as an agent provocateur on Facebook, he is writing a novel about a very interesting medieval lord, and according to his recent comments on my blog, the chivalrous and good-natured Othon has become as contrary as the Angevins. I asked Ken if I could share this with our Facebook friends and he kindly agreed. And so here are Ken and me struggling to keep our characters from staging a mutiny, every historical novelist’s secret fear—except for Vladimir Nabokov, of course.
* * *
ken john Says:
October 7th, 2012 at 8:39 am
1. Othon is fine and sends kisses. He’s actually lying on his back on the lawn with his hands behind his head and a piece of straw between his teeth, having just panned my attempt to write the battle of Lewes in 1265. After the battle Edward and Henry were made captive by Simon de Montfort, but Edward ordered Othon to escape with his Lusignan uncles, ensure that his wife Eleanor was protected and make his way to France to help Queen Eleanor raise an army.
I thought my account was pretty good having followed all the latest expert opinions on the course of the battle and what preceded it, but Othon seems to think I haven’t made enough of his part in it and particularly his fighting prowess. When I point out that none of the accounts of the battle actually mention the presence of an Othon de Grandson, so I only have his (not always reliable) account of his bravery and fighting skills, he got all uppity, said I was a rubbish writer and why couldn’t he have found a ‘proper’ writer like Sharon to write his story, instead of me?
So, he’s just lying around and I, instead of writing, am reading 1365 by Bernard Cornwell. Now there’s a man who can write a battle or two! Maybe I’ll pinch a few ideas, or is there a name for someone who does that?
2. Sharon Kay Penman Says:
October 7th, 2012 at 9:53 am
Ken, I thought only my pushy Angevins were the sort to give a struggling writer grief, never would have expected that from the soul of chivalry like Othon. Clearly this attitude of entitlement harkens back to their disdain for us as mere scribes. I should warn you, too, that it is contagious. One day it is just Othon and Edward jerking your chain. The next it has spread to Eleanora and other major characters. I am currently being scolded by Berengaria of all people, who felt that I was portraying her as too slow to realize something had gone wrong in her marriage. There apparently is no cure for character hubris, either. Master Cornwell has an advantage over us, for if his people get too uppity, he can always threaten to let them die prematurely or unpleasantly. But that only works, obviously, if the characters are fictional. If they actually lived, they just sneer, knowing we are not writing alternate fiction.

3. ken john Says:
October 7th, 2012 at 10:06 am
Oh, Edward has already had a go at me and Dafydd ap Gruffudd thinks I’m a wimp and a goody-two-shoes! Please do post it, I think Stephanie will have some fun with it!
* * *
Since this post is so old, I am counting on no one to remember it. BTW, nothing has changed. Our characters continue to give Ken and me all sorts of aggravation. Of course, Othon does have a legitimate excuse since he is still waiting for Ken to finish his story. (We are, too, Ken….hint, hint.) Now I am going back to the 12th century and the proof-reading that sometimes has me wondering if it really was so bad to be a lawyer.
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Published on October 10, 2019 11:44
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message 1: by Iset (new)

Iset This might just be me, but I think characters "come to life" when they stop being just cold hard facts and dates and you uncover something really personal about them - and the human being hits you.

Just a couple of weeks ago I was studying up on a general, about whom there are plenty of dates and battles but little to reveal the man, when I stumbled across an intensely personal incident - it was the death of his adult son, only child from his beloved late first wife, in a bold charge during battle. Reputedly, the general made a comment expressing in the same breath his admiration for a son made so closely in his own image, but also his fear as a parent that given the young man's recklessness he had anticipated this day of grief far sooner. It's not certain that this comment was really said by this person - but his actions in a following battle, himself rashly charging in to cut down the unit that killed his son - that speaks volumes to me.

As soon as I uncovered these snippets, this person "came to life" for me. It was so human. It's very human to live our own lives with carefree confidence but become pensive and worried as soon as we see that same trait in our children. And the grieving parent is so universally powerful and recognisable.

It is so hard to discover personal thoughts and feelings that historical people so long ago had. It's amazing, and very precious, to find such snippets.


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