One way to think about interpersonal relatoinships is as a series of expanding circles. I’m in the middle, and inside my innermost circle are my closest confidantes — family and friends who are closer to knowing the real me than anyone else. In the next circles there are friends of gradually decreasing intimacy…the ones you work with, the ones you hang with, the ones you’d ask for certain types of favors, acquaintances, and finally, strangers.
Right now, you’re a stranger to your character, and he to you. Your circles don’t even touch, because you haven’t met.
How do you get to know your closest friends? Did it all happen in one evening or did it take years? Was the growing process smooth, or frought with strange new realizations that made you question yourself or your friendship?
When it comes to character creation, we don’t have years, but we do need to be realistic about the process. Even if you get drunk one night and divulge all your darkest secrets to a stranger, they can’t possibly know the real you from that one encounter. They’ve only caught you in one moment — a bad one at that.
Likewise, when you first “meet” your character, you can only know so much about her right away, and it will probably focus on how you met. If you were looking for a hero to have an epic adventure, perhaps all you know when you first meet is that he’s a wizard, or she’s a warrior. If you’re looking for a romantic heroine, perhaps all you know is why she hasn’t found love yet.
The first time you meet your character, it is often about story — what type you’re trying to tell and what kind of hero you think the story needs. And even if you think up your character before the story, you’ve probably only imagined one critical thing. For example, when I first met Cassie Scot, the heroine of my newest (unpublished) book, all I knew about her was that she was from a family of powerful sorcerers but had no magic of her own. In fact, for a day or two, I thought she was a he. I even came up with his name (and then gave it to one of her brothers instead).
So, “Hi, it was nice to meet you. Maybe we should get together and do a thing sometime.” That’s as far into your relationship as you’ve gone. And you know most of the time when you say something like that, you never get together and do a thing. (Or I don’t know — maybe you’re more outgoing than me. 🙂 )
The next step in a growing relationship is to actually spend time together. I have a couple of friends right now that I met through playdates with our kids, and when I first met them, I only knew they were moms. There we are, our children playing together without a care in the world (It’s amazing how small children can buddy up easily with no more information than — you’re short, too!), struggling to find something to say to one another.
When you find yourself in a situation like that, what is the first aspect of yourself you let loose? What is important enough to you to mention, but safe enough that you figure your true self is still protected from possible scorn? Me? I often mention I’m a writer. It’s a solid starting point. Many people are interested, and many have their own artistic experiences to share.
What does your character say?
If you decide to continue getting together, there are likely to be a few more awkward encounters in which you just skim the surface. Your opinions of the other person are probably still largely based on prejudice and stereotyping. I don’t mean this as a bad thing, and I’m not talking about racial profiling. I am talking about the natural inclination of humans to form mental categories. The more you know about a person, the more you have to shift them around to new subcategories, until, finally, they no longer fit into a category at all, but instead become who they are. That’s the point of true connection you’re seeking with your character.
In the meantime, you have to keep asking questions, and it’s going to take a while. Your first answers are likely to reinforce stereotypes, so it’s important to keep asking again and again, until you get a more satisfying answer.
As in a real friendship, I think writers can make the mistake of trying to get to know too much about their characters too quickly. When you push a person to get intimate too fast, then tend to back off, don’t they? And why shouldn’t they? You’re trying to mine the depths of their souls before they feel comfortable that you’ll really get it. That you’ll really understand them…and not just turn them into a stereotype.
So back off, work slowly, and develop a full picture. As with all of writing, it may even be an iterative process, in which you learn something about your character that changes the overall picture. Your story could have a retroactive impact on your character as well (a topic for another time). But in the meantime, working toward true intimacy, just as you would do with a best friend or potential spouse, will help you truly create a real character.