(5 Tips for Giving Your Character Powers.)

The primary level of secondary characters are those who are most important to the life of the sleuth, and therefore the plot. The best supporting role at the Oscars! The romantic interest, the villain, the possessive mother. We need to know a lot about them because we need to understand their motivation. Is the boyfriend worthy of her love, why does the villain want revenge? It really helps if we can picture them clearly and hear their voices too.

In my new book, Mrs. Endicott’s Splendid Adventure, my heroine is dumped by her husband and flees to the South of France with two women who have both been treated unjustly by society. We come to know a great deal about all three women by the end of the book as they interact with the heroine and with those around them.

Then at the level below that, we have characters with whom they will interact with in the French village. Characters important enough to the plot that we need to know who they are, some of their back story, and what drives them. Once a character betrays the heroine. We find out why, but we don’t know everything about him.

Below these are those who would be the extras in a movie: the baker in the village, the priest, the doctor. They are just cameo appearances and therefore we don’t need to go too deeply into describing them. We don’t need to know what motivates the baker to make bread. But we must take pains to make sure they are more than cardboard stereotypes: The Irish Cop. The wicked stepmother, the rough edged waitress with the heart of gold.

If you see each of them as an individual, your story will be fresher. Think Harry Potter and the secondary characters—the individual professors and students, Harry’s uncle and aunt. All real people that we feel we know well.

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So how do we create real people when we don’t want to give up too much of the page to describe them? Our first impression of a person is usually visual, although it could be auditory like an annoying laugh across the room or someone who can’t stop sneezing.

1. Try to find something about them that encapsulates them. Think of a party in a room where we know nobody. As we look around, some people catch our eye and stand out. That woman is wearing too much make-up and trying to look younger than she is. That elderly man has dyed his hair black and it doesn’t go with his too pale skin and eyebrows. That woman talks with her hands. Is she Italian? That too tall boy stoops because he’s self conscious.
2. They come to life through their dialogue, especially when they interact with the main character. When we first meet them, are they rude, curt, witty, flirtatious? Do they like to talk about themselves? Are they hesitant, shy, feeling out of place? Menacing, spooky? Their dialogue also helps to anchor the story in time and place. If the heroine has moved to a new environment, it is the characters she meets who will show us what that new place is all about, by the way they talk, act, move, dress.
3. They reveal themselves through their gestures, mannerisms, the way they walk. The woman sitting at the restaurant table scratching lines on the tablecloth with her fork is clearly tense. Why? Another man is gulping down his food. As a writer, take time to observe when you are stuck in an airport, or waiting for your food.
4. Names are important. Once you have the name, you know the character. Sometimes I will have called a character Robert for 50 pages and things are going slowly. Then out of the blue he’ll say “Why do you keep calling me Robert when my name is Richard?” And then the story just leaps ahead. 
5. Once you have introduced them, their character will be revealed not only by the way they speak and act but by the way the main character interacts with them or observes them. You will come to know them as she does.
6. With secondary characters, as with your main character, once you have created them it’s their story. Don’t try to force them to do things it’s not within their nature to do. Allow yourself to be surprised if they say or do something unexpected. In every book, at least one of my characters surprises me and goes on to play a role I hadn’t expected. Be open to that. It makes the story much richer and more real.
7. Hint: Only give up precious time and space to those who will further the story for us. We don’t need to know that the policeman holding up the traffic when the heroine is in a desperate hurry is tall, ginger haired with a little mustache. Not important.
8. Another Hint: Don’t introduce us to too many characters at once. You confuse the reader.
9. And a last hint: If you really want to understand a character, write a paragraph in their first person. You’ll be surprised at what they want to tell you.

My whole aim when I write about another time and place is to take the reader there, not tell them about it. And it’s the secondary characters who will make this world real.

Check out Rhys Bowen’s Mrs. Endicott’s Splendid Adventure here:

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Give Them Their Own Original Backstory

I start with a Character Bible. This is a place to organize your list of descriptions, quirks, and traits for each character that makes them stand out. Then give them a goal for the story to help them have original perspectives and motivations for each scene they enter. It can be as simple as wanting to marry off their children, as with Violet Bridgerton in Julia Quinn’s Bridgerton series. Another question to ask is what they are struggling with. Perhaps it stems from something in their childhood or maybe something more immediate like providing for a loved one.

Even though secondary characters are not the main focus, the characters’ struggles always play into the equation and make the characters feel real and relatable. Sharing glimpses of their past, motivations, and personal struggles make them more three-dimensional and interesting. Other questions to ask when creating characters:

• Dating history?
• What was their childhood like?
• Biggest fear?
• What defined their relationship with their mother/father?
• Fatal flaw?
• Relationship to the protagonist?

Knowing these answers will help you create a character that will make readers feel, but it is not necessary to share all the information you compile. I always strive to create characters that resonate with readers.

Showcase Unique Traits and Quirks

Distinctive traits, habits, or quirks make secondary characters memorable. These can be endearing or intriguing, helping readers to remember and care about them. A character might have a peculiar way of speaking, a unique hobby, or an unusual perspective on life.

In my novel, You’ve Got Male, my heroine’s mother has a unique perspective on love because she married her best friend. Ten years into marriage he came out to the world that he was gay. She still considers him her platonic soulmate and they are as close as ever, even co-owning a coffee shop together. But she wants more for her daughter. She wants her to experience that passionate, breath-stealing, love that comes with a fireworks, sweep-you-off-your-feet kind of kiss that goes soul deep and the mother will stop at nothing to find that—even it if means airing her daughter’s dating life on social media for America to witness.

Check out Marina Adair’s You’ve Got Male here:

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Develop Strong Relationships With Main Characters

Writing is about exploring relationships and the best way to do this is through meaningful interactions between secondary characters and the protagonists. Whether it’s a deep friendship, a complex rivalry, or a supportive mentorship, strong relationships can endear secondary characters to readers. 

Their bonds with the protagonist can reveal their positive qualities and make readers root for them. The secondary character’s job is to create conflict or support for the main character, which is why it is important to clarify their motivation in each scene.

Give Them Their Moment in the Spotlight

A secondary character should never take over the protagonist’s journey, but they can have their own time in the sun—a real stand out moment in the story. This could be a scene where they demonstrate bravery, wisdom, or compassion. Highlighting their contributions to the plot and their own mini-arc can make them essential to the story and not just a device for the protagonist.

Make Them Relatable and Human

Relatable flaws and vulnerabilities are essential to secondary characters. Perfect characters can feel unrealistic and distant, but those who struggle, make mistakes, and grow over time are easier to connect with. Show their human side through their fears, dreams, and personal growth.

Creating secondary characters who are not only believable but also beloved by your readers is achievable by applying these techniques. 

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(Grammar rules for writers.)

Rather, we’re looking at bigger-picture mistakes and mishaps, including the error of using too much exposition, neglecting research, or researching too much. This week’s writing mistake writers make is writing lifeless side characters.

Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Lifeless Side Characters

Have you ever read a book where it felt like some of the characters weren’t exactly … real? Like, a best friend might only show up to bestow words of wisdom in a crucial moment or the parents of a teenager are mysteriously vacant or absent except for when they create a problem for the young protagonist. How about a grumpy elderly neighbor whose only purpose seems to be to sit on their porch and yell at passersby?

Worse—have you gotten feedback that this is how people feel about your side characters?

Side characters (also called secondary characters) are ones that readers will only ever see through the narrator’s perspective—they never really get a voice of their own, and all their dialogue and actions will be filtered through the narrator. However, these characters should feel as real as any other part of the story. They should have clearly defined personalities, likes, dislikes, goals, and be able to react to the changes in the narrative in a way that your readers will view as natural. How do you know if you’ve put enough time into your secondary characters?

One red flag might be that as you were writing, you’d have moments where you’d be like, oh, yeah, this person exists. Or maybe you just know them enough to have a brief physical description and understand what they mean to your protagonist. To avoid your secondary characters popping in and out only when it’s convenient to your plot, you’ll need to dig a little deeper into who these characters are and what makes them them.

(Writing Mistakes Writers Make: The Characterless Character)

Mistake Fix: Reframe Your Thinking Around Characterization

Especially when your main characters are doing really fun and interesting things, it can be hard to switch your focus to secondary characters. Here are just a few things that might help narrow your focus and bring these people to life on your page.

What does their life look like when they’re not on the page?

You don’t need to know every tiny detail about their lives, but a few broad strokes might be helpful. I like to ask myself, What secrets are my secondary characters keeping from my protagonist?

What if, for instance, the annoying neighbor kid who always pops in at random times is dealing with a neglectful or abusive home life and is seeking comfort/resources from your protagonist’s family? Or a boss is being extra tough on an employee because they’re taking care of their ailing mother. Or an antagonist has been raised to hold these villainous beliefs and hasn’t yet questioned the things they’ve been taught—or they have and have fallen deeper into the indoctrination.

A really wonderful example of this kind of secret-keeping is in Schuyler Bailar’s middle-grade novel Obie Is Man Enough. Without giving too many spoilers, in this book, there’s a very poignant scene that reveals why Obie’s school bully might be behaving the way he has been. This makes the bully feel more like a real kid whose life is broader and more complicated than just a nasty person who takes joy in tormenting others.

Don’t make them all good or all bad.

While I do think it’s debatable that all villains have to be complex people who make you question what is right or wrong, in this case, we’re focusing on the secondary characters in your protagonist’s life—family, friends, teachers, etc. It can be easy to write the BFF who is always lending a supportive ear, going above and beyond for your protagonist, and always doing so with a smile on their face.

Real-life relationships are usually never so breezy. Our best friends let us down in a moment of crisis; our parents wound us in ways that no one else can; our lovers misstep and break our hearts. Even when these slights are forgiven and forgotten, they add layers of complexity to relationships and develop great characterization.

For example, say that your character’s friend is a really fun person to be around, but they’re prone to gossiping. This could lead to disastrous consequences for them and/or your protagonist when they let slip something they shouldn’t have.

A book that has really wonderful cast of secondary characters is The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic. Coach Wymack is perhaps the easiest example to pull from—he’s a large, gruff, grumpy man who has dedicated his life to giving kids a second chance when others won’t. But he has moments of softness that contradict his usual attitude and allow readers to see other sides to his character without ever revealing too much about his backstory. But there is a clear trajectory of trust being built between Wymack and the protagonist that makes their relationship feel real and believable.

Give them reasons to be around.

Secondary characters shouldn’t just pop in and out of your story willy-nilly—it’s not only unrealistic, but it can be annoying to your readers when people just wander in and out of the narrative without any seeming rhyme or reason.

Instead, give your characters routines—once every month, Characters A and B go to this restaurant together or they’re part of a bi-weekly knitting circle or they’re arch-nemeses on the same community council. Or tie the secondary character to a place. Maybe they’re a work friend but not a friend friend, so we only ever see them in the context of the office. Maybe they’re the barista/manager of the local coffee shop where your protagonist goes every single morning and orders the exact same thing, giving them an easy familiarity with each other.

These two simple additions will be helpful in causing plot disruption later on if your story demands it. Character A starts canceling their monthly lunch date and is acting squirrely about rescheduling. The barista isn’t there one day and is instead replaced by a charming person with a wicked grin and neck tattoo who makes your protagonist swoon. Your character finds out that their arch nemesis on the local soccer club’s board has been siphoning money from the team’s accounts. The options are endless!

Kill your darlings.

It’s not pleasant to think about, but if you find yourself really struggling to make a secondary character work within your plot, it might be time to consider removing them from the story altogether. Ask yourself: What does this character bring to the plot? Does the protagonist really need them to accomplish (or stand in the way of) their end goal? Can the space they’re taking up in the story be better devoted to something else?

If you’re resisting removing a character because you love them so much, consider setting them aside for your next book. We’re all heroes of our own stories, after all!

No matter what’s caused you to reevaluate the way you approach writing your secondary characters, all hope isn’t lost for them. But if you’re looking for more advice on writing secondary characters well, check out these articles here on our blog:

• Not Just a Side Dish: How to Create Supporting Roles in Fiction
• Creating Memorable Friends for Main Characters
• How to Write Effective Supporting Characters
• Crafting Animal Characters like an Expert

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In this post, Karen discusses the surprising joy of secondary characters in her new romantic suspense novel, Quarter to Midnight, her advice for other writers, and more!

Name: Karen Rose
Literary agent: Robin Rue, Writers House
Book title: Quarter to Midnight
Publisher: Berkley
Release date: August 2, 2022
Genre/category: Romantic Suspense
Previous titles: Say You’re Sorry; Say No More; Say Goodbye; and 22 more
Elevator pitch for the book: Gabe Hebert’s homicide-detective father’s “suicide” was really murder—he’d gotten too close to a case someone powerful wanted covered up. Gabe hires Molly Sutton of Broussard Investigations to find his father’s killer, but they must first find his father’s secret witness.

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What prompted you to write this book?

I had the basic idea of someone witnessing a murder during the chaos of Hurricane Katrina—and the lengths the killer would go to in order to keep his identity a secret. It grew from there.

How long did it take to go from idea to publication? And did the idea change during the process?

The idea didn’t really change all that much. How they caught the killer wasn’t clear at the beginning, but the main concept didn’t change. It just got filled in as I wrote. Sometimes books just flow and QTM was one of these. I think I wrote it in two months?

Were there any surprises or learning moments in the publishing process for this title?

There are always learning moments, but usually those are writing and/or plot related.

Were there any surprises in the writing process for this book?

I think one of the nicest surprises in the book was the cast of secondary characters that become Xavier’s entourage. The only planned character was Xavier’s best friend Carlos, but suddenly there were three more people watching Xavier’s back. I fell in love with them. The surprises are usually the characters that pop up along the way.

What do you hope readers will get out of your book?

First, I hope they enjoy unraveling the mystery along with Gabe and Molly. I hope they love Xavier’s circle and I hope they love Burke Broussard and his investigators. Sometimes my characters have born families and sometimes they’re made. QTM has a little bit of both and they all join together to do the right thing.

If you could share one piece of advice with other writers, what would it be?

Fall in love with your characters. They add the emotion and humanity that transforms your plot into the full, rich story your readers will love.

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(S. K. Ali: On Writing the Stand-Alone Sequel)

Why not make your book stand out by offering an engaging main character, preferably one not often seen in stories? If you’re writing or contemplating writing a fresh new character, read on to discover how to develop them authentically enough to catch the attention of agents, editors, and readers.

3 Tips for Writing Fresh and Authentic Characters

1. Figure out how your character views their world and the world at large and then mix it up

A big part of a writer’s job is to know your characters inside out. You’ll know things about them that you’ll never introduce to the reader, but just having those details will help you write their scenes—how they react to what happens to them or around them and how they then choose to move forward—with confidence.

So, make sure understand your characters thoroughly.

Knowing how your characters view their lives and their general, greater worldview is key to this understanding. Make a list of their responses to everyday irritants or challenges or happy moments, their political views, their engagement or lack of engagement with their circles of communities, from family to social groups to the huge world out there.

And then, shake it up. Because you wanted a fresh character, right? Well, then take those lists and adjust them so that they don’t run according to your first instincts. The first bits of writerly-planning is often where most people’s minds turn, which means your readers will find them predictable—you want to take those initial ideas and twist and expand on them quite a bit.

If you wrote a character who doesn’t care about anything that happens in the world, anywhere—because, frankly, she won’t be able to do anything about it—why not add that she believes herself to be an incredibly compassionate person who just doesn’t care about strangers? That she needs to see people’s problems with her own eyes before she gives any piece of her heart to them? And even then, she finds it hard to believe people anyways—but then again, she herself doesn’t expect any compassion from others. (And then, to stop her from coming off as too cold, grant her the task of being the secondary caregiver for her older sister recovering from a terrible car accident that she narrowly missed being in.)

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Now you’ve given her some extra dimensions and elevated that first simple premise of a character who just doesn’t care about the world.

A real-world example from my writing: In my third novel, Misfit in Love, the main character Janna believes life should be tidy and contained and small because the opposite—messy and open and bigger—means the potential for more trouble to head her way. And she’s had enough trouble in her short life, being the child of divorce (not a frequent occurrence in her tight-knit Muslim community) and then, later, having faced the trauma of sexual assault.

2. Bring characters’ worldviews into their lives and show how they play out

What does it look like to be this character who has these certain views of the world? We’ve all heard “show don’t tell” and while there are points where a bit of telling needs to make an appearance here and there, the more important focus for us when we’re writing believable characters is to let them reveal who they are.

Dotting the lives of your characters with evidence of their worldviews convinces readers of their authenticity.

It can be simple things such as the way they make breakfast or the clothing they choose to wear or which restaurant they select for a special occasion or who they choose to confide in. Choice is the operative word here. Your character’s worldviews will often affect the choices they make.

That character who doesn’t care about the world? She obviously doesn’t like hearing the news, so why not make it that she doesn’t have a TV, has blocked news sites on her computer, and only carries around a flip phone so that she never stumbles upon the news? To the outer world, she blames all these things on being a workaholic but you, as the writer, has made sure that the reader knows why she makes these choices through sharing key scenes.

A real-world example from my writing: Janna in Misfit in Love, sleeps with books and turns to them when she needs comfort because they are contained, having a beginning and an end and other parameters—all of which she finds safe. She also chooses black hijabs to fade back in, so that she doesn’t get noticed, with all the potential trouble that entails: being asked to deal with problems unfolding in front of her.

3. Unleash their worldviews to face a huge challenge … leading readers to ask what will win: their views or what they’re grappling with?

Now that you’ve figured out your character’s worldviews and infused the story with their takes on life, it’s time to release them into an arena filled with challenges and conflicts: the story itself! (One note: not all your character’s views are vital enough to be put to the test so choose the ones that will also move the plot forward.)

Place your character in situations where their perspectives will have to be blurted, nudged, or prodded out of them—either to themselves or others. Make these situations conflict or tension-filled or at least uncomfortable.

That character who doesn’t care about the world? Why not make her boss choose her to head the global charity initiative at work? As part of training for a job she’s been aspiring to get for the longest time?

Now you’re cuing your character for several confrontational scenes—within herself and/or her co-workers and/or her boss. And through these scenes, there’s a running question: will she be able to maintain her worldview? And when will people find out she’s not the right person for the task? Or, will she be? What happens when the person she’s assigned to report to knows this secret about her, that she’s not meant for the job, that she doesn’t care in any way, but then he’s also her sister’s friend and so knows the other compassionate side of her? What if he’s the reason she wasn’t in the car accident that day—because she was with him, unbeknownst to her sister?

(You’re Just Too Good to Be True: How to Make Your Protagonist’s Love Interest More Believable—Flaws and All)

Complication-city!

A real-world example from my writing: in Misfit in Love, I put sit-at-the-back-of-the-class Janna squarely in the middle of her brother’s big fat three-day wedding weekend with all the messiness that entails. I bring in characters who challenge her to figure out more of her worldviews and I put her in a situation from which she can’t fade away because her heart is involved. And then I force her to choose confrontation or not.

Through all of this, we get to see whether her perspectives get more entrenched or shift or even transform.

That’s how you get readers invested in your characters enough to see them through an entire book.

And then maybe, they’ll pick up the next book you write too! 

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(Steve Goble: On Publishing Two Books in the Same Year)

When I decided to write about a reluctant pirate who does some sleuthing as he tries to escape the pirate life, I focused on the protagonist. How did Spider John became a pirate, why does he want out of that life, where he was born, what does he like to eat, and so on.

But when I do book appearances or hear from readers, who do people ask about? Usually not Spider:

“Is Hob going to be in the next book?”

“Oh my God, I love Odin! He’s so funny!”

“I want a story featuring Spider and his friend Ezra when they were younger!”

Those are supporting characters I did not yet have in mind when I typed the first words of “The Bloody Black Flag.” I had a vague notion of Ezra’s superstitious personality, but that’s all. Hob, the young swashbuckler with dreams of glory, was not yet in my mind, nor was Odin, the one-eyed ancient mariner who lies as often as he breathes and tells one outrageous tall tale after another. I created those characters on the fly, but readers really like them.

It happened again when one of the publishers of my upcoming detective series said she “really loved” my supporting characters and hoped I would bring them back in subsequent books. (I had plans for two of them, and immediately made plans for the one she mentioned by name. I can take a hint.)

Such reactions lead me to think I can provide useful insight into strong supporting characters and how they can shape your novel. My way isn’t the only way, of course. Writing fiction is part science, part art. Consider this more discussion than a lecture, and use what you will.

Dialogue Beats Exposition

If your protagonist is a no-nonsense military veteran, surround her with peaceniks, practical jokers, and intellectuals. This will allow you to use dialogue to explore your hero’s options, or perhaps express reactions your readers might have to the hero’s rash plans or quiet courage. There are times for focusing on your hero’s introspection, of course, but in most cases, conversations are a more interesting and dramatic way to push the story forward. Think of all the wonderful discussions Holmes has with Watson as he explains how he deduces things, then imagine those instead as mere rumination within the great detective’s skull. Fascinating, probably, but it no doubt would take a great many more words on the writer’s part and would involve only the voice of Holmes. Having a supporting character ask key questions that your hero can answer—or not—is an economical and engaging way to move things along.

Supporting Characters Need Goals

Supporting characters can enrich your novel in ways you might not expect if you envision them as human beings in their own right. Their entire existence should not revolve around the protagonist’s needs to converse out loud or to assign someone to do the boring stuff. No, no, no. Think about your supporting characters as deeply as you think about your protagonist. They should have goals. They should have attitudes. They should be their own free agents, and their wants and needs should not be tied exclusively to those of your hero.

Strong minor characters, of course, will complicate your life as a writer. Suppose your hero says, “Hey, Joe, I need you to dig through all the real estate transactions reported in the local newspaper for December for any that involve tracts near Westlake Estates.” A cookie-cutter support character will do exactly that. A character portrayed as an actual human being might instead say, “Screw that. I have a date tonight, and if it goes the way I want, I’ll perhaps have another date tomorrow. Do your own research.”

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It is up to the author, of course, to figure out how to resolve such conflicts, but you get the point. Real human beings rarely exist merely to serve the desires of a protagonist or to make the author’s life easier. Real human beings complicate things and, more importantly, are far more fun to read about.

Enrich Stories in Unexpected Ways

I will now share a technique that might explain why readers like my supporting characters. It is a technique that will occasionally give you fits as a writer who has a plot to follow, but will perhaps lead you to story elements and character revelations that never showed up in your outline—and thus to a richer story.

The technique is simple. After I write a chapter or a crucial scene, I walk away from the keyboard. I then spend my time envisioning the same chapter from the point of view of each supporting character. I know how my protagonist relates to what goes on in that chapter, but what do my minor characters think about it? How will they react?

This sometimes leads to wonderful moments and sends my plot off in unexpected directions, which, frankly, is ultimately more realistic than a plot that just follows my authorial wishes.

(What To Avoid When Writing A Novel: Overactive or Inactive Characters & Subplots)

An example: I once had Spider John send the young swashbuckler Hob to search sea chests for a clue that might explain mysterious goings-on aboard the ship. As an author, my soul purpose was to have my amateur sleuth acquire the needed information in an efficient way. Hob was, according to my outline, supposed to just go get the clue and bring it back to Spider.

Simple, right? Well, the clue was a treasure map, and when I ran that chapter through my head again from the point of view of Hob—who wants nothing more than to discover pirate gold—things got complicated. Spider now knew what was driving mysterious behavior, but Hob now had his own aspirations, and Hob’s plans and Spider’s went in totally opposite directions.

This made me rethink the rest of my book in ways I had not planned, but … I think it ended up being a better book.

The technique occasionally forces me to spend several days trying to resolve the conflicts before I can continue working on the damned book. But when readers ask me—or beg me— to make sure Hob is in the next book, well … the mental gymnastics are worth it. 

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Stranded on a mountaintop? Shipwrecked on a deserted island? Can a story actually thrive with only two characters on the page for long stretches in a novel? Well yes. But it’s tricky. Here are some techniques I learned while writing my new release, Summer by Summer.

(Not Just a Side Dish: How to Create Supporting Roles in Fiction)

When I told my agent I wanted to write a novel about two young adults shipwrecked on an island, she quickly informed me it would be the most challenging book I’ve ever attempted.

What?

I’d already written at least ten novels. I have an international bestseller to my credit. I’m no newbie. I honestly believed writing the story of Summer Mathers and Bray Garrison was going to be easy.

Boy was I wrong.

And boy was she right.

When Common Devices are Stripped, One Major Element Remains

As authors, we don’t realize how much we depend on everyday things (I like to call them familiar hooks) to help move a plot along. Going to the store, dropping by a coffee shop, a long drive, laundry. All these things help propel our characters. We also rely on secondary characters, be they foils for our protagonist or mentors.

Now, take all that away. No store, no phone, no interaction. Is it a challenge? Yes. But we’re authors. Challenge is what we do!

When two characters are utterly alone, they better have more going on than just survival, just meeting basic needs. Of course, there will be basic needs and storyline to accomplish those tasks, but the reader already expects that! How are you going to compel that reader to … keep reading? How are you going to keep them glued to their seat, holding their breath, neglecting their families until the resolution and the turning of the last page?

It’s all done with tension. Tension must be maintained because in a story with only two characters, there’s no familiar hooks to hang the reader on. 

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Tension’s Many Layers

I like to think of tension in layers.

Layer 1: The obvious and immediate need for food, fire, shelter or whatever external struggle your characters are in. Maybe it’s not survival, maybe they mistakenly ended up in a mountain cabin together. Fine, but Layer 1 is all about that external push and pull.

Layer 2: You have two people. Which one is your main character? Layer 2 deals with that character’s internal fear, determination and/or desire within the scene. In Summer by Summer, my heroine is the main character.

Layer 3: This layer deals with my hero. His fear, determination, and/or desire within the scene. Remember, these are specific to the scene. Of course, your two characters need an overall character arc, but we are breaking this down scene by scene. This will likely tie into their overall internal goal and internal conflict, but it will be unique in each and every scene.

Layer 4: This is my favorite. The CLASH between these two characters. Think of your favorite books. I bet one comes to mind where there is a real and intense clash between the two main characters. Never underestimate the power of the clash!

Now we put it all together. You’ve got powerful scenes people will be compelled to read and read and read. Can you put all four layers in every scene? You should try to. That should be the ultimate goal. Everything you write will be richer, more vivid, more powerful if you apply these layers. Good luck and happy writing.

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The post Writing Powerful Scenes and Stories with Just Two Characters appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Choosing Careless Character Names)

I was an intense young writer of short stories, and to this day I remember part of her lecture word for word.

She spoke about her deep feeling for her characters and her commitment to creating just the right character names for each one. I thought of how her characters stuck into me like darts, and I realized that some of their power came from their names: the creepy Arnold Friend in “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” The doomed Buchanan in “Wild Saturday.” The primeval Sweet Gum and Jeremiah in “The Death of Mrs. Sheer.”

Getting the names right requires patience, she said, and sometimes it’s hard. She said that occasionally in her sleep a character she had invented but not named would appear before her and stand in silence. Oates extended her thin white arm, hand cupped. “And I ask, ‘What is your name? Tell me your name!’”

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Since then, I’ve taken character naming very seriously. It’s something far too many writers neglect. The best authors know that a fitting name for a character is a precious gift to readers. Some names resonate as miniature poems, whether masculine or feminine:

• Dracula (Dracula, Bram Stoker)
• Holly Golightly (Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Truman Capote)
• Atticus Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee)
• Becky Sharp (Vanity Fair, William Makepeace Thackeray)
• James Bond (Dr. No and others, Ian Fleming)
• Scarlett O’Hara (Gone With the Wind, Margaret Mitchell)
• Mr. Skimpole (Bleak House, Charles Dickens)
• Mrs. Gummidge (David Copperfield, ditto)
• Little Toot (Little Toot, Hardie Gramatky)
• Cinderella (folktale, timeless)

Like Oates, you’re rarely going to come up with that terrific name instantly; you’ll have a character who demands to be born, and you’ll have to start writing him or her (or it) without a name. In such cases, I use “Evil Cutie” or “Brother A” until I can really work on a name.

I’m against using nonsense names as some authors do for ease of typing during their draft phase. “Jiji,” for instance, uses just the first two fingers on your right hand, in the central part of the keyboard, and it could definitely save you keystrokes during the course of a long novel, especially if your character ends up being “Charlotte Summerington.” However, there is more to writing fiction than saving keystrokes. Every character’s name interacts with you as you write, melding with your ideas and feelings for the character. You don’t want to stay dissociated from your characters’ names for any longer than necessary.

Dickens is great to study for character names. He wrote most of his novels as long magazine serials; their character-packed success depended on every name being quickly and easily distinguished in the reader’s mind—and held there from one month to the next. Contemporary British authors must have inherited some of his DNA, because they tend to be terrific namers too (more on them in a moment).

If you think about it, character names come in two basic breeds: those with carefully crafted meanings, and those that simply fit your players like a silk suit, inexplicably perfect. We’ll look at both kinds, along with strategies for creating them.

Type 1: Layered Names

First up are the “meaningful” names, which pull back the skin of your characters and can be analyzed quite like
literature itself:

Ironic Names

Large chunks of Alexander McCall Smith’s bestselling 44 Scotland Street series concern the difficult life of Bertie Pollock, an Edinburgh schoolboy. Two of his schoolmates are lads named Larch and Tofu. Though minor characters, they’re there for a distinct purpose.

The names interact with a savory irony. Tofu and Larch’s names obviously have been bestowed by parents with finely tuned ideals. Political correctness abounds: One boy’s name is a legume paste, the other a tree. Yet the characters, we learn from their actions and words, are as shallow and phony-hearted as their names are sophisticated.

Smith gives us, by contrast, the simple, direct, honest Bertie. He is worth more than both Tofu and Larch put together. His is an ordinary, unpretentious name; his surname, Pollock, is a common fish. Bertie, then, is the humble everyman who must endure everybody else’s idiotic, self-serving vanities.

But for pure triumphal irony, can anything top the Veneering family, of Dickens’ classic Our Mutual Friend? Such a vaguely grand-seeming name for a vaguely grand family. Simultaneously, of course, their name clues us in that they are nothing but surface. And we enjoy watching them try—and fail—to live up to their banal aspirations.

Ironic names are easy to create: Just think of your character’s opposite qualities and brainstorm liberally. Let’s say you’ve got a clumsy guy who lives with his parents and aspires merely to avoid work and download porn. You could give him an ironic name like Thor or Victor or Christian or even Pilgrim. Or you could give him a first name that’s a family surname, like Powers or Strong.

Authors who want to use ironic character names should strictly limit themselves to one per story or novel.

(How to Write Effective Supporting Characters)

Symbolic Names

We love symbolic names—sometimes. Carson McCullers, in The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, manages a good one with John Singer, a deaf-mute who essentially acts as the prophet in the story. Harry Angstrom, the hero of John Updike’s Rabbit books, has, I think, a particularly good symbolic name. First of all, we have angst right in there. Then, as you’ll remember from science class, an angstrom is a teeny-tiny unit of length. An allegory for a man who feels his life is too small—and who by his actions shows that he might also be a bit insecure about a certain part of his anatomy?

Be warned, though: Symbolic names are treacherous shoals for authors. Way too many novels (first or otherwise) feature bad guys named Grimes and heroes with some form of truth or justice incorporated into their names. Also, we have too many heroines with the word sun in their names, more detectives called Hunter or Archer or Wolf than we can count, and multitudes of good guys with the initials J.C. (Jesus Christ).

Here’s the key: Symbolic names work only if they’re not heavy-handed. Challenge any symbolic name with the question: Would a 12-year-old get it during a first reading? If yes, trash it! Keep looking for something subtle, based on your character’s deepest traits, or use another approach, like:

Connotative Names

A connotative name suggests without being explicit.

For instance, in Ernest Hemingway’s short story “The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber,” the handsome hunting guide is straightforwardly named Richard Wilson, while the client he cuckolds has the fussy name of Francis Macomber. (For some reason in Western culture, Francis sounds sissy-ish, perhaps because it’s similar to the feminine form, Frances. A fair number of spoiled pantywaists in literature bear that name; Scout’s nauseating cousin in To Kill a Mockingbird springs to mind.) In the end, however, Macomber achieves true heroism (albeit briefly!), while Wilson is stuck with Macomber’s sexy, monstrous widow, Margot.

Another example: Draco Malfoy in J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series. Here we have the root suggestions of dragon (draco is Latin for it) and malformed, malice, and malfeasance. A great many other Rowling characters are perfectly named.

You can make up connotative names by asking yourself questions like these as you brainstorm your characters: What expression is on his face when he looks in the mirror in the morning? If she were an animal, what would she be? If this character were a building or a political party or a piece of furniture, what would he be? How is her self-image at odds with reality?

Phonetically Suggestive Names

Dickens again. In his masterpiece Bleak House, he tells the story of the mother of all lawsuits, “Jarndyce and Jarndyce.” And the suit drags on, and your flesh creeps as that name hammers at you throughout the book: jaundice, jaundice, jaundice.

Ayn Rand’s despicable character Wesley Mouch (weasly mooch) from Atlas Shrugged is a pretty good example of a name that sounds like an epithet.

Let’s make up a phonetic name that fits a character. What if we had a coach who gambled on his basketball team? Well, it’s about winning and losing, and it doesn’t matter if you can make money betting either way. Winning, Winton, Win, Lose, Fail, Failer.

How about Winton Fayhler (win failer)?

Type 2: Plain Names

What of names that have no hidden meaning, but just play off the ear like powerful verse?

• Howard Roark (The Fountainhead, Rand)
• Anna Karenina (Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy)
• Frankenstein (Frankenstein, Mary Shelley)
• Blanche DuBois (A Streetcar Named Desire, Tennessee Williams)

Such names are the holy grail of authors. You know them when you see them—the rhythm, the grace, the style!—but defining them is almost impossible. Fortunately, it’s also irrelevant. What we need are ways to generate those lovely combinations of consonants and vowels.

Judging by successful character names, it seems a strong first syllable in both first and last names works well, regardless of the number of syllables. (Harry Potter, Jo March, Robinson Crusoe.)

Here’s how you can generate pure plain good names:

Collar Them in Your Dreams

Awaiting inspiration is perhaps the most organic way to name your characters, though it could take some time. Seriously, though, often you’ll be working with a character and his name—complete, perfect, incontrovertible—will simply pop into your head. It can happen while you’re writing, or weighing plums at the grocery, or drifting in dreamland. Accept these pieces of luck as your due. Expect them.

(Can You Use Someone Else’s Character in Your Book?)

Get Bookish

Remember phone books? Leaf through yours, and try putting different first and last names together. Phone books, however, are usually limited regionally. If you live in a small town in Minnesota, for instance, you’re going to find a whole lot of Johnsons and Olsons but not many Garciaparras and Hoxhas. I keep a couple of baby-name books handy when I’m in the early stages of an outline or draft. I also save commencement programs.

Surf the Web

You can go online and find helpful reference sites that list first names and surnames by national origin, and you’ll find sites that tell you name meanings, etc. You’ll also find assorted sites that simply generate names. Browse around.

Surf the Original Web

For real inspiration, I suggest going over to your local library, where you’ll be amazed at the wealth of name stuff you’ll find in the reference department. Besides general encyclopedias, which are rife with names from all eras, you’ll find encyclopedias on every specialized subject from military history to music, sports, radio and television, steamships and railroads, law enforcement, crime, and more. All of these books are crammed with names. The real pay dirt in your library is in the genealogy section. Here you’ll find books packed with names from all over the world, along with dates, cities, and other location names, too. You might even get ideas for characters right out of those books—or whole plots, for that matter. That’s the serendipity of browsing, the fostering of which physical libraries are still unsurpassed.

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The post Namedropping: Finding Solid Names for Your Unique Characters appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(Defining Picture Books, Middle Grade, and Young Adult)

The best characters stay with readers and listeners long after childhood is over. That’s why some books stay in print for generations—think Ferdinand from The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf, Peter from The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter, and Madeline from the book with the same title by Ludwig Bemelmans. These charming characters’ books go on and on and are remembered with warmth and affection for generations. Sometimes people even name a child after a favorite storybook character.

So how do you go about creating characters so memorable? The answer is you have to know your characters inside and out. It is not enough to have a general picture of a character in your head when you start writing. I learned the hard way. Who, I thought, wants to spend time composing a character study? Better to just write the story. Wrong!

Crafting a detailed character study is the only way you can really get to know details like whether your main character enjoys playing games, is full of energy, and loves to be at Grandpa’s house.

Think about your main character and carefully consider the following five items. Take the time to write down your ideas and observations—they could come in handy later!

5 Tips for Creating Characters for Kids

Name

What’s in a name? A lot! Alexis O’Neill named her character in The Recess Queen Mean Jean. Would Mean Alice have the same impact? What kind of character might you name Amanda, which comes from the Latin, meaning “worthy of love”? Would you name a happy-go-lucky child Miriam, from the Hebrew meaning “sea of sorrow, or bitterness”?

What type of character might have the hard-sounding name Curt? What kind of personality might a boy have to be named Misha, with its soft sounds? Or should you go against the expected and name the gentle character Curt and the tough guy Misha? Names should be word pictures of the character. While discussing names, here’s the fastest way to get your story noticed by an editor for the wrong reasons: Call your characters, like I did in one of my early picture book stories, Sammy Skunk and Billy Beaver. Alliterative names shout out “cute,” and “lack of respect for the child listener.” They make it easy for the editor to drop your story in the form rejection pile.

What’s the matter with calling your characters Skunk and Beaver? In Mañana, Iguana, my characters were named Iguana, Tortuga (the Spanish word for “turtle”), Culebra (the Spanish word for “snake”), and Conejo (the Spanish word for “rabbit”). Imagine if I’d named them Ida Iguana, Tommy Tortuga, Cathy Culebra and Connie Conejo!

A good rule of thumb is to call the animals simply Fox, Mole, Hare, Otter, and Squirrel, as Alan Durant does in his touching book Always and Forever, which deals with coming to terms with death. Or give the character a human name like Owen, as Kevin Henkes did (he then drew him as a mouse).

Another thing you need to keep in mind is not to give characters names that might confuse the child listener. Names that are too similar, like Matthew and Martin, probably belong in separate stories.

The name of your character will most likely call forth an assumption of gender unless you are trying to keep it ambiguous for the illustrator. For example, Laura McGee Kvasnosky’s Zelda and Ivy is obviously not about two boys. However, if you named a character after my friend and Newbery Honor–winning author Kirby Larson, it might not be so clear. She frequently gets mail addressed to Mr. Kirby Larson.

Does your character have a nickname? What does it say about your character? How was it bestowed?

(Namedropping: Finding Solid Names for Your Unique Characters)

Birth Date and Age

The birth date helps set your story in a certain time period. For example, a 5-year-old child born in 1700 will be very different from a 5-year-old child born in the year 2000. If you write about a child born in the mid-1700s, you would be able to use words like carriage, blacksmith, and hornbook—words you wouldn’t have chosen if your character were born in our current century.

Age at the time of the story is critical. What are the characteristics of the age of your character? A 2-year-old behaves unlike a 4-year-old or an 8-year-old. Does your character act her age? Does she speak baby talk? Does she try to act tough like her big brother? How old do others see your character?

Appearance

It’s important to know how your characters look. Sometimes when I’m working, I keep a photograph that represents a character in front of me. I’ll take images from family snapshots or magazine and newspaper photos. Of course, this description or image of your character is only for you. If your book is going to be illustrated, the artist may paint a character far removed from what you imagine. However, having an image in your mind, whether it matches what your readers will see or not, makes for stronger writing.

Does your character spend a lot of time on appearance, or is it of little consequence? Does he want to look like someone else? Is he neat? Is he sloppy? What kind of clothes might he wear? Does he have a favorite outfit he wears every day?

Relationships

Start first with the family members, especially if they are an important part of the story. Who are the parents, siblings, and extended family of your character? It’s not enough to just come up with names for them when developing your main subject. What are they like? Provide descriptions, personalities, etc. Are there any problems your character has with them? Is the family from a foreign country? Do they have activities and beliefs unique to their culture? If so, what are they? How comfortable are they adjusting to their new land?

What about friends? Neighbors? Teachers? If they play a part in the story, we need to know your main character’s interactions with and feelings about them.

(Are Your Minor Characters Working Hard for You?)

Personality

I’ve saved the most important area to focus on for last. It might help you to look at some children’s books you love and think about the characters in them. How would you define the personality of the mouse in Laura Joffe Numeroff’s If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? Does the mouse have the same personality as Grace in Karen Winnick’s Mr. Lincoln’s Whiskers? What makes them dissimilar? How do these characters compare with Babar? Differentiating between characters in published books will help you better define your own characters.

Get to know your character’s strengths and weaknesses, attitudes, fears, obsessions, special talents, and hobbies. Think about whether she might have a favorite phrase, like “go for it,” or a habit of running her fingers through her hair whenever she’s bored. Then, try to hear your character’s voice. Pretend you are the character and write a letter to yourself, the author, about what happens in the story and his feelings about it.

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