Dealing with Difficult Characters

Some characters seem to come with diaries that a writer only has to consult to figure out their personalities, motivations, and goals. Others seem like old friends you’ve known for years, and the words flow effortlessly. But some characters stubbornly refuse every attempt to get to know them better.

When I wrote the first novel of my Rae Riley Mysteries series, the extended family of my main character Rae Riley was critically important. I decided to give her father an older sister, a younger sister, and a younger brother. The dad and his two sisters came to life early and easily. But Younger Brothers turned difficult. No matter what approach I took, I couldn’t develop him into an interesting character, one who would contrast with his siblings.

If you are dealing with a difficult character, try these four trouble-shooting techniques.

Change the Name

Naming characters appropriately is critical for me when developing them. If I give a bubbly character a name that somehow suggests a quiet, sensitive type, the character won’t work for me. But the name wasn’t Younger Brother’s problem.

Change the Face

This is the same as changing the name. Usually when I build a character, I start with a face that I’ve seen somewhere and that signals a certain kind of personality. Younger Brother’s face suggested a reserved, intellectual, but I had another character like that who was working well within the story. I thought maybe I just needed to …

Write a Scene with the Character

This technique had worked with Rae’ grandmother. I knew I had to have a grandmother, but she proved a slippery character, her personality assuming all sorts of traits as I tried to structure her in my mind before I began writing. Finally, I decided to stick her in a scene and see what happened. Pretty soon, Gram’s mellow, warm-hearted personality shone through, making her a nice contrast to her son, Rae’s father, who is a worrier.

But when I wrote a scene with Younger Brother, he became irritating, sounding whiny. So the only thing left to do was …

Combine or Eliminate the Character

I offed him in cold-blood with a a lot of relief. I simply didn’t need him. If I hadn’t already had a character similar to him, I might have taken his qualities and those of another character to combine them into someone new.

I think the reason I worked so hard to keep him is that I often create groups of four characters. I’m one of four sisters, so I understand how that group dynamic works. What I had failed to realize was that I already had a group of four characters. Older Sister married the neighbor boy, whom Rae’s father and sisters grew up with. So he’s like a brother, although an older one to Rae’s father. But I’ve had a ton of fun writing about how the brothers-in-law jab at each other.

Click here for more tips on creating characters.

What are your tips for dealing with difficult characters?

How NOT to Plot a Series

A lot of the advice I read on plotting concerns stand-alone novels. When a novel is a stand-alone, then the advice authors give about creating the highest stakes and the worst setbacks for your main characters makes sense. As a writer, you want to leave it all on the field because you won’t be returning to these characters. But when you write a series, you must plot differently. Below are tips about how not to plot a series, lessons I’ve learned as I’ve worked on my series, Rae Riley Mysteries. Next week, I’ll have advice on how to plot a series.

Writing Without an Ending

If you are writing a series and know exactly how many books you are going to write and how the series will end, good for you! You are a rarity in the writing world. That makes plotting your series easier when you have the whole picture to work from.

But most series don’t develop that way, especially mystery series. A writer may had a great idea for the first novel, and a good grasp of what she wants to write in the second. But she might not have any idea what happens next.

I happen to know how I want to end my series. But I’m not sure how many novels it will take to get there.

Series writers have to be flexible, looking at what works in the novels they publish, and then figuring out to incorporate those aspects in the next book.

It Can’t Always Be Highest Stakes and Worst Obstacles

If you write a series in which your main character (MC) is always fighting for the highest stakes imaginable and the worst events possible keeping happening to him, then you don’t have a series. It’s more like you have a retelling of the Book of Job. Or worse, a soap opera.

I don’t want to read a mystery series in which the MC’s father is murdered in the first book. In the second, she learns he led a double life. In the third, she finds out she has an evil half-sister. In the fourth, her mother led a double life. All these horrible developments do raise the stakes very high for the MC. But they also stretch believability to the breaking point.

Bad things do happen to people. But if I overwhelm my MC with such tragic events, then the fifth, sixth, and seventh novels will have to focus on the therapy she undergoes to handle such trauma. If I want to be realistic at all. It’s much easier to introduce all that heartache in a stand-alone because you don’t have to deal with the aftermath in the next novel.

To make my novels in a series both interesting and realistic, I have to balance the dramatic events that occur in my MC’s life by spreading the drama to other characters, while still giving my MC personal stakes and setbacks.

I’ll cover that in next week’s post about how to plot a series. For more tips on plotting, click here.

Writers, how do you plot a series? Readers, what series has especially good plotting.

When You Have to Tell, Don’t Show

Yes, you read the title right. And you may look as shocked as the woman in the photo. There are times in a story when you have to tell, don’t show. The reverse of the time-honored technique of “show, don’t tell” can be appropriate in certain situations involving plot.

When You Don’t Want to Repeat Information

If my deputy interviews a suspect and then informs his sheriff, I don’t have to repeat the entire conversation. I can just state the obvious.

The sheriff scooted back in his swivel chair. “Did you finally get a hold of Old Man Thompson?”

I repeated what Mr. Thompson had said about the crime. “But he stumbled around his words. I think he’s hiding something.”

Or I can add a little information, such as:

Mom said, “So what happened in school today?”

Sighing, I took a seat at the kitchen table and told her about the whole miserable mess, only leaving out what Ava said to me.

Repeating information that readers have already read is not helpful, unless you need characters to discuss or think about a specific point.

When You Need to Compress Time

I use this one a lot in my mysteries because the case unfolds over several weeks. If the investigation has stalled, I don’t need to “show” every attempt the cops make at solving the crime. I can compress their investigation into a sentence, like this:

After a week, Sheriff Malinowski was no closer to finding the killer than when he had walked onto the crime scene.

The point of my “tell” is jump ahead in the story’s timeline, and I can do that in one sentence, keeping the story moving.

When You Have to Mention a Plot Point for Realism

I often want to convey to readers that the mystery my main character is confronting is a very hard nut to crack. I can do that with a “tell” like this.

After a week, Sheriff Malinowski was no closer to finding the killer than when he had walked onto the crime scene. No one had come forward with any new information, and researching the victim’s socials had yielded not one lead.

In one sentence, I can convey that there is no new information for readers without creating a lot of pointless dialogue or scenes. It also makes the mystery more realistic to tell that the police are struggling to solve it. Most likely, I will have a “show” scene first, in which a few officers talk about leads they’ve followed and that led them nowhere. Then I follow that with my “tell” sentence, demonstrating that the struggle continues.

I also use “tell” sections for realism concerning my main character’s family life. Rae Riley is part of a large extended family, who are critical to the series, but not all their actions affect the mystery in each book. But I want to give readers a sense of the family dynamic, so I might use a “tell” sentence like this:

After I helped Gram clean up the supper dishes, I helped Micah with his sight words and gave out Spanish vocab to Rusty. When Dad came home, I had to wait until he’d finished his late supper before I could ask him about the case.

The two sentences tell readers something about Rae’s family without getting bogged down in a lot of unnecessary detail.

Keep It Brief

“Tell” sections are always brief in current stories. You can’t get away with more than a paragraph or two. If you find yourself writing a whole page of “tell” information, you should review what you’ve written and see how you can create a “show” scene for most of it.

What are your thoughts on “show, don’t tell” and “tell, don’t show”?

For more tips on plot, click here.

Grab Readers with First Lines

This month’s theme is plot, so I’m kicking off with the first part of any plot–the opening lines of your story and the need to grab readers with first lines. Beginnings are tricky. Authors need to snag readers’ attention while also introducing them to characters and their world.

Begin with Action …

And I don’t mean a bomb going off, although some writers start that way with excellent effect. Start with an action that’s attached to the problem the hero will have to solve. Since I write mysteries, I introduce the puzzle my detective has to solve as soon as I can in the first chapter.

In my first novel, A Shadow on the Snow, the first line is the text of the first anonymous note my amateur sleuth Rae Riley receives.

I’M NOT FOOLED, RAE. YOU’RE JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER.

So from the beginning readers know Rae will try to unmask who is sending her threatening notes.

In A Storm of Doubts, I open with:

“Just stop it!”

The shout made me jerk and get poked by a dead branch of a honeysuckle bush.

That line makes readers wonder who is shouting, who is listening, and if there’s a problem.

… and Attitude

Conveying your main character’s (MC) personality in the first few lines also grabs readers attention. I think I have it easier than a lot of writers because I write from first person POV. When readers know it’s a first person story, they also know they’re slipping into the MC’s skin and are experiencing the world from their perspective. That makes writing much easier, and a lot of fun, for me.

I was introduced to the Nero Wolfe mystery series with the novel, Too Many Cooks, in college. From the opening line, I knew I had to read more because I got a definite attitude from the narrator, Archie Goodwin.

Walking up and down the platform alongside the train in the Pennsylvania Station, having wiped sweat from my brow, I lit a cigarette with the feeling that after it had calmed my nerves a little I would be prepared to submit bid for a contract to move the Pyramid of Cheops from Egypt to the top of the Empire State Building with my bare hands, in a swimming-suit; after what I had just gone through.

What stories have you read that grabbed your attention from the first lines?

For more tips on writing plots, click here.

Learning Deep POV from Movies

Learning deep POV from movies? How can a movie demonstrate a literary technique that takes readers deep inside a character’s mind and experiences? It doesn’t seem possible, but when I watched the 1953 thriller Inferno, I realized the movie had a lot to teach writers about this device.

A Little Background on Deep POV

Every writing professional hits newbies writers over the head with the command “show, don’t tell”. But unless someone explains how a writer is supposed to write in a “show, don’t tell” manner, the advice means nothing.

Deep POV is that manner. A writer pours herself into the point-of-view (POV) character in a scene and sees the story world like a player in a POV video game, like Minecraft, does. The writer restricts his narrative to what the POV character feels and thinks in the present moment. If your POV character is fleeing for her life, she can’t ruminate on the injustices her sister has committed against her over the last twenty years. She only thinks of how to escape or turn and attack her pursuer. Deep POV gives a writers a structure that makes info dumps, such as backstories, very difficult. In every piece of fiction, some things just need to be told to the reader, but the writer has to slip these in a natural or logical way using deep POV so as not to destroy the illusion that the reader is perceiving the literary world through the mind of the POV character.

Inferno brings this technique to the screen.

A woman and her new boyfriend leave her injured husband to die in the desert, and the movie divides into two story threads: scenes with the wife and boyfriend trying to lead authorities astray as they look for the husband and scenes with the husband trying to survive in the Californian desert with a broken leg. Robert Ryan, the actor who plays the husband, is alone in all his scenes. So he does a voice-over to let the audience know what he’s thinking. All his thoughts pertain directly to the situation he’s in. The director didn’t add flashbacks to show how the marriage went on the rocks, which I think would ruin the suspense of the film. When the husband’s thoughts do wander, it makes perfect sense for the scenes, such as when he’s dying of thirst and he remembers how water is more plentiful during the springtime in the desert.

Another aspect of show, don’t tell is not stating the emotions characters experience, but creating gestures, facial expressions, and dialogue to convey their emotions. In Inferno, Robert Ryan’s actions and expressions perfectly match his thoughts and feelings. When he tells himself a joke, his half-smile conveys the humor but also how dumb he thinks it is. When he sits by a campfire, considering what to do with his wife and her boyfriend if he escapes, his face is grim and determined. When he thinks the boyfriend has returned to make sure he’s dead, he freezes as the awful realization of who is looking for him sinks in. Then he frantically puts out a signal fire he started and flings himself under a stunted tree. All these actions show his terror.

Robert Ryan is such a masterful actor that he makes all his scenes alone compelling. Even though his character isn’t likable at the start of the movie, he makes you sympathize with the horrible situation he’s in. If you like adventure or crime movies, you should go out of your way to find Inferno.

What other movies have you seen where you feel you’ve really climbed into the mind of a character?

For more posts from this month’s theme of how other arts influence writers, click here.

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