Friday, June 8, 2012

Adding Depth to Characters

It happens: you're a pantser, and you're writing, and suddenly you realize that you have a secondary character who is much more important than you'd originally expected. You know, that guy in the office who is really the story's first werezombie, only you never noticed it when you started writing. Now, halfway through the book, he's taking a central role in freeing the werezombies from the tyrannical rule of the evil voodoo mistress before she uses them to conquer the world.

Now you need to go back to the character's initial introduction, back when you thought he was just a guy at the office, and add depth. He's got a grand total of three appearances before your protagonist gets rescued by the werezombie freedom movement halfway through the book:

I walked past my coworker on the way to my desk. If he hadn't been there, I'd have thought the place deserted....
My coworker was filling his mug in the break room when I went in. Same guy as this morning. Funnily enough, also the only other person I'd seen all day...
I dropped a stack of files off on my coworker's desk and headed off to lunch, idly wondering if anyone else besides the two of us was going to show up today....

I don't recommend sticking in a 6-paragraph "Story of his life and how he came to be a zombie."

Seeding in references that there may be more information later can do the same job as elaborating early, and drive reader curiosity. Giving the character action scenes and adding a  little pointed description lets the reader know the character will be important, even if he or she receives only brief scenes to begin with. There may or may not be a need to add any more scenes, but packing subtle information into the character's existing scenes should be sufficient in most cases.

Let's go with this character introduction:

I walked past my coworker on the way to my desk. If he hadn't been there, I'd have thought the place deserted.

Plain, simple. But suddenly, you want to draw attention to him. Let's try giving him a name and an identifying habit.

I passed my coworker Charlie on the way to my desk, returning his usual wave of greeting. If he'd been missing, I would have known the place was truly deserted.

Immediate additions: name, habit, implied habit. He always waves hello, and he's probably almost always at his desk by the term missing. He has a name (I usually consider it good advice not to clutter the story with too many named side characters), so he's got to be worth noting. Some people might add a description here, but I'd save it for his second scene. Another way to add interest to a character is to have them do something:

My coworker was filling his mug in the break room when I went in. Same guy as this morning. Funnily enough, also the only other person I'd seen all day.

Let's give the guy a real action, and put a little description and that name in scene two:

Charlie was filling his mug in the break room when I went in. He looked up long enough to spare me a grin of his too-white teeth, and the distraction was enough to let splash coffee onto his crisp white shirt. Dark hair swung over his eyes as he glared in irritation at the dark spot.
     "Tough luck," I sympathized, taking his place at the coffee spigot. "Not really noticeable, though."
      A casual shrug and one last wave, and he was gone, and
I was alone in the break room.
      Funnily enough, he was the only person I'd seen all day.

Now the focus is on Charlie in this scene, as opposed to the fact that he's the only other person around. We have curiosity: He's clearly a character, he doesn't seem to speak, and he isn't missing when everyone else is.

Okay, now let's develop Charlie. What does our character know about him?

I dropped a stack of files off on my coworker's desk and headed off to lunch, idly wondering if anyone else besides the two of us was going to show up today.

We can add hints of his "life":

    I dropped a stack of files into the empty inbox on Charlie's desk, struck once again by the lack of personality. Not a photo, not a framed picture, no sports regalia - just a lunar calendar tacked on the wall and the half-dead peace lily the secretary had given him last year on the day the corporate calendar claimed was his birthday. One of these days he would stick around long enough for me to drag him to lunch, and I'd pry a little life out of him.
    But not today, apparently. I grabbed my bag and went to lunch, idly wondering if anyone besides the two of us was going to show up.

Now we know that Charlie apparently has no life outside work. The empty inbox reinforces the lack of other people and also implies that he's a diligent worker. Maybe there's something important to this lunar calendar (probably, since we mentioned it), but he is completely missing family and personality. He has a birthday according to the corporate calendar, which the narrator doubts enough to note, and has kept a plant more or less alive for most of a year. And he always leaves before lunch. Foreshadowing!

Now when he rescues the protagonist, her first words to him won't be:

"Charlie?" It was my coworker, that one guy who had been at work yesterday morning. I almost didn't recognize him past the half-decayed eyeballs, but it was definitely him.

Instead, it'll be:

"Charlie?" It was him - although I almost didn't recognize him past the half-decayed eyeballs. But there was the coffee stain on his shirt, and he lifted a hand to me in his trademark wave.

Subtle changes, but they make a big difference.


What characters took you by surprise by becoming more important than they were originally planned to be? How did you add depth to them in their introductions?

No comments:

Post a Comment