Creating memorable characters

I’ve come across a little problem with my novel today. There are some chapters involving four French scientists, all of whom arrive at the same time. They are different ages, they have different specialist skills, and they have different personalities. And yet I realised when I read through those chapters that I was finding it hard to remember which name related to which person. If the writer of the novel can’t work out who is who, what chance does the reader have?

This is something I’ve experienced sometimes when reading other people’s novels. When too many characters are introduced to the story too quickly I forget which one is which, and when that happens I cease to care about them. That is a bad thing for a novel. I’m not going to name any novels where I’ve experienced this because maybe it’s just me (I’m hopeless at remembering real people’s names when I meet them in any case). Maybe it’s just that the phone rang half way through reading that chapter or Pooch decided it was time to go out and pee on the cat’s grave again. These little distractions can make it difficult to retain small details in the plot, like when did this person come into it and what on earth have they got to do with anything anyway?

On an earlier draft of The Sphinx Scrolls I came across a related situation. There were three student archaeologists, and I eventually realised that the third one was superfluous. He didn’t contribute much to the story, his personality wasn’t as interesting as those of the other two, and it made things too complicated for the reader. So I decided to write him out of the story, adapted some of his lines for use by other characters, and basically streamlined the plot.

What I think I’ll have to do with these French scientists is review their scenes carefully and decide if one of them can be ‘deleted’ without the important parts of the story being adversely affected. Professor Jean Lantier, Dr Berger, Professor Philipe Eyzies, and Michel Lecour had all better tread carefully because I’m going to be watching them closely. Whether or not I decide that one of them is for the chop, I’m going to have to work harder at differentiating their vocabularies, their mannerisms and their attitudes so that I can have a clear picture of who is speaking as I read. And I think if I can follow who is who, then anyone can.

A new chapter emerges

I had a lively debate with my better half this morning about whether there was any point in inserting a new thread into the story if I didn’t know exactly how it was going to play out later in the book. She thought it made sense to take the time to work out exactly when and where this new storyline would appear and how it would affect the main plot and the characters. In a book of 166,000 words I simply can’t calculate the intricacies of those events in advance. But I have a tried and tested system of redrafting that involves the introduction of a new theme, followed by a systematic edit sweep of the whole novel during which I bring in instances of the new theme wherever it seems appropriate, and I adjust dialogue, actions, and plot devices as I come across them.

When I get into a routine of daily writing I find that the book comes alive in my head to the extent that complicated plot situations resolve themselves while I’m driving, having a bath or even fast asleep. It’s not unknown for me to wake up with a brilliant new twist or scene to add to the book. So sometimes the impact of a new theme in the story can be arrived at subconsciously.

Characters speak to me when they are fully developed. They each have their own voice, their own vocabulary: great characters have sufficiently distinctive turns of phrase that you know who is speaking without being told. You can chuck them into a situation and let their own dialogue flow from them according to the personality traits, attitudes, fears, ambitions and motives that you as the writer have already given them. Changing a theme or adding a subplot requires changes in dialogue, but the characters are very helpful in dictating those changes themselves.

So back to the ‘lively debate’: OK, so I might end up writing pages that end up being cut in a later draft because they don’t lead to anything worthwhile. It’s happened to me before and I’m sure it will happen again (see my comments about ‘bonus features’ in novels in yesterday’s blog). But if a chapter doesn’t work it won’t harm the final product because it won’t be in the book by then. The worst that will happen is that I write something that doesn’t work and have to cut it.

Anyway, I wrote the beginning of a new thread in the story today. It’s a 600 word short chapter, and it was horribly difficult to get right. I rewrote the first paragraph dozens of times, trying to establish a tone and style that was appropriate for the scene. I think I’ve got there in the end, but it’s getting late as I write this and my judgement is getting cloudy, so I’ll probably review it tomorrow and rewrite it again. The scene is about the significance of a broken stele (an ancient stone tablet engraved with enigmatic writings). The owner, Lord Ballashiels (known as ‘Ratty’) wants to sell it to the sinister Professor Otto, but something Ruby Towers, the archaeologist, said to him has made him realise its true importance. When he tries to back out of the deal tensions rise and Ratty fears for his safety. So what is the significance of this Mayan stele? What is this new thread which will obviously play a major role in the novel? Why does Otto want it so badly and why has Ratty changed his mind and decided not to sell it?

Let me go and take a bath, and then I’ll sleep on it.