“When writing a novel a writer should create living people; people not characters. A character is a caricature.” -Hemingway

Characters are an integral part of poems, story writing, and playwriting. They are people within your work who carry the action, represent a larger idea, and show readers the heart of the conflict within your story. There’s no rule on how many characters you need for a work to be effective, but there are certainly rules to writing characters well. Consider the five dimensions of effective character writing:

1. IMAGE: What does your character look like?

The most effective aspect of all Disney movies is the attention paid to the character’s “image.” Most importantly, are there two different images: The image the character wants others to believe and the image the character shows a select few.

2. VOICE: What does your character sound like?

You want your characters to have unique voices. Each character should be easily distinguished from the next without signal phrases like “X said” or “Y cried.” How do you create a unique voice? Remember, diction, rhythm, and perspective. 

3. DESIRE: What does your character want?

Every primary character should have a goal. I don’t mean an abstract goal. I mean a literal goal. The more specific it is, the easier it is to push your story forward.

4. CONFLICT: Who/what gets in the way of your character getting this want?

The action comes from your character(s) not getting what they want immediately. What gets in the way of their desires? Think Harry Potter villains or internal setback like anxiety, confusion, insecurities.

5. ACTION: What does your character do? This can be quite literal—what does the character physically do in the text? Or it can mean figuring out how your character tries to achieve their want.

Run, Lola, Run is a 90-minute thrill ride. It follows Lola as she runs to get what she wants: the safety of her boyfriend and a significant amount of cash. What does she do to get her want? She runs!

 

Point of view is everything in film, television, and literature. Just watch this short clip from The Shining and notice the impact sudden shifts in camera perspectives have on you as the audience. You’re either witnessing Wendy swing a bat in terror or peeking through closed hands as Jack unravels. But what exactly is point of view? Point of view is the perspective of the narrative. As a writer, point of view means asking yourself who should tell this story? and where are they telling this story from. We’re all familiar with the different types of point of views a story can have: first person, third person, second person, but it’s also important to note some of the advantages each point of view can have in developing plot. Just as important is noting some of the possible disadvantages. Remember, point of view is on purpose. You don’t just write in first person because it’s easy, you write in first person because it’s the only way to tell your story. 

Below you’ll find the specifics for each type of point of view:

First Person (central): The central figure of the work is responsible for narrating the story. Features of first person include: a unique voice, unreliable storytelling, and filtered perspective. Writers often choose first person point of view when they’ve got a character’s voice buzzing around in their head. Sometimes, in fact, the story isn’t all there, just the character’s interesting perspective of the world. Be mindful though, a first person narrator can be as funny as Ferris Bueller, or as moving as Holden Caulfield, but if there’s no plot, there’s no story. Often writers fall into the trap of spending too much time letting a first person narrator share  their perspective and forgetting that something needs to happen. Of course, action doesn’t mean jumping from building to building; it can also mean a change in the character that only readers can see or a decision that the narrator is finally able to come to terms with. Small or momentous, change is necessary, so if you choose to tell your story through first person narration, be mindful of planning the conflict ahead of time.

For more insight into first person point of view, read “The Beauty Treatment,” “Bullet in the Brain,” “Bigfoot Stole my Wife,” and watch Eternal Sunshine, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Fight Club, A Christmas Story

First Person (peripheral): Here you have a narrative told by a person or object on the outskirts of the action. The story isn’t really about this person; but this narrator has the access and interesting storytelling technique necessary. The best example of this type of point of view is The Great Gatsby. The story isn’t about Nick Caraway, it’s about Jay Gatsby. Yet, Nick is the one who tells us Jay’s tale. In a lot of ways, First person peripheral can be a way to have the intimacy of first person (“I”, “me” “I can’t believe…”) and maintain the complicated mystery of the protagonist. Think about it– knowing Jay Gatsby, would he have been an effective narrator? Not at all! He’s way too secretive and detached. For other examples of first person peripheral point of view, check out the beginning of Aladdin, Shawshank Redemption, Gossip Girl

Second Person: You’re writing a story. You want it to be interesting. You also want it to be something that no one has ever done before. So, you decide second person is the way to go. After all, it’s when “You” narrates. That is, the reader becomes the narrator, and you the author tell the reader exactly what to do, think, and say. Junot Diaz does this quite effectively in the short story, “Alma.” Another interesting use of second person occurs in youtube parody videos where a character talks to the camera as though the camera is another character in the skit (Think of the “Things women hear” or “Things everyone says to an Indian,” etc. parody videos). The most important thing to consider here is why. Why use second person? If it’s related to the overall theme of the work or the purpose of the work, then great! If it’s just because it’s new and no one has done it before, stop right there! You run the risk of writing something that is gimmicky. 

Third Person (omniscient): This is the most traditional mode of storytelling. Think of a camera that has access to all involved in the narration. That’s third person. The narrator can tell readers what all characters are thinking, seeing, feeling, and doing. A trap though that often happens here is we forget the golden rule of creative writing: Show don’t tell! Even though your narrator has access to what people are feeling, don’t forget to show your readers through a gesture or a line of dialogue rather than tell them directly. 

Third Person (limited): This is where you still adhere to the third person perspective and pronouns: he, she, they– but your narrator is specifically interested in the thoughts, feelings, and actions of a few characters or maybe even one character. Think of a Harry Potter film or novel. Sure, there’s hundreds of wizards to follow, but the narrator is only interested in following three dashing wizards. 

Third Person (objective): This is a true test of how much you can show to a reader through actions and dialogue. This narrator is a reporter, and as such, can only report on what is seen and heard. In fact, this is a great practice for playwriting. We have so many examples of third person in film now given the recent surge of horror films that use technology as the “third person objective” narrator. Think Paranormal Activity, UnFriend Me, etc. 

Check this out: https://soundcloud.com/weekendreadspodcast/wr7-the-man-on-the-stairs-by-miranda-july

“All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are
forced, at last, to tell the whole story; to vomit the anguish up.” –James Baldwin

Voice

As writers, you’ll be dealing with two different voices: 1) your creative voice and 2) your narrator’s voice. Your creative voice is automatic. It’s your particular set of experiences that you bring to everything that you write. It’s what you’re interested in writing about. It’s how you put a story together. It’s how you cut the lines of a poem in half. It’s you, the author.

Your narrator’s voice lives in the text. In the words of Roland Barthes, there is no author. Therefore, as soon as you put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, your literature is not interested in your voice. Instead, it’s interested in the voice of its narrator. To be specific, a narrator’s voice considers three things:

1. Diction: What words does your narrator use? Is your narrator someone who overuses the present tense? Is your narrator someone who mixes different languages? How does your narrator order words? Is there an accent that you want to get across to your readers? If so, how do you make this accent apparent? (look at Zora Neale Hurston’s works and Diaz’ works for great examples of narrators with accents)

2. Rhythm: Does your narrator use short sentences? Long sentences? Is there a rhyme scheme or internal rhyme in your narrator’s voice? Does your narrator use mutisyllable words to slow down the pacing of the story? Does your narrator often distract readers from the actual story at hand through fast-paced monosyllabic details?

Notice the difference in pacing. How does this impact your understanding of Hamlet? Another great way to understand rhythm is through remakes of songs. George Micheal’s Faith vs. Limp Bizkit’s “Faith”

3. Perspective: How does your narrator see the world? What details does your narrator pay attention to? What kind of filter does your narrator use when presenting other characters?

Watch Gone, Girl or read Wonder for more insight on perspective.

Beyond diction, rhythm, and perspective, voice is also an attempt to give sound and words to that which may have been previously silenced. When reading through various short stories, poems, plays, ask yourself this question: Does this character feel silenced? If so, about what? Who is silencing this character?

In the HBO series Girls, we have a 25 year old, Hannah, who is constantly using her voice to depict female empowerment. Word Choice: A lot of “I” and “we” and “us,” Rhythm: long winded monologues, Perspective: A fellow student who doesn’t appreciate Hannah’s (main character) short story is a student who has domestic violence issues and therefore can not handle her story.

The question should be asked: What does her voice reveal about her? But more importantly what does it reveal about privilege associated with race? What does it reveal about her own identity? She is frequently saying:

Do any of the characters in what we read feel similarly? Are they allowed to be the voice of their generation? When feeling stifled, many characters can present a voice that sounds aggressive, angry, resentful. Go beyond the impression they want to give, and figure out the CAUSE. The cause is almost ALWAYS a more interesting component than mere judgment of a character as “bitter.”