I've been thinking about this post for a few days, put it off, and then bang - Nathan Bransford
steals my idea. What the hell? How am I supposed to compete with his blog? It's the New York Yankees of the blogosphere. Good thing I know what being the Royals feels like. I'll just go ahead and say what I planned on saying. Sheesh, Nathan. Thanks. (PS. I totally have a crush on you)
I've been a liar storyteller my entire life. The first time I told a lie, it got my sister in trouble. I was about six and don't recall exactly what I did, but remember lying awake into the night thinking about it. In order to lose the guilt I got up, trudged into the living room, and confessed to my parents. They were so proud of me for doing the right thing I didn't get in much trouble. Lucky me. In all fairness, I still can't lie to my parents. They can see it coming a mile off. I make it a policy to not lie to friends. Because, well, they're friends.
Acquaintances, teachers, random folks - they were all fair game. Sometimes the lies stories worked out better than others. I slept through a final my freshman year of college and came up with an amazing story of how my roommate had an allergic reaction to medication and I was in the emergency room all night. Tears and all. I got to take the test later. I don't know if he believed me or he was so impressed with my ridiculous tale he let it slide. Good thing he didn't ask for the hospital paperwork. That would have been bad.
I lied to a guy I was dating about my, um, sexual experience. That one didn't work out so well. It ended up making my life twenty times harder than it had to be. The majority of the time, though, I didn't tell lies tales to accomplish anything. The stories were simply more interesting than the truth. I loved to think them up, spin them, making people believe something amazing. It didn't matter if it wasn't true. It was real to my listeners.
Now that I've (ahem) grown up, I've stopped lying. Nothing good comes from it. Absolutely nothing. I've embraced writing as the outlet for my creativity and it feels like coming home. I can weave stories, build worlds out of words, create people, change endings, enhance settings - and people don't get hurt. At least not real people. What I do to my characters is my business, and don't you forget it.
I am curious, dear readers. How many of you shared my penchant for storytelling, embellishing, and outright lying as a young person? Is it a facet of the writer personality, or am I a deeply disturbed individual? Wait, don't answer that last question. Anything else is fair game.
"Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go." -T.S. Eliot
Showing posts with label characters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label characters. Show all posts
Friday, March 5, 2010
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Sheldon the Sex Machine?
I used to think it was weird when people choose not to decide on a baby name until after the birth. The typical reason? We want to see what the little bundle looks like! What if you decide on something edgy, like Brandt, and the little guy looks conservative. More like a Charles, maybe. What if you name your daughter something demure, like Jane, and she looks like a party animal. Perhaps you would be better served going with Britney or Jenna. Although I understand this way of thought, it’s not something I ascribe to. I am of the opposite belief. That our children (or characters) will grow to embody the names we give them.
My characters often have faces and personalities when they arrive in the conscious mind, but they are always nameless. It never takes long, however, for me to try a few on for size and see what fits. Often I choose a name I have always liked, maybe one from my baby name list that hubby has assured me I will never get to name our child (should we ever have one). Sometimes I name them after family, friends, or professional acquaintances. I’ll admit that sometimes I name villains variations of people I can’t stand. Watch out, cop who gave me two tickets last summer. You know who you are. No matter how they are blessed with their names, my characters always seem to find a way to make it fit. The main character in my first novel is a history professor who survived an abusive, lonely childhood. She prefers to bury herself in her work and blocks out the world. She’s a perfect Eleanor.
Since I have leapt into the madness that is Twitter, created this blog, and spent hours on end reading other industry blogs, I notice how much valuable is spent kicking around potential character names. Then I realize I don’t spend much time at all, and start to wonder if I’m missing something. The hardest time I had naming characters came in my most recent manuscript, and only because part of it takes place in Bangladesh and Thailand. Even then, I used the internet (that blessing and curse), went to a website of the most popular baby names by country, and picked some out.
When I started researching for this post, I found a multitude of articles on naming characters, on how important it is, and how we writers should be careful about any influence a characters name would have on our readers. Symbolism is tricky, I think. I avoid it, because it’s too easy to come across as cheesy. For example, an angelic character named Gabriel. A druggie named Mary Jane. Your writing should make us understand the character’s personality, I think using their name to do so can be a cop out. Some things are obvious. If we have a lovable protagonist, his name should not be any of the following: Osama, Adolf, or Barney. An exotic, interesting lover? Probably not a Ned or a Fred. Which leads me to quote one of the best movies ever, When Harry Met Sally. You want to write good dialogue? Read this script. Or anything written by Nora Ephron or Rob Reiner.
Harry: “Shel? Sheldon? No, you did not have great sex with Sheldon.”
Sally: “I did too.”
Harry: “No. A Sheldon can do your income taxes. You need a root canal, Sheldon’s your man. But humpin’ and pumpin is not Sheldon’s strong suit. It’s the name. Do it to me Sheldon. You’re an animal Sheldon. Ride me big…Sheldon. It doesn’t work.”
You get the idea, and I think it’s something we all realize as readers. My biggest goal is to not have my characters names detract from the story. I want my main characters to be likable and identifiable, but I want my story to be remembered. This leads me to my question. How much time do you spend, writer friends, coming up with character names? Do you put much thought into them, or do they just fit together naturally, like mine do? Do you try to come up with something different, something memorable, or just something that won’t stand out and distract from your story? Lastly, how important do you think a characters name is to the ultimate success of your story? Looking forward to the discussion, as always!
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