Writer to writer: From think to ink - Gail Carson Levine 2014

Here we are
Character building

Sometimes setting contributes to character development. Sometimes it doesn’t. Going back to the campers in chapter 7: If they’re camping in a wilderness, for example, the mountains and trees have nothing to do with their personalities, although the choice of this particular camp may. Theo could be there because he wants to beat his older brother’s record as the best rock climber in camping history. Beth’s reason could be that her best friend talked her into going when she really would have preferred music camp.

No matter where a story takes place, the details that characters notice will reveal their personalities. In the wilderness, Will, who’s fearful, may concentrate on how sheer the climbing cliff is. Theo, who’s focused, will see the hand- and toeholds. Maybe only Marianne, the counselor, will be alert to the beauty that surrounds them.

Setting reflects character the most when the character has a hand in creating it. For example, we learn something about Beth from the way she decorates her locker at school, or about Theo from the posters he puts up in his bedroom or from his bedroom itself—if he picked the furniture and the paint color.

How messy or neat is the room or the locker? If it’s messy, what’s in the mess? Is there an odor? Eew! If the room is neat, are we talking super neat, with every edge exactly parallel or perpendicular to every other edge? Does Theo straighten the items on his desk for fifteen minutes before he’s able to go out?

In Peter Pan James M. Barrie describes Tinker Bell’s recess in the underground home of Peter and the lost boys, including “a genuine Queen Mab” couch, a “Puss-in-Boots” mirror, “the carpet and rugs of the best (the early) period of Margery and Robin.” And more. At the end—and I think this is so cool!—he sums it all up by telling the reader how the place expresses Tink’s personality:

Her chamber, though beautiful, looked rather conceited, having the appearance of a nose permanently turned up.

In addition to setting itself, how a character acts in a setting reveals her, too.

Let’s imagine Beth in the wilderness, only this isn’t the ordinary wilderness of campers and camp counselors and cell phones. Although Beth went to sleep in that place last night, this morning the forest is different. She wakes up wrapped in a scratchy wool blanket instead of her sleeping bag, and she’s stiff with cold. The wind is howling. Yesterday the birds blared out their songs, but today they’re silent. Beth smells smoke on the wind. Her friends are gone. Only one camper remains, Yura, whom Beth hardly knows, who said little yesterday but who scampered up the cliff as though gravity had no hold over her.

What does Beth do? Jump up and chant, “Bring it on, bring it on,” then pump out a dozen perfect push-ups? Bury her face in the leaves under her nose and wait for the hallucination to pass? Scream? Sit up and peer around cautiously? Ask Yura if she knows what’s going on?

Each choice says something about Beth. Let’s consider the last two, the mildest reactions. Taking in the environment without speaking may mean that she’s self-reliant or that she’s shy, even in these circumstances. Or both. Or something else that I haven’t mentioned. Speaking to Yura may mean that she depends on other people or that she’s naturally outgoing. Or something else. We’ll find out more as we go along. These initial reactions to a setting form an impression that influences us as we continue to write.

In more mundane surroundings people interact with place all the time. You’re alone in somebody’s kitchen. Maybe your friend has gone to the bathroom or to answer the door. Do you stay in your chair or get up to investigate? If you investigate, do you touch? Do you eat a cookie from the plate of snickerdoodles cooling on the windowsill? Do you gulp it down guiltily when you hear your host returning? Or do you chew openly and say how good it is? Or—you wouldn’t do this!—do you say it could use more sugar?

I often ride a commuter train from my home to New York City and back again. You might think there wouldn’t be much scope for revealing character in this limited setting, but there is plenty. People who take an aisle seat when the window seat is empty make anyone who comes later have to climb over them. People who put their backpacks on the next seat are claiming it. People who talk loudly on cell phones are claiming an even wider space. Any setting is fodder for character development.

Writing time!

• Write a scene imagining how the future dictator of the world would behave if left alone in someone’s kitchen. Next, have her leave the kitchen to go somewhere on a train. Write her traveling etiquette. Picture her waking up in the forest with Yura. Write how she handles herself. Think of a few possibilities for each of these settings. Use any or all in a story.

• In a story you’re working on now, or an old one, put your MC into an unfamiliar setting. Write how he conducts himself.

• In the fairy tale “Rumpelstiltskin,” the imp is overheard by one of the queen’s messengers as he sings a ditty about his name. Suppose the messenger watches him through his cottage window. Describe the interior of the cottage. Show him bustling about, in a benign way or a creepy way, preparing for the baby’s arrival.

Have fun, and save what you write!