One of the joys of writing for me lies in the discovery of new characters. When I begin a novel, I have the merest hint of a character and the germ of an idea about what her journey will be. Yes, even while my first novel (ahem, second—will explain in a minute) lies beating on the shelf like a tell-tale heart, waiting as it’s polished, edited, queried, I am starting a new one.
So I sit down with this vague idea of a character. The name usually comes to me in a flash along with a basic idea of who the character is. For secondary characters, I might look for names until one jumps out and says “Yoo hoo! That’s me!” I have struggled with writing a character before, not making any headway, then suddenly a name change occurs to me and things flow. Doesn’t seem like the name should matter THAT much, but it does.
This time I am trying an outline. I did not for the first two books (here’s the explanation I promised! One is shelved indefinitely and the other is the tell-tale heart). But even as I flesh out the story, a snippet of a scene will come to me. The idea takes hold and I start writing that scene. As the character interacts with others, I see what she is like. “Oh,” I think, “she’s funny and talks to herself a lot.” That is what writing is like for me. I do not think “this is what I want to happen” but instead I think “I wonder what will happen.” And on a really good day, the words flow from my fingers and I am swept along in as much anticipation as any reader. I understand where the concept of having a muse comes from. This process feels like it is directed from elsewhere. Of course, there are days when writing is more of a slog—when I have to consciously help my character along or make sure I plant appropriate but not heavy-handed hints of what is to come. Then I wonder where my muse went.
I have sometimes wondered why I didn’t write when my kids were younger. Part of it is I had no mental room for my characters--the kids took all my brain cells. But also, just as writing is such a joyful path of discovery, so is raising children. What will they do next? How can I guide them without squashing their true selves? How can I allow them freedom to develop while also making sure they are well-behaved, polite, good citizens? How can I help them overcome flaws they might have? How can I help build on their strengths? These are all the same questions I ask whether I am gazing at my children’s downy heads or at words on a monitor. The stakes are different, for sure, but for both, it’s guidance that is called for, not control.
Parenthood is certainly a journey you can’t predict. Your children take you to destinations you cannot foresee. If you are too busy pushing them down one path, who knows what you might miss by not following the other? Sometimes the path is not fun—I’ve learned about asthma inhalers, epipens, hearing aids, surgical drains, appendicitis, and concussions. I’ve learned a bit about what it is like to walk around in America with brown skin (America is not nearly as color-blind as some people would like to think it is). I’ve learned what it is like when people make assumptions based on your ethnicity or make fun of you because of it. I’ve learned about adoption and attachment—did you know peek-a-boo is actually an attachment activity? I’ve learned about basketball, music, Relay for Life, and Junior States of America. I’ve taken a deeper dive into the Civil Rights Movement. I’ve read a score of books about China in the twentieth century, particularly the Mao years. I’ve learned about Star Wars and Infinity Wars and break dancing. And . . . I’ve learned how to allow my children to find their own path.
Oddly enough, it is the same with characters. Sometimes I have to direct them towards a certain action but mostly I just let them find their own road, make their mistakes, and grow. My characters have people who help them along the way and so do my kids. My characters—like my kids—introduce me to things I didn’t know before: growing up in the 1940s, serving in Vietnam, being a waist gunner in World War 2.
As I continue being a parent and a writer, I look forward to more discoveries along the way. Both kids and characters have to stumble to grow—the biggest difference is that it’s a lot harder to see the kids stumble.
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