Reprinted from "Everyone's Got a Story -- 41 short stories from a new generation of Jewish writers." All rights reserved.T
o Build a Character:
It’s been said, our flaws are our good points taken to an extreme. In fact, the Hebrew word for character traits -- middot – also means measurement. Our traits exist along a continuum, each at a different measure. Level one might give you a mother of a large family who creatively and joyfully makes do with what she has. Level two might be a thrifty, though somewhat anxious kollel wife. Level three could translate into an obsessively cost-conscious octogenarian who squeezes five cups of tea from a single bag. Level four might be a hard-core miser who alienates his entire family and lives in utter, miserly seclusion. Sometimes, when inventing a character, I’ll take a flaw of my own, then crank it up seven notches to create a much more toxic version of me. He or she is no longer traceable to me – hopefully. I now feel free to add some other traits and concoct a different person entirely.
Exercise: Make a list of ten people who stand out for you in some way. Could be your first grade teacher, the schnorrer who plays the violin on Thirteenth Avenue, the neighbor who taught your son how to shoot baskets, the elderly man down the block who meticulously grooms Fifi, his beloved poodle, the Shabbos guest who was too helpful, the Sephardic seamstress with an unending supply of blessings and discounts for families in need. Or start with people you know really, really well. Then pick one.
For your first sentence describe the shape of their face, the color of their eyes, any feature that stands out. You don’t have to describe everything. Zero in on the defining or unusual physical traits. Shaggy, caterpillar eyebrows, or watery gray eyes, carefully tended, small white teeth, a tiny mole shaped like a half-moon. But here’s the trick. Don’t start analyzing their character or personality. Don’t tell me that she’s selfish or sweet-natured or has low self-esteem, please not that. Right now you’re simply gathering the physical facts about the person. In our rush to judge and make sense of these characters, to “capture” him or her, we stop seeing them and thus drain them of any complexity. This is where most people mess up.
Second sentence: Let me see the overall physical shape of the person. People need to know whether they’re dealing with a big, petite, wiry, hunched or plumpish person from the outset. It helps organize the person in their mind.
Third (Here you may need more than a sentence): Let’s see the clothes. What outfit does he or she usually wear? Our clothes choices reveal us, as do our accessories. A topaz flower brooch at the neck? Put that in. A Yankee cap with a ketchup stain on the brim? Yes. A white tie with tiny blue menorahs on it? Uh huh. And don’t forget the faded handkerchief tied around the wrist and the perfect knaitch in the Borsalino hat.
Fourth: What do they do with their hands when they talk? Do their hands move all over the place in jerky stops and starts or do they rest on the lap like two rolls of bread? If the hands are the fidgety type, what do they play with? Rings, ear lobes, the fringes of the tablecloth or tsitzis? How does the person walk? Remember, resist the impulse to psychoanalyze your character. Where are you likely to find him or her in the house? At an open refrigerator, on the porch swing, in the dining room, hunched over a shtender? Answering that question will clarify the answer to the next one: What do they like to do most? Cook, eat, read, learn, fix things, play Connect-4, fiddle with their shaitel? You can write a few sentences here, if you like. We’re warming up, getting your character in action.
Fifth sentence or rather paragraph: Have your character talk. Your appearance makes the first impression. The way you talk either confirms that impression or totally undermines it. Find the phrases the character likes to say, that somehow typifies the person. “…if you ask me…” “…Now listen up…” “Between me and you and the lamp post…” Don’t forget intonation: “So I went to the store? And I bought, like, a donut? And I paid for it?” If you wish, bring yourself into the scene now and have your character talk to you. Make the sentences short. Long chunks of straight dialogue hardly ever sound real (who in real life ever gets to string four sentences together without getting interrupted?). Let your own words break into your character’s sentences. Go back and forth. Snappy exchanges. Ask yourself if the person you’re talking to uses speech to put up barriers or to connect.
Sixth paragraph: Okay, okay. If you’d like to reflect on your character, how you feel around them, what their secret wish is, what makes them tick – go ahead, do so. Now’s your chance, because you’ve earned the right to offer an insight. Through careful use of detail and description, you’ve already laid the groundwork. You have built a character. (Though you may discover your analysis at this point is unnecessary.) And if you really want to challenge yourself, sift through all your words of description (minus the dialogue). Choose three or four of the most salient details to now try to capture the person. You may be able to boil down the essence of your character to a sentence or two.
Seder and Pesach
The above exercise is one way to warm up and write about a character. Another way is to simply write for ten minutes without stopping to pause, not even for a second (the free-writing method discussed earlier). This is an incredibly potent tool to push writers past their inhibitions and fears to release their most evocative writing. It really works. And here we have two approaches: the power of structure, of going step by step, of following a formula, and then there is the power of no rules, of running free, letting the imagination stretch and soar. Both are valid and have their place. I like to think of the two methods as: Seder (order) and Pessach (leaping). The first is an ordered kind of writing, the second is a time for leaping and taking chances.
