What's in a Name? by Dianne K. Salerni

Shakespeare’s Romeo said that “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” But I wonder, would a character named Rose have the same personality if the author changed her name to Daisy?

In 2011, when I started planning a story about a secret dayof the week, the protagonist came to me with his name already selected. By him. “I’m Jax,” he said, and since I was toying with the idea of setting the story in a fantasy world, I didn’t object at first. But when I decided to set the story in modern day U.S.A, I thought I needed to change his name. American boys weren’t named Jax. (In 2011, I had never heard of that name.)

The problem was, Jax wouldn’t change his name. Not even to something close, like Jack. Somehow, an entire personality had become attached to that name. Jax was stubborn and had a smart mouth on him, but he was also good-hearted and likeable and loyal to a fault. He was impetuous, prone to making mistakes, but always willing to take responsibility for his actions and make things right. All those things had somehow become uniquely tied to three letters: J-A-X.

(Of course, by the time the book was published, I found myself encountering the name Jax or Jaxon everywhere. So, he was right all along.)

I’m not the only author who’s experienced this name-character connection.  Susan Lynn Meyer reports that after hearing the name September Rose (a friend’s daughter’s friend), she immediately knew she had the name of the MG for her book Skating with the Statue of Liberty. She tells me, “I can't exactly say why, maybe because it is such a vivid and unique name, but the name September Rose (Seppie for short) conjured up to me an African-American girl who is full of confidence, energy, and joie de vivre, even in the face of discrimination. She wants to be a singer and dancer, like her idol Josephine Baker.”

In Diana Peterfreund’s Secret Society Girl series, a character with the code name Poe is eventually revealed to have the real name of James. However, when the protagonist first called him by that name, the author got a surprise. He shouted that nobody called him James; his name was Jamie. “The scene took ME by surprise,” she says. “I didn't even think of trying to change it. He was so certain.”

Another character who chose her own name is Fairday Morrow. In the book, The Secret Files of Fairday Morrow, readers find out that her mother, Pru, grew up in Nantucket. Because her baby daughter’s gray eyes reminded her of the ocean, Pru named her child after a phrase local fishermen said to tourists. Authors Jessica Haight and Stephanie Robinson say that Fairday’s name inspired her character: “Fairday has an even-keeled personality that built up around her name, though we'd say she does have her own style!”

I could share countless other stories of how my characters’ name choices drove the development of their personality, such as my feisty and ever-truthful Verity Boone and Riley Pendare—who in my original story notes was named Wiley, but who changed his name and hijacked his intended role just before I started the first chapter. Rather than recount them all, I’ll leave you with some writing advice from Diana Peterfreund. When it comes to characters’ names, the characters know best.  

“Follow the names,” Diana says. “Always follow the names.”

The Enneagram for character development by Joanna Roddy

I have to confess, I put little stock in personality tests. They seem too generic, like magazine horoscopes that, with a little finagling, could apply to anyone. The tests are fun to take, but they're more like acceptable vanity exercises. Only the saints and psychologists among us really dig into understanding types other than their own. At best we say: "Oh you're an INFJ? I'm an ENFJ!" and remark on our shared traits and the differences between introverts and extroverts. 

But recently a psychologist friend introduced me to a personality system she uses in her practice, and I have found it incredibly helpful, both personally and in my relationships. Recently I decided to use it in my writing as well. I was having a hard time making certain characters distinct and clear. Using this system, two-dimensional characters suddenly popped up off the page. I began to understand what motivated them, how they would react in situations, what they might say (or not say), what vice they might gravitate toward, and what core virtue would emerge under the right circumstances. In short, it was character development magic. 

The Enneagram:

The personality typing system is called the Enneagram, and it articulates nine personality types that are interrelated. In an extremely condensed form, here are the nine types and their core motivations:

Type 1: The Reformer/ Perfectionist. "I must be/ do right."

Type 2: The Helper/ Giver. "I must help others."

Type 3: The Achiever/ Motivator/ Performer. "I must succeed."

Type 4: The Individualist/ Artist/ Romantic. "I must be unique."

Type 5: The Observer/ Investigator/ Thinker. "I must understand the world around me."

Type 6: The Loyalist/ Skeptic. "I must be secure."

Type 7: The Enthusiast/ Adventurer. "I must seek new experiences."

Type 8: The Challenger/ Leader. "I must be in control."

Type 9: The Peacemaker/ Mediator. "I must have/make peace."

Each personality type perceives these motivations as the means for them to be safe, to have meaning in their lives, or to be loved.

There are a lot more details to each type, like key fears and desires, and basic virtues and vices. Check out this cheat sheet from Wikipedia (click to enlarge):

Integration/ Disintegration:

What I like about the Enneagram is its nuance and complexity. We all know that a healthy or growing person and an unhealthy or stressed person behave in totally different ways, even if they share personality traits. The Enneagram predicts what traits emerge under stress and during personal growth.  Every Enneagram type uniquely integrates to the healthiest characteristics of another type and disintegrates to the least healthy behaviors of a different type.

For example, threes integrate to a six and disintegrate to a nine. Achieving threes can be self-focused, but with maturity, they look more like other-focused healthy sixes. Threes can be driven, but under stress they begin to look like unhealthy nines: disengaged and apathetic.

Wings:

Enneagram types can have an even greater degree of complexity by demonstrating traits from one of the numbers adjacent to them, which are called wings. The wing augments the primary personality. So you can have an observant five with an artistic four wing, which might produce a professorial art school type, or an achieving three with a helpful two wing might be an front-person for a non-profit organization. These are gross generalizations, but I find the flexibility of wings accounts for a wide array of personality manifestations, even among people who share a primary type. It keeps it all from becoming too canned and stereotyped, but not so general as to become meaningless. 

In Writing:

The Enneagram goes much farther and deeper than this crash course, and those who are interested could spend a lot of time learning about it. I think most of us instinctively pick up on others' personalities, especially writerly types who want to write believable characters. If people were clocks, we immediately perceive the difference between a cuckoo clock, a grandfather clock, a digital clock and an alarm clock. We get, on a basic level, what makes them tick. The Enneagram, then, is effectively like a screwdriver that removes the backing so we can see the actual mechanics at work. 

The most helpful aspect of the Enneagram for me is the basic fears and desires. It helps me to know how a character is going to react to the sticky situations I put them in. For example, one of my characters is an adventurous seven. When his parents want him to go into the military for a war he doesn't agree with, his response is to hop a plane out of the country. A seven's core fear is being trapped or in pain and their spontaneity can make them impulsive, so this response makes sense for him, drastic though it may seem. Another of my characters is a loyal six. A six's basic fear is making the wrong decision. They need guidance to orient themselves. In this situation, my six character would have struggled with living up to his parents' expectations. In fear of making the wrong decision for himself, he probably would have enlisted despite his own reservations. And that would have made for an entirely different plot.

A Warning: 

Fully fledged characters will still surprise us. They should never act against their own character, but they might step out of the box that a personality type wants to put them in. A challenger-leader eight who tends toward domineering might unexpectedly resist the urge to step into an argument, which would mean something substantial for that character. Perhaps they are moving in their direction of integration to look like a helping two, or they've newly realized that winning a fight is less effective than leading by example. This flexibility is how we avoid stereotypes and wooden characters. I like that the Enneagram allows for the changes brought on by maturing or devolving or blending a couple of personality types together. But once these type of tools have helped you build your writing, like scaffolding, they should fall away and let the real, living world on the page play itself out as it must. Using the Enneagram as a tool, not as a law, is the best way. 

Resources:

Start with the Enneagram Institute site and the Enneagram of Personality Wikipedia page. From there, there are lots of books, sites, and articles available to learn more about the Enneagram. And here's a link the the long version of the test if you want to find out what Enneagram type you are and to a shorter version and another type of short test. The last one is my favorite. I apologize in advance for the productive time you will inevitably lose on those tests, but if it gets you to an understanding of good character building, then I think you don't have to feel too guilty about it. 

Please leave a comment if you've used the Enneagram or other personality typing for character building! I'd love to hear your insights. And here's something I'm deeply curious to know: do the main characters you write have the same personality type as you do? Happy writing!

Marrying Story Structure and Character Arcs by Joanna Roddy

I'm a natural planner, but over the past year or two, I've been trying to loosen up and just write, as I've shared here before. But, at least for me, even when I'm letting the story lead me step by step as I'm writing it, I like to still have in my head the big beats I need to hit and where I hope to arrive at the end. I've also tried to press into character arcs as an equally important motion of the plot. 

As I've been working on my current project, I've discovered an approach that is giving me what seems to be the perfect balance between plan and discovery and between plot and character. I've been wanting to share this technique with you, and it makes a nice dovetail to Chris's post last week on layering plot and character in story. 

You may have heard about seven point plot structure before. It's kind of a hero's journey lite, if you're familiar with that approach. I heard about seven point plot structure from a writer friend, but when I looked it up, the blogs I found only confused me. Hook? Pinch Point? Plot Turn? The descriptions were vague and uninspiring. 

But then my friend directed me to the videos of Dan Wells presenting at a writing symposium using the seven points for story structure. If you want a quick master class on writing, I encourage you to set aside forty-five minutes and take yourself out to coffee with headphones, a laptop, and this link. 

In the case that you don't have time to go watch the whole thing right now, I'll give you the one paragraph summary in the order Wells directs you to plan the points (which is not the order they will happen in your story): 

1. Figure out how you want the story to end (Resolution). 
2. Create a beginning with an opposite status quo (Hook). 
3. The middle should be when your character makes the deliberate choice to pursue the Resolution (Midpoint). 
4. Set the character in motion from the Hook toward the Midpoint. Call them out of the status quo and introduce conflict (Plot Turn 1). 
5. Get the character the last and most important thing they need to accomplish the Resolution (Plot Turn 2). 
6. Apply pressure, force your characters to action, and create hurdles to their goals on either side of your Midpoint (Pinch Points 1 and 2). 

So now you have your seven points. This is the order they'll occur for your reader:

This is pretty straightforward stuff. It's a way to do it, and it pretty nearly encompasses most story-telling from a western worldview. What I like most about Wells's presentation is when he takes the character arcs, main plot, and subplots (using The Matrix as his example) and charts where each point of the the story structure occurs for each one and how they then weave together in the chronology of the story. 

This got me excited and it got me thinking about how seven point plotting takes shape for characters, something Wells doesn't have time to fully unpack during his presentation.

I understood the idea of a Hook to Resolution arc for any character, but the finer details evaded me. I had to dig a little deeper to understand what a Midpoint would mean for a character arc. That's when I discovered this excellent series of posts by K.M. Weiland. 

She argues that in the beginning of a story, the hero is operating from a lie about who they are, what they are capable of, or what the world is like. This lie shapes who they are and how they are. The Resolution for that character will be to reject the lie and learn, accept, and live out the truth instead. So, then, the Midpoint is when the character is able to finally see and accept the truth, but still has not rejected the lie or its effects on their choices. This enlightens the rest of the seven points for character arc. The Plot Turns introduce the truth, expose the lie, and give the character what they need to reach the Resolution. The Pinch Points refute the truth, reinforce the lie, and create barriers to the character's journey to truth. 

Brilliant stuff, right? To have this internally-driven structure woven into the externally-driven one allows for complexity, ingenuity, and well-rounded characters amidst a satisfying story. 

As I'm drafting a novel right now, the seven plot points are really helping. Some of the story points will happen simultaneously with character points, but some will occur separately. Many of the points are already clear scenes in my mind. But there are so many other scenes and so much happening between the points in order to get the story there, they serve more as guideposts than outline. It's definitely pacifying my inner Hermione Granger who needs to have answers, but it's giving spaciousness for the story to open itself to me as I write it. I'm loving that balance.

Have you used seven point plot structure before? Have you applied it to character development? Have you encountered other teachers/bloggers/writers who have an approach to it that you've found helpful? Please share in the comments below!

Plot-Driven or Character-Driven? Why Not Both! by Chris Eboch

Author Chris Eboch

This post is adapted from You Can Write for Children: How to Write Great Stories, Articles, and Books for Kids and Teenagers, from Chapter 5: Characters.

Some authors prefer to start with a plot idea, while others start with an interesting character. Either can work, but ultimately the plot and character must work together. Let’s start with a look at character development, as it intersects with plot.

A strong story needs conflict. Without conflict, you have one of those “slice of life” episodes that isn’t a real story. But conflict doesn’t just come from dramatic things happening. It comes from the character – what he or she needs and wants, and why he or she can’t get it easily. Conflict comes from a character with a problem or a goal.

Let’s start with a premise: a kid has a math test on Monday. Exciting? Hardly. But ask two simple questions, and you can add conflict.

·     Why is it important to the character? The stakes should be high. The longer the story or novel, the higher stakes you need to sustain it. A short story character might want to win a contest; a novel character might need to save the world.

·     Why is it difficult for the character? Difficulties can be divided into three general categories, traditionally called man versus man, man versus nature, and man versus himself. You can even have a combination of these. For example, someone may be trying to spy on some bank robbers (man versus man) during a dangerous storm (man versus nature) when he is afraid of lightning (man versus himself).

For our kid with the math test, here’s one example: It’s important because if he doesn’t pass, he’ll fail the class, have to go to summer school, and not get to go to football camp, when football is what he loves most. Assuming we create a character readers like, they’ll care about the outcome of this test and root for him to succeed.

Our football lover could have lots of challenges – he forgot his study book, he’s expected to baby-sit a sibling, a storm knocked out the power, he has ADHD, or he suffers test anxiety. But ideally we’ll relate the difficulty to the reason it’s important. So let’s say he has a game Sunday afternoon and is getting pressure from his coach and teammates to practice rather than study. Plus he’d rather play football anyway.

We now have a situation full of potential tension. Let the character struggle enough before he succeeds (or fails and learns a lesson), and you’ll have a story. And if these two questions can pump up a dull premise, just think what they can do with an exciting one!

Fears and Desires

As that example shows, conflict comes from the interaction between character and plot. You can create conflict by setting up situations that force a person to confront their fears. If someone is afraid of heights, make them go someplace high. If they’re afraid of taking responsibility, force them to be in charge.

For example, my middle grade fantasy The Genie’s Gift is set in the fifteenth-century Middle East and draws on the mythology of 1001 Arabian Nights. It could have been simply a magical adventure tale, but the main character gives the story depth. She is anything but the typical swashbuckling hero:

“Thirteen-year-old Anise, shy and timid, dreads marrying the man her father chooses for her. Her aunt tells her about the Genie Shakayak, the giver of the Gift of Sweet Speech, which allows one to charm everyone. Anise is determined to find the genie and ask for the gift, so she can control her own future. But the way is barred by a series of challenges, both ordinary and magical. How will Anise get past a vicious she-ghoul, a sorceress who turns people to stone, and mysterious sea monsters, when she can’t even speak in front of strangers?”

Because Anise is so desperate to reach her goal, she tackles challenges far beyond her comfort zone. This makes the dramatic action even more dramatic, while providing a sympathetic character and a theme about not letting your fears stop you from achieving your dreams.

You can also create conflict by setting up situations that oppose a person’s desires. Sometimes these desires are for practical things. In my middle grade mystery set in ancient Egypt, The Eyes of Pharaoh, the main character is a young temple dancer whose one goal is to win an upcoming contest. When her friend disappears, she has to decide if winning the contest is really more important than helping a friend.

Perhaps your character simply wants an ordinary life. In my Mayan historical novel, The Well of Sacrifice, Eveningstar never dreams of being a leader or a rebel. But when her family, the government, and even the gods fail to stop the evil high priest who is trying to take over the city, she’s forced to act. The reluctant hero is a staple of books and movies because it’s fun to watch someone forced into a heroic role when they don’t want it. (Think of Han Solo in Star Wars.)

To build conflict:

·     Start with the character’s goal. Create conflict by setting up situations which oppose a person’s needs and desires.

·     What does your main character want? What does he need? Make these things different, and you’ll add tension. It can be as simple as our football player who wants to practice football, but needs to study. Or it could be more subtle, like someone who wants to be protected but needs to learn independence. (Or the reverse, someone who wants independence but still needs to be protected. Those two characters could even be in the same story. Life is complex, with many shades of gray, and books can explore that.)

·     Even if your main problem is external (man versus man or man versus nature), consider giving the character an internal flaw (man versus himself) that contributes to the difficulty. Perhaps your character has a temper, is lazy, or refuses to ever admit she’s wrong. This helps set up your complications and as a bonus makes your character seem more real.

·     Your character may change or grow as a person during the story. This is called a character arc. A character who changes is usually more interesting than one who does not. However, growth does not always mean a reversal of attitude. The growth can come from reaffirming what the character already knew. For example, a child could know what is right but struggle to do it. In the end he does what is right, growing by following and reinforcing his beliefs.

·     A character’s growth can reflect your theme, by showing what the character learns.

·     Before you start, test the idea by considering different options. Change the character’s age, gender, or looks. Change the point of view. Change the setting. Change the internal conflict. What happens? Choose the combination that has the most dramatic potential.

·     The conflict must be important enough to sustain the story, and it must not be too easy to solve. This will vary by story length and readership age group.

·     It should take more than one attempt to solve the problem – three tries works well for shorter fiction. For longer fiction, add more attempts, or have each attempt made up of several parts.

·     To build original plots, brainstorm 10 possible things that could happen next. Pick the least likely, so long as it makes sense for the story.

Some writers start with plot ideas and then develop the character who’ll face those challenges, while others start with a great character and then figure out what he or she does. Regardless, remember to work back and forth between plot and character, tying them together with conflict.

You Can Write for Children: How to Write Great Stories, Articles, and Books for Kids and Teenagers offers an overview on writing for young people. Learn how to find ideas and develop those ideas into stories, articles, and books. Understand the basics of character development, plot, setting, and theme – and some advanced elements, along with how to use point of view, dialogue, and thoughts. Finally, learn about editing your work and getting critiques.

You Can Write for Children: How to Write Great Stories, Articles, and Books for Kids and Teenagers is available for the Kindle, in paperback, or in Large Print paperback.

Note: If you order the print or large print version from Amazon, you can get the Kindle version as a free add-on. You Can Write for Children includes many links to additional resources; in the Kindle version you can click to go directly to the websites or blogs listed. If you don't have a Kindle, download a free Kindle app for your computer.

Blurring the Line Between Good and Evil by Donna Galanti

My worn copy from school translated
by Ian Seraillier

I did a panel this weekend as a presenter at Liberty States Fiction Writers Create Something Magical Conference in New Jersey on the line between good and evil in fiction. This is a favorite topic I love to debate when it comes to writing and reading!

I write fantasy and it can be difficult to separate the idea of good and evil from the fantasy genre, which traces its ancestry back ages with stories about brave heroes battling hideous monsters or cruel tyrants.  Fantasy tales of long ago contain a clear good and bad side, like the hero Beowulf and monster Grendel, or the noble Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham (although personally I kind of feel bad for Grendel).

Here’s the original and translated beginning of the heroic epic poem Beowulf, written sometime between 700–1000 A.D. and primarily in the West Saxon dialect of Old English. It's grand poetic lyrical verse portraying good versus evil for sure! And it's actually a good middle grade read with beautiful language that could open up discussion with your child if you read it together (if you don't mind a little monster mayhem). And I did just this with my son.

Original manuscript from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beowulf with my translated copy

  

When J.R.R. Tolkien wrote The Lord of the Rings he continued this convention of white hats/black hats in fantasy, writing about the evil adversary of the dark lord and the band of courageous heroes that seeks to stop him. He wrote this during World War II, and at that time people had a clear definition of “evil.”

And in The Lord of the Rings the battle lines are clearly drawn between the ugly, vicious orcs as the “bad guys,” set against the handsome and brave alliance of elves and men. There is little doubt in the reader’s mind which character they should be rooting for; J.R.R. Tolkien practically stamped “evil” and “good” on the heads of the characters.

Anti-heroes blur the line now more than ever between good and evil in fiction, even though anti-heroes have been around a long time. But what exactly is an anti-hero? One way to look at it is this: if doing X makes a villain and doing Z makes a hero – what about those that choose option Y? These are the anti-heroes – and my favorite kind of character to write. To get a clearer picture, think 'Dirty Harry' and 'Mad Max'.

Anti-heroes are too good to be a villain, too evil to be a hero. They perfectly walk this line of good and evil, blurring the line. They are good guys who do bad things for all the right reasons.

Take Harry Potter which has examples of good, evil, and the anti-hero at play throughout the series. Harry = classic hero. Snape = anti-hero (a villain for the good guys). Voldemort = pure evil. As a reader, for me it’s a thrill when someone I perceived as bad turns out to be good, and vice versa. Like Snape in Harry Potter.

One of my favorite fantasy series is The Ranger's Apprentice by John Flanagan. In these books, good and evil are clearly drawn between the characters yet while we have heroes like the ranger, Halt, we also see him as a flawed hero - and to me, that makes him more relatable and appealing.

If we keep it in comic book terms, we have bad like Lex Luthor, good like Spiderman, or a mix like Batman. And Batman is the original comic book anti-hero as a creature of the night, striking from the shadows, and using fear as a weapon and working outside the law for justice.

Dragon Con 2012 by  Andrew Guyton

In my book Joshua and the Lightning Road, one of my favorite characters to write was the anti-hero Leandro. Why is he an anti-hero?

He is evil because: He kills “bad guys” like Child Collectors and anyone who gets in his way to further his cause to find his lost family.

He is good because: He self-sacrifices by giving up a life to find his family and helps others he deems “deserving of his help” along the way.

And I think we can all relate to that. It’s a universal feeling to want to protect those we love. And to get back to J.R.R.Tolkien, I actually fashioned Leandro’s spirit after my hero, Aragorn in Lord of the Rings, a tormented, self-sacrificing kind of hero who kills to protect those he cares about. 

But let me play devil’s advocate here. If boundaries help to differentiate between heroes and villains – and if someone is willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish their goals, can it lead them astray forever? Does the end justify the means?

I think it’s important that we as storytellers set up situations that allow readers to seek the truth about good and evil – and that we must do so in a compelling, engaging fashion. It’s our responsibility as writers for story to deeply impact people, otherwise we have failed as writers.

And, ultimately, every character is their own hero to themselves in every story – villain, hero, or anti-hero. Just as we are heroes in our own real life stories. 

As people we embody both good and evil, and our characters need to be equally as dimensional. The question is: have the days of white hats/black hats in stories been replaced by the flawed hero, anti-hero, and the relatable antagonist? And if so, which do you prefer? And who are some of your favorites in middle grade fiction?

A most definite "evil" character but did he deserve what he got?
Illustration by Bill Pesce