About American Book 

    Our Mission

    Our Promise

    The Imprints

Author Guide

     Author Introduction

    Book Production & Sales

    Working With Your Editor

 

Author Information

    Manuscript Submission

    Instruction & Guidelines

 

Bookstore

    American Book Titles

    Available Here And At

    Bookstores Near You.

 

Comments About Us

     Comments From The

     Industry & Authors About

     American Book. 

 

Media Information

    Company Information

    Press Releases

    Review Book Requests

 

Articles 

    Over 100 Articles All

    Written By Our Very Own

    Authors & Editors!

 

Rights & Permissions

    Information for obtaining

    Subsidiary Rights & Use

    Permissions.

 

Valuable Links For Writers

    Comprehensive List of

    Best Writer Resources.

 

Link To Us

    Instructions & Banners 

 

 

We Welcome Your Questions & Comments Please E-Mail Us Here

 

 

 

    

 

Consistent Characterization

 

 

You’ve all heard it. In fact, you’ve heard it so many times that it’s beyond cliché. It’s beyond old-hat. It’s just plain true: Telling an author to change his novel—and especially his characters—is like telling a new mother that her baby needs more hair or different eyes or (God forbid!) less babyfat.

There are differences, however. Telling an author to alter a character is not only forgivable; it can even be necessary. Let me give you an example: The main character—let’s call her Suzie—is a twenty-five-year-old writer. In the first ten pages, we learn Suzie’s age and occupation, and that Suzie is a 5’6" brunette with brown eyes who is wearing (this day, at least) jeans and a tight black T-shirt. The rest of the ten pages? Pure plot.

Making the first ten pages exciting is definitely not a mistake. Telling us Suzie’s vital stats can be. To make a character consistent, believable and interesting, you need to give the character depth and style. Suzie, so far, has neither.

So, first of all, what does "depth" mean? In the practical sense, depth is the detail that makes a character stand out. In the emotional sense, depth is what makes readers believe. Basically, depth covers the twenty-four years leading up to Suzie’s debut on paper.

Style is a part of that depth, plus a little more. Style equals personality. It’s not Suzie’s jeans and tight T. Style encompasses those little idiosyncrasies that individualize Person A from Person B. If Suzie’s wardrobe consists of three pairs of Old Navy jeans and two weeks’ worth of identical tight black T-shirts, this is part of Suzie’s style. If, however, Suzie’s clothing is nothing remarkable, then there is no reason to remark upon it.

Once you have a detailed, individualized character, it’s time to carry that characterization through the novel. If this is done inconsistently, all your work was for naught. If, however, you animate and illustrate these details, then your readers can’t help but identify and enjoy the people you’ve created. To do so, there are three main things you should concentrate on:

Being consistent within the story

Being consistent within the character, and

Being consistent within the reader’s mind.

To be story-consistent, the character must be believable. This believability requires a delicate balancing act between generalizing human experience and avoiding gross stereotypes. Think about the shared experiences of your audience—what most have been through (probably such things as American schools, waiting in line at McDonalds, and watching TV). Don’t buck the assumptions they’ve made unless you’ve got a good reason and you’re ready to describe it in the novel.

One easy illustration of this is character occupations. Let’s say that Suzie keeps in close contact with a college mentor, who recently became the university president. Readers will have trouble believing the casual aside that this university president was raised in the ghettos of San Juan and then spent ten years as a trapeze artist. Unless you are willing to waste valuable pages on the history of this high-flying mentor and his rise to power, his background should be relatively mundane.

To be character-consistent, the character’s personality must shine through…always. One common way to highlight a character trait is called "tagging." Tagging a character means giving the character a quirk that is omnipresent, that seems to call out "I AM THIS CHARACTER AND NOBODY ELSE" for your novel. This can be an action, a way of speech, anything that is unique and commonplace to one character. If you’re an X-Files fan, you’ve had plenty of experience with this. If you see a man with a cigarette in his mouth in an X-Files episode, it’s probably Cancer Man. This character’s tag is so well-recognized that his nickname is more familiar than his real name.

Notice, however, the subtlety of Cancer Man’s tag. It’s a cigarette in the typically non-smoking world of X Files. It’s easily seen, believably commonplace, relatively unique, yet you don’t get pounded over the head with it. Many novelists fall victim to one of three blunders: non-unique tags, ludicrous tags, or overdone tags.

If a tag is non-unique, it becomes a descriptor of the community, not the character. Ludicrous tags, on the other hand, make your readers skeptical. And overdone tags? These just make your readers groan. Overdone tags are the most common pitfall. The main character of one novel I edited was a laid-back young man prone to slang. He began every single piece of dialogue with "Yo." Sure, it was unique, but it made me want to slap the poor boy silly—not to mention the havoc it wreaked on serious scenes!

Finally, you have to make the character consistent within the readers’ minds. This means weaving the plot around the character, rather than tossing the character into a plot. Maybe a newspaper article sparked a terrific plot idea. You might also have a character floating around in your notes that is waiting for a great story. Don’t mix the two unless they match. If someone finishes this book and says, "Cool story, but I just never really thought Suzie fit in," you didn’t succeed at this.

To oversimplify, a basically good person should only be in a basically good role. Most likely a community volunteer or a social worker won’t be the murderer in your suspense novel. Take that same concept deeper: If the novel is about a farming family in Missouri, don’t insert a daughter whose quirks revolve around sophisticated mannerisms and who has trouble dealing with a quiet pace.

If you’ve given the character depth, you’ve doused her with style, and you’ve strung these bits through the entire novel, you should be proud. Your character will hit home with your audience, and hopefully make your novel a homerun for you too.

By Abigail Mieko Vargus, Editor at Large and a senior editor for American Book Publishing.

© 2005 American Book Publishing™ *All other trademarks used by permission. All rights reserved. Privacy Policy and Trademark Use Policy.