You might think I’m a fashionista based on how much I like to dress up my dog. Trust me, his clothing is for functional purposes only. Tock has short fur and in below-freezing and snowy conditions, he starts lifting up his paws from the cold if he’s not wearing a jacket. And as for the fact that he currently owns five jackets, this is because all but one were inherited from the dogs in our household who came before him.
But when I think of Tock, I don’t consider what jacket he’s wearing, or if, in fact, he’s wearing anything at all. Instead, I recall the intent expression in his eyes as he switches his gaze back and forth between me and the object he wants me to throw. I think of his confidence when his ears and tail are upright, or his fear when he runs up to me, ears pressed back, tail between his legs. His boastfulness (and naughtiness) when he leaps up on me to show off the latest pinecone in his collection. His happiness to see me when he “grins” as I come in the door. His obsessive desire for toys exhibited by pawing at something, though often the thing he’s pawing isn’t the thing he actually wants. His desire to be as big a pest as possible and get me to pay attention to him either by standing at my elbow while I’m typing, or by diving between my legs while we’re on a walk. I’m not sure what he’s thinking when he sings along to my son’s clarinet and saxophone, but he’s adorable nonetheless.
In short, my dog is way, way more than just a jacket. He’s got more aspects to his personality than he has nicknames (thirteen at last count, way too corny to share). All of his actions and feelings add up to make him who he is: the incomparable, totally unique Tock.
I hope all this talk of Tock has got you thinking about the characters who are important in your own life. Of course, if you’re a writer, this includes the cast of people, animals, and possibly other creatures that occupy your stories. By making them unique, you’ll turn them into personalities that readers will fall in love with and will never forget.
When I reflect on the book characters who are most memorable to me, certain aspects of their natures stand out. The spirit and love for family that young Joseph Johnson displays in Dan Gemeinhart’s Some Kind of Courage. The courage and resourcefulness of the “skinjacker” Allie in Neal Shusterman’s Everlost. The loyalty of Tock in Norton Juster’s The Phantom Tollbooth. (Yes, I named my dog after him.) I could go on and on about characters in lots of Middle-Grade books (the genre in which I write), but it’s true for all the other genres I enjoy reading as well.
One thing is constant. Even if I last read a book years ago, the thing I remember most about its characters is their temperament: those parts of their nature that make up their identity. I have no recollection of what they looked like (well, except for the dog with a giant clock embedded in his side. Kind of hard to forget that). I don’t remember what sort of clothing they wear, the color of their eyes, the length of their hair, the shape and size of their body—unless these things featured in some important way in the plot.
NOTE TO WRITER SELF: Avoid description of what a character looks like unless absolutely necessary! If you must, include the briefest possible mention of it. Concentrate instead on how a character acts and speaks.
To be fair, I must return to the subject of dog jackets. Tock’s puffy red one, for instance, has special significance to me because it used to belong exclusively to his older sister Moth. By the time she died, the zipper was broken and the whole thing really wasn’t functional anymore. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out because it made me feel as if I were losing Moth all over again. Not only is it quite useful for Tock as an inner layer when the temps dip into the teens, but putting Tock in it made me feel a lingering connection to my dear departed girl. And who knows, maybe he retains some fleeting memories of her every time he wears it, too. So when my husband (a master sewer in addition to being a master engineer) replaced the zipper and gave it to me, it was the best present I ever got. That jacket is much more than a jacket. It’s a symbol.
SECOND NOTE TO WRITER SELF: Symbols can include items of clothing, along with many other things.
Oh, come on, you might be thinking. Do dogs really understand symbols? Now that Moth’s scent is long gone from that jacket, Tock may not think of her anymore when he wears it—but I sure do. And be assured that Tock has plenty of other symbols in his life that he does understand. His pinecones, tennis balls, frisbee, and sticks all symbolize “work.” His rubber chicken, squeaky balls, and fluffy toys symbolize “play.” His bedtime racoon squirrel symbolizes “comfort,” as do the pillows he likes to rest his head upon. His button board represents a selection of the words that are most important to him (note: the ”Love You” button is wishful thinking on our part, as Tock only likes to engage in affection for about five minutes per day, total). As a whole, these things represent Tock and his world, and if I think of any one of them, I immediately think of him.
So when you craft your characters, make special note of the things that are important to them, of the physical mannerisms they engage in when they’re feeling a certain way, of the way they speak to others and the way they think to themselves. To quote Salman Rushdie, characters are “inexhaustibly interesting.” But it’s up to us to write them into a three-dimensional reality that’s as full as it can possibly be.
Happy Tales!
Flights of Fancy 