Who Are Those People?

Since I seem to be having difficulty concentrating on writing again today, I thought I’d write a little bit about writing.

Often, people ask me about where my characters “come from.” Sometimes it is a family member or friend who thinks they have recognized themselves or another person in one of my characters. Other times the question comes from aspiring writers looking for a few tips.

I don’t know if I can fully answer the question, but I will try.

Rainie is not me. Sure, we share some characteristics; that’s only natural when writing in first person. But she isn’t supposed to be me…

That being said, when I read back on books I wrote much earlier than Rainie, it is odd that the main characters also have many of my characteristics and quirks, and their thoughts seem to reflect a bit of what my life was like at the time. I read what Natalie and Katrin and even (in a book probably never to be published) Ilsa are thinking, and I can see my own evolution as an adult human being. The way I thought and felt and behaved thirty years ago (Ilsa) is a far cry from the person I am today (Rainie.)

I am not saying my novels should be read as autobiographies; quite the contrary. My main characters might share my opinions and fears, but they tend to behave much better than me in most cases. They are braver and stronger than me… and they certainly have far greater adventures. In many ways, they are what I wish to be, maybe even what I aspire to be.

Then we have all the peripheral characters. For instance, Rainie’s friends. The best way I ave found to explain where they came from: I took all of my friends and some acquaintances (past and present) and threw them into a big pot. I gave it a good stir and scooped some out a bit at a time, and each scoop was another character. So one of Rainie’s friends might look like one of my friends, but be married to a totally different acquaintance, and behave like two or three others.

I assume all writers do this, to one degree or another. After all, fiction, while “made up,” is really just a construct of our thoughts and memories, which in turn are constructs of our experiences and dreams. So whether I’m putting my characters in a fictional world like Shivan or the real (but still fiction-distorted) world of Buchanan Michigan, they are the product of what I know and feel.

Some things are easy to identify: for instance, Rainie’s pet iguana, George, is just my old pet, Iggy, who yes, was a very large iguana who lived in a very large cage, who loved his fresh veggies and would show his displeasure with a whip of that magnificent tail.

Thelma, Rainie’s outrageous elderly companion, is based on my own wonderful mother. My mom’s true nature, I believe, was often suppressed by circumstances and health issues, but that spark of mischief was there, and she was one of the bravest people I ever had the honor to know.

Rainie’s siblings might seem to be based on my own in some respects, but actually they are just other aspects of myself at different stages of my life, exaggerated for a bit of comedy and drama. If my actual siblings happen to also have some of those characteristics, well… genetics might play a part in that.

And the bad guys in my books? Well, they are all around me, and while I choose to exclude them from my actual life as much as possible, it is rather amusing to let Rainie get revenge on them. The funny thing is, those people will probably never recognize themselves if they chance to read the books, but that is just the nature of bad people, and a philosophical discussion I don’t plan to get into here.

I don’t know if this clears anything up for you, but it is the best I can do. Feel free to leave a comment on this blog… but also keep in mind that I often wear the sweatshirt my editor gave me which says “careful, or you’ll end up in my next novel.”