Of campus visits and character development

Last week, my husband and I accompanied our son on a college visit. The outcome of the visit was never in doubt. My husband and I both received our undergraduate degrees from this university, and I've worked at it for almost 20 years. We know it well. Our son, who didn't even look at any other universities, applied and was admitted to the program of his choice last fall.

Still, we encouraged him to make an official visit on the off chance that he, as a prospective student, might not like what he saw. The visit was everything a parent could hope for: Demonstrations of beloved traditions, a walking tour of campus, meetings with his future professors, opportunities to explore extra-curricular activities. At the end of the day, he believed he'd made the right choice.

As expected.

What I didn't expect was my reaction to the visit, on two fronts.

First, I didn't expect that visiting campus as a mom would be so different from the way I experienced it as a student or see it now as an employee. But the mom lens colored the whole day. Will he be happy in the dorms? Will he and his stuff be safe? What supports are available if he struggles in any of his classes? Will he have opportunities to connect with mentors, pursue internships, participate in study abroad?

Will he get enough to eat?

As a mom, I have different priorities and different responsibilities and different questions for my alma mater.

Second, I didn't expect to get sideswiped by nostalgia. Our walking tour of campus took us through the journalism school building, where I practically lived for my last two years at the university. I've only been back inside once or twice since graduation 30 years ago, and the changes were unsettling. They moved the student newspaper newsroom, the center of my life for half my college career? I felt my heart break a little. I guess I expected time to stand still, even though I haven't?

These two unexpected reactions, part of the roller coaster of my emotions as my kiddo grows up and prepares to leave home, got me to thinking about a problem I'm having with one of the characters in the manuscript I'm working on now. She started off strong but lost her voice halfway through the story. The problem, I think, is that she's not layered enough. She has only one role at the moment, not the multiple roles (alumna, employee, mom) that give characters depth and inspire the strong, sometimes conflicting, emotions that motivate them and make the story sing for readers.

I have more work ahead to write her well. As I tackle revisions, my goal is to get to know her better as a whole person who has diverse interests, a lifetime of experiences, and, maybe, unexpected reactions to the fictional world around her.