Diving Into the World of Character Creation by Connie Berry

Do readers read for the plot or for the characters? Writing coach Nathan Bransford says these two elements of a novel are inseparable. Characters make the plot interesting, and the plot creates conflict that forces characters to make choices.

That is certainly true, but I would add that every novel needs at least one character the reader cares about and roots for. That was the problem with Gone Girl in my opinion—brilliant writing, yes; plenty of conflict, yes. But there was no one the reader could get behind and root for. Amy and Nick were two despicable people who, in the end, deserved each other. I felt sorry for their unborn child. I can’t tell you how many people told me they finished the book and threw it across the room.

People may not remember a plot, but they will remember an interesting and vividly presented character. Take Hercule Poirot. I couldn’t give you a plot summary for most of his stories, but I could describe him to you in great detail.

So how do we craft our characters so that readers remember them? I’ve been reading Neil Gaiman recently. Have you heard of his funny hats metaphor?

“When you have a lot of characters wandering around you need to help your reader. And one of the ways that I’ve always liked to do that is what I call ‘funny hats’…You give your character something that makes that character different from every other character in the book…You’re holding the reader’s hand a little bit, and you’re making sure that they’re never confused.” (Neil Gaiman from his Masterclass “The Art of Storytelling.”)

Gaiman’s advice works not only for main characters but even for the characters that appear on stage for a single scene. Why not make them memorable too? I had a lot of fun putting Gaiman’s advice to work in my new novel A Collection of Lies (coming June 2024). My great advantage in creating memorable characters is the fact that my books are set in England where eccentricity is not only tolerated but celebrated. In 1933, Dame Edith Sitwell published a study entitled “The English Eccentrics.” A case-in-point was her own father, who put up a sign at the entrance to his house: “I must ask anyone entering the house never to contradict me or differ from me in any way, as it interferes with the functioning of the gastric juices and prevents my sleeping at night.”

Here's a preview of one of my minor characters in A Collection of Lies. Kate and Tom want to question Lady Helen Merivale, an elderly lady who gives tours of her crumbling family mansion to supplement her income:

The stern facade of Merivale House met us. This was no posh country house in the home counties, but a working farm constructed of stone painstakingly cleared from the land. We rang the bell and waited. And waited. We were beginning to think Lady Helen wasn’t home when we heard the scuttling of a key in a lock. The door opened.

 

“Yes?” A tall, elderly woman eyed us suspiciously. “What do you want?”

 

“We’re here for the tour,” I said. “The brochure said you’re open on Fridays between one and three.”

 

“I know what day it is,” she snapped. “I haven’t gone doolally yet. You’d better come in. I can’t afford to heat the entire outdoors.” She beckoned us into a dank entryway lit by a pair of wall sconces. “Will you keep your jackets?”

 

We nodded. It wasn’t much warmer inside than out.

Lady Helen Merivale must have been in her mid to late seventies. Her spine was straight and her gray eyes clear, but her hands, gnarled and roped with veins, betrayed her age. She wore a baggy tweed skirt and a pale-blue blouse buttoned to her neck, around which hung a single strand of pearls. Over the blouse, she’d layered a battered wax Barbour, and over that what appeared to be a man’s heavy wool jacket with the sleeves rolled up.

 

Tom pulled out his wallet. “Forty pounds—is that right?” The cost of the tour was outrageous.

 

“For the tour. Refreshments are extra, and the chapel is closed today.” Her cut-glass accent was matched by an air of snobbery com­pletely at odds with her grimy fingernails and thrift-store ensemble. She took the bills and shoved them into the pocket of her wool jacket, glaring at us as if daring us to reclaim our money. “Shall we begin?”

 

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For authors, how might you give each of your characters a “funny hat?”

Readers, what fictional characters are forever cemented in your mind?