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Friends, as today’s blog is coming out on Thanksgiving Day, I thought it might be enjoyable and instructive to turn the festivities into a learning opportunity as writers.

Holiday gatherings can be a pressure cooker for human behavior. Family dynamics are turned up to 11, there’s a fair amount of stress whether you’re in charge of the meal, hosting, or just plunging into a gathering of loved ones that may be fraught. Even Friendsgiving gatherings can come with tension and stress. You may feel pressure to be “on” or put on a happy face you aren’t feeling.

Expectations are high and reality may never live up to the shiny ideal we see in movies and Hallmark specials, potentially leading to disappointment, frustration, or disillusionment. People may be tired or stressed from travel or food prep. We may eat too much and get grouchy or full of self-recrimination. There may be some strain or disagreement, whether from current frictions or old hot-button issues being touched off. There may be sorrow and depression.

On the plus side, it’s a fantastic petri dish for observing character, so why not use the distraction of developing your writing craft as a release valve and coping device?

Start with Objective Distance and Mindful Observation

One way I’ve learned to handle potentially charged interpersonal situations is by taking a mental step back and observing behaviors, as one might in a zoo.

It lets me maintain some level of healthy detachment so that I don’t get sucked into habitual reactive behaviors of my own in response. I create some objective distance that gives me space to simply notice the dynamics and my own reactions, rather than letting them dictate my mood or actions.

The unintentional side benefit of that is that it enriches your understanding of human psychology and behavior—which in turn can help you create more complex, believable, unique characters in your writing.

Let’s use combative hypothetical Uncle Freddy as an example. Is he going off in the middle of dinner on another of his angry long-winded rants about politics or religion or current events? Instead of reacting the way you usually might, see if you can step back with some writerly objectivity and analyze his behavior to inform your writing.

What can you learn about characterization and story by observing this interesting specimen of animal behavior?

How Holiday Dinners Can Make You a Better Writer

Why might your uncle be acting this way? What presses Freddy’s buttons and makes him so upset about these issues? Or is this his habitual MO or a defining personality trait—to go on the offensive, to shock, to shoehorn his opinion into any gathering?

Do you think he’s like this with everyone, or just family—or just a particular part of the family? Is he always like that, or just at holidays…or just when he drinks…or just in election years…or just when he’s out of work? How do his circumstances or surroundings impact his behavior?

Where do you suppose his behavior stems from—what’s Uncle Freddy’s backstory? What sensitive nerve in him might the conversation have hit? What vulnerability might it be pressing a thumb on that makes him feel uncomfortable or threatened or need to compensate? What defensiveness might be touched off? What wound or history or pattern of family dynamics do you suppose his reactions could be rooted in?

When he’s in the middle of a heated diatribe, what does he look like? What is his face doing, his expressions—can you describe it? What’s his demeanor, his affect, his body language? What’s the tone of his voice or his volume?

So much of bringing characters to life in the page is letting readers “see” them in action. As you sit calmly sipping your wine and watching Freddy like an especially interesting National Geographic documentary, what is it specifically that you’re seeing that lets you interpret his actions and words as angry or offensive or condescending or combative? Being able to articulate that will allow you to let readers see such behaviors in your characters, and lead them to the conclusions you want them to draw in a vivid, visceral way that engages them directly in the story.

How about the others around the table? How is Freddy’s conduct affecting them—and how do their reactions heighten the impact of Freddy’s actions? What are you seeing, specifically and concretely, that leads you to that conclusion about each person’s reaction or thoughts?

Is Mom’s smile fixed and her eyes glassy in a way that tells you she’s checked out and is just waiting for the storm to pass? Why—is she used to Freddy’s rants? Or conflict-averse? Or someone who buries her anger down deep? Does her behavior on top of Freddy’s make Stepdad pick up the slack by cracking a few lame jokes that fall flat, in an effort to ease the tension? Why—is he a people-pleaser? The Switzerland of the family? What about everyone else—how are they affected, and how do you know?

Noticing the interactions and reactions among other people in the room helps you stretch your muscle of painting scenes fully, beyond just the protagonists’ actions, and weaving in the complex human dynamics that make up such a huge part of who your characters are, who they have been, what they do, and why.

Pay attention to how you’re reacting too. What does it feel like inside you when Freddy starts spouting things that rub you the wrong way? Can you describe it? Is it a flutter in your stomach, a pit, a flush of heat? Do you tighten up, clenching your jaw or your fists or your thigh muscles? Does your heart rate increase, your breathing? What’s going on in your head—are you judging him as a person because of his beliefs, or reacting to what he’s actually said on the face of his words? Is he touching on some nerve inside you, and if so what is it? Why does it upset you so much, can you articulate that?

Read more: “The Best Character Tool You May Not Be Using”

Paying attention to our own reactions and inner life helps you convey your those of your characters fully, realistically, and intimately enough to bring readers into their direct perspective. Examining closely why we react as we do sheds light on developing complex character motivations, assumptions, expectations, and misbeliefs.

How Holiday Dinners Can Make You a Better Human

I’ve started practicing this detached observation in especially difficult or charged situations and find that not only does it increase my understanding of character, but it often helps me regulate my own knee-jerk reactions, deepen my understanding of myself and my fellow humans, and feel more compassion and connection.

If someone says something that hits on a deeply held difference of ideology, for instance, then rather than react the way I would have in the past by snapping back a retort or contradicting their statement with a litany of my facts, I try to take a breath and simply notice for a beat.

What’s going on inside me, and how is that affecting me? What’s making me feel the urge to counter or be combative as opposed to listening to their opinion? Why do I think their personal perspective demands my response? That’s not a rhetorical question but an actual one. These visceral reactions we have to people’s words and actions are real, and it’s instructive to understand ourselves by paying attention to what’s causing them and to our own motivations (and that can also strengthen our ability to create three-dimensional, fully fleshed characters).

But it’s equally illuminating to pay attention to what someone is saying versus what I’m hearing. Where might I be making assumptions about their meaning, or even their character, because of my own internal messaging, rather than what they’ve actually said? Where might I be contributing to our friction or misunderstandings with my own expectations or biases? And where does that internal messaging come from for me?

Read more: “Using Assumptions to Strengthen Your Storytelling”

It’s also useful to try to put myself in their skin for a moment and imagine what they must be feeling and why. Whatever they believe is likely as real and heartfelt to them as my perspective is to me. I may not agree with it, but can I try to hear it and understand it? If I can I find I feel closer. More connected. I may still not agree with them, but I can avoid demonizing them or reducing them to a generalization or stereotype simply because I don’t. (Which may also help you develop more nuanced, compelling antagonists.)

Practicing these skills might make your holiday gatherings a little smoother. It will certainly benefit your writing and your character development. But what if it could also help make the world a little less divided, and a little more kind?

That’s something to be thankful for indeed.

Authors, I also want to take a quick moment to tell you how thankful I am for you as well. You are the reason I’m here; you make my work feel meaningful and useful and allow me to pursue a creative career that brings me enormous satisfaction and joy. You bring into the world the stories that I believe are essential to our enjoyment, our understanding, and our humanity. I’m grateful for each of you. Happy Thanksgiving, friends. (And good luck with Uncle Freddy.)

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