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My mom called early this morning, waking me out of an unusually sound sleep—a rarity for me these days as I’ve been wrestling with insomnia, but I’m trying to keep regular sleeping hours and was glad of her call.
Maybe because it was early, maybe because I’d just woken up and wasn’t yet in the middle of something, still puttering about with the rituals of starting my day–brewing my coffee, letting our dog out, loving on our dog, feeding our dog (a great portion of our lives is dog related), stretching, etc.—we wound up having an hour-long, wide-ranging chat: about her growing up in Ohio, about her parents and her relationship with them, and their parents, her siblings and their dynamics, our family, even faith and religion, a topic we don’t generally come anywhere near.
We asked each other questions, and both took time to listen, and we laughed, and by the time my stepfather came in ready to go out to breakfast, wondering where she was, we laughed that she still wasn’t dressed and I was still standing at the counter drinking my coffee.
It was lovely.
I’m mindful lately of moments like this. My mom, like a lot of us, is getting older, and I’m starting to realize I won’t have her at the other end of the line forever anytime I want to chat. Not long ago I read a quote that said if you live distant from your older parents, as I do, and you visit them only a few times a year, as I do, then you have a limited number of times you will ever see them again.
This planked me right in the face.
My mom and I have had our ups and downs, like every family. Even now we have our no-go areas, our prickly moments, and the buttons we well know how to push—and often too readily do after decades of putting up with each other’s crap… Which really just means trying to connect with someone you have strong emotional ties and history with when you might not always share a great deal beyond that in common.
Read more: “Fun with Family Drama”
Though we talk two or three times a week, most of our conversations are of the catching-up variety, relatively shallow updates and check-ins, usually while one or both of us is in the middle of something or about to go do something or on our way somewhere. We are both great multitaskers and people who like to be busy. There doesn’t seem to be time or occasion very often for the kind of conversation we had today.
And yet I hung up feeling especially connected to her, a smile on my face. She is, after all, my mommy, and what more do many of us want, deep down, than love and approval from the people who created and/or raised us?
My theory is that, deep down, what we really want in general is connection. It’s one of the reasons I think our current polarity and rancor in society are so distressing to most of us.
Read more: “Relationships, Character, and the Unexpressed Longing”
An author’s number one task is to create fully fleshed, relatable, dimensional, nuanced characters for their stories—to master the art of seeing others, even fictional others, deeply
Not long ago I read David Brooks’s book How to Know a Person, and much of it is based on this idea: of really talking to someone, really being curious, really listening—as indicated by its subtitle I borrowed for this post’s title, The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen. Once you start paying attention you realize how rare that is, not just in others but in ourselves.
And yet how else can we really know a person?
This is especially relevant for writers, whose number one task, at least in my view of story, is to create fully fleshed, relatable, dimensional, nuanced characters for their stories—to master the art of seeing others, even fictional others, deeply.
I’ve seen writing exercises, and you probably have too, suggesting an author “interview” her characters to figure out who they are and what makes them tick.
Read more: “Who Shaped You; Who Shaped Your Character?”
I confess I never tried that when I was writing fiction, but when I’m teaching about character development I almost always liken it to getting to know a person. We don’t see who they are immediately, don’t know everything about them. We learn it gradually over time: through conversations and asking questions and listening to what they say; through watching their behavior and affect, the way they act or fail to, their reactions and interactions. If we’re lucky, with close friends, we slowly uncover the sedimentary layers of their personality and their history and even their current lives and little by little we learn who they are.
But you have to want to find out. You have to notice. You have to engage and excavate.
I’ve written about this before, but my mom and I generally do not share a worldview or ideology or political leanings. In fact there have been plenty of times where she vociferously supports something I find abhorrent, and I’m sure vice versa.
Read more: “Character, Conflict, and that Infamous Oscar Slap”
And yet we are more than that, as people and to each other. Our relationship is complex and complicated and layered.
Just like every relationship, both in life and ideally in your stories.
What makes characters feel real are those contradictions and complexities. The nuances of human beings and their relationships that can’t be summed up in an easy thumbnail sketch, but are richly painted only one careful, minute brushstroke at a time.
But they require intentionality. They require our full presence and attention. They require time to develop—whether we’re talking about IRL people and relationships or the ones in our stories. Don’t think you know someone from an easy reductive description or characterization. That’s just a piece of who they are, far from the whole puzzle.
Character development, like relationships, takes time and effort and attention. Creating richly developed real characters is essential to affecting, satisfying story, just as developing deep, real relationships and learning to know people in our lives is the core of a meaningful and satisfying life.
Read more: “The Longer You Last, the Better It Gets”
Tell it to me, authors: What are your own relationships and interactions usually like—harried or distracted or skating along a polite social surface? Have you had moments like this with people before—where your dynamic shifts to something deeper, more real and raw, and suddenly you’re seeing the person much more deeply, can feel the connection between each other? How can you intentionally create more of that kind of depth and reality—in your life and in your stories?
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13 Comments. Leave new
Great blog, as always, Tiffany – it made me think. First, how lucky you are still have your mom-mine died before I was mature enough to understand her as a woman. If I had been, we could have had very differet discussions. Treasure every minute.
Secondly, you are so right about ‘seeing’ people deeply. Many times when I meet with someonw, I realize when I leave that they never asked about my life, or how I’m doing. Not judging, I’m guilty of it at times too.
Great reminders, both.
and wow, wish I could edit the typos! More coffee!
I am indeed mindful and grateful that I still have my mom. I have plenty of friends who don’t.
And yes, I am often amazed at how often I see people not really asking questions or taking an active interest in others, me included. It can take a deliberate effort sometimes, but when I remember to do it I have the best conversations and always feel I’ve made more of a connection with someone. Thanks for the comment, Laura! And I’m sorry about your mom. <3
Hi Tiffany,
What a wonderful post – thank you.
I neither asked my parents enough questions when they were living, nor told them how much I loved them often enough.
Your article reminded me of Robert Olen Butler’s marvelous book, The Place from Where You Dream, and his emphasis on the words ‘longing’ and ‘yearning’.
How does a writer bring those intense feelings to the page? I am very emotional, but I still struggle with the challenge.
Any thoughts?
Very best wishes,
VAl
I think about that a lot, Val–that I want to have said the things to the people I care about that I would wish I had if I lost them unexpectedly, as we did my dad when I was a kid. As to the questions…yes, I think about that as well. lately I not only ask my mom about her past and the family and other stories, but I’ve sent her written questions about all of it and asked her to write answers when/as she has time and inclination. She says she’s working on “a book” of answers for me–something I know I’ll be grateful to have one day. I don’t think we often get to know who our parents were before they were our parents.
I DO have thoughts about longing! Lots of them–this is a term I use a lot in discussing what drives our characters at the core, especially in this post and this one. So often these longings trace back to basic universal drives so many of us share that are what make your story relatable and resonant. Thanks for the comment, Val!
Wow! Great post today, Tiffany. As an engineer/scientist who works with data and logic, I think creating fully fleshed out, relatable characters is my biggest challenge. My relationships with my close friends, of which there are only a few, and my family do tend to be deep, although the minefield of third rail subjects is still difficult to navigate, especially with my grown children.
Thank you for reminding me to seek those deeper relationships with my characters as well. In my experience there are very, very few writers who do that well. But those authors, like Zane Grey, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Ernest Hemingway have left a profound mark on our society.
In some ways, I think it may be the fear of demons that keeps those most relatable qualities off my pages. Those demons are the things I could have and should have done in my relationships. And as you point out, the time we have with our closest friends and family, especially our parents, is limited. We need to make the most of it.
I really appreciate your writing honesty in this post today. It is inspiring for me.
Thanks, Jeff. Character creation is hard for any of us, I think–it’s godlike developing beings who feel real, fully fleshed, fathoms deep and nuanced. And there are so many infinite factors that go into who any of us are–who any character is–all of which the writer has to consider, whether it makes it onto the page directly or not, as factors that shaped this person into who they are in the story and why they do what they do. It’s a profoundly complex undertaking, and I think generally the hardest work of writing story.
Those demons are where the juice is, though. If you can manage to let your own out of the cave a little bit and parley with them, you might find gold for your characters. 🙂 Thanks for the comment!
Another writing teacher recommended filling out a personality test like Myers-Briggs or Enneagram in the persona of your character to get to know him/her better. Genius!
I’ve heard that advice too–I can see how it would be helpful. I’m a huge fan of reading and studying anything related to human behavior and why we do what we do: psychology, sociology, self-help, history, anthropology, even biography and memoir.
Lovely post and it’s great you got to sit in that moment and reflect and enjoy that connection with your mommy.
I’ve decided to up my writing ante this year and I’m trying to write a sitcom.
I am sick of the misery and seriousness and I’ve almost finished ‘The Middle’ and I’m going to miss that family so much that I need to occupy my time.
So, I went in search of how I could write something that would hopefully make people smile.
I then came across BBC Maestro (don’t know if you can access from USA) https://www.bbcmaestro.com/ and BOY did I get inspired by the awesome talent here!
Bill Lawrence (he of Ted Lasso et al fame) said whenever you come up with a character you have to send them to character camp.
From Jed Mecurio I have learned about putting together a series bible – and thinking how series/ episodic I want things to be.
It has been a steep learning and I am loving every minute!
I don’t know how to use script writing software (and don’t want to cause friction) so I’ve done everything in power point while I plug away.
This morning I realised while I’m hunkering down on the characters and creating my arc, there was something amiss. I couldn’t work it out so I went for a walk. I was there talking to myself about this guy and trying to figure out what the issue was – then it struck me. He isn’t a nice guy. In fact, he’s an arsehole. But you know what – that’s too one-dimensional. He’s a secret arsehole.
That one chink opened up so many layers and how the story could flow.
So when you say about your mum and your conversation about all that other stuff, that’s what came to me. You see, I read your words and I was reminded of me walking along the beach talking to myself about my guy’s issues and it’s like a spiders web.
Anyway, I’ll stop rambling but I wanted to say thank you – and look how we connect – about your connections 🙂
I love how you take pieces of wisdom from so many sources in determining what works best for you, Syl–and how intriguing that you’re trying a new format for your writing!
I’ve had the same experience you describe–where one specific insight will unlock a whole cascade of them. I love that–like a key turning and opening a door, or a spiderweb, as you say, where a single strand is connected to all the others. (Isn’t that what story is? And life…?)
Good luck with your sitcom–if nothing else it sounds like a great way to stretch your creative muscles, and who knows what it might unlock…? 🙂 Thanks for sharing this.
I had an unexpectedly deep connection with a tow truck driver recently. It started out with apologies for my long wait, and in the course of the 20-minute drive to the dealership, we somehow “fell through the ice”, and I heard all about his hopes and dreams for the future (he wants to take a welding course and get certified for the skills he already has, but he can’t currently afford to take the time off work because he’s driving the tow truck 6 ten-hour days a week to support his 6(!) stepkids, three of whom have special needs). I also got to see a photo of the tribute truck (which I did not previously know was a thing) he made to honor his late grandmother, the only real nurturing figure he ever had. He is 23.
It’s been several weeks, and I’m still thinking about the guy.
And every single person we meet has a story.
As an author, my characters are rich and real and three-dimensional to me. The skill of conveying them, one brushstroke at a time, is something I expect to spend a lifetime working on.
This put a smile on my face, Heather. Some of my most enjoyable conversations have been like this–ones with a stranger that get unexpectedly deep and real. That feels so human to me, and reminds me how connected we can be if we let ourselves take time to see each other and be curious. I admit I’m often narrowly focused on my objective and don’t always take the time, but how nice that all these weeks later you’re still thinking about him. I often think of a handful of people who made a profound impact on me in a brief encounter like this, some shifting the path of my life. You never know what moment of connection might spark something meaningful–to you both. Thanks for sharing this great story.