Showing posts with label character. Show all posts
Showing posts with label character. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Character is king (...or queen) by Leah St. James #amwriting

The Plot Master (TPM) and I watched The Martian the other night. I had never read the book by Andy Weir, but the story of the self-published novelist rising to mega success, followed by a mega hit movie, always inspired me, and it's been on my "watch" list since it came out.


For whatever reason, TPM wasn’t all that keen on watching, but I talked him into it. Within the first few minutes as we followed the adventures of the Mars explorers, I was hooked, exclaiming things like, “This is fascinating!” Meanwhile TPM was watching half-heartedly and playing solitaire on his tablet.

When the crisis stranded poor Mark Watney (Matt Damon) on this uninhabitable piece of rock, his crewmates thinking him dead, I was curled up on the couch in a fetal position, biting my fingernails, and TPM had started to take interest.

According to the movie’s website, the film lasts 143 minutes, although I was completely unaware of the passage of time. In fact, I only paused the video once for a break...which is significant since I’m a serial pause-for-breaker. Somewhere in there TPM put down his tablet, and when the final credits rolled, he said, “That was excellent.” High praise from TPM. Even more striking, for once he had no comments on what he would have done differently, plot-wise, no suggestions for improvement.

It got me thinking about plot vs. character and which drives a story. (It also convinced me to put the book on my reading list!)

As a reader, I generally tend toward the character end of the see-saw. I read to find out what’s going on with the characters and their relationships, and how they react to the action around them. To me the pickles they get themselves into are sort of secondary, or interchangeable. Substitute car chase for martial arts butt-kicking—that type of thing. Or in a romance novel, substitute discovery of the hero’s past mistake for discovery of something he did two days ago. So for me, the story isn't so much about what the characters do as how those plot turns affect them.


But with The Martian, I was completely absorbed in the plot, while almost ignoring the character. Not that Mark Watney wasn't likeable, just that the situation was so compelling he was almost secondary.



But then I thought about it a bit more.

Certainly any of the astronauts on the mission would have done what they could to save themselves. Probably, since they are all scientists of one form or another, each would have approached the situation methodically, forming a hypothesis for each problem, then testing the theories. At least in the beginning. But how many would have persevered through the seeming insurmountable challenges, right up to the final moments, as Watney did? (I’m trying to NOT give away the ending for any who haven’t seen the movie or read the book.)

Finally I decided it was that component of his character (calm, steadfast perseverance in the face a situation that would have reduced most of us to a wailing pile of self-pity) that drove the plot, and ultimately the story. So for me, it’s a character story after all.





Then I got to thinking about all my favorite books and movies and tried to figure if it was plot or character, and again, I chose character.

Gone with the Wind, for example: Aside from this Yankee's curiosity of the setting in the ante-Bellum South, it was the characters and their relationship that intrigued me more than the story of war.

Or Kristen Hannah’s The Nightingale:  Two sisters in German-occupied Paris (WWII) and how they deal with the horrors of war. While the situation and setting are compelling (emotional and heartbreaking), how the sisters react is what tells the story.



What about romance?
Since the ending of a romance novel is, to a great extent, predetermined by the genre, romance writers have to be pretty clever and skilled to create suspense, either plot-wise or relationship-wise, to keep readers turning the pages. But again, that’s why I read: To find out how the characters react to those plot twists and how they achieve their HEA/HFN ending.


What do you think? Plot or character—which drives the story for you?


.....................

Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil and the power of love. Learn more at her website, or visit her on Facebook.





Tuesday, June 21, 2016

What's in a name? by Barbara Edwards

Do you struggle to find the right name for your hero or heroine? I’m going to tell you some of the things I use to find the perfect name, OR MAYBE NOT.
I’m not thinking name when the plot jumps into my head. I might start with an anonymous he/she but I quickly find that doesn’t work.
So what have I learned?
I’m going to share a big secret. You character’s name should emphasize him, his attributes and personality.
For example: I name my hero Leo. 
Lets take a look at Leo.
For my story, Leo is the CEO of his own company. He clawed his way up through the corporate jungle to the top.
Leo has golden hair, thick and a little untamed.
Hie eyes are a golden brown that glow when he focuses on his enemy or his Love interest.
Leo is strong, build along the lines of a powerful predator,.
He stalks through the world.
Have you noticed what I’ve been doing?
Every descriptive emphasizes his connection to a lion.
Look up the meaning of your hero’s name and make a note so you can stay on target.
This can be fashioned to fit each character.
What other words can describe Leo?
Snarl
growl
snap
prey
hunt
devour
slink
This can be fun, but the biggest benefit is keeping your hero in character. He doesn’t speak, he growls, snarls, purrs. 
When he licks her skin, his tongue is rough and raspy.
His personality must always show his feline side. 
Remember cats can be playful even the big ones. 

i’ve been using this myself.
In Ancient Blood, my hero Cole has black hair and dark eyes and turns into a black werewolf. 

Ancient Blood (Finding Rhodes End Book 2) 
by Barbara Edwards 
Link: https://amzn.com/B0052NUR12
Lily Alban escapes her murderous stalker after his vicious attack leaves her with the ability to see auras. She finds safety in the tiny hamlet of Rhodes End where a stranger stands out like a red light. Only he’s right behind her. Denying her growing desire, she turns to Cole Benedict for help but discovers the man she loves is not a man at all. 
Werewolf Cole Benedict resists his attraction to Lily. He’s a botanist researching the healing herbs for a cure for Lycanthropy. He’s determined to protect Lily from her stalker as well as himself when in human form, but instinct takes over when he changes. 
They must use their extraordinary gifts to catch Lily’s stalker before he can kill her, but revealing their secrets can destroy their growing love or save them both.

“Lily?” His strong hands gently cupped her shoulders.
“Don’t, please don’t.”
She pulled away, fully intending to flee. Her resistance shattered, and she turned into his embrace. It was too late to escape. Pressing against his strength, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His erection prodded her stomach, and she moaned. A heavy groan filled his throat as he lifted her from her feet. He kicked the bag aside as he sat her on the counter.
“I can’t wait,” he growled. His flaring aura spiraled with colors she couldn’t name. She caught her breath. One hand burrowed through her hair, keeping her still as he stepped between her thighs. “You’re all I could think about all day.”
Clasping her bottom, he slid her to the edge of the counter. With his lips claiming her mouth, he unbuttoned her slacks, than lifted her slightly to push them down and off.
The cold surface only made her more aware of his scorching heat. His rough denim pants scraped her inner thighs in contrast with the silky hair under her palms. Her pulse leaped, and she gasped. His male scent mixed with hints of the wild forest filled her nostrils. When his fingertip explored the heated moisture gathering at her juncture, she tightened her thighs around his hips.

Ancient Blood (Finding Rhodes End Book 2) 
by Barbara Edwards 

Please follow, friend or like me. I love to hear from my readers.
Amazon Author’s Page http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003F6ZK1A






Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Plotting and Politics? Oh no, by Barbara Edwards

Plotting and Politics? Oh no, by Barbara Edwards


Lexington-Concord April 19th Memorial
The first of the presidential hopefuls was on TV and I ran screaming from the room. No! No! No! It’s too soon!
I have a problem. I remember when the presidential race ran from July when the conventions were held, until November, when we voted. Now the race never stops.
I paced and ranted, then my sense of humor took over.
What if I were plotting this story? Would I start the action over eighteen months before the climax? 
I’ve heard candidates talk about running for president for four long years. 
Where  is the suspense? Does it take that long to reveal character? After months, who cares? Maybe that's the point. to bore us into not voting. I liked the four short months of intense campaigning. I learned everything I needed to know in that short time.
In the best written books character, experience, and what they had to offer is revealed by the author in an interesting, timely manner.
As an author what kind of president would I run? What is important to me?
Do I care if someone got a traffic ticket when they were in their twenties? Maybe, if they have an ongoing record of misconduct.
How about tax fraud? That doesn’t seem to be a big offense anymore, but I won’t vote for that one either.
How about immoral behavior? I won’t vote for a person who is so selfish they can hurt their spouse and children.
So where do I learn about the candidates if they don’t run for years in an attempt to blind me with smoke and mirrors? The plot thickens.
I’m fairly smart, like my friends, and I can do research. Lots of research to find truth, justice and the American way.
I can’t count on the news media to tell me the truth. And I have to pick through blogs to find facts not opinion.
I know that many politicians run since they legally can keep a big portion of their ‘War Chest” for their own use after they lose. I can’t trust someone who needs multi-millions of dollars to persuade me what to think.
I know politicians lie. No matter what you call an untruth, it is a lie.
How’s my plot going? Too much distraction from the interaction between the hero/heroine running for president and the goal of being president. 
Since I want a president who is honest, upholds the Constitution, is the Commander in Chief, represents all Americans, and is morally upright, I will be writing my own ending in the voting booth.

Please follow, friend or like me. I love to hear from my readers.




Amazon Author’s Page http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003F6ZK1A




Paranormal Love Features Reviewer at http://paranormallovefeatures.blogspot.com

Roses of Prose Contributor on 7th & 21st of month http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com

https://about.me/barbara.edwards2


Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Sammy is a supporting character by Barbara Edwards


My friends call me Sammy, and I don’t care what my enemies call me. People say  I avoid giving a direct answer and that is probably true. No-one really wants to know the truth. And free advice is rarely free.
Ain’t gonna share any secrets. I been livin’ in Rhodes End a long time and I know more than I should about a lot of things that are no-one else’s business. Barbara Edwards is telling stories about the people who live here, but she don’t know it all either. If you want to know what she knows, read Ancient Awakening and Ancient Blood.
I like New England. Lots of surprises. Not just the weather that changes faster than you can shake a stick.  People act so cool and controlled. Stand-offish. Even unfriendly. So it shouldn’t surprise you to know you need to dig deep to find out what’s really happening.
I ain’t never said I heard a wolf howl. Farmers and hunters claim that wolves have returned. Maybe followed the watershed down from Canada and like the thick woods around here. Might be a different kind of wolf took up residence here. I tend to ignore paws prints that become footprints ‘cause it ain’t my business.
With the magnetic lay lines crossing here magic and paranormal stuff happens. Not that I notice. I keep my nose in my business. Lots of odd critters are drawn to the area. I keep my eyes to the ground.
I work for the town. I’m the only grave-digger. I like the old cemeteries and am familiar with all the names on the tombstones. It’s so quiet. I can hear the grass grow. I hear other stuff, too. Folks might think it’s scary. Whispers in the dark or screams so faint they make the hair on your nape bristle.
Visit me at my website: www.barbaraedwards.net
http://twitter.com/Barb_ed
http://amazon.com/author/barbaraedward
http://www.Facebook.com/BarbaraEdwards.Author
Ancient Awakening by Barbara Edwards, an excerpt
A loud backfire split the air. A rusty yellow pick-up truck rumbled into the spot behind the cruiser. Shrugging, Mel stepped around Steve and waved a greeting.
“Hey, Sammy, How’s it going?”
A dirt-encrusted Sammy Tarp tramped toward them, slapping at the muddy clods stuck to his pants. Sammy resembled nothing more than a large groundhog. His bristly gray hair and three-day-old beard stuck out at all angles, and his bullet-shaped head sat on a rounded body with no noticeable neck.
“Hi ya, Miz Mel. Larry said to tell ya hello. Ah knew ya’d be checkin’ the damage from those damn kids and decided to see ifn’ ya found anything. I called the station lookin’ fer you. Jan said you was out here. Still working doubles?”
He pulled a brown knit stocking cap from his  rear pants pocket and stuck it on his head. The frayed material teetered like a squashed ice cream cone on his spiky hair.
“Not much longer. Hal’s due back. Says he can hardly wait. Since his wife delivered those twins, he’s been in shock, but he claims he’ll get more rest on patrol.” Mel gestured at Steve. “Have you met Dr. Zoriak?”
“I’ve seen him around.” To her surprise, Sammy took a quick step back, shoving his grimy hands in his pockets. “He ain’t no stranger to the graveyard.”
Mel glanced from one man to the other. She always heard every rumor and whispered innuendo, but didn’t recall any reason for Sammy’s rudeness. Steve nodded coolly.
Sammy’s glance skittered past Steve to the mausoleum. He spat into the poison ivy. “Glad I already got paid. Fella wanted his mouse-a-lean built to store old bodies, not stick ‘em in the ground in a proper manner. Fancy carved stone and ever’thin’ shipped in from foreign places. Had to hurry up ta finish the concrete footings before the frost.”
“But why? This section isn’t part of the cemetery. And no one’s been buried there for years.”
“Ayah. Father Brown finally sold this back plot to an out-of-towner. Guess he figured he’d make some money fer the church by finding someone willing to use this piece even though it ain’t sanctified. Sucker didn’t bother to find out about the ledge. Had to bring in a ton of backfill. Got hisself stuck, like the priest did, when he didn’t ask me about the land before he paid for it.”
Sammy spit to the side again and snickered quietly. His ongoing war with the Catholic priest was a juicy source of gossip around town.
“Sounds pretentious,” Steve commented.
“Ain’t no accountin’ for some people’s tastes. ‘Specially foreigners.” From under shaggy brows, Sammy looked directly at Steve for the first time. His shiny black eyes appeared amid rolls of wrinkled flesh when he squinted. “Some people like a small town, makes ‘em feel safe. ‘Cause people are standoffish, they think they don’t notice nothin’. Makes strangers feel they can hide their secrets.”
Mel concluded the old man was exhibiting typical Yankee distrust for a newcomer. Unless he’d been raised in a small town, poor Steve couldn’t know it would take at least a generation to be accepted by the old-timers.
“Did you say you talked to Larry?”
“Ayah. He’s still shook up. Takin’ it personal. Like he thinks it’s his fault when someone puts recyclables in the wrong bin.” Sammy spit into the dirt before he edged around to stand at Mel’s side. “I gotta be gettin’ back to work. Ya want me to walk ya back to your car first?”
“I’m going to be awhile, Sammy, but thanks.”
“Wal, I’ll be checking’ back later.”
He glared warningly at Steve before he slowly climbed into his truck and revved the noisy motor.
Used to his odd habits, she flipped him an absent-minded wave. The ancient truck jerked forward with an echoing metallic thud, followed by a vibrating thunk. A heavy silence settled over them with the thick dust.