Imagine William Shakespeare sitting down to an early draft of Romeo and Juliet and trying to figure out the whole Montague/Capulet thing. Quill flying, he cooks up genealogies that go back six generations, elaborate sketches of each family member, and an intimate history of every insult and betrayal. Then, after a moment’s reflection, he scratches it all out and writes:
If you’re a Montague, then Capulet = bad.
If you’re a Capulet, then Montague = bad.
That settled, he moves on to figuring out the coolest way for his tragic lovers to die.
Years ago, when I took my first writing classes, I was taught (by multiple teachers) to write detailed biographical sketches of my characters. The assumption was that if my protagonist were a poor boy from a coal mining town, then I needed to know exactly how dirty his clothes were, how young he was when he got his girlfriend pregnant, and what he called his truck.
The flaw with this exercise is that it produces a lot of detail, but not a lot of meaning. As the Shakespeare example shows, belief is more powerful than biography. A Montague believes a Capulet is evil and vice versa. ‘Nuff said. To the audience it doesn’t really matter whether that belief is rational and justified, or insane and unfounded. Audiences understand that, for the purposes of this story at least, the only thing that counts is intensity.
In fact, belief—that love transcends all, that Juliet is dead, that I can’t live without my Romeo!—drives Romeo and Juliet as much as desire does. The conventional wisdom says that a character’s actions are determined by their wants. This is true, but their wants are governed by belief. The cruel empress who wants to crush the rebellion because she believes it will make her rich will behave differently from the cruel empress who wants to crush the rebellion because she believes her minions lack the ability to govern themselves.
As a writer, you not only need to understand the beliefs of your characters and their world, but you’re also responsible for making those beliefs compelling and complicating (though not necessarily complicated).
Getting back to our poor coal miner’s son, consider the stark differences between the following characters:
The poor boy from a coal mining town who believes that his poverty is a personal character flaw that must remain hidden at all costs.
The poor boy from a coal mining town who believes that his poverty is a great injustice and that others need to be confronted with the realities of his background.
The poor boy from a coal mining town who believes that it’s his fault his father never left the mines to fulfill his dream of playing professional baseball.
In his wonderful novel Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell writes: “Belief is both prize & battlefield, within the mind & in the mind’s mirror, the world.” Remember this sentiment the next time you sit down to your manuscript and the page will come alive. (This mentality spices up query letters, too.)
Final thought:
If there’s a danger in using this technique, it’s that once you start thinking in terms of belief, you’ll start seeing it everywhere. Eventually, you’ll have to confront your own biases and shortcomings. Looking back, my coal boy is good enough to illustrate a point in a blog post, but as a character he feels thin, stereotypical and borderline offensive. (Dirty clothes, a pregnant girlfriend and a truck with a name? Is that the best you can do, Dennis?) It just goes to show that no matter where you are in your career, you must never stop developing your intelligence, your knowledge of the world, and your heart.
Good luck.
I always thought the long back story/ character biography was to help the writer discover the quirky elements of their character, but what I like about this idea is that it’s a bit quicker and adds another dimension. I can see that it could be used to freshen up dialogue, create some more interesting interactions in scenes or more interesting plot points. Thanks for the great idea.
Interesting you put it this way. I wondered recently why I was writing the novel I’m writing.
It’s because I’m personally struggling with understanding extreme beliefs and how they shape and move people. I recently focused on each of my characters’ beliefs, just exactly how you said, and they came into laser focus. I can fix what color their eyes are eventually, but I sure better know what motivates them throughout even the first draft.
Those details we’re asked to produce as young writers, I think they’re a workaround taught by teachers who didn’t understand the much more pertinent point you just made. Depth of character is important, but as an author once you care about a character you’ll care what he calls his truck anyway.
Nice.
I’ve always been a bit suspicious of “you must know every detail of your characters’ lives before you write a sentence.” For someone who is borderline obsessive-compulsive like me, such an exercise leads to acres of trivia about a character and little about what makes them tick (ie., their beliefs).
Great comments.
Building on what Lee said, the illusion of depth is more important than actual depth.
Harry Potter is a great character within the confines of his world. But if you took him to Sizzler he’d have no idea how he likes his steak.
I love posts that make me go hmm.
I’m a huge believer in getting into the depth of a character and teach as such. But man, do I like the notion of belief over biography. Indeed, you do have to be careful not to go so much in one direction that there is no substance to your character. But again, maybe knowing what Jimmy had for breakfast isn’t that important if he believes so strongly in something…
Belief vs Biography. Hmmm.