Character development is one of my favourite aspects of writing.  Characters should not exist merely to move a story along.  As a writer, you are going to spend a lot of time in these people’s company so you owe it to yourself as well as your readers to make them interesting.

It is not always easy to write knowing that what you are writing is not intended for inclusion in your finished work.  It almost seems a ‘waste’ of effort – as if every word that flows from our pens (or, more likely these days, is keyed into our computers) is of such value it must be shared with the whole world.  However, I would urge every would-be or improving author (in other words, everyone) to word-sketch, as a painter might sketch, in order to learn as much as you can about each and every character you create before you commit them to the final draft.

If four of your characters were having a conversation, could you tell who was speaking without identifying them by name?  In other words, does each have their own voice?  That might include different use of language as well as a unique point of view.

Test this out – write a dialogue about anything (this is just for you, remember).  Let them speak.  You might find one of them says something that can be incorporated into your story that you had not previously thought of.

Similarly, write a letter or a diary entry for several characters.  Write a shopping list, or what they might pack in a suitcase if they were going on holiday.  What would each one save if their home was on fire?  Why?

Incidentally, these are great exercises to do if you ever feel the dreaded ‘writer’s block’ coming on.  They free your mind and lead you away from worrying about where your story is going and you will, as often as not, suddenly write something that is the solution to whatever has been blocking you and off you will go again.

More basic but just as important, make sure you have a written physical description of each character.  If you have more than half a dozen in your story it is very easy to get muddled as to who has a beard and who is tall and who has twisted their ankle and who has a new tattoo.  I simply copy and paste any interesting comment I make about a character into a special file and then I have a complete record for future reference.  It also means that if I decide to change something I can find it easily.  Trust me, these sorts of thing really save time in the long run and you can see at a glance whose character might need fleshing out or how one might be the ideal person for a particular role or who might end up romantically involved with another character, and so on.

In Silvana, I was faced with the problem of having two major characters with similar physical characteristics, backgrounds and social position, of the same age, with the same dream who had to be very much ‘themselves’.  Fabiom and Lesandor – father and son – at age sixteen both dream of winning a Silvana as a wife; both are excellent archers; both love the wildwood; both are only sons being trained to inherit the Holdership of Deepvale, and so on.  I think it was this challenge that made me realise just how essential proper character building is.  And how satisfying it can be.

One of the key techniques is to use what are known as ‘hooks’.  These are special characteristics – to do with any aspect of a person – which helps make them stand apart from others.  So, for example, Fabiom loves poetry – both to read and to write:

Nalio was genuinely shocked.  “No one in Morene could be behind something like that.  It’s bad enough that a local trader was involved at all.  Selling amber, maybe.  Collecting it!  Never.”  He actually shuddered at the thought.

“Their tears flow like gold, from a well of deep sorrow.  

Our own are mere water, and dried are forgotten, 

While tears of gold linger and last and endure, 

Forever and then one day more and one more.”

Nalio snorted derisively.  “Well, it’s good to know Deepvale is in capable hands.  The heir to the Holding can quote at length from the most obscure poetry.  But, can he remember the date of the last uprising in Gerik, or the name of the last Gerish ambassador to Morene?  No, he cannot.”

“Yes, he can,” Fabiom muttered darkly.  “After yesterday, and the rollicking I got from Masgor, those two facts are inscribed on my mind for all time, believe me.”

“Daydreaming again, Fabiom!” Nalio mimicked their tutor perfectly.  He flung his arm around Fabiom’s shoulders, “Never mind, you only got a rap across the knuckles.  Our friend in today’s trial had his silk trading licence revoked, so he’s lost his livelihood, and he was fined and the court imposed two years extra Service on him.  Hard service at that.”

“Tarison made an example of him then.  Good.  It’s only a pity there are no marble quarries in Deepvale, as there are in some of the other Holdings,” Fabiom mused regretfully.

“Oh ho!” Nalio stepped away from him.  “I’ll have to watch myself.  You’re bound to be made a magistrate as soon as you’ve done your official Service, if not before.”

Fabiom shrugged.  “There are no guarantees.  It depends on whether I impress the Assembly with my knowledge of poetry, or appal them with my historical inexactitudes.  Anyway, what are you planning to do that will land you before the court?  Poison any of your patients who don’t pay you promptly?”

from Silvana - Book 1 - The Greening

Lesandor walked in Deepvale’s woods with Fabiom, revelling in the simple pleasure of being home.  Autumn had come late that year and the leaves were only just turning, soft golds and reds among the green.  The afternoon was warm and the breezes wafted delicate scents towards them.

“I used to take all this for granted,” Lesandor sighed.

“I too, when I was your age,” Fabiom chuckled.  “There’s nothing like a year away from home to make you appreciate what has been around you all the time.”  He plucked a sprig of honeysuckle laden with purple berries and studied it closely.  “Every single blade of grass, every flower, is unique and yet the whole never seems to change.”

Lesandor smiled at that, remembering Masgor complaining only that morning, “Your father still thinks like a poet rather than a politician.”  His old eyes shining with delight nevertheless.  

from Silvana - Book 2 - Midsummer

Petron did not believe Lesandor had saved his life.  But what he believed would not be held in much account if the matter ever came before a tribunal.  He knew he would have to tread carefully.  

In the days that followed, thinking to humour Lesandor, Petron asked him about the Silvanii, bemoaning his lack of knowledge and listening with interest to whatever Lesandor would tell him.  Not that he learnt over much.  Although Lesandor answered all of his questions he volunteered little besides.  Nevertheless, Petron was genuinely impressed.  He even read an old copy of The Chronicles of Lincius, Prince of Morene that Lesandor had found in the bottom of an old chest hidden away in a storage room.  In the chest had been many other books, including a copy of Fabiom’s first published collection of poetry.  The books had since been removed and now were all safely in the small study Yasdon had given Lesandor for his own use.

from Silvana - Book 3 - The Turning

“The historian Jerynn was right, Silvanan blood he called it.  Poetry is all very well but tears that are spilled can be dried.  Blood is another matter.”  Fabiom toyed with the amber paperweight on Ravik’s desk then replaced it carefully, holding out his hands palms upwards as he turned to face the prince.  “And my hands are dripping with it.  It will not wash away.”  

from Silvana - Book 3 - The Turning