R. Garrett Wilson

Why do writers write? Because it isn’t there.   – Thomas Berger

I have scoured the internet (okay, I did Google and Bing searches looking at the top 20 hits) to find something about creating a sense of history based on a character’s initial description and setting.  I found nothing, and thus, I am writing.

My theory: if there is only physical character description without setting, the character’s history has to be explained.  However, with proper consideration of the setting for introducing a character, history will take care of itself.

For most people, first impressions are very strong.  Part of that impression is of the person themselves, but part of it is the setting.  We associate our stereotypes with settings.  Seeing an attractive, drunken woman at a bar might be enticing for some men; however, seeing an attractive, drunken woman in cuffs near the scene of a fatal accident gives a totally different impression.  Why?  It is because of our experiences, because of our prejudices.  We, the readers, add to what we read.  The setting gives us all we need to let our minds go wild, especially if it is a first impression of a lesser character.

Let’s play with an example: if a main character, Andre, is described as mulatto, well groomed, athletic build, and wearing a black suit, you can picture him without knowing anything about him.  Further, add that he is crying while holding pink pom-poms to his chest.  Now you may think he is strange, you may want to know more.  However, that is all the physical description you need to make Andre totally come alive.  Let’s play with the setting two ways:

•  Andre is sitting on a couch between two other metro men watching “Bring It On” with a stack of Hayden Panettiere movies off to the side.  What do you picture about the man?  Can you see more than what was written?
• Andre is standing before two closed caskets, one full sized and one smaller.  A group of peewee cheerleaders sit in the third row staring at the smaller casket.  Do you get a sense of history that isn’t explained?  Did you assume the caskets contained his family?  Did you at least think about why the caskets were closed?  What gender was his child?  How close he was to his child?

Another example, if Christian, a main character, was described as a blubbery white mass nearly 100 pounds overweight, wearing sweatpants and a bandana.  What do you see?  Let’s see if we can add or take away from what you picture by adding the setting and maybe a touch more description.

• Christian is in a gym after most of the lights have been turned off, pleading with the owner to give him five more minutes on the stationary bike before going home.  What do you think of the main character now?  What is going on here?  Why type of person is he?
• Christian is at his fly infested house that smells of stale food.  Trophies for high school wrestling are in a display case behind him as he sits in a fabric worn recliner watching reruns of Ninja Warrior.  He has a beer in one and and the last slice of a large pizza in the other.  Can you picture what has happened in his life?  Do you see him as the same man as from the bike setting?

Last example, this is from a manuscript that I have been working on.  Picture a 16 year old Caucasian boy that is watching television with his dad – competing with him on some game show answers.  What do you think of boy? the family?  How does your viewpoint change when I say that it is 10am on a school day?  Or that they are in a rundown trailer?  What if I were to add that an older brother and wife were in the next room having loud sex?  Do you think less of the father?  Do you wonder about the family dynamics?  Do you think “white trash!”?  Do you automatically make assumptions about the family and their history that I didn’t mention?

Whether you are introducing a drunken woman, a sad father, an overweight has-been, or 16 year old slacker, the context in which you introduce them in will give the reader so much more than what you actually write.

Setting is important when introducing characters, especially secondary characters.  It gives the reader more than what you say and keeps you, the writer, from having to fill in some blanks.  If you introduce twenty characters at once in a party, then you have denied yourself and your reader the power of the first impression.

Here is a writing challenge, think of all the places you could put five naked teenagers – three boys and two girls.  I’ll start with the first one, huddled together in what was supposed to be a shower in Auschwitz.

Yes, I ditched my RSS feed to io9.  I admit it.  I still love them so get over it.

I got rid of all my RSS feeds, dropped one of the two side bars, and went with a theme that allowed me to put a pic at the top.  Let me know what you think.

Like many aspiring writers, I have a normal job – a day job that pays the bills.  I leave the house for nearly 11 hours a day when you count in commute and lunch.  This means I don’t have a lot of time to write or edit.  Before the baby I would write about 500 words a day and not every day.  An average week for me was 2000 words and a really good week was 3000.  In the last two weeks leading up the birth of my son and the first two after, I wrote only 1500 total words – 1500 words in one month.  I told you that to tell you something else.

Yesterday I wrote 2500 words.  2500!  I know there are a lot of writers that do a lot more, you may be one of them – good for you, you little braggart.  This post is about me. 

The reason for so much production was the anthology.  The original date for rough drafts to be submitted for review was last night.  We have since moved that date out a week, but I still wanted to make the first goal.  I wanted to do it because I was wondering if I still had it in me to write.  One month is a long dry spell and I was worried. 

I was 4000 words into my short a month ago and 5500 words just yesterday morning.  I wanted to finish.  I had thought about the story many a times while commuting, cuddling my baby, or doing any number of other tasks, but I hadn’t had the chance to put pen to paper (or hand to keyboard). 

Yesterday I started at 6:50 am.  Every time I looked at the clock I would say to myself: “17 hours left”, “9 and a half hours left”, “1 hour 22 minutes left.”  The pressure felt good.  The writing felt good.  I submitted just before the original deadline (I actually had another week).  I haven’t looked over the last 2500 words, they may be trash, but I wrote.  I wrote, I submitted, and I made my goal.  For that I am happy.

• I try to open my eyes but the light is too bright.  I squint against the pain and try to look towards the darkest corner.  There is no dark corner.  A sound, gentle yet frightening, beckons for my attention.  It hurts as my eyes meet…
• My wife’s face is red and covered with sweat.  A nurse stands on the opposite side of her as I do.  My wife nods to me and I prompt, “Deep breathe, now push, two, three, four, five, six, doing good, eight, nine, ten, breathe, push…”  Her breaths aren’t deep between pushes, but quick and short.  The midwife asks if I want to look.  I can’t.  She grabs my wife’s hand and guides it down to touch the head.  She screams, “Noooooo!”
• Late!  I’m running late, now?  Damn it!  I’m the guest of honor.  It’s okay to be fashionably late, but this is ridiculous.  I honk my horn pointlessly at the car in front of me in the parking-lot freeway.  And to think, I was actually getting the award for…
• That’s it!  Farris Sheckle will not have the last laugh this time.  He may think he does, but that is all part my plan.  Tomorrow he’s in for it.  Now I just need to get…

I meant to write this section earlier but Donovan has altered my timelines.  I also meant for this to be specifically about writing, but Donovan…  Anyhow, here are things I have learned this month:

• Some of the best things come in small packages (babies, visits, premade meals, and unexpected moments of silence)
• A quiet place is a luxury, not a necessity (in-laws are over – huge help, very noisy – but I did get to read and am going to try writing)
• I still need to work on “who” instead of “that” when speaking/writing of about people (man, I just keep saying, “Thanks to those that…”)
• Jump ahead on projects because time can escape without you, especially when you get those small packages (for a year I have wanted an anthology, for six months I have been prodding people to try and make one happen, now that I have them geared up, I’m behind on the deadlines – I might miss out on an anthology project that was my idea)
• Personal space? (babies, in-laws, close friends, and writing critiques)
• The most active in their pursuit of a dream have the best chance at achieving it (C. Michael Fontes is making worlds of opportunity for himself – I wish the world for him)

Can't they put me back?

With one week of sporadic sleep for the wife and me, we finally have reason to rejoice: our baby slept at night.  His normal sleep pattern has been to sleep in the mornings and evenings, not at night.  So, considering he has only ever slept as much as one hour and twenty minutes at a time during the night, it seemed like a miracle when he went down for four solid hours last night, fed, and then went down for three more.  Yeah! 

I might actually regain some shred of the little sanity I had before.  I might be able to write soon.  I know, I know… wishful thinking on both counts.

A long awaited day… I am a daddy.  Here is mom and baby.  Donovan was 7lbs 9oz, 21.25″, and a handful.  He’s doing great, mom is still recovering.  Overall, this has been/is a huge distraction from writing, and right now I don’t care.  He is beautiful.

According to the sonogram tech, the baby was due Feb 2nd – wrong.

I thought the baby would come Feb 4th – nope.  Then I had a fear, during the superbowl – thankfully no.

The secondary doctor that saw my wife said Feb 9th, but looked like the baby was coming early.  Safe bet to say the baby coming early was off, unless she meant a few hours early  - we were really taking it as a few weeks early since they put my wife on bed rest.  Any way you look at this, if the baby doesn’t decide to bless us with its arrival right now, this prediction is going to be totally wrong.

Now we are coming up on the last guess, the primary doctor (actually a nurse practitioner).  She says Feb 15th, but also said the baby looks to be coming a little early.

If I wrote non-fiction, I could do a whole book about the last two months.  As it is, I am thinking it might lend itself well to some SciFi story.

For some reason, my head has been popping with a billion different scenes lately.  Here’s some opening lines for any that want some story starters.

• My left hand held my mouth shut and I tried to control my breathing.  I know he was listening and my slow breaths seemed so loud.  “How long can I hide?  Where is he?”
• “Okay, if you’re so smart, you do it,” said the doctor as she stepped aside.  The woman lay there…
• My jaw and cheekbone exploded and the world went purple with little speckles of white and gold light.  “Is this what they mean when they talk about seeing stars?”  It was pretty, but my jaw hurt.  A dark shadow cast itself over the show and I realized…
• A cool breeze took the edge off the morning sun, carrying the scent of fresh mown grass with it.  Ah, the memories it brought.  I looked down at the empty spot on the porch swing.  I could feel the tears welling.  Damn it!  I promised myself not today, not this day.
• Two men in white scrubs ran into the conference center.  The first man stopped in the doorway of room three where he dropped the orange jump suit and straight jacket.  The second man looked over his shoulder and saw the thousands of Elvis Presley look-alikes.  He dropped the photo and his shoulders slouched.

The last two days have been good to me. 

• I have edited two pages of The Open Door and have written about a thousand words on my anthology entry.  The anthology entry is a dooms day story. 
• I had my yearly eval at work.  Everything looked good.  I am still employed.
• Lis has not been having the contractions close enough together to make us sit by a clock timing and wondering, unlike Tuesday morning where we lived by the clock for a while.