Characters have to live in your mind’s eye – they have to come to life through your imagination, building from the words used by the writer. They have to be real, and have all the foibles and strengths a normal person might have – plus a few eccentricities that make them unique. Character development is therefore essential.
They also have to evolve over time, just like real people do, make mistakes, develop their personalities, demonstrate their strengths, and their weaknesses.
You, as the reader, have to feel for them, believe in them, and want them to succeed or fail depending on the story arc.
Look at this passage as an example one of the opening pages in The Tears of Hope– how we are introduced to a young Jessica – do you feel sympathy for her?
“I was an average student at an average college when I had a bad experience—a very, very bad experience. You know the type. Beach-tanned, blond-haired hunk, alcohol, drugs, fast cars, more alcohol, more drugs, stunningly concluded by a crushing accident in the early hours of the morning that killed five of the six of us in the car.
When I came to three days later, in plaster up to the neck, the first person I saw was a cop. A highway patrol officer, to be exact, and he only had one question for me. Hovering in the background was my mom, anxiety written all over her face, still wearing her apron from the truck stop where she worked as a waitress. A bunch of supermarket flowers was clutched between her soaked hankie and her fake alligator-skin purse, which she was so proud of. She was literally shaking with fear – I was soon to learn why.”
Now, the contrast between the Jessica we met at the start of the story wrangling the Colonel is very different to the one who is explaining her situation to us now. When we first met her, she was strong, demanding, authoritative, had a military bearing, was in command and control. Now we see her vulnerability, as she works through a situation that may or may not have been of her making. And we learn of her future.
“Jessie, Jessie, how are you feeling, my love?” my mom asked, suddenly materializing between the privacy curtains. Now I really started to cry, and she joined in, so the nurse slipped away on silent feet, probably to get a mop and bucket.
“What happened?” I mumbled, “and where am I?” The flood of tears made it hard for me to see my mum’s face, and her crying made it hard for me to hear her, but bit by bit, the shocking truth rolled across the counterpane like a tornado, and I mentally resolved to never ask a question I didn’t want the answer to ever again.
I had been in a car accident. Five of my friends had been killed. The police pathologists revealed that all five had massive amounts of alcohol and drugs in their system. I was the only survivor. I had massive amounts of alcohol and drugs in my system when I was brought into the hospital’s emergency room. I was lucky to be alive. And the police believed that I had been driving the car and had a warrant for my immediate arrest for multiple counts of driving while under the influence, using class-three drugs, and culpable homicide.
Depending on your point of view, it all went downhill from there. I eventually recovered, was arrested and incarcerated, and my mom, having only one job as a waitress in a truck diner, couldn’t raise bail, so I stayed behind bars for seven long months until I finally faced a judge.
He was short, sharp, and to the point.
The prosecutor could not prove that I was driving. I couldn’t prove that I wasn’t. It was a tragedy of monumental proportions, so he offered me a deal. Go to a public trial and risk ten to fifteen years without parole for five counts of murder two, or volunteer for a minimum of seven years of military service, starting now, after which time he would order my records sealed because I was a minor, still under eighteen years of age, even as I stood before him.
We soon learn of her talent for languages, her swift movement through the ranks of the NCIS, all the result of applied hard work and intelligence.
I joined the navy. Within six months, I was back at college, studying law and working nights and weekends as a trainee naval criminal investigative agent. The irony never left me as I sweated and swotted my way through the next four and a half years, gaining my commission as a first lieutenant one day after my twenty-first birthday.
The next three years saw me posted overseas to Europe, where I got my first taste of culturally different. Applied for and got a seat in the Joint Services Language School and mastered French, German, Russian, Spanish, Italian, a little Greek, a little Mandarin and Cantonese. Seemed I had an ear for languages, a latent talent brought to the surface by being immersed in different countries and having to survive.
And we soon learn how she met the Colonel.
I had re-upped for another five more years to run on my commission, now as a full lieutenant in command of my own agents, in a nice little place called Souda Bay in Crete, with responsibilities that ranged all around the Mediterranean, wherever the US of A anchored its ships.
The next day was October 12, and my life changed significantly for the second time. I met the Colonel. Under challenging circumstances.
And, of course, him being who he is, and me being who I am, and what I had been training for, I shot him.
Six times in the center of mass.
So, while we are developing the character of Jessica, we are building the character of her mum, and introducing the Colonel, all the while exploring the inner workings of Jessica’s mind.
That’s character development!
Now, in my mind’s eye, Jessica is 5’11, has short blond hair which she combes with her hands, is not ‘girlie’ but not necessarily overtly tough. She is not a dress horse, in fact she contrasts another character we meet later, in that she prefers no frills or fancy. She is direct and to the point, but shares her mistakes with us. Her face is chiselled, not beautiful in the classic sense but pretty. Her eyes, a dark blue with gold flecks, can stare holes in terrorists.
She can be tough, very tough, but under the tough is a considerate, emotional woman who takes no BS from anyone, and is the driving force of the story.