HOW TO WRITE FICTION - Lesson 8: More Elements of Fiction

In the last lesson, we learned how to set a plot in motion by creating a protagonist who has a strong desire and plenty of conflict. Many other elements of craft go into the making of a good story, all of which revolve around the characters, in one way or another. (Remember, characters are the source.) Let’s take a brief look at just a few of these elements.

Setting

A setting is the place and time in which a story occurs. It's helpful to let the readers know where and when the characters are. The Great Gatsby takes place in Long Island and New York City in the 1920s. But setting zooms in even closer than that. Notice how Fitzgerald evokes the magic of Gatsby's mansion:

There was music from my neighbor's house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens, men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.

And here Fitzgerald evokes a much less glamorous setting:

This is a valley of ashes – a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens, where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and finally, with a transcendent effort, of men who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air.

In both instances, we are given a very tangible sense of place. The first example also indicates time, and a little later in the second example, we are told that it's "afternoon." Not only do these settings tell us where and when we are, but they also enhance the emotional landscape of the book, which deals with the effects of money.

Some stories contain numerous settings, others only a few. Generally, longer stories utilize more settings than shorter ones. "Cathedral," for example, all takes place in the narrator's house on a single night. Regardless of how many settings you use, you want to give the readers the sense that they are there. And this can be achieved most effectively through description.

Description

Description happens when the writer discusses something in detail rather than just naming it. Instead of merely writing "Gatsby had music and guests at night," Fitzgerald goes quite a bit further, by summoning the powers of description. Done well, description makes the story spring vividly to life in the minds of the readers.

Look at this description from "Cathedral":

At first glance, his eyes looked like anyone else's eyes. But if you looked close, there was something different about them. Too much white in the iris, for one thing, and the pupils seemed to move around in the sockets without his knowing it or being able to stop it. Creepy. As I stared at his face, I saw the left pupil turn in toward his nose while the other made an effort to keep in one place.

One of the keys to effective description is being specific. Notice how specific Carver gets with the motion (or lack of it) in the blind man's eyes. Carver tends to be very sparing with his descriptions but when he needs it, he knows exactly how to bring something to life.

Another key to good description is to appeal to the senses. All of the examples given above employ the sense of sight. But the other senses count, too. In the description of Gatsby's mansion, we can hear for ourselves the "music" and "whisperings" among the night. In Fitzgerald's description of the valley of ashes, we can almost feel, smell, and even taste the ashes and smoke. You desire a shower after reading this passage in the book. It's almost as if we're driving through this desolate area ourselves, which in a sense we are because we're getting the story through Nick's point of view.

Point of View

Point of view, at its most fundamental level, refers to who is narrating the story and what this person knows. Most fictional works are told from either the First Person or the Third Person p.o.v. (p.o.v. is a commonly used abbreviation for point of view.)

In the First Person p.o.v., the story is being told by a character in the story, using the "I" voice. This is true of both The Great Gatsby and "Cathedral."

A First Person narrator is limited to telling about what he or she has thought or observed, just as people are in real life. Here's Nick narrating an encounter with Gatsby:

He looked at me sideways - and I knew why Jordan Baker had believed he was lying. He hurried the phrase "educated at Oxford," or swallowed it or choked on it as though it had bothered him before. And with this doubt, his whole statement fell to pieces and I wondered if there wasn't something a little sinister about him after all.

Here, we're seeing Gatsby through Nick's eyes. Nick often has trouble knowing if Gatsby is being honest or not because he doesn't have direct access to Gatsby's mind. Since Gatsby is the protagonist of the story, this set-up presents numerous challenges to Fitzgerald. He must find artful ways to sneak in certain information about Gatsby, as when Jordan relates to Nick the story of Gatsby and Daisy's courtship. (It should be noted, though, that the first person narrator usually is the protagonist. Gatsby is unusual in this respect.)

In the Third Person p.o.v., the story is narrated directly by the writer, who is not a character in the story. Never using the "I" voice, the writer refers to the characters as "he" or "she." Such is the case with Ernest Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls, which opens like so:

He lay flat on the brown, pine-needled floor of the forest, his chin on his folded arms, and high overhead the wind blew in the tops of the pine trees. The mountainside sloped gently where he lay; but below it was steep and he could see the dark of the oiled road winding through the pass.

In this passage, the narrator is seeing through the eyes of the protagonist, Robert Jordan. But in the Third Person p.o.v., the writer has some latitude regarding what knowledge the narrator can and can not have. In some stories, the Third Person narrator will stay confined to the thoughts and observations of a single character, as in the First Person. In other stories, the Third Person narrator will have access to the thoughts and observations of numerous characters, as in For Whom the Bells Toll.

The vast majority of the time, writers will make a choice regarding how they handle p.o.v. and stick with it throughout the story, be it First Person or some variation of Third Person.

How do you know which method will work best for your story? Well, it's not an easy decision. Often, it's a good idea to experiment with p.o.v. and see which method feels most comfortable or enlightening for your story. In "Cathedral," for example, the reader gains much insight by experiencing the story directly through the narrator's curmudgeonly eyes. But this p.o.v. wouldn't work as well in For Whom the Bells Toll because Hemingway needs to move fluidly among the minds of several different characters.

Point of view is a tricky thing to understand, but it's important because it will affect nearly every aspect of your story.

Other Elements

We’ve already spoken a bit about dialogue. Stories without dialogue tend to be flat, boring, and too quiet. Dialogue is a great way to liven up your story and it’s also an effective tool for characterization. At its best, dialogue sounds realistic but is also crafted in such a way that it reveals insight into each of the characters who speak.

Then there is voice. Surely you’ve noticed how the writers we’ve read in these lessons handle their use of language in very different ways. You probably wouldn’t confuse a Raymond Carver sentence with one by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This is because these writers have a different voice, meaning there is a different sound to their storytelling. You should strive to develop your own unique voice, which is often best done by just writing in the way that comes to you most naturally. Of course, in the First Person p.o.v., the voice also needs to fit with the character who is narrating.

And, there are still more elements that go into the crafting of a good fictional story. In fact, writing fiction is a bit like cooking a stew. You toss in numerous ingredients then simmer and stir until the story is as good as you can possibly make it. Now it’s just a matter of going to the kitchen and cooking up some wonderful stories.

Discussion

After reading the lecture, try answering some or all of the following:

1.   Were you previously aware of point of view?

2.   Does a story need a setting?

3.   Do you prefer description that is lush or spare?

Now that you’re aware of some of the elements that go into a good work of fiction, do you feel better equipped to handle writing your own story? Or are you more intimidated?

HOW TO WRITE FICTION - Lesson 7: A Story is a Quest

Characters are crucial in fiction. Actually, they are the most crucial element. We know that by now. However, fiction does not live by characters alone. Many other elements go into the creation of a story and one of those is a plot. If characters are what make us love a story, plot is what keeps us turning pages.

Plot is an intricate topic, and we could easily devote numerous lessons to it. For now, let's explore how characters may lead us into a good plot. We'll focus on The Great Gatsby in this lecture, while this week's reading assignment offers a detailed breakdown of the plot of "Cathedral."

The Protagonist

Usually a story has a single main character, or protagonist. A single protagonist because it's often most satisfying for readers to identify with one character – to see the world through, and go on a journey with, that one person. Yes, there are exceptions to this single protagonist rule. But it exists in the two stories we've been studying. The unnamed narrator is the protagonist of "Cathedral," and Jay Gatsby is the protagonist of The Great Gatsby (even though Nick is the story's narrator).

The protagonist of a story should be a round character, the rounder the better. Like the best characters, and like real people, the protagonist should be neither all good nor all bad. He or she should be sympathetic; we should be able to relate to the protagonist as a fellow human being. But a protagonist should not be a perfect person, a sure recipe for boredom.

Jay Gatsby and the "Cathedral" narrator both fit this bill nicely. Thought Gatsby is a courteous and decent man, he's full of flaws. He's obsessed with a married woman, Daisy, who really isn't worthy of all the hope and desire he expends on her behalf. He also lies to elevate his social position, and his business dealings do not seem to fall on the right side of the law. The "Cathedral" narrator is even more flawed. He's close-minded, unambitious, slightly mean, and his only hobbies seem to be TV, drink, and drugs. And yet, he's not entirely unsympathetic, as we gradually come to see his hidden desire to climb out of his rut.

Desire

Desire is what drives a protagonist. It’s customary in a story for the protagonist to have one major desire – need, want, whatever you want to call it. In fact, that’s where the plot comes from. Throughout the story the protagonist is trying to get the one thing he or she wants and by the end of the story the person will either get it or not get it. Call it a quest, much like the quests embarked upon by all those heroes and heroines in the ancient myths.

Jay Gatsby has a very clear desire. He wants Daisy Buchanan. He devotes his entire life to this quest and it never wavers throughout the book. He gains money to impress Daisy, he builds a mansion within viewing distance of Daisy's house, so he can keep an eye on her and so she can see his wealth. He befriends Nick, Daisy's cousin, so Nick can arrange a rendezvous for him with Daisy. And so on. Gatsby's desire for Daisy gives the story a clear focus, which, as we learned in the first lesson, is an important aspect of storytelling.

This focus can also make a story easier to write. Once you know your protagonist and his desire, you have a definite road map to follow.

Often, however, there is more to a character's desire than meets the eye. One suspects that Gatsby wants Daisy because she represents "class" and "success." Deep in his heart, Gatsby really wants to be accepted and admired by the elite of the world. Perhaps he wants this more than he actually loves Daisy. In a sense, she is a means to an end. So, often in fiction there is a desire beneath the desire.

Doesn't this make things more complicated than they need to be? Well, no, it can actually make things simpler to write. It's difficult to construct a plot around someone pursuing an abstract desire like "class" or "success." How do you obtain "class" or "success?" These aren't things you can grab in your hand or definitively capture or write scenes about. It's actually easier to make the immediate desire specific and concrete. Plot-wise, Daisy Buchanan works beautifully as an object of desire. She gives Gatsby's deepest desire a human face.

It's a simple formula and one that you can follow yourself. Pick a protagonist, then give him or her one specific, concrete desire. If layers of meaning lie beneath that desire, all the better, but keep the protagonist focused on that one tangible goal. Make sure he or she wants it badly. Then, make it hard as hell for them to get it.

Conflict

Suppose when Gatsby meets up with Daisy at Nick's house for tea, Daisy tells Gatsby that she has never stopped loving him and that she will immediately leave her husband. And suppose that she followed through on the promise, moving in with Gatsby the very next day. This would be glorious news for Jay Gatsby, but it wouldn't make for much of a story. Something big would be missing, and that something is conflict. Without conflict, a story is destined to be either very short or very dull, and probably both. No two ways about it, conflict is essential.

The Great Gatsby contains plenty of conflict. Yes, Daisy does seem to have some affection for Gatsby and she does briefly take up with him. But, she also has a mean and vindictive husband blocking her path. Also, Daisy is elitist enough to recognize that her husband, however uncouth, is "old money" while Gatsby falls into the much less socially desirable class of "new money." Worst of all, Daisy lacks the courage and conviction to break away from her marriage. No matter how far Gatsby goes to win Daisy – and he goes to incredible lengths – he is fighting a difficult battle. This difficulty, this conflict, is part of what makes the story so compelling. We don't know if Gatsby will succeed at his quest or not. We have to keep reading to find out. Furthermore, nothing illuminates a character better than a good struggle.

Though a protagonist should stay focused on a single desire, there is no limit to how much conflict may be interfering with that desire. The more the merrier (at least for the reader). The eternal struggle between desire and conflict is part of what makes a story dramatic and worth reading, no matter if the story is tragic, comical or anything in between.

Finally, just as conflict must occur, that conflict needs to be eventually resolved. In other words, at the end of your story, your protagonist must have achieved the concrete goal, or not. You can’t write a conclusion to your story that leaves your readers scratching their heads, wondering just what happened. After all, when readers begin a story, they do so with the understanding that the writer will finish the tale being told. And that means resolution, for better or worse.

A Test Drive

Though it’s by no means simple to construct the plot of a story, it’s considerably easier, once you learn how to put the protagonist/desire/conflict scheme into motion.

Suppose you wanted to use Maria Rialto as the protagonist of your story. A good way to start figuring out the plot of your story would be to figure out her big desire. Let’s go back to our theory that she wants to make friends and she carries a new book every day hoping someone will start up a conversation with her about the book she is currently reading. Good. She wants to make a friend. That’s an excellent desire. See, this one doesn’t even have layers of meaning beneath it and it’s still excellent.

Now, what is the conflict? First off, she is terribly shy. Her shyness would definitely count as a conflict. It’s a direct, and very strong, obstacle to her goal of making a friend. In fact, very often the strongest conflicts are internal, in that they come from within a character, as opposed to external conflicts, which are obstacles outside of the person, like a car breaking down.

Suppose early in the story Maria does meet someone and they take the first few steps toward a friendship. But this person turns out to be deranged and dangerous and, unfortunately, Maria is so desperate for friendship that she is blind to this person’s flaws. Now you’ve got some external conflict (the deranged and dangerous person) and some more internal conflict (the blindness). None of this is good for Maria, but it’s all good for the story. A compelling plot is beginning to take shape.

From here, the plot could veer in any number of directions. You may have an idea of the development and resolution before you start writing or you may just hit the road and see where things lead. Either way, you’re bound to go somewhere interesting because you’ve created a memorable character then given her the desire and conflict necessary to carry her all the way through a first-rate story.

Don’t you hope things work out for Maria, by the way? It’s entirely possible that you’ve come to care about her!

Discussion

After reading the lecture, try answering some or all of the following:

1.   Think of one of your favorite fictional protagonists and tell us what you think this character’s desire is.

2.   Desire is what fuels fictional characters. Is this true of people in real life?

3.   Do you think a story can be interesting without strong conflict?

HOW TO WRITE FICTION - Lesson 6: How to Reveal Through Showing

Last time we discussed telling about characters. As effective a method as telling can be, showing is even better. Showing means presenting the reader with the characters first-hand, up close. It lets the reader "see" (and hear, and sometimes touch and even smell) the characters.

Most showing can be shared with the reader via scenes: word-pictures written in more-or-less "real time." Think of a stage play, on Broadway or at your local high school. The curtain goes up, and presto! Immediately, we begin finding out about the characters portrayed by the actors in the play. Nobody ever describes or explains them to us. We simply look, listen, and learn.

There are four basic methods for showing characters:

·        Action

·        Speech

·        Appearance

·        Thought

A work of fiction should mix and match these methods.

Action

Actions are often the strongest way to reveal characters. As Jean-Paul Sartre said, "We are our deeds."

Actions can be small things, such as the way a character treats a slow-moving cashier in a grocery store. Some people are patient in such a situation, while others become openly hostile. Others will complain, but under their breath. Everyone reacts differently to the ordinary demands made on us by daily life.

In "Cathedral," we learn about Robert’s lust for life by all the things he does that confound the narrator’s expectations regarding blind people. Robert drinks Scotch and fills an ashtray with cigarette butts. He eats "like there was no tomorrow." Robert gets high, then "watches" TV – he’s got not one but two sets at home. In spite of his physical disability, Robert devours the world around him with gusto

Actions can also be big things, such as how characters react in moments of crisis. There's a reason why the Outward Bound program initiates its participants by assigning them a difficult group task, like scaling a high wall without a ladder or even a rope. Such a challenge is actually an artificial crisis, and it illustrates immediately just who is who in the group – who is the Leader, who's the Complainer, who's the Nurse, etc.

The major characters in a story will most likely be tested by difficult situations. That’s where we really learn who they are – by what they do in these times.

The narrator in "Cathedral" seems defensive, even hostile, at the start of the story. It’s unclear whether he has the capacity for generosity, not to mention the inclination. But he goes through what, for him, is a stressful situation – spending an evening with a blind man in the house. By story’s end, the stressful situation has brought about a change in his behavior. When we observe him closing his eyes and moving the blind man’s hand across the paper, we know that he has great reserves of warmth and kindness.

We learn most about characters by watching them act (and interact and react). What do they do, and how do they do it? What don’t they do? Showing action provides the closest thing to objective information about characters. As a result, telling us about these characters is often unnecessary.

Speech

Speech refers to what the characters say, their dialogue. Here is an example of showing through speech from "Cathedral":

"Did you have a good train ride?" I said. "Which side of the train did you sit on, by the way?"

"What a question, which side!" my wife said. "What’s it matter which side?" she said.

"I just asked," I said.

"Right side," the blind man said. "I hadn’t been on a train in nearly forty years. Not since I was a kid. That’s been a long time. I’d nearly forgotten the sensation. I have winter in my beard now," he said. "So I’ve been told, anyway. Do I look distinguished, my dear?" the blind man said to my wife.

"You look distinguished, Robert," she said. "Robert," she said. "Robert, it’s just so good to see you."

We are shown a great deal through this dialogue. The passage shows us that, although the narrator and his wife are extremely nervous about the blind man’s visit to their house, Robert himself is quite relaxed. Also, in the first two lines we glimpse tension between husband and wife. Finally, there’s a touch of poetry in "winter in my beard." The narrator’s wife and Robert are poetic, while the narrator himself isn’t.

Now, Carver could have simply told us this information. But it’s more dynamic if we can find this out for ourselves, in this case via dialogue.

Finally, pay attention to the subtext – the hidden meaning – beneath the dialogue. Again, the line "What a question, which side!" speaks volumes about the tension between husband and wife in "Cathedral" when Robert comes to visit.

Appearance

Appearance relates to any and all physical aspects of the characters. Appearance is often "told" by the narrator and so can fall into the telling category. But appearance also falls into the showing character because appearance literally shows us what a character looks like.

As an example, let's return to the physical description of Robert in "Cathedral":

This blind man was late forties, a heavy-set, balding man with stooped shoulders, as if he carried a great weight there. He wore brown slacks, brown shoes, a light-brown shirt, a tie, a sports coat. Spiffy. He also had this full beard.

Physicality can also extend to gestures and physical actions. For example, Robert is a very friendly guy, and we glimpse this just in the way he shakes hands:

The blind man let go of his suitcase and up came his hand.

I took it. He squeezed hard, held my hand, and then he let go.

However, writers should be careful not to over-rely on physical description. The physical often just gives a surface glimpse of a person, just as a cover only gives a surface glimpse of a book. In "Cathedral," interestingly, we get a very full sense of the narrator and his wife and yet we are given virtually no physical description of either of them.

Thought

In fiction, we are often allowed access to the minds of certain characters. Obviously, one of the best ways to see what someone is like is to catch a glimpse of their innermost thoughts.

The narrator in "Cathedral" is not one to reveal too much of his personal thoughts, but he does reveal bits and pieces of them throughout the story. For example, this man is not self-aware enough to know that he's close-minded. But we, the reader, glean this when we catch him thinking such things as:

A blind man in my house was not something I looked forward to.

Later, we learn that the narrator isn't completely at peace when we glimpse this thought:

When I did go to sleep, I had these dreams. Sometimes I'd wake up from one of them my heart going crazy.

In thought, characters often reveal things that they would never openly reveal to other characters, and this gives thought a special depth among the categories of showing.

Showing You How To Show

Is this sounding too difficult? Is it a technique that’s fine for a master like Carver but a little over your head? Nonsense! Let’s see how achievable it can be.

Back to our character, Maria Rialto. If you put her at the bus stop, reading a new book every day, you would already be showing Maria through her actions. She waits at the bus stop, she reads books, every day it’s a different book. Those are actions. Actually, each of those actions reveal quite a bit about Maria.

But you can show Maria even more clearly. You can paint a physical picture, giving her glossy black hair, a voluptuous figure, and stylish clothing. Perhaps she dresses on the sexy side but holds herself in a rather prim way. Hmmm, that’s interesting because it’s a contradiction. It seems Maria is turning into a round character on us.

If a character were to greet Maria by saying "hello," you just might get to hear Maria speak. And that would certainly show us more about Maria, no matter what she said. If she says a mere "hello" then goes back to her book, that’s one thing. If she sets the book aside and says, "Well, it’s so nice to see you," that’s something else altogether.

You’ll notice that more actions are seeping out through the physicality and dialogue. The choice to wear sexy clothes is an action, as is the choice to keep reading or, perhaps, set the book aside. If some passing stranger were to make a lewd comment to Maria, we would learn a lot about her by the way she handled it. If the bus were to come down the street, swerve out of the way to miss a cat, and then go toppling onto its side, potentially injuring the passengers, what would Maria do?

You see, it’s really not so difficult to show your characters. And by doing so, you will bring them to life on the page, making three dimensional people out of nothing more than the twenty-six letters of the alphabet.

Discussion

After reading the lecture, try answering some or all of the following:

1.   Why do you think actions might be the strongest way to reveal characters?

2.   Do you think it’s important to know what a character looks like? Does this affect who the person is?

3.   Name a fictional character that you "see" very clearly in your mind’s eye. What about this character do you "see?

HOW TO WRITE FICTION - Lesson 4: Using Profiles to Know Your Characters

If you’re going to create great characters for your stories, you will need to know a lot about them. Perhaps not too much, as we discussed in the previous lesson, but you need to know a great deal. In fact, characters are like icebergs. Often only the tips of characters are visible to the readers, but the part beneath the surface gives each character weight, stability.

Getting to know characters is part of the creation phase, and often much of this work is done before the actual writing of the story. Bear in mind, though, that some writers prefer just to start writing and see where the characters lead them, and that is fine too.

Very experienced writers can often do their "homework" intuitively as they write their stories. Either way, at some point the writer does need to know the characters well.

Aspects of Characters

A highly effective method for getting to know your characters is to construct character profiles. You do this simply by thinking up and, perhaps writing down, all sorts of information about your characters. For instance:

Physical

What are your character’s physical traits? Logically enough, it helps the readers to have a picture of someone they will be spending time with. You can’t judge a book by its cover, but physicality can affect who someone is. Do blondes have more fun? Not necessarily. But if someone bleaches her hair Marilyn Monroe platinum, that says something about her – about who she is and wants to be. Deformity undeniably affects the personality of Hugo’s Hunchback.

Social

How about social influences? Even if you’re not a hard-core Freudian, you’d probably agree that people are largely formed during infancy and childhood. If your parents are both alcoholics, that will most likely affect you. If you grew up poor in the South, you will be different than if you were raised rich on Park Avenue. Religion deeply influences one’s outlook on life. Whether a character is married or not and has kids or is childless: all help to form who that individual is.

Personality

The personality is largely a function of the prior two categories. (On the other hand, sometimes siblings are born with very different personalities; nature trumps nurture.) Personality is where the real action is, and it will affect most everything a character does in a story.

In a moment, we’ll break these categories down even further. But, for those of you who are thinking "Oh my gosh, I have to figure out all of that for every single character?" – let’s take a slight detour.

Flat vs. Round Characters

The fact is, you don’t have to devote the same amount of time profiling every character in your stories.

Think of The Great Gatsby. Some characters (Nick Carraway) appear on page after page of the novel, while others show up less frequently (Meyer Wofshiem), and some barely appear and are soon forgotten by the reader (the man who gives Nick directions to West Egg). A story that spent an equal amount of attention on each of its characters would either be very long or very superficial or very boring.

All told, there are two basic categories of characters in the well-told story:

Flat Characters

Flat characters are not really distinguishable from the furniture, nor should they be. They do exactly what’s expected of them (in the case mentioned above, giving Nick directions to his house) and no more. In the words of the great English writer E.M. Forster (in his book Aspects of the Novel), they are "flat" – one-dimensional.

So don’t look to the West Egg direction-giver, or most of the attendees at Gatsby’s parties, for richness or complexity of character. Fitzgerald has kept these characters flat on purpose, knowing that otherwise they would distract from the major characters. Most of your very minor characters should be flat.

Round Characters

Round characters, like most real people, are complex. They have more than one dimension. Usually this results in contradictions within these characters. In case you haven’t noticed, people contradict themselves all the time. In fact, according to E.M. Forster, a character is round if he or she can do something surprising, which you accept and believe because the character is dimensional. A good guidepost when characterizing.

You want the major characters in your story to be round, dimensional, contradictory, and fully human.

Making Profile Lists

As you might imagine, flat characters are pretty easily drawn. Just provide readers with the necessary and expected information, and you’re done. A waiter takes orders, brings the food, leaves the check – period. A grandfather is wise and kindly. A young stockbroker is ambitious and randy in equal measure. In other words, if you know a character will be small, you don’t need to spend a lot of effort profiling him or her.

When it comes to round characters, however, it’s often helpful to create rather elaborate profiles for them. Some writers actually make a list that they fill in with various traits of their characters. Here’s a list that might work for you:

Physical Traits

Gender:

Age:

Ethnicity:

Height:

Body type:

Hair color:

Eye color:

Facial characteristics:

Athleticism:

Sociological Traits

Birthplace:

Parents:

Family:

Childhood:

Occupation:

Income:

Religion:

Politics:

Personality Traits

Habits:

Best qualities:

Worst faults:

Favorite foods:

Favorite vacation destinations:

Favorite sports:

Favorite movies/TV shows:

What makes him happy?

What makes him sad?

What makes him angry?

Who does he love most?

Who does he hate most?

What is he most proud of?

What is he most ashamed of?

What is his secret ambition?

What is his darkest secret?

Gatsby Profiled

Now, let’s construct a profile for Gatsby. Take note, though, that this profile will only include information that is available to us in the novel itself.

Name: Jay Gatsby (James Gatz)

Physical Traits

Gender: Male

Age: "a year or two over thirty"

Ethnicity: German-American

Height: ?

Body type: ?

Hair color: Unclear, though it is short and appears to be trimmed every day; sometimes at parties women rub champagne into it

Eye color: ?

Facial characteristics: "tanned skin...drawn tight on his face." Can smile "understandingly" and is "handsome to look at."

Athleticism: Graceful – he has "resourcefulness of movement" – but uncharacteristically awkward when he first meets Daisy. Probably still fit from his days as a clam digger and salmon fisher, and then a soldier.

Sociological Traits

Birthplace: North Dakota

Parents: Henry C. Gatz and unidentified mother

Family: "shiftless and unsuccessful farm people"

Childhood: Poor but highly ambitious (see schedule in Hopalong Cassidy book)

Occupation: Druggist (bootlegger), oilman?, investor

Income: Astronomical

Religion: Capitalism

Politics: Pragmatic

Personality Traits

Habits: Fidgeting, using language ("old sport") that does not come naturally to him

Best qualities: His devotion to Daisy Buchanan, and his optimism

Worst faults: His notion that anything can be bought, and his naivete

Favorite foods: ?

Favorite vacation destinations: the capitals of Europe, so he says

Favorite sports: Yachting, cricket (he’s holding a bat in his Oxford photograph)

Favorite movies/TV shows: Unclear, though producers, directors, and actors attend his parties

What makes him happy? Showing Daisy his shirts

What makes him sad? Looking across the water towards the green light on Daisy’s dock

What makes him angry? The idea that Daisy has loved anyone besides himself

Who does he love most? Daisy

Who does he hate most? Tom Buchanan

What is he most proud of? His material success

What is he most ashamed of? His humble beginnings

What is his secret ambition? To marry Daisy Buchanan

What is his darkest secret? Unclear – did he "kill a man once"? Did he attend Oxford? In other words, his darkest secret is his very identity

Notice that some of this material isn’t available to readers until the final chapters. In many ways, Gatsby is like a puzzle and many of the pieces don’t fall into place until the very end. For example, we learn some key information about Gatsby when we meet his elderly father. And even more when we see the boyhood schedule the father carries in his wallet. (The book’s preface shows how the pieces of the puzzle appear, step by step.) But most likely Fitzgerald knew most of this information all along, much of it even before he began writing the story.

Notice also that not every question asked by our profile form is answered in the pages of The Great Gatsby. (It’s significant that some of the physical details have been left out.) Fitzgerald only used what was necessary for the telling of his story. You can bet, though, that Fitzgerald knew all of Gatsby’s facets; in fact, he probably knew much, much more than he shares with us, choosing instead to leave many details beneath the surface.

What About the Mystery Woman?

Let’s go back to our Mystery Woman, the one at the bus stop. If you were using her as a character in a story, you might end up revealing a multitude of things about her until by story’s end she was, well ... an open book. Or you might go the other route, keeping her largely a mystery throughout the story.

In either case, you would benefit from knowing as much as you can about her. Even if you don’t reveal much about her in the story, you would be able to write her better, more fully, more believably if you, the writer, knew who she really was.

Suppose you were to give her a name? How about – Maria Rialto. Ah, the character has been christened. And already you are starting to see her more specifically. Imagine how much better you would know her if you could answer some or all of the questions on a profile list.

Constructing a profile is, in fact, a foolproof method for getting to know your characters.

Discussion

After reading the lecture, try answering some or all of the following:

1.   Does the technique of making profiles seem like it might be useful to you?

2.   Would you rather just invent characters as you write?

3.   Which traits on the profile list do you think will be the most illuminating? Can you think of any important traits that were not included on the profile list?

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Source: 2005-2006 free online courses at http://bnuniversity.com/