her.
But why is Clara so sure? What has made Clelia ask for her number when they've been squabbling? Author Drabble doesn't say, forcing the reader to figure out the answers for himself. The result is to focus his thinking on what the characters are really like . . . which also focuses him more intently on the book itself.
One note: This works better with some kinds of fiction than with others. Some commercial fiction, in all genres, subtly promises its readers that they will receive large doses of emotion or action, not thought puzzles. In such stories, you might do better to make motivations overtly clear.
How do you know whether any fictional element is better included or left out? There's no right answer; it's a judgment call. Or—write it both ways, and ask some trusty readers which works best. They might just agree with Robert Browning that ''less is more.''
SUMMARY: WHAT YOU DON'T SAY
• You can't put in everything you know about your characters. Choose artfully.
• Leaving out description results in characters subtly unconnected to their surroundings.
• Leaving out dialogue puts emphasis on setting.
• Leaving out details may throw whatever is omitted into sharp relief.
• Leaving out explicit motivation forces the reader to supply it for himself.
• Genre should influence what you choose to include or leave out.
Many, many writers are tempted to create characters by basing the externals on real people: Cousin John's appearance, a neighbor's weird gestures, a friend's background and speech patterns. After all, the models are indubitably real, so shouldn't that bolster the believ-ability of their fictional counterparts? Wouldn't drawing on a real person's appearance, mannerisms, speech, tastes and observable behavior give you a boost up on characterization?
Maybe yes, maybe no.
It depends on who and what you copy, and how slavishly. Using a real person as a model can gain you a solid starting point for a fictional character. It can also gain you a watered-down and underimagined character—or a law suit.
So if your Aunt Minnie is a fascinating kleptomaniac (her collection of stolen doorknobs from places where Woodrow Wilson slept; her purloined cat collars), there are both legal and personal questions to consider before you put her in a story. Can her husband Uncle Dan, the quick-tempered lawyer, sue you for libel? Will your mother, Aunt Minnie's sister, ever forgive you? If you change Aunt Minnie's name, do you have to inform your editor that she's based on a real person? If you decide that Aunt Minnie steals something from Madonna, and you want to put Madonna in the story, too, can you do that without permission?
Laws, of course, change constantly. (Abraham Lincoln once wrote, ''A nation may be said to consist of its territories, its people, and its laws. The territory is the only part which is of certain durability.'') What I write now could be outdated next year, or not be applicable in your particular case. Specifics depend on who you copy, how you write about him and where you live. Nonetheless, let's examine some general guidelines, both legal and literary, for making use of the intriguing Aunt Minnie.
PRECEDENTS AND CONSEQUENCES:
SOME FAMOUS CHARACTERS BASED ON REAL PEOPLE
Basing fictional characters on real people has a long and distinguished history. In David Copperfield, Charles Dickens based Mr. Micawber on his own feckless father, John Dickens. Scarlett O'Hara's life story drew on that of Margaret Mitchell's grandmother, Annie Fitzgerald Stephens, who survived the burning of Atlanta and went on to rebuild the family farm. In Dodsworth, Sinclair Lewis based his exploitive and selfish character Fran Dodsworth on his first wife—an interesting form of post-marital revenge also employed by Lady Caroline Lamb in Glenarvon and by Nora Ephron in Heartburn. A trio of famous dreamers—Jay Gatsby, Don Quixote and Alice in Wonderland—like-wise all began as people their authors
But why is Clara so sure? What has made Clelia ask for her number when they've been squabbling? Author Drabble doesn't say, forcing the reader to figure out the answers for himself. The result is to focus his thinking on what the characters are really like . . . which also focuses him more intently on the book itself.
One note: This works better with some kinds of fiction than with others. Some commercial fiction, in all genres, subtly promises its readers that they will receive large doses of emotion or action, not thought puzzles. In such stories, you might do better to make motivations overtly clear.
How do you know whether any fictional element is better included or left out? There's no right answer; it's a judgment call. Or—write it both ways, and ask some trusty readers which works best. They might just agree with Robert Browning that ''less is more.''
SUMMARY: WHAT YOU DON'T SAY
• You can't put in everything you know about your characters. Choose artfully.
• Leaving out description results in characters subtly unconnected to their surroundings.
• Leaving out dialogue puts emphasis on setting.
• Leaving out details may throw whatever is omitted into sharp relief.
• Leaving out explicit motivation forces the reader to supply it for himself.
• Genre should influence what you choose to include or leave out.
Many, many writers are tempted to create characters by basing the externals on real people: Cousin John's appearance, a neighbor's weird gestures, a friend's background and speech patterns. After all, the models are indubitably real, so shouldn't that bolster the believ-ability of their fictional counterparts? Wouldn't drawing on a real person's appearance, mannerisms, speech, tastes and observable behavior give you a boost up on characterization?
Maybe yes, maybe no.
It depends on who and what you copy, and how slavishly. Using a real person as a model can gain you a solid starting point for a fictional character. It can also gain you a watered-down and underimagined character—or a law suit.
So if your Aunt Minnie is a fascinating kleptomaniac (her collection of stolen doorknobs from places where Woodrow Wilson slept; her purloined cat collars), there are both legal and personal questions to consider before you put her in a story. Can her husband Uncle Dan, the quick-tempered lawyer, sue you for libel? Will your mother, Aunt Minnie's sister, ever forgive you? If you change Aunt Minnie's name, do you have to inform your editor that she's based on a real person? If you decide that Aunt Minnie steals something from Madonna, and you want to put Madonna in the story, too, can you do that without permission?
Laws, of course, change constantly. (Abraham Lincoln once wrote, ''A nation may be said to consist of its territories, its people, and its laws. The territory is the only part which is of certain durability.'') What I write now could be outdated next year, or not be applicable in your particular case. Specifics depend on who you copy, how you write about him and where you live. Nonetheless, let's examine some general guidelines, both legal and literary, for making use of the intriguing Aunt Minnie.
PRECEDENTS AND CONSEQUENCES:
SOME FAMOUS CHARACTERS BASED ON REAL PEOPLE
Basing fictional characters on real people has a long and distinguished history. In David Copperfield, Charles Dickens based Mr. Micawber on his own feckless father, John Dickens. Scarlett O'Hara's life story drew on that of Margaret Mitchell's grandmother, Annie Fitzgerald Stephens, who survived the burning of Atlanta and went on to rebuild the family farm. In Dodsworth, Sinclair Lewis based his exploitive and selfish character Fran Dodsworth on his first wife—an interesting form of post-marital revenge also employed by Lady Caroline Lamb in Glenarvon and by Nora Ephron in Heartburn. A trio of famous dreamers—Jay Gatsby, Don Quixote and Alice in Wonderland—like-wise all began as people their authors
Similar Books
