A year ago, overwhelmed by grief, I returned to writing as a lifeline. What began as a way to process my pain unexpectedly evolved into a passionate pursuit of storytelling. This journey back to writing after decades away has been filled with surprises, none more so than the surprising difficulty of creating authentic, diverse characters.
My initial writing projects were deeply personal, characters emerging from the raw emotions of loss. As I reread these early pieces, I felt an overwhelming urge to edit, to polish, to perfect. The writer in me saw flaws and areas for improvement, but my editor gave me advice I'll never forget. She told me to resist that urge, to leave the writing as it was. "This is authentic," she said. "It's raw and real, born from your grief. You won't regret preserving it as is." At first, I struggled with this idea, but over time, I've come to appreciate the unvarnished truth in those early works. These writings eventually became my compilation books, preserving that raw, grief-driven creativity.
As I transitioned from writing to heal to writing my first full-length novel, "Fault Lines," I encountered a challenge I hadn't anticipated: creating characters who weren't simply reflections of myself or those closest to me. This was different from my grief writing; now I was trying to craft fictional people, and it was surprisingly difficult.
I've come to realize how we, as humans, tend to mimic those we spend the most time with. This natural tendency creates an unexpected hurdle in character creation. I often found myself worrying that I was inadvertently creating a mirror of myself or one of my close friends. It was a constant struggle to step outside of my immediate social circle and create characters who were truly unique individuals.
This challenge was particularly acute when writing dialogue. I caught myself using phrases or mannerisms that were distinctly "me" or characteristic of my friends. While this sometimes added authenticity to a character, it could also lead to a lack of diversity in my cast of characters if I wasn't careful.
To combat this, I adopted several strategies. I joined a diverse writing group, exposing myself to a wide range of perspectives and experiences. I started people-watching more intentionally, imagining backstories for strangers I encountered. These exercises helped me step outside my own experiences and create more varied, authentic characters.
One technique that was particularly helpful was creating character playlists. For each major character in "Fault Lines," I compiled a list of songs that embodied their personality, background, and emotional state. This practice allowed me to connect with my characters on an emotional level, helping me understand them as individuals distinct from myself.
Perhaps the most challenging aspect of this new phase in my writing journey was learning to let my characters fail. In my grief-driven writing, my characters often embodied idealized versions of myself or lost loved ones, making it difficult to allow them to make mistakes or face consequences. A breakthrough came when I forced myself to write a scene where my protagonist makes a terrible decision. It was uncomfortable to write, but the resulting scene had a depth and realism that was missing from my earlier work.
As I got deeper into "Fault Lines," I found myself constantly surprised by how difficult character creation could be. Each new character was a puzzle to solve, a unique individual to understand. It was a process that required constant vigilance against falling back on familiar traits or experiences. Unlike upcoming projects, my “cast of characters” was relatively small for “Fault Lines”. But it was still work.
One of the most valuable exercises I adopted was writing first-person monologues for each of my characters. This practice helped me dive deep into their psyche, understanding their fears, desires, and the way they see the world. It was particularly useful for developing distinct voices for each character, ensuring that their dialogue and internal thoughts were unique and authentic.
Despite these challenges - or perhaps because of them - I found the process of character creation to be one of the most rewarding aspects of writing. With each chapter I wrote, with each character I brought to life, I felt my skills improving and my passion for writing growing stronger.
Now, as I look back on this year of rediscovery and growth, I'm amazed at how far I've come. What began as a way to cope with grief has blossomed into a renewed passion for storytelling, albeit one fraught with unexpected challenges. The characters in "Fault Lines" feel more real to me now, more complex and human than anything I wrote in those early, pain-filled days. They surprised me sometimes, taking the story in directions I hadn't anticipated, and that's when I knew I'd succeeded in creating truly living, breathing fictional people.
"Fault Lines" is now complete. It has been through alpha and beta readers, and the feedback from ARC (Advance Reader Copy) readers has been incredibly positive. The novel is set to be released on October 13th, available in Kindle, paperback, and Audible formats. This milestone feels surreal, considering where my writing journey began just a year ago.
The journey of honing my character creation skills is far from over. If anything, this year has shown me how much there is to learn, how difficult it can be to create characters who are truly unique and authentic. But I'm excited to continue this journey, to keep refining my craft, and to populate my future stories with characters that resonate with readers. It's been a year of transformation, from writing to heal to writing to create, filled with unexpected challenges and small victories. As "Fault Lines" prepares to meet its readers, I can't wait to see where this path leads me next, and what new characters I'll meet along the way in my future projects.