Neil Gaiman converted me to the religion of the hand-written journal. For about a year-and-a-half, I’ve been carrying around a leather-bound book in which I write by hand. Writing in this way is slower than typing. Writing slowly gives my ideas more time to grow into themselves. I make notes and outlines, elaborate back stories, draw floor plans, brainstorm titles and names, write my way out of plot problems, and turn stick people into fully realized characters.
Developing characters involves a selection of exercises I’ve cobbled together from various sources. One of my favorites is Mary Kole’s 100 Declarative Sentences. The exercise is simple–write 100 sentences about a character. It’s easy at first because I’m really just listing things I already know:
- Shelby’s full name is Michelle Aileen Steiner
- Shelby is 16
- Shelby is slim but not skinny
When I get into the teens, it gets harder. Yet, it’s when it gets hard that I start to learn things about the character that I hadn’t known before:
- Shelby recently quit dance
- Shelby doesn’t like to do things she can’t do well
By the time I reach the 60s, 70s, 80s, etc., it feels impossible to keep going, yet it’s not. Forcing the pen to stay on the page and requiring myself to keep writing sentences–Shelby sometimes cooks dinner, Shelby loves the sound of the cello, Shelby likes following a recipe–leads to a rich understanding of the character. Once I’ve written 100 sentences, I’ve gotten to know this person. She’s become real.
I do this exercise in my journal. Writing slowly allows each sentence to sink in. Seeing the list in my handwriting makes the statements feel true. Adding this exercise to all the other material in my journal preserves my process and reminds me how I got where I am and how my characters got there along with me.
The examples I quote are all from sentences I wrote when I was creating Shelby for The Rosemary Spell. The list in the picture is for a new character. His name is Max and I’m just getting to know him. It will be a long time before he’s ready to meet any readers. Yet, he’s slowly coming to life–Max was born on August 22, Max is often the peacemaker in the family, Max finds flightless birds heartbreaking.
Inside the leather binding of my journal, 100 declarative sentences tell me who Max and Shelby are. They are made out of paper and pen and time and imagination, and the sentences I write make them real. They will live full lives in books that will be out in the world. Readers who I will never meet will know my characters. And they were born inside the soft leather binding of my journal where I put ink to paper and wrote 100 sentences.