Tag: character

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What is Character?

Nothing reveals a person’s character like an argument that lays bare the emotions and underlying values through the choice of words and gestures. An argument is primal and shows who we truly are.

As a writer, I use arguments as a way of allowing each person to describe or define themself by what they believe. In my forthcoming novel, Leif’s Legacy, the Nielsen brothers struggle over the future of the family homestead on a pristine lake. Leif, an elderly ex-forest ranger, owns the property and lives alone. He is hospitalized with pneumonia after making a field survey. Harald, his much younger brother, is a doctor whose idea of a good life differs from Leif’s:

Harald stood at the foot of the bed and looked him in the eye. “You’re better already,” he said in surprise and checked the charts. “That’s an incredible rebound. You can go home in a few days.”

“Good,” he grunted. “I don’t like it here.”

“You better take it easy from now on. You’re not a young buck anymore. No more camping.”

“We’ll see about that,” he snorted and then started coughing.

“Be serious,” Harald pleaded. “Think about how to live your last years. Think about what happens to the farm after you’re gone.”

“Why?” he asked, testily. “I’m not dying any time soon.”

“It could happen. You’re at a point where it isn’t safe to live alone.”

“The hell I can’t,” he bristled. “I’ll live there ‘til I die—and that ain’t soon. Hell, even sick I’m stronger than you.” He sat straighter to make his point. “A life without struggle isn’t worth much. When the day comes that I can’t… that’s when I pack it in. I’m not—”

“—Think about this. If you sold the farm, you could get enough to buy a place in town. You could have someone to cook and clean for you,” Harald said giving Leif’s leg a gentle pat. “Think it over. Be sensible. You’re pushing eighty and—”

“—And I’m old enough to know my mind,” he snapped. “God-damnit, I’m not going to let you shove me into to a compost bin you call a nursing home. Jeez-zus Key-ryst! You ought to know me better than that. I entered the world at the lake and by God that’s where I’ll leave it.”

“Easy. Don’t get all worked up. I’m sorry. I just don’t understand your attachment to that place. It’s an old house on a lonely lake.”

Can you think of an argument that defined you or someone you know? What did you learn?

Backstories

FeaturedBackstories

In most if not all novels, the main characters have a backstory, a piece of their history or experience that acts like a gyro to both drive and inhibit them. We all have back stories It is often our dark side, that part of ourselves we would rather deny, ignore, forget or hide from others. At times, the shadow side can often liberate us and reveal who we truly are. In Copy Desk Murders, Boston Meade inherited his family newspaper and has just spent the first summer in twenty years in his hometown. He sits alone on the veranda of the family home disgusted with his last editorial on the evening before he is to return to Chicago:

He slumped in the chair, ruing his flawed valedictory, wishing he could reel in the words like a fishing line and cast them anew. After three months, they still treat you like an outsider. “They’ll be glad when you go tomorrow,” he whispered to the katydids. Glad but not as happy as you will be. You never could be yourself here, he thought. Not as long as everyone assumed you were Dad’s clone. Sure, you’ve got his build, patrician features and Roman nose. But that’s not who you are. But they didn’t accept that. Instead of Dad’s gregarious persona. you’re reserved like Mom was. You had to get out, go to Chicago as the only way to be yourself. For that, they criticized you for acting as if Featherstone and the Statesman weren’t good enough. Well, people see what they want to see, he thought. Being myself and outdoing Dad’s success, that’s what mattered the most. That’s what drove Vicky into her affair. That’s what led to the divorce. He shook his head as he recollected the June morning when American Outlook promoted him to its top job. And then learning of Dad’s death right after that. In less than an hour, he advanced to the career post he coveted as he inherited the job he had despised. “Jesus,” he whispered to the katydid. “The cosmos has an ironic sense of humor.”