Characters... one word at a time.

I'm excited to tackle our second blog topic because Separation Anxiety, from the beginning, has always been about the characters. In my last post, I wrote on the evolution the story took from short fiction to stage play to film. The characters themselves have evolved, but I also want to touch on where they come from, and how a writer uses words to define a character to an actor and an audience.

The best films, to me, are built on characters that we, the audience, can identify with. We want to be the hero. Save the day. Find true love. But I don't connect with escapism (there's a reason it's called escapism). I know I'm not John McClain. But maybe I see myself in the Lester Burnams of the world. Or the Tyler Durdens (of the Ed Norton variety).

When creating a character, I sometimes pull from my own experiences, memories, beliefs, and borrow pieces of myself to form someone new. Equally, I will draw from observation—the people around me, friends, strangers, and research. And the third part of the equation is imagination. Putting myself into a situation and living it. Experiencing, or at least projecting an experience.

I don't know how all writers write. Wouldn't claim to and I won't say this is some secret formula for how to write a character in ten days. Just my take.

Quinn was the first. And in the beginning, he was me. I wrote him in a cathartic moment and it wasn't until later that I thought he might have more purpose than I first gave him. So he was slowly and carefully designed to be a facet of me, rather than a mirror. And all that is well and good, but still, most of that is just in my notes. The characters in the film were mapped out and their back stories drawn out. The trick, is to convey that through the words, since a movie script doesn't work like a novel. You don't write the intangible. "Don't write what we can't see." It's a popular idiom in film. And very helpful in forcing a writer to think visually and vocally when putting character down on paper.

Quinn, for example, is described as having a spartan room. He dresses older than he is. He drives a nice car. The things around him in the script are used to define him to both the director and the actor. Hints from the writer as to the man Quinn is, or thinks he is. This comes through in his speech pattern as well. Quinn uses longer words when he can. Not because he needs to, but because he likes to hear himself say them. In a script, the way a person uses words defines him.

Bailey, conversely, doesn't use big words unless they're the right words. He's more casual with his language. And more straightforward. He doesn't talk around things. The only time in the script he is not completely himself is when he's trying to talk about Jess to Quinn. She makes it tough for him to say what's on his mind, and when a character is otherwise great at speaking his mind, when he can't, there's reason for that.

Jess uses a mix of phrases in her speech, little saying that she makes up. Her way of playing with words. If there's something she doesn't want to talk about, she'll say it another way. Not passive, but subtle.

Mr. Palmer words skew older than the three youngsters. For him I has to go listening. I'm not his age. I didn't grow up in his life. His words needed to showcase his midwestern, blue-collar life. So as a writer, one of my first responsibilities is to listen, to read, to hear. How people talk. Go sit in a bar for a while and nurse a drink (at a bar that reflects the people you're trying to recreate). You'll be amazed at the gems you'll pick up. I heard one today at a skating party of my youngest cousin. You'll no doubt see it appear in something of mine one day (I'll let you know when that happens).

Lily was another character that required research. She speaks in languid sentences. Lots of words that give her the sense of being someone who counsels people. She asks questions and has a mix of compassion and bluntness that keeps her honest. To that end, she doesn't speak in specifics until forced. Most of her words bring us back to Quinn. She uses phrases to redirect conversation away from her in an attempt to protect herself.

One of the great challenges of any script, is creating a universe of characters that speak independently of each other. Different lilts, tones, cadence, and especially word choice will create a script full of different characters, rather than a group of people that all talk like the screenwriter.

Jess began in another play. She and her mother Ruth have their own story and I realized about three pages into it, that she knew Bailey too. That she was going through the same thing Quinn was. And that'll happen when a writer starts two project at the same time. You realize quickly that you're just writing one project and the second isn't going to make it. So you pull from it what you can and keep going.

But for all the character work a writer does, there's a group of people coming along who will take those characters and give them life. I love working with actors on a script. Listening to an actor read a line can give me a view of that character I hadn't seen. And that gets the juices flowing and then sometimes the character changes. But then I'm a collaborative writer. I know that eventually an actor will put his or her own spin onto a character I conceptualize. It's like potential and kinetic energy. I just need to make sure from my end that I give the actor the most potential possible for putting a brilliant character on the screen.

This past weekend I watched a short piece of theatre where an actress took on a role originally meant for a man. The last-minute gender switch brought such a level of importance to one line later in the show, that I can't see it written any other way. And I encouraged the writer to make the switch permanent. Because of one actress.

With another draft done for "Separation Anxiety", I'm working with Cole and Kiana to fine-tune the characters of Bailey and Jess in the film and each subsequent draft. They have both taken great care to examine the text, the words these people use, the actions they take through these words, and talk with me about them. Their motives. Their tenets. Their throughlines. A strong actor knows how to study a character, and that is invaluable to a writer.

I think all writers should take acting classes. Being on a stage, and not just to be there, but to engage and bring a piece to realization, is amazing and has, through my own experience in theatre work, taught me a bit about how actors approach their characters. How they might interpret someone I create.

Different actors have different speech patterns and different facials and movement, and that all goes into how they build the characters. And sometimes a word might work better for this actor than a different one. So lines are tweaked to play to a strength.

At the same time, every word a character says has to be carefully considered. A hesitation in the wrong place and they look weak when you wanted them to look strong. A vulgarity for no reason in a character that doesn't use them looks sloppy. Hip new phrases rolling off the tongue of an old fashioned guy (not being used for comedy or effect) looks odd. The words they use in dialogue, and the words I use for their description, should shape them, grow them, and more than anything, define them.

So like the actors, I go through the script. A pass for each character. Tracing their steps. And each time through I see something new. Something I missed before or just caught in a different light.

Overall, I look to give each character a distinct voice. A clear motive in what they do—a character says one thing but does another, and that incongruity grates against the audience. And honestly, they just need to speak to me. I identify with each of them, and through that I keep developing them. My goal is to make them real. Because if they're ever displaying anything that makes the actors and audience question that, then I've missed a step in their development.

Great topic... but now I'm going to answer our first question. Look for the posting tonight as well. More next week.