It’s a question that could apply to a lot of things, yeah?

But it’s the question I’ve been asking myself in the past couple days as I’ve tried to fit in some good chunks of writing time. In particular, I’ve been working on my main character. Name’s Hailey and she’s a small-town reporter. Understandable, since I began working on her when I was a reporter, right?

Anyway, anybody who consumes novels as hungrily as me (good thing books aren’t food, actually, because I think I’d border on gluttonous) may have picked up on a little device used by writers to craft their characters…there’s probably a proper name for it. Or maybe not. I don’t really know, but I do know it’s a handy bit of a trick that, if done well, serves its purpose quite nicely. It’s like this: you give your character a little something that’s just his or hers – a trait, a quirk, maybe a phrase she always uses or a funny habit…something that makes her unique, and just, well, her. It might help the reader connect with the character or simply better define and cement the character in the reader’s mind.

A few examples: In a book by Michael Phillips set during World War II, one of his antagonists is always eating black licorice. In Ted Dekker’s book Skin, the really freaky guy eats mayonnaise and mustard, just downs ’em straight. Gross! (Little sidebar here: I let my mom and sister borrow this book a couple years back. Came home for a few days one weekend and yeah, there was a jar of mayonnaise and bottle of mustard on my bed. Nice.) In a book I just finished the other day, the main character loves the beach, goes there repeatedly throughout the book to do all her thinking. In another I read recently, everything reminds the narrator of a hymn.

I suppose sometimes writers do this by accident…create a character and as they’re writing, some trait just rises to the surface and does the trick. Other times, many times, I suspect, writers settle on that little something to give the character and make sure to let it pop up here and there in the story.

Which brings me back to my question: how much is too much? ‘Cause I’ve got my main character’s trait. She’s an old movie buff, see. People remind of her characters. Circumstances bring movie situations to mind. And she’s always ready with a quote from one of her favorites. Hailey’s especially apt to throw out a Cary Grant line when the situation warrants!

But yeah, how much is too much? Truth is, I’ve read stories where this device was incredibly over-used and I found myself annoyed. For instance, in a book I read earlier this year, the main character is quite witty and constantly throwing out southern-isms. Only, by halfway into the book, I was just plain sick of her sarcasm and her continual use of the same phrases over and over again. Other times, the device can just feel out of place or forced. Definitely something to stay away from.

So I’m trying to be clever about this thing, trying to keep it natural,to keep things flowing. But there is a craft behind it. I’m being intentional. And so, as part of my intentionality, I thought I’d try a little experiment. I’m going to post just a piece of my first chapter in which Hailey does her connect-this-moment-to-a-movie thing. And if you, kind reader, have thoughts on the question of ‘how much is too much?,’ feel free to shoot them my way, okay? Here goes…oh, by way of clarification, Hailey is riding along with a pilot in a small civilian plane at this point in the story: 

Excerpt from Chapter 1

…Hailey looked back at the pilot. In his 50s, hair long since turned to silver and crinkles wreathing his eyes. And yes, a large nose. But it fit the man, added character to his face. Reminded Hailey of Karl Malden of A Streetcar Named Desire fame, though it was actually Disney’s Pollyanna Hailey thought of when it came to the actor. He’d played a minister in that, one who changed from a booming “death comes unexpectedly” type to the gentler sort after a speech from Hayley Mills.

“What’s that Johnny Cash song? Something about missing someone and never getting over those blue eyes?” Guthrie began humming.

 

And a memory flooded Hailey then. Another man – much younger, barely a man really – commenting on the blue of her eyes. Robbie. “As blue as the ocean,” he’d said and drawn a blush even her summer-tanned teenage face couldn’t mask. Azul como el mar…

With an abandon that must’ve come from the early morning, or maybe the thrill of the flight, Hailey let the memory wash over her bringing with it images of Robbie’s face and the Central Mexican landscape she’d come to love in her six years living there more than a decade ago. Hard to say where her deepest roots reached: Iowa or Mexico. Of her 28 years, most may have been spent in Iowa, but Mexico had never really let go its hold. 

“How’s it go…at my door, at my door,” Guthrie searched for the lyrics. “Got it!” He sang the words. “’At my door the leaves are falling. A cold wild wind has come. Sweethearts walk by together. And I still miss someone.’”

Hailey grinned at the pilot. “Don’t think I know that one.”

“But you know the feeling, yeah?”

“What?”

 

“Of missing someone. I don’t know, just something I sensed.”

Hailey was reminded of another Karl Malden role. The Hitchcock movie I Confess, where Malden played a detective questioning a priest. She remembered the subtle expressions of Malden’s character, his assessing demeanor. She got the same vibe from Guthrie, though without a hint of the movie detective’s ambivalence.

Truthfully, missing someone was about as familiar a feeling to Hailey as any. Her parents. Christopher. Robbie. Dahlia. And at each someone, varying emotions fought for prominence. Too many.

“And you, Mr. Hornbecker? Who do you miss?” The question came at instinct. Like Guthrie’s, her senses picking up an underlying thread. Only unlike herself, Guthrie seemed of a mind to open up. At least, that’s how she read him. And she must’ve read him right. ‘Cause a tear trailed down his cheek, and he said, “My wife.”

Too much? Or does it give you a feel for who Hailey is and the lens through which she sees things? Shoot me your thoughts and in return, well, I’ll treat ya to my own rendition of that Johnny Cash tune Guthrie sings. 

*****

P.S. Speaking of Ted Dekker, which I did above, I’d just like to take a moment to commend myself for even writing this post tonight. Know why? ‘Cause I got Dekker’s latest novel in the mail today. I’m so excited to read it I’m fairly beside myself. It is nothing short of amazing that I took the time to blog. (What dedication.) In fact, the pre-order deal I got on this book included a necklace with a pendant from Dekker’s Circle series. Sweet! Seriously, I’m like the Ted Dekker version of an overboard Star Trek fan, a Trekkie. Oh my goodness. I’m a Dekkie. Wow.