When
I read Dan Levinson’s Fires of Man, I
was so impressed at the depth at which he got into his characters. The story is
told from multiple points of view. Now at first glance this might seem
extremely disorienting. I was concerned that this would make me lose interest in the book. To the contrary, each time a new character was introduced, I was drawn
into that person’s life and thoughts; even the bad guys. And this pulled me
even deeper into the plot.
I
wanted to find out how Dan did this. So, of course, I asked him.
But
first…
Supposedly, the
war between Calchis and Orion ended decades ago. But upon reporting to an
isolated Orion army base for basic training, Private Stockton Finn learns the
war still rages, only the weapons have changed--most disturbingly of all, Finn
has been selected to become one of those weapons.
Across the border, young Calchan farm
boy Aaron Waverly learns all too well just how determined his country is to win
the war when he is abducted from his family's property by a sinister government
operative known only as Agent. Finding himself trapped in dreary new surroundings,
learning deadly skills he's never before imagined, Aaron struggles to reconcile
his ephemeral faith with his harsh new reality.
As the two nations hurtle toward a resurgence of open
hostilities, Finn and Aaron, along with their new friends and mentors, must
rush to prepare themselves for the inevitable clash. All the while, a new
archaeological find in the frozen tundra far to the north hints that the
brewing conflict may only be the first of their worries...
AMM: Welcome Dan
DL: Thanks for
having me, Ann Marie. Now to get into one of my favorite topics.
Digging Deep into Character
I had occasion
recently to take a workshop with the extraordinary editor Tom Jenks. Among our
required reading was Aristotle’s Poetics.
I’d last read Poetics in college, as
a drama major, studying it through the lens of the theater. As I reviewed it
again, I was astounded to discover the following line: “The soul of tragedy is
the plot, and second in importance is character.” I balked at this, ready to
denounce Aristotle in class, and it was to my utmost relief when, the next day,
Tom himself affirmed that in today’s literary sphere, character is foremost,
and plot, second.
Ask yourselves:
What do you remember most about your favorite novels? When I think of Harry Potter, for example, what first
springs to mind are not Horcruxes, nor the Triwizard Tournament, nor any of the
other twists and turns and machinations of the plot. I think of brave Harry
himself, and of the malevolent Lord Voldemort; of wise Dumbledore and sinister
Snape; of steadfast Ron, brilliant Hermione, snide Draco Malfoy.
I think of
characters!
It was my
screenwriting mentor Jake Krueger who first taught me to conceive a story not
from plot, but from character. To let the characters live and breathe on the
page, to give them freedom to move the story by their own wills, rather than forcing
their movements upon them to satisfy a preplanned plot. This is not to say I
don’t determine any aspects of plot in advance. In fact, therein lies the
secret to how I develop my characters.
Plot is a
framework, within which the characters can be allowed to act and react. By
placing characters inside the necessary situations, you create an opportunity
for yourself, as a writer, to observe them, to see how they connect the dots
from A to Z. Each character will make different choices, depending on their
histories, their anxieties, preconceptions, traumas, and if you absolutely must
get a character to a certain point, let the character him or herself show you how. There’s no need to make a blueprint
predetermining every step, only the destination (and sometimes, depending on
the story, even this is malleable).
It’s integral,
especially in the first draft, to grant yourself the liberty of exploring these
people as real human beings, free from the tight constraints of plot. Loosen up
the narrative, if necessary; you can always contract it again in a later draft.
In the meantime it is more important to get to know these people. And that’s
what I find it comes down to, for me. Getting to know my characters by writing
about them. This is not to say one shouldn’t set down a character’s backstory, but
the extent and detail to which one does so before beginning a draft is largely
up to the writer.
I found, as an
actor, that backstory was but foundation, and that the success of any given
scene or role was determined more through the rehearsal process. The backstory
was something that existed in my subconscious; most of the time, I didn’t have
to overtly ask myself, “Because of my character’s past, how would he react in
this moment? Or this one?” If there ever came a time when something wasn’t
working, that was when I would ask those questions, but mostly I was able to
trust that I understood the backstory, understood my character. I could trust
that my choices would emerge naturally from that inherent understanding, rather
than having to return to my character’s history for every single line I spoke,
every beat in the scene.
My writing
process is very much the same. I begin oftentimes with a sketch of the
character’s backstory, which is then relegated to mere background noise as I
write about the character moving forward through the story. This sketch, in
turn, as I proceed, becomes more and more distinct—a complete picture—over many
drafts. Often I’ll discover new things: experiences, memories, moments in that
character’s life which were previously undefined. I say “discover” because with
it always comes a certain sense of “rightness,” as if I’ve always
subconsciously known this, and it thus illuminates all the previous action and
behavior I have put on the page.
I cannot
emphasize enough that I never begin with any character fully realized. It’s
through the writing that they become truly flesh and blood. I will also say
that each writer must discover his or her own process, and this is simply what
has worked for me. And it is enjoyable. There’s a profound pleasure to be
derived from seeing characters come slowly but surely into focus, until at last
they leap off the page of their own volition, dancing circles, making choices,
learning, living, loving with all the fervor of any breathing person. One
thing, however, I think is an imperative for all fiction writers . . .
Character first. Sorry,
Aristotle.
Dan Levinson is a New York-based fiction writer, screenwriter,
and librettist.
His debut novel, the sci-fi war epic FIRES OF MAN (#1 in the
PSIONIC EARTH series), is due out June 17, 2014 from Jolly Fish Press.
Dan has studied with authors Irini Spanidou and John Reed,
playwright Daniel Goldfarb, and screenwriter Jacob Krueger, among others. He is
a sometimes-member of the Paragraph NY writer's workspace, and can frequently
be seen attending their monthly events. He graduated from NYU with a BFA in 2007.
He currently resides on Long Island.
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