The Magic Mirror

by Gary Fearon, Southern Writers Magazine

When Romper Room (1953-1994) was on the air, each region did its own version of this kiddie show using a local TV host. Mine had "Miss Jean." I remember little about the show itself beyond its signature segment that always began with these words:

Romper, Bomper, Stomper, Boo
Tell me, tell me, tell me, do
Magic Mirror, tell me today
Have all my friends had fun at play?

After this incantation, each regional host would look at the camera and recite the first names of a handful of children in her viewing audience ("I see Jimmy, and I see Cindy..."). Presumably these were the kids whose parents had written in on their behalf. Maybe she supplemented with random names for good measure. Even at my young age I considered that possibility, though it was still a mild thrill when she happened to speak my name, and for that moment it did feel a bit magical.

Spreading similar joy to the other end of the age spectrum, weatherman Willard Scott took it a step further on The Today Show when he would congratulate someone on their 90th or 100th birthday and show their photo (brought to you by Smucker's). No doubt these nonagenarians and centenarians got much the same thrill as Romper Room's pre-schoolers did at the mention of their name, age and city.

These simple factoids delivered from stranger to stranger are often our own starting point when we're creating characters for our story. We typically begin with the standard details like their name; we have a general sense of their age, and we place them in some setting. But, like Miss Jean or Mr Scott, we don't know much of anything about them until we fill in some essential details.

At this point, writers will often work up a fact sheet, chronicling such details as the characters' hair color, eye color, height, weight, race, education, where they were born, etc. Some authors go so far as to include mannerisms, pet phrases, quirks, whether the character has an accent, and so on. These tactics are helpful and come in especially handy if there are multiple characters to keep track of.

That said, a fact sheet provides merely a sketch of the character. That's when many authors dig deeper to flesh out their character by exploring his/her motivations, belief system, hopes, and fears. What childhood incident left an emotional scar? What achievements give them strength? What have been the turning points in their life? Answering questions like these brings our stick figure character to life by giving him a soul.

Remember to include irony and conflict in your character's psyche; that is, who they want to be versus what is holding them back. Often they are their own biggest hurdle. As author/philosopher Albert Camus said, "Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is."

A writer who has clearly tuned into their protagonist rarely regrets having invested the time to do so. The result is an authentic and well-defined character qualified to mirror the magic of your story.


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A Dazzling Character Development Trick

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

Little kids just don't get magic.

That's something I heard a magician say a long time ago, and it makes perfect sense.  At that young age, children have yet to differentiate the natural world from the supernatural world.  Taking things at face value, the incongruity of a rabbit suddenly appearing from a hat is beyond their scope. They're more interested in the rabbit itself.

I got a first-hand taste of this years ago doing the one magic trick I know.  Actually, it's not even magic, and it's barely a trick.  Using the most elementary of skills, I can make it look like I've removed my thumb from one hand while it wiggles in the other.  I haven't fooled any adults with it, and older kids typically groan at its lameness.  But I'll never forget the reaction of a kindergartener who ran off screaming, terrified that I took off a finger.  Thank goodness I didn't saw someone in half.

As we know, children have a simpler view of the world than adults.  We wouldn't be likely to write a scene with a couple of seven-year-olds discussing quantum physics or amortization schedules. But we may be less aware of the distinctive degrees of development our adult characters can also express.

With each stage in life, people's wants and needs change. Behaviorists have given us some insights we can take advantage of if we really want to get into the heads of our characters. 

One particularly detailed guide is by Richard Barrett ("The Seven Stages of Psychological Development", found at http://bit.ly/2sViwO6   It's heady stuff but eye-opening and worth a look.  Here's an oversimplification:

BIRTH TO TWO YEARS

Surviving, having needs met

TWO TO EIGHT YEARS

Conforming, seeking love and acceptance

EIGHT TO 24 YEARS

Respect and recognition, displaying looks or talent to become part of a group

25 TO 39 YEARS

Individuating, becoming oneself through expressing values and autonomy

40 TO 49 YEARS

Self-actualizing, becoming oneself through expressing gifts and talents

50 TO 59 YEARS

Integrating, collaborating with others and making a difference

60+ YEARS

Selfless serving, social justice, leaving a legacy

These won't apply to everyone — or every character — but could any of these underlying needs add an extra dimension to your protagonists and those they encounter?  Perhaps your 55-year-old shop owner who does sleuthing on the side is also the president of a civics organization — an ideal way to introduce an entire cast of red herrings.  

Knowing each character's stage of development is handy for giving them individuality. Researching their motivations in depth can also help you rely less on cliches and find layers to their personality that might surprise and dazzle you. 

Fill their heads with age-appropriate thoughts and you will avoid a failure to communicate like that of Billy Crystal's character in City Slickers, whose Career Day speech for his son's class became the victim of a midlife crisis.

https://youtu.be/ZXXsX6144uI

Creative Recalibration

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


So I was wandering around at Lowe's last week looking for a piece of white laminated wood to finish an office project.  My massive collection of CDs has grown into the need for one more shelf, which must fit the precise measurements of an existing bookcase, one with apparently uncommon dimensions, because this has been going on for awhile.

Finding the ideal type of wood in a slightly larger size than I needed, and having meticulously written out the precise cuts I could have Lowe's do, I proudly took both to the cutter man, who was quick to inform me that their machine can't make a lengthwise cut on any wood narrower than two feet.

Not to be thwarted, I tried my luck at Home Depot, a block away, where I found an even more suitable size of white laminated wood and proceeded to the cutting station.  Here they had the right kind of saw, but the cutter man said that a lengthwise cut on that type of wood would likely split it all to pieces because of the way it's made.  I asked if he would try anyway, that I'd be willing to take the gamble, but he said they're simply not allowed to cut that type of wood.

Well, shucky durn, I thought.  I left the store carrying not my prize shelving, but a sense of resignation (not to mention self-loathing for thinking "shucky durn"). Having already explored a number of stores and websites prior to this episode, I had now exhausted all avenues of success for my grand plan.

Then it occurred to me that a white laminated CD shelf might not be the best plan at all.  There were other options, but I had been so stuck on my original plan that I hadn't seriously considered them.

I thought back to two days earlier when I was returning home from a long drive.  My GPS insisted that I take the highway, but I knew it was under construction, so I chose an alternate route.  For some miles the GPS kept nagging me to turn around or to take this turnoff to get to the route it had chosen for me.  Finally, it gave up and recalibrated, aligning with my preferred route.

But this isn't about CD shelves or GPS systems.  The bigger picture is that the first route we set our sights on isn't necessarily the best.  It may just be the most obvious one, which is why we get stuck on it.  But there are always alternate routes which could be more to our advantage.

Trained by all the great books and movies that have gone before, we expect story lines to follow certain formulas: when there is this cause, there will be this effect.  Having these mile markers to work from can be an excellent writing tool.  They have stood the test of time because they work. 

But limiting ourselves to something tried and true (and predictable) can induce its own brand of writer's block.  When we realize in horror that our story is commonplace and has turned into drivel, we will question whether it's worth writing.  Or if we develop a scene or plot that is getting nowhere fast, or has boxed us into a corner, we believe we're wasting our time.

That's the time to ask, Are we taking the best route?  We may have enthusiastically jumped on our first impulse, overlooking a road less traveled the story or characters could have taken.  It's a personal challenge to give up an idea we were excited about, but the reward comes when we recalibrate and our next idea solves all our problems.

And as for my CD shelf idea?  I decided I have way too many CDs.  eBay, here I come.

Nothing to Fear

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


We talk a lot about giving our characters goals, and then putting obstacles in their path so they have a hard time achieving them.  We can double that drama by making their obstacle something that not only impedes their progress, but something over which they already possess a deep-seated fear.

Consider Jack Nicholson's character in As Good As It Gets.  His obsesssive-compulsive disorder is constantly put to the test for him to even have a shot at getting the girl.  The internal roadblock provides a means for conflict at every turn.

Phobias in fiction are worth their weight in gold.  Indiana Jones had a problem with snakes, and part of the fun of Raiders was seeing how he reacted to a roomful of asps. 

We identify with a hero who has hangups, since we tend to have a few ourselves.  A warrior without worries is unrelatable.  It would be hard to identify with Superman if his invincible body didn't have a soft spot for Lois Lane.

Reality TV sure knows the value of exploiting contestants' fears.  From Fear Factor (eating bugs) to Bear Gryllis' Running Wild (rock climbing and eating bugs), we're facing our own fears alongside the players, wondering how far we would be willing to go if $5000 was dangled in front of us.  Similarly, we are drawn into a story in which the protagonist is challenged on a deeply personal level.  The specific quest may not be one we ever have to face, but then again, something inside us does like to feel prepared.

Fears we can all relate to include:

• Fear of failure
• Loss of freedom
• Loss of a job
• Unrequited love
• The unknown

The biggest fear of all, of course, is death.  Physical danger of any kind is an intrinsic phobia everyone knows. But even something as simple as disappointment can be a worthwhile challenge to our hero, giving us a very wide berth within which to endanger their destiny.  

"We have met the enemy and he is us," Pogo once said.  We can up the ante of antagonism by giving our protagonist a good internal struggle on top of their outside enemies and obstacles. 

Inner demons add an easy and especially effective layer of conflict, since our internal fears are among the hardest to conquer.  Don't be afraid to use them.