"Behind the Light"

My great, great, great grandfather George McConnell was the first lighthouse keeper on Miscou Island.  But he wasn't a lighthouse keeper when he arrived.  According to an article published on the “Lighthouse Friends” website, he was “a practical engineer and mechanic, who had been selected by the Commissioners from a pool of thirteen applicants.”

George passed away in 1877, after more than 20 years on the island.  His great great Grandson (my second cousin) Ralph Mark, still owns property there.  It has been in my family since they first settled on Miscou and is just down the road from where the lighthouse still stands.

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Miscou Lighthouse

Needless to say, I have had a lifelong fascination with lighthouses and those who earn their keep by ensuring everything remains in working order.  Sadly, a job that used to be done by three men is now handled by a microchip.  The days of the lighthouse keeper are over, but the stories remain.

Lighthouse Keepers Bill Arnold, Handel Bluer, and Eddie Matthews give us a glimpse of what life was like in this short film by Ronan Glynn and Liberty Smith.

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“You had the time.  When you read a book, you read a book.  You had time to read the book.  Most things now, we just skip through them, don’t we?”

“You didn’t have to hang pictures on the wall to get a view.  It was there looking at you.”

“I find that even now, I wake most mornings at 4 o’clock.  As thought I was getting up for the morning watch.”

It wouldn’t be an easy life.  But for those who enjoyed solitude and not only loved but had a healthy respect for the sea, it was the ideal job.  It is obvious that it was something none of these men wanted to leave behind.  You can see it in their eyes, which light up when telling the tales and fill with a quiet sadness when they recall their retirement.

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My only complaint is that this short film is too short.  At just 6 minutes, it offers but a glimpse into the world of the lighthouse keeper and leaves the viewer wondering about the many stories they didn’t get a chance to tell.

http://aeon.co/film/former-lighthouse-keepers-reminisce/

And you are... ?

So how important is character development, anyway?

When it comes to your main characters, most will agree that it’s crucial.  But what about the peripheral characters? 

Like the extras in a film, they serve a purpose and even if that purpose is to offer a small peek to a single thread of information.  No matter what their role, they need to be believable.  The need to have as much (or in some cases, more) depth than characters that the reader gets to know over the course of the story because the reader spends so little time with them.  The writer, on the other hand, often spends a great deal of time getting to know them.  Why are they there?  Where did they come from?  How did they happen upon this information?  Do they have an ulterior motive?

I compulsively collect reference material.  

I compulsively collect reference material.  

Even if all the little details never make it into the story, they’re important.  Like the fact that the character’s father was killed by a milk truck on the first day of school or how they take their coffee or their habit of never wearing matching socks.  These little facts will have an impact on how that character interacts with others and how they may react to events that take place.  What’s important is that you as the author know these things because that is precisely how you can determine how large or small a role they will have in your story.  These details will also help your characters evolve from a cardboard cutout to a memorable part of the story and perhaps make the reader want to know more about them.

I write commercials and part of that job often means voicing them, as well.  I enjoy character work much more than I do "straight reads”.  One question I often ask is “what is my motivation”?  I have under 30 seconds to establish the character, make it believable, and sell it to the listener.  But it doesn’t end there.  They all have a backstory.

Here’s an example.  The lines in the script are : “She painted her bathroom cotton candy pink!  Can you imagine?”

This can be read in many different ways.  But in my head, the character believes one can never be too rich or too thin.  She is a gossip and can often be found at charity events with a martini in one hand and one of those long thin cigarettes made especially for women in the other.  She has black hair, often done in a French twist, is impeccably dressed, and finds children “sticky and obnoxious”.  She speaks with an affected English accent, although she’s from Massachusetts.  She drops the Kennedy name into casual conversation, yet has never even met them.  No one challenges her on it because she’s so intimidating and the less you dig the better off you are.  All that for two lines.  But it works.

The same goes for literary characters.  You never know where they will take you, if they will pop up again later in the story, or if you will only ever get two lines out of them.  But if they are developed properly, they will always fit no matter where they decide to show up or what they have to say.

Getting started.

The first sentence is ALWAYS the hardest, in spite of the fact that I can go back later and edit/rewrite/scrap it altogether.  It’s only the first draft.  Stop freaking out over it and just START, already.

But I can’t.  I am paralyzed and out of sorts and can’t seem to remember how to write.  Maybe I’m a fraud.  Maybe I’m insane.  Maybe I just need a cup of tea and a biscuit.

It's not like I was without a firm idea of what I was going to write.  My process is pretty basic.  I take copious notes, do the appropriate research, and make more notes.  Then the characters start to come forward, so I make a list and try to figure out what their part in the story will be.  I research names for all of them.  Names that have meaning.  Names that sound good not only when read them out loud but when I hear them inside my head where all the action is taking place.  Then it’s on to the plot and soon I have a basic storyline down on paper. 

On page 155 of “On Writing”, Stephen King offers some very solid advice to writers with regard where they choose to write.  “The space can be humble (probably should be, as I think I have already suggested)...”, he says.  I agree.  It should also start out clutter free, as you’ll collect plenty of clutter in the form of research material, teacups, pens, markers, blank paper, and if you’re like me - a binder/journal full of notes.  As a matter of fact, most of this clutter will probably show up by the end of the first day.

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 He also recommends your office have a door, but mine does not.  My kitchen table serves as my desk because it works for me and also because I don’t have anyone else to contend with, thus no need to retreat behind a closed door.  My version of “closing the door” was cancelling my satellite TV subscription and unplugging the phone.  Yes, I still have a landline.  Call me old-fashioned.

So I sat at my new space, loving every bit of it and at the same time agonizing over the next step.  I farted around on Facebook, watched YouTube videos, and wrote a few Blog entries for future use.  But when I turned my attention to the task at hand, I couldn’t even bring myself to type the first word.

I was chatting with another writer online (yet another distraction) who naturally asked,

“How’s the project coming along?”

I was honest with her and she was kind enough to pass along some advice.

DETACH FROM THE OUTCOME.

It was that simple.  If you concentrate on the end result, you won’t get started.  If you worry too much about what’s waiting for you at the end of the journey you won’t be authentic.

I wrote those four words on a sheet of paper, taped it to the wall, and 15 minutes later I was off to the races.  Speaking of which, I promised myself I would get the third chapter written and the fourth chapter mapped out before the end of the weekend.  As per usual, I am a bit behind that goal ( and by "a bit", I mean I'm not even halfway there ).         

They're waiting.

While taking a walk through the woods one rather gloomy spring day, The Writer caught a glimpse of a young girl with short dark hair and dark eyes. There was something strange (yet not sinister) about her. She seemed familiar, somehow. The Writer continued on, searching through breaks in the trees until, much to her surprise, found herself face to face with her quarry. They regarded each other for a moment. The girl’s eyes narrowed and grew darker still.

We’re waiting.

The words were heard not with her ears but with her heart, for the girl’s lips remained still. The Writer wasn't especially frightened, not by the girl anyway. What scared her was the thought that the stories she loved so much may never be known to anyone else but her. 

So The Writer retreated from the mundane world to her cozy little home and immersed herself in the Faerie Realm. Sipping tea and losing complete track of the time ( as will happen when one visits the Fae ), she continues to document the stories they are willing to share. 
 

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