I'm over halfway through the NaNoWriMo Challenge, and Bunless Ovens is nearing the three-quarter point. I was aiming to get done with the entire first draft before Thanksgiving. It's possible, but I'm going to have to push.
And to make that goal, I'm also going to have to push the main character, Penn.
One of my favorite aspects of character development is getting the protagonist to their ultimate turning point: where they realize the person/place/thing/state of mind they've been chasing is backward. Or, maybe they don't realize it, if the story doesn't have a happy ending. In Penn's case, she's learning the hard truth of what comprises long lasting friendships, and the sacrifices she has to make to get there.
We all know this struggle. As we get older, friendships fall away, and new ones form. Not everyone is meant for our life journey. Those of us who have lived long enough to feel that tug often have to make difficult decisions.
Continue being the sole party more often pushing and pursuing connection, or save energy for something/someone else who makes the struggles easier.
In Penn's case, she's creating new connections using the common ground of having no children. Meanwhile, she's slowly losing connection with her longer term friends who do have children and dwell on issues to which she can no longer relate. Her true battle lies in the balance of being seen and heard versus perpetually pouring herself out to others who rarely engage with her.
While I have been walking through her journey, fleshing out her new and old friends, I'm rediscovering little tidbits for myself. As much as I enjoy easing a friend's burden, I need to know they are willing to do the same. It's never more apparent who my true friends are than when I'm having a crisis. This is, thankfully, a rare case since I do my best to live drama-free, but we all need help at some point.
That's where Penn's reminder awaits. Once she's faced with a crisis, she'll be forced to take a look at the people she knows and stop batch-defining them based on similar behavior patterns. Disregarding the last year or so, who is truly here for her now?
I'm asking her hard questions like:
- What if that new potential friend makes you feel used?
- What if that old friend you're angry with is the only one who answers the phone when you really need to talk out an issue?
- What if it really is best to let a friendship die? How do you know it's right?
- If someone new burns you once, will you give them a second chance or drop them?
These questions and others like them help me dig deeper into what's really bothering my protagonist. Sure, she thinks she knows what she needs, but does she? Maybe she's just sick of talking about diapers and tantrums and wants a more engaging conversation.
One of the greatest ways to see past a potential life partner's good behavior is to walk through something painful with them. Losing a loved one. A job. Facing a great failure or losing their sense of self. This is where connections break or flourish, not just in stories, but in real life. When this method is applied to character development, relationships of all kinds get pushed into unique territories that have the potential to hold a reader's interest.
So, I don't plan to be easy on Penn. She's going to have to get over her own apprehension and forgive past minor offenses to find out who's really going to stick with her. Even I don't know exactly how her journey will turn out, but I'm eager to see how it all ends for her.
One thing I do know: she has her own internal housekeeping to do.
Keep on smilin'!
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