The Heart of the Matter

Think back to your favorite characters in a well-loved movie or novel.

What is it that you remember most about them? The way they dressed? How they spoke? Their personality traits—the essence of who they were and what made them unique?

Granted, the story was probably the first thing that drew your interest, but without characters there wouldn’t have been a story.

Characters connect the dots. They draw us in.

Well-crafted characters are the driving force behind the story. They’re the heart of the matter. They compel us to keep reading. In books, they tempt us to turn the pages. On the big screen, they invite us into their lives as their stories unfold.

If you’ve watched or read The Help, you’ll remember the indelible imprint left behind by its rich cast of characters.

The Help (by Kathryn Stockett) is a beautiful story of courage and friendship which takes place in the 1960s deep South.

Without a doubt, despite it’s salty language, it’s one of the best films I’ve ever seen. (As is often the case, the book goes into more depth and lends itself to an even richer experience.)

Years ago, I saw the movie before I read the book. I cringed at injustice and cheered for victories won. The acting was superb, and the characters, unforgettable.

What made the characters memorable was their refusal to walk the “straight and narrow. ” Though difficult and socially unacceptable at the time, the women stood up for what was right, not what was easy.

As writers, we often see the path our characters take as the means to an end. The paths they choose may not be the same ones we’d take, and their means of traveling them may be unorthodox.

Because writers are creative thinkers, we do this for many reasons:

Cardboard, cookie cutter characters are boring. They don’t inspire. They’re not real.

Perfect is lackluster. Flaws, faults, and failures move us. They make us feel. Perfection bores.

The best lessons are learned through the worst circumstances. Likewise, patterns of behavior are similar. We want to read about others who’ve faced their own demons and who’ve come out on top (while changing for the better).

The depth of our stories depends on our characters. If our characters are wishy-washy, our plots will be, too.

We can show God at work in the bent and the broken. If our characters’ lives are already perfect, there’s no need to tell their stories!

As writers when we delve deeply into the heart of the matter (our characters’ lives), our stories are richer for it. There’s a certain plausibility there that sets the stage for more.

The book may end, the credits may roll, but those are the characters and stories that live on in our hearts and minds.

They’ve challenged us. Changed us. And begged us to do the same for others.

Those are the stories I want to write.

And if you’re a writer, you understand.

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