On characterization (note: this is what works for me, not holy writ):
Your characters are going to have bits of you in them. Most likely, you can’t avoid that. But you might be able to make sure they all have different bits, surrounded by parts you make up, and then they won’t seem like clones of each other. (Harriet has my old, old ambitions—I don’t actually have them anymore—to get in on trad. pub., but meanwhile she’s insecure about her earthfic in a way that I’m not about my fanfic, has chosen to study writing and literature in school where I never even sort of wanted to do that, and isn’t good at or interested in worldbuilding.)
They have to talk like people. This doesn’t mean they can never speak in paragraphs, but it does mean that they need voices, should make some forgivable lapses of grammar, deploy appropriate slang, and—except, sometimes, when you write in first person, but even then be careful—not talk like narrators.
Think about the markers by which you know real people. You might be able to sum up parts of it in adjectives, but these are hollow when you think about applying them to humans you care about: consider the funniest person you know, would you just say they’re funny and stop there? That doesn’t come close to capturing anyone’s sense of humor. Your characters shouldn’t just “be funny” (or be nice, or be smart, or be evil) any more than people are just those things without further differentiation. They need to have traits like that in characteristic ways—and these characteristic ways will have gaps. A well-rounded funny character will not make 100% of possible jokes, a well-rounded nice character will have blind spots or bad moods, a well-rounded smart character will have mastery of some mental gymnastics but not others, a well-rounded evil character needs reasons to do things besides just to be evil (although “to signal evil in a dramatic way” can work similarly in many contexts, this won’t cause them to, say, torture kittens in complete privacy!) If you asked me to describe Harriet in adjectives I flat out couldn’t do it, but I can tell you what behaviors and words would and would not be like her.
Characters should want things, need things, like things, dislike things, find things appealing or unappealing, and sometimes be completely neutral about things. These reactions should follow a consistent pattern, but there is room for some idiosyncrasy, especially when two patterns conflict (e.g. do they hate being poor guests more or less than they hate eating eggplant, when they’re served it?) Harriet wrestles with competing desires to get earthfic recognized as a valid medium by the trad. pub. industry, and the desire to get a book between pieces of cardboard on shelves in stores, and she has to make a compromise.
Characters should interact with other characters, and I don’t just mean put them in the same room and stick dialogue in their mouths. They should behave differently around people of different types (familiar or un-, liked or dis-, numerous or single) in different situations. Some people bring out the best in others, other people bring out the worst, and these can be different people in different combinations. By the end of Earthfic you know something about how Harriet relates to her sister and vice-versa, how she met her roommate and why they became friends and how they snark at each other, how Harriet acts in class with a teacher, and how she reacts to reviews of her story from strangers on the Internet. Harriet’s one person, but all these contexts bring out different reactions—she feels (but restrains) the urge to yell at her teacher, yet doesn’t dignify the flaming review with a reply. She’s relentlessly sarcastic with Dawes in a way that she isn’t with Lanie, who in turn gets more personal feelings and details from Harriet than Dawes does. Etc.
Give quirks and dispositions, but don’t put neon signs on them and certainly don’t make them all plot-important. Dawes goes by his last name, but I tuck that info into witty banter and there’s no reason you need to know why he does. Harriet doesn’t like people pestering her about her sister’s stories. The two of them share food without any occurrent exchange of currency and Dawes feels comfortable borrowing Harriet’s books without permission. Lanie’s married, and doesn’t like to go home to an empty house. Harriet attends extracurricular activities like Spanish club. None of this matters—well, Lanie not wanting to go home mattered, but I could have made up any excuse for that—but it helps them be people on the page.
On characterization (note: this is what works for me, not holy writ):
Your characters are going to have bits of you in them. Most likely, you can’t avoid that. But you might be able to make sure they all have different bits, surrounded by parts you make up, and then they won’t seem like clones of each other. (Harriet has my old, old ambitions—I don’t actually have them anymore—to get in on trad. pub., but meanwhile she’s insecure about her earthfic in a way that I’m not about my fanfic, has chosen to study writing and literature in school where I never even sort of wanted to do that, and isn’t good at or interested in worldbuilding.)
They have to talk like people. This doesn’t mean they can never speak in paragraphs, but it does mean that they need voices, should make some forgivable lapses of grammar, deploy appropriate slang, and—except, sometimes, when you write in first person, but even then be careful—not talk like narrators.
Think about the markers by which you know real people. You might be able to sum up parts of it in adjectives, but these are hollow when you think about applying them to humans you care about: consider the funniest person you know, would you just say they’re funny and stop there? That doesn’t come close to capturing anyone’s sense of humor. Your characters shouldn’t just “be funny” (or be nice, or be smart, or be evil) any more than people are just those things without further differentiation. They need to have traits like that in characteristic ways—and these characteristic ways will have gaps. A well-rounded funny character will not make 100% of possible jokes, a well-rounded nice character will have blind spots or bad moods, a well-rounded smart character will have mastery of some mental gymnastics but not others, a well-rounded evil character needs reasons to do things besides just to be evil (although “to signal evil in a dramatic way” can work similarly in many contexts, this won’t cause them to, say, torture kittens in complete privacy!) If you asked me to describe Harriet in adjectives I flat out couldn’t do it, but I can tell you what behaviors and words would and would not be like her.
Characters should want things, need things, like things, dislike things, find things appealing or unappealing, and sometimes be completely neutral about things. These reactions should follow a consistent pattern, but there is room for some idiosyncrasy, especially when two patterns conflict (e.g. do they hate being poor guests more or less than they hate eating eggplant, when they’re served it?) Harriet wrestles with competing desires to get earthfic recognized as a valid medium by the trad. pub. industry, and the desire to get a book between pieces of cardboard on shelves in stores, and she has to make a compromise.
Characters should interact with other characters, and I don’t just mean put them in the same room and stick dialogue in their mouths. They should behave differently around people of different types (familiar or un-, liked or dis-, numerous or single) in different situations. Some people bring out the best in others, other people bring out the worst, and these can be different people in different combinations. By the end of Earthfic you know something about how Harriet relates to her sister and vice-versa, how she met her roommate and why they became friends and how they snark at each other, how Harriet acts in class with a teacher, and how she reacts to reviews of her story from strangers on the Internet. Harriet’s one person, but all these contexts bring out different reactions—she feels (but restrains) the urge to yell at her teacher, yet doesn’t dignify the flaming review with a reply. She’s relentlessly sarcastic with Dawes in a way that she isn’t with Lanie, who in turn gets more personal feelings and details from Harriet than Dawes does. Etc.
Give quirks and dispositions, but don’t put neon signs on them and certainly don’t make them all plot-important. Dawes goes by his last name, but I tuck that info into witty banter and there’s no reason you need to know why he does. Harriet doesn’t like people pestering her about her sister’s stories. The two of them share food without any occurrent exchange of currency and Dawes feels comfortable borrowing Harriet’s books without permission. Lanie’s married, and doesn’t like to go home to an empty house. Harriet attends extracurricular activities like Spanish club. None of this matters—well, Lanie not wanting to go home mattered, but I could have made up any excuse for that—but it helps them be people on the page.