One of the most amazing things about how our brains function – at least to me – is how we hold on to, and then categorize, our memories. Think about it. Where does this ability come from? We all do it to one degree or another, but why do some of us use it to create characters, and some of us don’t?
Back in the late 1970s, when I first began writing seriously (and by that, I mean taking creative writing courses, attending writers’ conferences, and finally completing my very first novel), I was able to contract with a literary agent here in San Antonio. He became much more than an agent to me; he became a good friend and mentor. He read my book – we just called it ADRIAN AND MELISSA for lack of a better title at that moment – and here’s what he told me:
“Rosetta, you’re a diamond in the rough, but you’re not ready for this story yet. You haven’t lived long enough or felt enough reality. Wait until you’re older.”
He was right. I never wrote that book (or several others that I started, for that matter), but TIP THE PIANO MAN, my most recent mystery novel, which was based, in part, on true events, came forward as a result of his advice. Not only did it come forward, but so did fleeting character Martin Gregson, the director of the Sunset Funeral Home who tried so hard to treat Hunter Davenport’s deceased wife, Lacy, with compassion and grace. Here’s my description of him (and it came out of nowhere when I wrote it):
The soft lamplight glowed beyond his thick waves of white hair, creating what appeared to be a peach-tinted aura around his head. When he gave Madison a fatherly bear hug, his goateed chin rested comfortably on her shoulder. He was perhaps an inch over five feet.
That was my former agent, to a tee, and I hadn’t thought of him in thirty years.
Another character in TIP THE PIANO MAN, Julian Alvarado, the pro bono preacher who presided over Lacy’s funeral and became such an instrumental force in ultimately saving the children, was (accidentally) based on a street minister I’d met just one time in the parking lot of our corner grocery store. My description of him (and Luke’s reaction to him) is that of the real street preacher I’d met only once:
Framed by a large window, white blinds pulled tightly closed, Julian sat in a swivel chair behind his desk. He leaned back, his fingers linked behind his head, while Madison and Luke faced him from the other side. Luke was not a religious man, but something about Alvarado made him sit up and pay attention. Perhaps it was his flashing, coal-black eyes or thick, wavy hair touching his shoulders, but Luke thought he looked like portraits he’d seen of John the Baptist.
That street preacher passed away a few years ago, and when I saw his photograph in the paper, all I could think was, That’s Julian Alvarado! I hadn’t consciously thought of him at all when he'd popped into my head as a new character. I'd just categorized him and put him away in my memory, where he’d slept for the last twenty years.
That’s why I firmly believe that the older you get, the better you write. The more you experience, the more you can judge reality – yours and that of others – and feel it more deeply. The more people you meet, the more diverse the cast of characters you have to choose from.
Aging is your friend – use it.
*You can purchase TIP THE PIANO MAN here, among other reputable online retail outlets:
https://www.amazon.com/Tip-Piano-Rosetta-Diane-Hoessli/dp/1509254412