levels of characterization that he describes in Building a Character . At each of these levels a deeper probing of the character gives rise to more personalized traits, which in turn reveal specific mannerisms. Stanislavsky’s disappointment lay in the fact that, amazingly, many actors stopped at Level A, and many others made it only to B. Yet only at Level C is true individualization reached.
All too often, novelists, like actors, tend to stop at Level B. We have understandable reason for doing so. Levels A and B aren’t very hard. We have one or two main characters in mind and a story to go with them, or perhaps we start with a story and figure out a couple of characters. Within the process of discovering our stories, we tend naturally to reach Level B. And then we think we have enough. But if you fail to reach Level C, you’ll miss discovering those valuable core truths about your character.
Level A: Division of characters into general categories such as socioeconomic level, age, gender, and career
Imagine the quick introduction of a game show contestant, and you’ve got Level A. “An English professor from Omaha with three children” or “A retired dog trainer who loves to fish.” Discovering your character’s answers to Level A’s basic question of “Who are you?” is easy enough. Your character is a military man, a beautiful and wealthy woman, a homeless person, or an elderly gentleman. Any such category automatically brings to mind an array of potential mannerisms. In walking, for example, someone in the military may stride, while a beautiful and rich woman may strut or glide. A homeless person may listlessly amble, and an elderly gentleman might shuffle. Or in eating, the military man may clear his plate with a quick deliberateness while the rich woman revels in the ambiance of fine food and etiquette. This level of characterization is of course necessary, and it’s true that major divisions such as career and socioeconomic status begin to define a person. But you can already see how easily character stereotypes are created by stopping here:
An abused, abandoned romantic heroine = fearful, feels unworthy.
A detective who’s clawed his way out of the slums = chip on his shoulder.
An elderly man with unrealized dreams = bitter, sour-faced.
Let me add that the above aren’t bad in themselves. Your detective from the slums may indeed have a chip on his shoulder. The question is how to move him from mere stereotype to a unique person.
Level B: Moving toward specifics
At this level you can begin to imagine some distinctions within a main category as you further define your character and how he or she fits into the story. You most likely will already know the answers to basic questions in Level B. For example, is your military man a private, a major, a general? Or is he in a specialized unit such as the Navy SEALs? Is the homeless person new to the streets or someone who’s lived there a long time? In his working days, was the elderly man employed in a factory or was he a high-level executive?
Discovering these answers will lead you to numerous lines of specific questioning. Let’s say your story involving the military is about a young man who has just joined the Marines. Perhaps he is following in the footsteps of both his father and grandfather. How will his family history affect his attitude toward the rigorous demands of the Marine Corps? Obviously, this young man’s actions and outlook will not be based on the years of, say, a general’s military training. But what if his grandfather was a general? After growing up hearing his grandfather’s stories and learning at the old man’s knee, might your character think he knows more than other new recruits? Might he approach his peers with a bit of a cocky attitude? Or might he have placed his grandfather on such a pedestal that he feels he can never begin to measure up?
Or let’s say your character is that beautiful and wealthy