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by Gloria Kempton (mobi)

  "Hey, man, you got any spare change?"

  "No, but I've got the Gospel of Jesus Christ. How about asking Jesus into your heart so you can get off the streets?"

  "What? I asked Jesus into my heart one time. That's how I got here."

  "I don't think so."

  "I do. I'm a pastor, well, used to be. My wife ran off with one of the church deacons and eventually divorced me and I lost everything."

  "That doesn't explain how you ended up on the streets. Jesus doesn't put his children on the streets."

  "I think sometimes he does. It rains on the just and the unjust—there's a scripture like that."

  "Did you turn your back on God when your wife divorced you?"

  "Nope. I still go to church down here at the Union Gospel Mission."

  "You're an alcoholic, drowning your sorrows in beer and whiskey."

  "I buy a beer once in while when I have the money. Today I'd just like a cup of coffee."

  Weaving dialogue, narrative, and action. Following are six situations in which a character might find himself. The sentences that follow each situation employ only one fiction element. Add the other two elements to each of the sentences to create a woven paragraph. You can add as many characters to each situation as you want.

  Example Situation: In the airport, Sheila watches as a woman trips, dropping her briefcase, which spills out packages of $100 bills.

  Action sentence: Sheila's mouth fell open as the woman tripped and her briefcase went flying, spilling out packages of $100 bills.

  Dialogue sentence: "Oh my!" Sheila cried. "Let me help you—" Narrative sentence: Could this be the answer to Sheila's prayers, the miracle she'd been waiting for? What could it hurt? Just one of the packets? The lady would never miss it.

  Situation: The dog runs into the ladder knocking it away from the house and Joe, cleaning the gutters, is stuck on the roof. Action sentence: Joe moved carefully to the edge of the roof and looked down.

  Situation: Carolyn is stuck in traffic and wants to call home to tell her husband that she'll be late, but she can't get a signal on her cell phone. Dialogue sentence: "Stupid phone!" Carolyn muttered.

  Situation: Alison has agreed to go out for dinner with her new coworker, Kyle, but moments before he arrives she receives a call from a reliable source telling her that Kyle is married. Kyle is ringing the doorbell. Narrative sentence: I told myself I'd never go out with a married man.

  Situation: Ryan and his wife are getting a divorce. Ryan is throwing a few clothes in his suitcase. His six-year-old son, Aaron, is watching him. Action sentence: I grabbed my golf balls out of my dresser and placed them carefully in the corner of my suitcase.

  Situation: Colin has just learned that he has to fire a guy at work, David, who has become a good friend over the last few months. Dialogue sentence: "Janis, would you send David into my office, please?"

  Situation: Megan and her friend have just left the mall and are walking to their car when Megan sees a woman repeatedly hitting her small son on the back and then shoving him into her SUV. Narrative sentence: I always wondered what I'd do if I ever encountered an adult abusing a child.

  [ in their own words-delivering the characters and their motivations to the reader ]

  I'd been coaching fiction writers for many years when I happened to tune into Inside the Actors Studio on Bravo one evening to find host James Lipton interviewing Johnny Depp. When asked who influenced him the most as a young actor, Depp named an acting teacher, now passed on, named Stella.

  "She emphasized over and over and over again that we head into every single scene with one thing foremost in our character's mind—what that character wants in that scene. What does my character want? A lot?"

  I almost jumped out of my chair. This is what I'd been teaching writers for years, what I'd read so many times in how-to-write books. The most important thing to know about any character is what he wants. A lot. More than a lot—desperately.

  If we know our characters well, we know what they want, both in the story and in every scene. There has to be a goal. This is the stuff of fiction. Our task is to let our reader in on what our characters want, as naturally as possible, even when what our characters want is on an unconscious level and they don't even know they want it. We must still let our readers in on it so the story moves forward. Sometimes what the character thinks he wants is the complete opposite of what he really wants, and the plot brings this out.

  How does it work? How do we let the reader in on what the character wants, especially if the character is a minor one and we can't go into her thoughts? Well, we have the character's actions, of course, but we also have her words. Human beings always give themselves away with their mouths. Most of us just can't keep our mouths shut, even when we really try. If others are listening closely—and don't worry, they probably aren't because most

  people are doing more talking than they are listening—they'll tune into what motivates us the minute we open our mouths. The same is true of our characters. So much of writing fiction is just observing human interaction.

  The key is dialogue—what a wonderful tool for revealing our characters and their motivations. There are so many ways you can reveal to the reader who these characters are—all through dialogue.

  For the last few years, I've been using a tool in conjunction with dialogue to reveal the characters in my stories. It's called the Enneagram, and it has revolutionized my strategy for developing characters. This is how Renee Baron and Elizabeth Wagele define it in their book The Enneagram Made Easy:

  The Enneagram is a study of the nine basic types of people. It explains why we behave the way we do, and it points to specific directions for individual growth. It is an important tool for improving relationships with family, friends, and co-workers.

  The roots of the Enneagram go back many centuries. Its exact origin is not known, but it is believed to have been taught orally in secret Sufi brotherhoods in the Middle East. The Russian mystical teacher G.I. Gurdjieff introduced it to Europe in the 1920s, and it arrived in the United States in the 1960s.

  This is all we really know about the origin of the Enneagram. Personally, I don't need to know any more because since I've been studying it and watching how it works, I really don't need to know anything else. I've tried it and found it to be true every single time I've used it as a tool when wanting to understand where another person—or even myself—is coming from. So many times, when I don't understand my own motivations, I remember that, oh yes, of course, I'm an Enneagram #4, the artist. That explains so much.

  I offer the Enneagram as a tool to help you develop your characters. The scope of this particular chapter is to show how using the Enneagram within the context of dialogue can be used to reveal our characters and their motivations to the reader. While there are many ways to develop charac-ters—and I've tried most of them—I've found the Enneagram to be a lot more fun than filling out those ten-page-long character charts to get to who my characters are. Once you learn to identify the different numbers of the Enneagram, you can throw away those character charts forever. All you have to decide is which type of personality you need for a particular character, then go to the Enneagram and find the number. Bingo! You know your character and where he comes from. Your character's dialogue will then

  come straight from his authentic personality and you can stop wondering if it sounds real or not.

  In this chapter, I want to give you a brief overview of each of the nine Enneagram personality types and show how you can create dialogue that fits each of them, thus developing authentic characters who will be true to themselves every time they speak. Each personality type has a label and a number. The definitions after each number are from Baron and Wagele's The Enneagram Made Easy.

  #1 — the reformer

  Reformers are motivated by the need to live their lives the right way, including improving themselves and the world around them.

  I recently watched a movie that included a young preteen character
who was definitely a reformer. She sat in the front row of her classroom, which would be typical of a #1, as this personality type likes to influence others and likes to be seen. In the movie she would be the first to raise her hand every time a question was asked. This character's dialogue clearly showed us where she was coming from—every single time she spoke. Following are just a few sentences of dialogue addressed to her substitute teacher.

  "What do you mean you're not grading that assignment? How do we know if we've done it right without a grade?"

  "Your unconventional way of teaching is not contributing to a maximum learning situation."

  "I've decided I'll need to speak with the principal about what's going on in this classroom."

  She's clearly a smart-ass, but also clearly a #1. She knows the right way to do something and feels compelled to tell her teacher that his way is definitely not the right way.

  In a scene of dialogue, a reformer is never afraid to speak up for what she believes to be right. Never bashful or shy, this is a character who likes confrontation and sees it as her job to correct the other characters whenever they're doing anything she doesn't agree with. When this character comes onstage in your story, the dialogue you put in her mouth comes from a deep place inside of knowing the right thing to do and making sure she and everyone else around her is doing it.

  #2 — the giver

  Givers are motivated by the need to be loved and valued and to express their positive feelings toward others. Traditionally society has encouraged #2 qualities in females more than in males.

  I have a friend, Jerry, who is always giving me advice. Over the years he's given me many other things, like money and gifts when I was raising my five kids as a single parent, but when we're in conversation, he can't help but give me input, whether or not I ask for it. This is what makes him feel valued and loved. It's what drives him because he's a giver. As soon as I figured that out, the unsolicited advice didn't bother me as much.

  In fiction, this is what the #2 is doing, whether in action or dialogue. He's giving. Sometimes this comes from a pure place, but sometimes this comes as a way to get love and attention from others.

  Typical dialogue for a #2 goes something like this:

  "Of course, I'll be happy to watch your kids" (even while thinking Oh, I can't believe she's asking me to watch those brats again).

  Givers are often indirect, finding it difficult to say what it is they really want. They can take on the role of a martyr when doing something they don't want to do and resenting it.

  "Sure, I'll be happy to bake cookies for the bake sale." I'm the only one who really cares about our women's group anyway.

  In dialogue, the giver can often be seductive, using whatever he has to draw another character close to him. This could be sex, money, possessions, counsel, or whatever. When this character appears in your story, he's coming from a place of needing love and attention and the willingness to give whatever he has to get his needs met. This kind of character, when in a desperate place, could sacrifice his soul. Whenever he speaks, whether consciously or unconsciously, he's about giving and receiving. Often, whether he's giving or receiving depends on how good he's feeling about himself in the scene of dialogue in which you put him.

  #3 — the achiever

  Achievers are motivated by the need to be productive, achieve success, and avoid failure.

  My #3 friends are movers and shakers. They get a lot done. These are the story characters who set goals, schedule their lives tightly, have full calendars, and live their lives by their long to-do lists. Even when engaged in conversation, they're thinking about all of the things they have to do. It's sometimes difficult for the achiever to live in the moment.

  In this scene from Sandra Brown's novel Breakfast in Bed, Carter and Sloan, a mutually attracted couple who are just getting to know each other, are on the wharf together in San Francisco. Carter is questioning Sloan about exactly how much time she spends working at her bed and breakfast.

  "How often do you get out? I mean, for fun and relaxation, not on an errand for Fairchild House." He was unselfconsciously slurping a gooey sundae as they sat at a small round table in the atrium room of the ice cream parlor.

  "Not too often," she said dismissively.

  "How often?" he persisted.

  She fiddled with her candy wrapper. "I'm the sole owner and manager of Fairchild House. Housekeeper, hostess, accountant, chief cook and bottle washer. That doesn't leave much time for fun and relaxation as you put it."

  "You mean you never take a day off? An evening off? Never go to a movie? Nothing?"

  "You're depressing me," she said, trying desperately to tease him away from the subject. Her life was far from a carnival, she just didn't want him to know how very dull it was.

  "Sloan, that's ridiculous." He lay his spoon aside and studied her with embarrassing intentness.

  "It's not ridiculous if there's not help for it."

  "Hire some help."

  "I can't afford it," she snapped. "I told you that earlier."

  "You can't afford to hole up in that house and never come out, either," he flared back. When he saw her stricken expression, he lowered his voice. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business, of course, it's just that I can't understand why a beautiful woman like you would hide herself from the rest of the human race."

  A beautiful woman like Sloan would hide herself from the rest of the human race because she's a #3, and she's busy working while others are playing. Not only does the above show that she's a #3 because she's obsessed about work but also because she doesn't want Carter to find out just how dull her life really is. Achievers are concerned about their image and how they look to others. What would Carter think of her if he knew she had such a boring life?

  In reality, achievers don't have boring lives. They live more interesting

  lives than many of us, always doing something, always engaged in some exciting activity or new project. They're driven by the need to succeed.

  How does this show itself in dialogue? The achiever has to win arguments because she has to succeed, and she can't look dumb or like she doesn't know something. In dialogue, the #3 will be talking fast. Sometimes another character will be talked into something and not know how that happened. The #3 can easily overwhelm the more sensitive #5 (the observer) or #9 (the peacemaker). And the achiever really knows how to "work a room." In group dialogue, the #3 will bounce from person to person, networking, exchanging information, working hard to impress others with what she's capable of.

  #4 — the artist

  Artists are motivated by the need to experience their feelings and to be understood, to search for the meaning of life and to avoid being ordinary.

  As a #4 myself, this Enneagram number is a little difficult to discuss objectively. It seems like I can find something negative about all of the Enneagram numbers but this one. I wonder why that is? I recently asked a friend to tell me something she found annoying about the #4. She knows I'm a #4, but that didn't seem to stop her.

  "Oh, it gets old that everything has to be a big drama," she said. "And they're so myopic."

  I gulped. "Myopic?"

  "They're so focused on themselves, you know, everything's about them."

  "Oh yeah..."

  "And they can't seem to be happy with what is—they're always missing what they don't have—"

  "Okay, that's enough," I told her, feeling depressed.

  I found a #4 in Jane Feather's novel The Accidental Bride. The protagonist, Phoebe, is definitely a drama queen and quite a handful for her new husband, Cato. It's a marriage of convenience, which makes her feel less than special. And artists need to feel special. In the following scene, Phoebe has just spilled red wine on her wedding gown at the feast after the wedding. When Cato scolds her for the way she's scrubbing at her gown and making the stain worse, her clear and dramatic #4 self emerges.

  "I fail to see what difference it could make, sir," she responded acidly. "It's a hideous gown and
it doesn't suit me."

  "What on earth do you mean? It's an extremely elegant and expensive gown," Cato said, frowning. "Your sister—"

  "Yes, precisely!" Phoebe interrupted. "On Diana it was exquisite! On me it's hideous. The color doesn't suit me."

  "Oh, don't be silly, Phoebe. It's a very fine color."

  "For some people."

  Cato had given her only a cursory glance as she'd come up the aisle. Now he looked at her closely. She was looking so flustered and rumpled, with her hair escaping from its elaborate coiffure; even the motherless pearls had somehow become twisted around her neck. Maybe the gown didn't suit her as well as it had Diana, but there was no excuse for such untidiness. She just seemed to become unraveled before his eyes.

  Phoebe continued savagely, "But of course new gowns are a frivolous waste of money."

  Cato felt unaccountably defensive. "There is a war on, Phoebe. Your father felt—"

  "He felt, my lord, that the money should be spent on pikes and muskets and buff jerkins," Phoebe interrupted again. "And if I have to wear this ghastly ivory concoction, then so be it."

  "You're making mountains out of molehills," Cato declared.

  Exactly. That's what artists do—they love making mountains out of molehills, and they really don't understand how others can just see a molehill when the situation is clearly a mountain. There's a dialogue scene later in the book where Cato is trying to teach Phoebe how to ride a horse and the lesson turns into a disaster rather quickly because of Phoebe's pension for drama. She ends up calling him a "horrid teacher," "a damned tyrant," and tells him quite directly that she wants a different teacher, because no one could learn anything from him. Phoebe's emotional outbursts seem to baffle Cato, but they don't surprise me at all.

  Okay, for the #3 or #8 who just wants to get something done, or for the #5 who wants to withdraw and think about things, all of this loud emotion and unnecessary drama could be disconcerting, I suppose.