Finding character

 By Steve Pease // Michael Chandos

The protagonist, the Hero of your inspirational story, the solid woman who keeps your literary family together through the events of your novel. Characters, major to minor, are made up of attributes. Brave, honest, sneaky, untrustworthy, beautiful. In a fiction story, all those "things" become important because they determine how the character reacts to the events, obstacles and surprises in the story. There are shades of meaning in everything. There's beauty the character uses to manipulate the other characters, and beauty that interferes. Strength that defines their physical interaction with the story-world, and strength that makes them overreact in a delicate situation. It's behavior, how they fit in, how they succeed or fail.

You've read stories where the author has given the character tons of attributes, a PI who drinks, who is forgetful, who can't manage money, all interesting, but they never matter in the story. Chekhov said if your story has a rifle on the wall, somewhere in the story, that rifle must be used, otherwise it should be removed. 

Need examples of character that DO affect the story? Look no farther than your dogs.

These are my two favorite dogs, ever. Boo, a sable-black, 160 pound Newfoundland, a "superior being" recognized by all. And Belle, the big-hearted but tough natural matron, mother, monitor, guardian angel.

Boo never had trouble with neighborhood dogs. When he sauntered among dogs on a walk with their owners, they would give him room, watching him closely. If he laid down on a shaded hill, some would come over and lay down near him, even though they were all playing around before. 

My rear deck is elevated over the back yard, a long set of stairs leads to the ground. The top of the stairs has always been a favorite vantage point for my dogs, overlooking the 20 acre meadow and the opposing trees. Boo came out once and paused appropriately at the vantage point. As usual, barking dogs could be heard in the distance. He looked around as if he was assessing the situation, like Nero overlooking the gladiators in the Coliseum. He barked a single woof, the Deep, resounding, full-chested boom of a big dog. It echoed from the trees across the meadow. All the barking dogs stopped. He reassessed and, apparently satisfied, went down the stairs to his favorite shady spot in the back yard.

No pretense. The power of his presence. I haven't yet invented a character that deserves that level of personal power, but I hope to.

Belle, the Golden, was quiet and observant. The grandkids, six of them, then young, were playing in the front "yard" (I live in the woods). I think it was Easter, a warm one, and everyone was looking for the three dozen hidden colored eggs. The adults were off to the side in conversation, not directly watching the children. The front slopes up into a grove of young Ponderosa pines. The grasses that wintered over were long and golden brown. The kids were eagerly searching every nook and cranny.

I broke from the human-huddle to count kids, when I noticed Belle up the hill, settled deeply in the grasses, almost invisible.  She was monitoring the kids, 20 feet away. I have no doubt she would have sprung from cover if anything unusual happened. That's more than the routine recess monitor. An overseer. I haven't been able to describe this scene in words yet.

I bet your cat is regal, perhaps snobby, curious, intense if a mouse is sighted. If you have several pets, how have they worked out living together, who gets the best place to sleep, who eats first. How did they work that out?

"Things" your character might find useful.