Article: Putting My Character Through Hell

Learn from your mistakes. This is the overused adage that has been drilled into my heard since I could listen and talk; I must have heard this quip nine thousand and forty-two times.

(I make a lot of mistakes.)

However, at thirty-four, I have found this statement to be almost completely useless. Because, sure, I may learn something when I reach out to pet a strange, rabid dog. I may learn something when I grab the metal handle of the teapot while it's still boiling. But the fact is, at some point, I'm going to be in a hurry, or not really thinking, and I will grab that searing-hot handle again.

But, luckily, I'm a writer, which means I can learn from my own mistakes and those of my characters.

I write both nonfiction and fiction. Nonfiction, particularly memoir, is an excellent way to reflect on one's mishaps.  And then there is fiction, the great experiment. It's even more fun, because I can throw my characters into whatever disaster I choose.

In Girls in Trucks. Sarah Walters, the main character, is a bit of a mess. She makes insane choices, she betrays herself constantly, her heart gets stomped on, she does things out of her comfort zone for men that will never appreciate her. I put her in these predicaments because I found them interesting. There was some voyeurism in it. A little bit of, "Wow, I would never do that, but wouldn't it be cool to see what happened if someone did?"

The key, of course, is keeping this imaginary, over-the-top world emotionally realistic. If you can do that, you can get away with anything. After all, George Saunders set what I think is his most brilliant, emotionally believable story (Pastoralia) in a Neanderthal theme park. When I was writing, say, the chapter where Sarah stalks her ex-boyfriend, or where she goes to Peru on a date, I had to keep checking myself. Does this feel true to the character? Is she really that impulsive? The answer was almost always yes.

What I learned by throwing this character into life's path was how to survive the mistakes that she makes. No matter what happens to Sarah Walters, she never loses faith in the cyclical nature of love. I find this incredibly inspiring, especially in my darker moments. If I hadn't written this book, I would never have meditated on the fact that that love always leaves eventually. Passion fades. Break-ups happen. Death summons. But what Sarah Walters knows is that love also always comes back again in other forms. A new person appears. New love eradicates your memories. Children distract you from everything else. It took creating a character, beating the hell out of her, and then making her all right again for me to fully understand this. Now I'm just wondering what the next book has to teach.