WRITING ABOUT CHARACTERS:

When I speak with others about writing, I encourage them to write about characters in their life, failing to recognize, I have many characters to write about, including an extremely interesting character I know – my husband, Phil.

When others tell me what a great husband I have, I encourage them to take him home for a week. Live with him. Cook for him. Clean up after him. Tolerate him. Quickly, almost faster than the speed of light, I get a response stating, “No thank you.”

I’ve often wondered why these kind women never take me up on my plea. The longer I live with my husband, the more I appreciate who, and what he is – even when he is driving me crazy!

Husbands are interesting characters, and most wives who live with them, learn to appreciate, or tolerate them, their habits of polluting the air with toxic gasses, explosive belches and behaviors that only a long-term wife can tolerate. My husband is filled with character. Always joking and teasing me, to the point of what some might refer to as rudeness I suppose I’ve adjusted, learning to put up with his macho behavior. I am supposed to laugh at his jokes, smile when he is teasing me, and be nice to him. What planet is he on?

Those who know me realize, I am a woman who speaks her mind. Independent beyond my means. Once, my psychotherapist said ‘I was the most independent woman she’s ever met.’ I thanked her. I suppose that is a true statement. Although I had three sisters, I was the middle, and I was the one who took care of the others, doing laundry and cooking when I was little. Sometimes I feel as if I have been the caregiver to everyone I know. My take-charge personality kicks in when I see someone in a walker or crutches struggling to open a door. Once while I was approaching the entrance to the office building where I worked, an older, debonair gentleman rushed to beat me to the door, to open it for me. When I reached the door first, I smiled and invited him in. “Gentlemen first,” I said. He paused, encouraging me to enter. Again I repeated “Gentlemen first.” He grunted, turned to me, and said, “But I am always a gentleman and I always open the door for ladies.” I smiled, letting him know it was now time for women to return the favor. “Women,” he growled.

I suppose I showed a part of my character to him that he was not too thrilled with – the feminist. That part of my personality drives my husband crazy. Oh well. He knew this about me on our first date. When he opened the car door to let me slide inside, I grumbled, telling him in a non-nonsense matter of fact way that “I can open my own door. Thank you.” He’s never offered to open the door again. C’est la vie! During the early days of marriage I would pick up the check to pay our bill and Phil would grumble saying he was the man and he would take care of me. My reply – a simple, “Excuse me, I can take care of myself.”

When I met my father-in-law, an angry man who enjoyed keeping women where they belong, I heard him describe me as ‘a woman who has a mind of her own. She uses seventy-five cents words.’ My reply was a tenacious, ‘what am I supposed to do? Should I sachet around you like a demure Southern belle, and walk five steps behind my husband? A Southern belle I am not, and I will not behave like Scarlet O’Hara, or a second-class citizen. What orbit are you on?’

My father-in-law obviously did not realize I was entering the room, and when I stood next to him with such an outspoken voice, he backed down. Until the day he died, he was careful what he said about me and when his health was bad, I was the first person he called to rush him to the hospital, or to check on him. OK – maybe Phil didn’t exactly get a Southern belle in marriage. And maybe it is true that I am nothing like my mother-in-law or my mother. I am a woman with a mind of my own, and the more I write, the easier it is for me to communicate and to speak my mind.

Raised to be quiet, I preferred to be heard. The old cliché, ‘children should be seen, and not heard,’ did not apply to me. In school, I was the first to respond to a question, and the first to voice an opinion. That hasn’t changed for me. It is part of my character.

While it is true that as a young bride (I was seventeen when I married) I did keep many of my feelings inside, over the years, I have learned to speak up and let my voice be heard. My father instilled that belief in me. He was the first to beam when I won debates in school, and the first to congratulate me for ‘being a voice to the world.’ My father was a role model to me, and in many ways, my husband has a few of his characteristics, although Phil is not the type of man to walk on stage and speak aloud, he does voice his opinion.

Writing is a process I find intriguing. Phil has an inquisitive mind – and he is always the character to tear something open to see what is inside. I, on the other hand, sit back and observe others, making mental notes about their mannerisms, voice, pitch, and body language. I get enjoyment watching the character traits of people, and when I can bring a character to life, I find it euphoric.

Perhaps there will come a day when I tell another woman (in a joking manner) to take my husband home for a week, just to see if he is as kind as they say he is. I doubt it. Once, when he was headed to Europe with one of the women he works with, I jokingly told her she would be able to see his true colors now, while he was traveling. She laughed, saying, “Oh, he can’t be that bad.”

“You wait. I want to hear you say what a swell guy he is while in Italy where he cannot get American food. He doesn’t like pasta. You’re gonna get sick of hearing his complaints about food, especially pasta. He’s a meat and potatoes man.”

Thirty days later when they arrived home at the airport, her look said it all to me.

“You deserve an award,” she whispered in my ear. “How do you put up with him, especially at the dinner table.”

“It’s called marriage,” I said. “You put up with a lot, just to keep it going.”

She winked and whispered, “I never plan to get married.”

Smart woman!


I am proud to say we have been married to each other for as long as we have. While there have been problems, and there have been times I’ve wanted to toss a white flag into the argument and say, “I’m done. I surrender,” I cannot. After all, I am a woman of independence and I will remain this strong-minded woman until I breathe my last breath. I suppose you could say, my father taught me well, and I will walk along in the memory of my father and the rules of life he taught me.

For writers, I encourage them to be an observer of life. Listen to people when they speak. Watch their actions. Sometimes their body language says more than their lips, revealing character. When working out at the gym, notice the characters, because they are there. Maybe it’s the guy who grunts loudly while struggling to lift weights. What about the athletic young girl who complains about gaining two pounds over the holidays. When standing in line, does someone pace back and forth, telling you to hold his place? And when he finally makes it to the bank teller, is he rude to the teller complaining that time is money and he needs her to hurry the transaction? Once while relaxing on the beach I watched a beautiful five-year-old as she rushed toward seagulls. “Look Mommy,” she squealed. “Beach ducks.” My listing of characters could continue to fill the page, and I hope this essay will encourage you to open your eyes, listen, and watch the behaviors of others. Character, and CHARACTERS are everywhere. Moreover, when you meet them, jot them down in your day timer, on a napkin, or in your mental memory bank.