How to Make a Character Sketch

You might think it's the description - "His name was Airsing. He had handsome features, although usually musty with dirt and soot from his tool work. His dark, blue eyes seemed to drink in everything. His hair was a light russet, with a few strands of dark brown finding glimpses of his eyes."

Or, you may think that the setting in which you find him/her is vital - "Before us now, his hair stands and flees from the sparks of the fire as he looks up for a moment, evidently transfiguring the piece of metal in his hands to an object worthy to hold someone's deference."

His inward description? - "There was something indescribably different about him; not that he had one pointed ear or anything of the sort. Yes, his character was different in nobility, but something else; he never felt he belonged. He was a key, the type of key that seemed worn and lost to something of great purpose, that fit somewhere else. He wanted to be in a different world, where every second seemed like a new adventure, where he could breathe."

Those are tenets of your character, but what truly makes him/her tick is how much you invest into your character's life. Take an experience and mold him/her by it so much so that you can't help but see others (a muse) or yourself inside that character. Take the time to picture each character in a different light. Give them options for defiance against your will and the will of those you've created around them. Mold them by their experiences and be consistent. For, example - when I first began writing "Arint Saratir: Warrior's Light", I had a main character - Airsing. Then, when I went back over the first rough draft (hand written in a notebook), I began to see another character emerging, one who was more like myself in a lot of ways - stubborn, crafty, defiant, different, half dark, half light, reaching out for something more to take a hold of - Xavier. And, what I came to see was that to make this story real, I had to invest myself inside my characters.

Thus, came Xavier. And, to mold him into a believable character, I first started with his past and where I wanted him to go. He is of Shilen blood firstly, but then I wanted him to be more than that. So, what brings growth? Well, nothing but trials and tribulations of course! That's the hard part - putting your characters through intense hardship. I remember all of the times that I placed a single character through an intense scenario, and afterward, I just watched the ink-stained paper, almost soaked in the imaginings of its circumstance - shocked. It makes you think of how God desires us to grow, but it is also very painful for Him to watch our tears stain our faces, knowing that the outcome of sunshine will be greater than the now-overpowering clouds of a storm.

Then, comes loving the villains you create because without loving your villains, they are going to be so false that you can see what they're going to do from a mile away. Put yourself inside their dark cloaks, their arrogant smirks, and their cunning minds. Villains are very cunning and surreptitious, so how would you make it IMPOSSIBLE for the main hero to succeed? Use that!

Then, comes the story line. Create something indelibly different in the world of good v. evil. Because, let's face it, everything in the story of good v. evil is already said and done and overly predictable. Watching movies with this theme is sort of a joke because I come off saying, "I could've written that." Not in a bad way of course, but let's do something unpredictable. That's what life is! So, make life your story! Put unpredictable circumstances inside your book/paper and watch how your characters deal with these life instances (like the villain tossing impossibilities into their lives like the devil so often does). That's what makes a good story - life, heart, and soul on paper.

Thus, you have the elements of a great story and a believable character. Also, if you want to make a character who is a little obscure, toss your reader a life line to the little-known "facts" about the main protagonist. The reader learns to get along with the bare minimum if you let out enough slack in the rope to pull more information out of eventually.

Read a small story that will get your juices flowing for your own character. "Arkus" in this description, is only a "character sketch" - a character with only the outlines and small glimpses of his past within the yarn of a story. At the end, what does he want? Who is he? Where is he going? Continue the story!

"Stay down! They hunt by air waves . . . Be still," his voice beckoned, reaching for my sentience, but something kept me bound to itself as my frame stood above the mountains of white that paraded before me.

"Tay!"

I pivoted to note this remark. Tugged to the ground by the hearty grasp of my friend, the ground bit my hand, wrenching its icy teeth through my singeing nerves.

"I have to recover our flank . . . Wait here . . . And, DON'T MOVE," his breath stumbled out of his mouth in colorless, tenuous threads.

Absently, I retrieved his explanation as the interesting fore provoked the fixity of my eyes to wander through the trails of the creamy white of a sudden winter. The cold imbued every aspect of this strange place; the scene appeared still, but something lurked in its stead that brought the remnants of peace forth in the writhing fingers of fervent discontent.

A figure, cloaked in black, skulked through the waning land. Its form, tall and dark, sifted through the shifting flakes of the peppery white that met their end in its dusky cloak.

Shadows shrank away, and he stood-a formidable stature in a sea of white.

His eyes panned to me; they soaked in everything, taking their time with the things that passed across the grazing reflections of his sight. Azure, his eyes appeared intensely, questioning this scene in its fullness as they reached toward me like two shivering hands.

My brow must have furrowed, for he tilted his head and emulated my expression with such a fervent aura as to speak, his ribbon mouth circled in an "o". Then, his lips formed a small smile, his ever-blue eyes creasing.

A glistening track caught my gaze for the moment, winding itself down from a source of a now expressionless pool of blue-a trail of tears."My name's Arkus . . ." His lips quivered, the sweet strain of his voice collapsing.