Character

Some Notes on Character

“How do you turn yourself into a character?” This is the question Phillip Lopate asks at the start of his essay, “Writing Personal Essays: On the Necessity of Turning Oneself Into a Character.”  “First of all,” he contends, “you need to have–or acquire–some distance from yourself.”  Normally, we’re so tightly wound within ourselves; writing personal essays require us to move beyond ourself: to see ourselves from the outside as others might view us.

One place to begin, Lopate suggests, is with our quirks.  “These are the ideosyncracies, stubborn tics, antisocial mannerisms… that set you apart from your fellowmen,” he writes.  “To establish credibility, you would do well to resist coming across at first as absolutely average.  The mistake many beginning essayists make is to try so hard to be likable and nice, to fit in, that the reader, craving stronger stuff, gets bored.”  To avoid such a fate, Lopate urges us to “dramatize ourselves.”  We need to place ourselves on the stage.

And we need to tell a story. What distinguishes any good story–a sense of tension and conflict, growth and development–must find a place in your professional narrative as well.  Without that tension, Lopate warns, “your essay will drift into static mode, repeating your initial observations in a self-satisfied way.”  Professional narratives can often lurch into that static complacency, a mere verbalization of our skills and accomplishments. Don’t let that happen!

Beyond the quirks of character, Lopate stresses more tangible forms of identity: “We are distinguished from one another as much by our pasts, the set of circumstances we are born into, as by the challenges we have encountered along the way, and how we choose to resolve them, given our initial stations in life,” Lopate writes.  “Ethnicity, gender, religion, class, geography, politics: These are all strong determinants in the development of character.”  It’s important to think of these identity categories not as additive, but as intersectional: we constantly negotiate various aspects of our identity, strategically mobilizing unique combinations in any give situation. Of course, we do this largely unconsciously; but in a professional narrative, we need to think more explicitly and reflectively about these choices.

It’s hard sometimes to be this reflective.  We spend a lot of time with ourselves, a lot of time in our own heads.  Sometimes, we might be a bit bored with ourselves.  So do we put on a happy face and hope the false smile wins out?  Lopate helpfully warns against such a disposition, telling us that the “proper alternative to self-dislike is not being pleased with oneself–a smugness equally distasteful to the reader–but being curious about oneself.”  I love this point, and it returns us to that idea of self-distancing.  What makes us tick?  We should want to know; our readers certainly will.  Sometimes, however, we can present overly polished versions of ourselves.  So remember: we want to appear moldable, not statuesque. A few rough edges add character.

But mere curiosity can still leave us in a realm of thought, of cerebral abstraction.  Thus, Lopate advises to “give your ‘I’ something to d0.”  In the kind of personal essay we’re writing, this is a particularly important move in the first paragraph.  First paragraphs can go the way of vague abstractions or the way of bold particulars: always err on the side of the latter. If you’re applying for a graduate program or study abroad trip involving archeology, for example, don’t begin by talking abstractly about why you decided to major in such a field.  The reader, preferably from the first sentence, should see you on your knees, dusting off and showing us some rare object, some shard of the past, as the sun beats down.  See what I mean?

And finally, always err on the side of specificity.  Ground your character with details–don’t let it float away. How do you do this?  Consider adding to the sensual texture of your essay. Don’t overload a scene, but pay attention to the senses your prose will trigger: smell, taste, touch, hearing, seeing.