This week’s posts touched on the theme of character development and how creating layered, three-dimensional characters can add to the plot, spark inspiration, and offer more depth to a story.

To end the week, I’d like to share the story of Annie Summer and how a precocious and smart-tongued 12 year old sought me out, started talking…

And never stopped.

When I say that Annie sought me out, I believe that to be true. I wasn’t looking for a character like her and certainly wasn’t expecting one to be so vocal. I desperately wanted to start writing creatively again, to regain that passion for something that had always been important to me. But I felt like I was stuck in a rut, dried up, with not an ounce of creativity left. In order to try to rediscover that creative side, I began to browse the internet for song lyrics or titles that would stand out, scream “Inspiration Here!” with neon lights and arrows pointing me in the right direction.

Surprisingly, one did.

I’d never heard the song Laundry Daydreams before and, admittedly, I still haven’t. But the title intrigued me, and as I sat on the bed one weekend morning, fingers poised over the laptop, a warm May breeze sneaking through the open window, pictures and ideas began to emerge in my mind.

Suddenly, there were white linens blowing in a hot breeze, among lush, green grass and the sound of sprinklers interrupting a lazy afternoon. I thought of summer and ice cream trucks and a suburban backyard. And then I changed perspectives and thought of what that would look like if someone was lying in that grass, looking up.

These thoughts took less than an instant, and in less than an instant, that someone turned into 12 year old Annie Summer.

I let her talk as my fingers flew across the keyboard, barely slowing. Suddenly there was a childhood crush and coveted sneakers, baking apple pie and panning for gold with a best friend. Annie had a story.

And, like it or not, she was going to tell it.

I had intended to write separate, complete stories using song lyrics as the inspiration and titles, but clearly Annie had other ideas. One story turned into two, and two turned into a series.

She was kind of like the little kid who poked you over and over until you finally answered, trying to gain your attention. She wasn’t done talking, and she wanted me to listen.

I was more than willing.

As I began to write her story, I discovered that there was something bigger there. Suddenly, there was a neighborhood, a town. Suddenly, there was a family, friends. Setting and plot began to come together, and though I tried to reason and play around with place and time, the story, Annie, had other ideas.

The year, it seemed, was going to be 1979. No way, Practical Me said. I didn’t know anything about the 70s, so how could I possibly write about it? I tried every which way to change it, but as the story progressed, and as the neighbor-to-the-left came into the picture, I began to realize that sometimes, you just have to go with it.

Sometimes, you have to trust your characters.

And sometimes, you have to trust yourself.

I love history because I love the stories of people’s lives, the everyday moments that connect each of us, regardless of year or era. Writing about Annie — her summer boredom, her reluctance to help her Mom bake pies, her sibling rivalry with her sister — was a reminder of this.

So I listened. And wrote. And she talked. And I wrote.

And then she talked some more.

So much that I created a Twitter account for her character. This was an outlet for me as well, a chance, much like the idea of the character interview, to get to know her and experience her life day-to-day. Memories and motivation, experiences and thoughts — it was a way to grow her story and understand where she was leading me.

The series stalled for awhile when she went silent for some months. Actually, truth-be-told, maybe I just didn’t feel like listening. I like to imagine that she stepped aside for awhile, letting other characters tell their own story, but she’s always been there, waiting patiently for me to get back to her. Finally, I gave in.

She hasn’t shut up since.

I couldn’t be more grateful.

When I look back on my other writing, I realize that no other character has spoken more powerfully, more insistently, than Annie Summer. Some call it a muse, some call it inspiration, but I like to think that it’s the characters themselves who finally have a voice.

These characters are there, speaking to you, waiting for you to tell their story.

Are you listening?

Note: This is the conclusion of the three-part post series focusing on character development. Check out the first post on how to listen to your characters and take the Wednesday Writing Challenge as a source of new inspiration.