Character ages

One of the things that pulls me out of a book faster than anything is when a character does not act his or her age. I admit I don't notice so much when a character acts a little older than stated, but it really bothers me when the author states that a character is say, 14, but actually he acts like a nine- or ten-year-old. I've read a number of books like this. Nearly all of them feature male main characters. I don't know it's the inability to get a male MC right, or unfamiliarity with children in that age range, or the author being afraid to write anything involving hormones, or what. But it destroys my ability to suspend disbelief when I read this.

I have a ten-year-old son. I also do volunteer work with youth ages 12-18. And there is a huge difference in the way a ten-year-old and a twelve-year-old think, act, and react. In fact, I think the switch from 11 to 12 is a very dynamic time, especially for boys. And it's not just because suddenly they're getting hormones. (Although it IS highly unrealistic to expect to write a book about teens and with no romantic interest whatsoever.) There is a lot more to growing up than gaining another year and another inch. So these are some things that I've observed that set the two age groups apart. Feel free to correct or add to as you wish. Yes, these are generalities. Yes, every kid is different. Maybe your kid isn't like this. But these are general things to keep in mind while creating your fictional characters.

1. Both MG and YA aged kids want approval from the adults around them. However, the things they want approval for are different, or at least, to different degrees. The younger child (age 9-11) wants approval because s/he's met the requirements the adult has set, or is successfully following the rules. They're great kids in school because they follow the program. A teen, on the other hand, wants approval for his/her independent ideas. "I am not you," is the teen's message. "I can think independently." A teen might rebel from the establishment to assert his/her own right to make decisions. Alternately, a teen might choose to follow all the rules. BUT--it will be a considered, independent choice, NOT because someone else says so. A teen wants approval and recognition that his or her choices are valid.

2. Breaking rules--I think the younger group wants to avoid shame and getting in trouble. Teens do, too, but they have a growing ability to sense how their actions affect others. A great fictional example of this is Harry Potter's changing psychology as he matures. In the first book he just wants to avoid detention. Even if he chooses to do things that he knows will earn him an evening with Snape, he sees that as "the worst." In Chamber of Secrets, he still wants to avoid trouble, but when he hears that Mr. Weasley is in trouble because his enchanted car got discovered, he feels guilty because his actions have harmed someone else. And he feels it without someone coming to him to rub it in his face. That's the difference between a middle grader and a teen. Another good example in fiction is Nick Mann's Control-Shift (also called Operating Codes), where the main character is torn between different ideologies regarding defense weapons, and loyalty to the people he loves. He can see how his choices can affect others. He can see past the immediate hand slap.

3. Hormones. Not every YA book is going to have romance, or needs it. But 9-10-year-old boys mostly don't even notice girls. Or if they do, they're too terrified to admit it. If you give me a book with teens and they are supposedly operating in the real world but have this complete blindness to the opposite sex, I'm just not going to believe it. Probably most of these feelings are unreturned, or returned by the "wrong" person. But they are there! I shouldn't have to say that boys and girls view romance and their part in it differently. If you are unsure, follow some of them around at the mall sometime. Sit in the food court and listen. Volunteer to chaperone a school or church event. Take notes when they aren't looking. Watch how they interact.

I do think these things are important. Maybe not every book needs all of them (Control-Shift is very convincing without any romantic elements at all--and, it's very focused one one--or two--specific problems.) But you've got to get into the psychology of the characters or they won't carry enough weight to make them real.

Falling in love (with a character)

As a reader (and a writer), I'd say that probably the single greatest feat to accomplish at the start of a book is to make your reader fall in love with the main character. If a reader can feel what that character feels, can live through his/her dreams and pain and joy, then that reader will be hooked on the rest of the story. As I've been rereading Harry Potter (not unlike the rest of the Muggle world!), I've been taking particular notice of this, and I think there are two main questions that every writer needs to ask him/herself:

Why do I like this character?

Why am I invested in his/her struggle?

I think one thing that makes us fall in love is a mix of heroic qualities and everyday weaknesses. We see both ourselves as we really are, but also as we yearn to be. Take Harry in the beginning of The Order of the Phoenix. He's just lived through the worst experience of any wizard's life, and as a reward, he's gotten to go back to the Dursleys, who treat him like dung. Not only that, but instead of talking to him like an initiated adult, the wizards he trusts are now keeping him in the dark regarding Voldemort's activities. When he and Dudley meet up in the park, it all comes to a boil, and it's all he can do not to stun Dudley into smithereens with magic. We feel his very human temptations, especially since we know how justified he is in wanting Dudley to finally get his due. And yet, he fights it. That's the heroic part. He fights as hard as he can to keep himself from hurting Dudley, even rescues him from the dementors. His positive choice, mixed with the very real and justifiable temptation makes him believable, yet heroic. When he saves Dudley, it isn't because it's a "duty," it's because it's the decent thing to do--and Harry is a decent person.

That fighting against oneself or one's instincts works in other books, too. Take Edward Cullen, trying very hard not to eat his girlfriend Bella in the vampire book Twilight. Or Catherine in Rules, who has that glorious moment running through the parking lot with Jason, yet is too afraid to mention Jason's handicaps to the girl next door, in case the girl won't want to be her friend. The gap between weakness and potential makes our characters vulnerable and likeable.

Another thing that makes us fall in love is how a character consciously works to meet his/her challenges. Take Bobby in Things Not Seen, who wakes up one morning to find he's gone invisible. He's scared, but despite his fear, he forms a plan and goes to work to solve his problem. No reader wants a character who just sits around and wrings their hands. Like Bobby, Gen in The Thief has a plan, too. The other characters treat him rotten, and he plays along with them--but no one that crass would have the beauty of storytelling like Gen does, and with this the author clues us in that Gen acts the way he does on purpose, and even enjoys it.

A third thing that makes us fall in love is seeing what's inside a character, even if no one else has figured it out yet. Levin in Anna Karenina is too shy to talk to Kitty, but when she's not around, we see what a wonderful person he is! We cross our fingers and hold our breath, hoping he'll finally find a way to tell her how he feels. DJ Schwenk in Dairy Queen thinks and feels so much, and yet, true to Schwenk form, can't manage to say any of the things that would raise her above the herd she feels so trapped inside.

Falling in love with the character is a huge part of the book, but not all of it. To keep a reader reading, the tension needs to rise, and the reader needs to stay invested in the character's struggle. This happens as the character's desires grow in tandem with his or her opposition. Going back to Phoenix, we know Harry is telling the truth because we saw what happened to him. Rowling didn't just tell us, she showed us. And just when Harry thinks he'll be getting support, he gets called a liar, instead. The greater his need for support, the less he gets, which makes his case seem more and more just. By the time he gets detention from Umbridge, the reader is burning for justice. If you think of what your character wants most, and then throw the worst thing to prevent that, you've got tension, you've got action--and you've got a reader glued to the pages, wanting to fight for your character.

Practice:

Write a scene to make the reader feel indignant on your character's behalf. Do this by showing what the character really wants, and prevent them from getting it. Give them a taste of a dream, then rip it away. Show the reader the truth, and then have no one believe what really happened.

Write a scene that makes you feel sympathetic for the character even though he may be making a bad choice or may be doing something that others will look down on.

Write a scene in which your character shows positive attributes in the midst of an otherwise bleak situation. They have a plan, they see the silver lining, they go out of their way to be nice to someone when they could justifiably wallow, instead.