The Character Beneath the Surface

By Mark W. Danielson

This is a photo of the man I trust with my car. Okay—he’s the guy I mostly trust—or at least sometimes trust. Chuck [not his real name] is barely recognizable in this photo because he hasn’t shaved in a while, but I assure you that he’s a gentle giant. Always calm, very personable, patiently waits for his meals to be served . . . Chuck has worked on my car for years, and yet I only know him on the surface level. Still, based upon some other aspects, I’m convinced that he’s a real animal once he’s away from work.

You see, Chuck’s C-5 Corvette offers an interesting insight into his character. Understandably, his car's windshield bears the dragon icon from his business, but its nose bears enough skulls to rival Notre Dame’s catacombs. And the skulls don’t stop there. Somehow they managed to sneak into the engine compartment, reproduce on the back side of the hood, and then migrate to some of the engine parts of his mega-charged 8000 horsepower machine. Well, perhaps 8000 is a slight exaggeration, but it’s still a big honkin’ engine with an honest 1000 ponies.) Did I mention that there are more skulls on the back bumper? Hmmm—this guy is spooky.

Seeing Chuck’s car generates a paradox about the man who drives this monster machine. Who is he really—a gentle giant, a black bear, or an ax murderer? Honestly, I’m not sure how I would define Chuck’s character if I had to testify about him in court. But that’s the beauty of it. Chuck doesn’t fall into the status quo.

In my younger days, I found myself on the receiving end of this paradox by outfitting myself in black leather and driving a motorcycle. On longer drives, I’d also wear my .38 revolver to help ward off tailgaters. The problem came when I removed my helmet because my hair was short and I was polite, just like Chuck, so to some people, Chuck and I were both ax murderers—or at least could be. Ironically, I write about murder, and as far as I know, Chuck just likes skulls on his car.

Good fiction incorporates characters like Chuck because they’ll keep us guessing all the way through the story. It’s quite possible that Chuck’s character may snap and start shooting from the bell tower, or perhaps he murders his family, yet at the same time, he’s a guy from everyday life that we can all relate to. Who knows? Chuck may just turn out to be the hero of the story; a total fake-out from beginning to end. So, the next time you’re out and about thinking about character development, consider all of the people around you. Let your mind wander a bit, and see what kind of scenarios you come up with that involve the little old lady that’s crossing the street, the beggars, the punks, or the soccer mom that fumbles with the keys to her Escalade with seven kids waiting to board. Everything imaginable is directly in front of you. All you have to do is open your eyes.

Visitor Season

by Ben Small



Fall marks the start of Visitor Season in Arizona, that lovely time of year when one can actually stand outside during daylight hours without wearing an air conditioned NASA suit. Which means, of course, that anybody who can trace any sort of lineage to an Arizona resident comes to visit. The family tree doesn’t have to be straight; there can be missing or mangled branches, even shoots from other trees. Try tracking oak leaves to specific trees in a forest. Last year, a girl showed up claiming to be my daughter. So what she had a DNA report? Those things can be faked, can’t they? Even the FBI makes mistakes. But Benjamina didn’t stay long. The rubber-snake-in-the-bed trick soon sent her screaming.

Didn’t even leave a forwarding address.

Friends visit, too. I’ve had folks who said they’d last seen me when I hit ‘em with a dodgeball during kindergarten recess stay for a week. Once, a guy I’d sued showed up. Said he wanted clarification of the settlement agreement’s release language. He stayed a month.

But with the pool guy my wife murdered rotting next to my neighbor’s driveway, we have to be a bit careful when visitors come to the premises. We tell ‘em that the yard adjoining ours is full of scorpions ― you know, the man-eating ones. If they’re still curious, either my wife or I will follow, and we’ll be carrying a shovel. Shovelsaurus Rex. A big old spade, heavy, with sharpened edges. When my wife and I talk three-way, the only swinging we’re doing is with Rex. Clubbing, dicing or digging: Shovelsaurus Rex has no peer.

Usually we distract our visitors by taking them somewhere else, like for instance, the Sonoran Desert Museum, Arizona’s second leading tourist attraction. But that’s been a bit on-and-off this year ever since a wild javelina strolled past the bronze ones at the museum’s entrance and bit a paying customer. Worse yet, the customer’s wife saw the javelina coming and fainted. She said later she’d heard Benny Hinn was in town and figured he’d performed a miracle. She’s still kneeling at the entrance. Meanwhile, anxious attendants are searching for the pig. Since the museum uses invisible fencing, it’s near impossible to determine what’s captured and what’s hunting.

Tombstone’s a good distraction, and it’s got special advantages. Lots of OK Corral re-enactments. So if one needs or wants to shoot somebody, there’s covering fire. Just pretend to be part of the act. Slap a few backs, spit some tobaccy, and walk away. I always wear cowboy gear to Tombstone. Boy scout motto: Be prepared.

Same with Old Tucson, just down the road from the Desert Museum. Old Tucson is a movie studio, where Tombstone, 3:10 To Yuma, and hundreds of other movies have been shot. The gun blasts there provide good cover, too, and you may get paid for shooting someone.

Need I say that Shovelsaurus Rex travels with us in the Tahoe? I wanted to strap Rex on as a hood ornament, but the wife vetoed the idea. No sense of humor at all. Instead, Rex rides on top. The Tahoe’s so big, the shovel’s only visible to bridge-jumpers.

Of course Spring is visiting season too, but Spring’s second to Fall for most folks. People from Wisconsin and Minnesota like to come in Spring, because they want to feel their feet again. But most other visitors prefer autumn, perhaps because they want their neighbors to rake their leaves.

Having visitors means a lot of work, or at least my wife says so. But I came up with a plan. We don’t exactly run a B&B; we just charge for use of the restrooms. We use a graduated scale, the more our guests drink, the more we charge for the bathroom.

Sorta Pay As You Go.

Some guys try to cheat ― you can probably guess how ― but I’ve got a fix for that. I set up robo-rattlers outside every door. They’re not snakes at all; rather, they’re little radios that play a rattling sound. I’ve got ‘em hooked into Radio Shack motion sensors. One trip outside at night, and cheaters pay up. During the day, there’s not so much a problem. As you know if you read this blog regularly, my wife wears a machete. Twirling her blade like a baton, her soft words “Not in my yard” seem to carry extra meaning.

So please come visit this Fall. Watered down margaritas are on us.

And be sure to bring dollar bills…

The Man Beneath The Skin

A recent trip to the auto shop revealed an interesting aspect of the man I trust with my car. (Okay—the guy I mostly trust—or at least sometimes trust.) Chuck [not his real name] is a gentle giant. Always calm; very personable. He’s worked on my car for years, but I only know him at the surface level. The real question is who is the man beneath the skin?

Chuck’s C-5 Corvette offers some interesting insight into his character. Understandably, his windshield bears the dragon icon from his business, but then the car’s nose bears enough skulls to rival Notre Dame’s catacombs. And the skulls don’t stop there. Somehow they managed to sneak into the engine compartment, reproduce on the back side of the hood, and then migrate to some of the engine parts of this mega-charged 8000 horsepower machine. (Okay—perhaps 8000 is a slight exaggeration, but it’s still a big honkin’ engine.) Did I mention that there are more skulls on the back bumper? Hmmm—this guy’s spooky.

Seeing Chuck’s car creates a paradox about the man who drives this monster machine. Who is he really—a gentle giant or an ax murderer? Honestly, I’m not sure how I would define Chuck’s character if I had to testify about him in court. But that’s the beauty of it. Chuck doesn’t fall into the status quo.

In my younger days, I was on the receiving end of this paradox by outfitting myself in black leather and driving a motorcycle. On longer drives, I’d also wear my revolver to help ward off tailgaters. The problem came when I removed my helmet because my hair was short and I was polite, just like Chuck. So, in some people’s minds, both Chuck and I were, or at least could be, ax murderers. The reality is write about murder, and Chuck paints skulls on his car. (At least I think that’s all there is to it.)

Good writing incorporates characters like Chuck. They keep us guessing as to “who-done-it.” In fiction, Chuck could become the character that snaps and starts shooting from the bell tower or murders his family; a character from everyday life—someone we can relate to. So, the next time you’re out and about, think about what you really know about the people you trust, let your mind wander a bit, and see what kind of scenarios you come up with. When you approach writing this way, it’s never a struggle to find interesting characters.