Minor Characters

Warning: No “Lessons Learned” in this post.

On face value, it seems obvious to define a minor character–one who isn’t a major character, who isn’t central to the development of the story.

But there’s a spectrum of minor characters-some who are more important than others. George Hendricks, the doctor who diagnoses Lyra, is minor; he appears only in the beginning of the book, but he’s essential in helping Lyra choose her path. For him I have added details to inform part of his backstory. My food seller Esme in the market in Stone Town is almost inconsequential except to flesh out David’s experience there. I have no idea where she comes from and (sorry Esme) I don’t care.

It’s the ones in between that I struggle with. As David and Lyra are driving across dangerous “wilds” where neither the government nor insurgents yield total control, they encounter an army sergeant and his men barricading the road at a makeshift checkpoint. David and Lyra are stopped and questioned, but neither knows whose side the sergeant is on.

As David explains to Lyra just before the checkpoint:

“You assume there are only two sides to the battle. Sadly, it is far more complicated than that. There are smaller militias, armies run by warlords, who both support and oppose the king. Some fight The Kingdom [THE NAME OF THE TERROR GROUP RUN BY SIMON MOTO], some fight with the Kingdom. But others oppose both King Selenos [KING OF THE SECOND WORLD] and The Kingdom, so they will fight both sides at the same time. And while The Kingdom is the largest of the religious extremists, the group is by far not alone. The threat from smaller terrorist organizations is as real as the threat from The Kingdom.”

I see the sergeant, then, as a representative of the dangers–and uncertainty–Lyra will face. My question, though, is how much do I stereotype him?

Here’s what I have so far:

One of the soldiers spits on the ground and saunters cockily toward them. His gun points into the air, but Lyra notices his finger is on the trigger. She holds her breath.

David raises his hands off the steering wheel as the guard leans through David’s window and peers at them, his eyes hard and cold.

“Where are you going, my friend?” the soldier asks David in a thick, clipped accent. He leers at Lyra, raking his eyes up and down her body. Lyra bites the inside of her lip, but otherwise does not move.

David hunches his shoulders and drops his eyes, bowing to the soldier’s authority. When he speaks, he is soft and hesitant. “To Mara, Sergeant.” He nods slightly in Lyra’s direction, then lowers his chin, meek and deferential. Lyra understands David is playing a part; she is impressed.

The sergeant looks past David as if he is a ghost and stretches his mouth into a slithery smile. His teeth are yellow, stained with tobacco.

Too much? The leering, the slithery smile, yellow-stained teeth… I think you get a picture of him, but we never find out his name and only later do we learn what he’s up to (not telling!) He also doesn’t appear again in the story, so how individual to I make him? Or do I leave him as a caricature, a short-hand for the reader to understand he and the characters he represents are not to be trusted?

It’s true than an experienced novelist may know the answer, but for now, I’m learning as I go so I’ll have to keep working on it. I guess that’s why the call the writing process, well… a process. 🙂