What the Bible Teaches Me about Fiction: II
If you want to your characters to be compelling, give the “good guys” some weaknesses. Nobody’s perfect, so use “imperfection” to make characters believable and endearing. Consider Hebrews 11, often called “The Faith Chapter.” It lists the heroes of the faith. Yet with the exception of a few, we could just as easily title it “The Foul-Up Chapter.” We find murderers, adulterers, hookers. Despite their flaws, however, they have one thing in common: faith. Moses is humble, but he has an anger management problem. Peter is spirited but impulsive—just ask Malchus.
Even Jesus, though he has no flaws, is still different from what many of us expect of a perfect person. He’s unpredictable, saying stuff like, “On the outside you look good, but inside you stink like a coffin” or “You bunch of snakes.” Not exactly “How to Win Friends and Influence People.”
Hesitate to name minor characters. The reader can hold only so many details in the memory. If we read about Kim and Judy having lunch together and the author tells us their waitress is Maria, we make a mental note: “I need to remember Kim, Judy, and Maria.” If Maria is unimportant to the plot, the author should leave her name out—unless she’s part of a red herring. Calling her a waitress allows her to fulfill her function in the scene and allows the reader to forget her. Generally in a narrative when an author names somebody, the reader thinks “I need to remember this.”
In the Book of Ruth we find name after name. The story emphasizes the mentality that one’s good name is a significant part of leaving a legacy. It even ends with a genealogy—not normally included in the "Top 10 Ways to Land." Nevertheless, it works in Ruth. And in the midst of a book filled with names, one person stands out as remaining nameless. It’s the guy who refuses to be Ruth’s “kinsman-redeemer” because he worries too much about giving his own kids plenty of land. Boaz, who seeks him out, says, “Turn aside here ploni amoni,” which is a little Hebrew rhyme that means “Mr. So-and-so.” The fact that Ploni-Almoni is the one nameless character in the entire book tells us to forget him. Not worth remembering!
Use figures of speech. Ortega y Gassett said, “The metaphor is probably the most fertile power possessed by man.” Consider the numerous metaphors for God. A rock. The Good Shepherd. A strong tower. Our Father. The Door. The Bread of Life. The Alpha and the Omega. Provider. Healer. We find several hundred names for God alone, each of which communicates something different about Him.
We find negative metaphors in the Bible, too. Jude 1:1–12 includes a string of them: “These men are those who are hidden reefs in your love feasts … clouds without water, carried along by winds; autumn trees without fruit, doubly dead, uprooted; wild waves of the sea, casting up their own shame like foam; wandering stars, for whom the black darkness has been reserved forever.”
And what about hyperbole? “If your tongue sins, cut it off.”
Figures of speech allow the reader to envision a concrete image, even when we’re communicating an abstract concept. “My mind wandered like a tourist with a Eurail pass.”
Kenneth S. Latourette, in History of Christianity, writes, “Jesus had the soul of a poet. While few of his recorded sayings are in poetic form, again and again his words breathe the spirit of poetry. His mind thought in terms of pictures and concrete scenes, not in abstract phrases.”
And as you know, there's a specific name for Him that emphasizes this very ability as the Master Communicator: The Word.