Anyone who writes fiction knows this dilemma. You write a memorable character who is so realistic your friends swear they know who it is. They’re right, and they’re not pleased. Admit it, sometimes friends and family do the most interesting things. You want to include their exploits in your novel, but you know they won’t be flattered. My great-great grandfather, for example, kidnapped his own son and took him to another country, where he abandoned him. That would make a great story, but how many generations of relatives have to be safely dead before I can write it?
The standard advice to novelists is to combine the traits and experiences of several real people to make your characters. I’m afraid I would exhaust my circle of family and friends if I followed this advice, so I do the next best thing. I collect obituaries.
Here are real people, described by those who loved them best, or knew them best, or were paid to research them. I can blend their odd facts and thrilling exploits with my character. I’m not basing my character on any one person, and I’m adding enough from those outside my social network that they really won’t recognize themselves in my heroine, my sidekick, or my villain. Now I can allow my characters to do what the plot demands without hurting anyone’s feelings.
Except for my great-great grandfather’s story – that one may need a bit more time before it is ready.