One Finger or the Wave?

I live in a rural community where it’s common practice to acknowledge a passing motorist. If the acquaintance is a casual one or even a complete stranger, lifting a single index finger will suffice. If the relationship is closer, a purposeful wave is best.

When creating a character, I apply the passing motorist test.

Meeting someone for the first time, on a single-finger basis, generates superficial questions. What’s the motorist’s name? Where is the driver coming from? Where is the driver going?

Meeting again on a lonely road inspires deeper questions and answers—inquiries which generate plot lines and bring a personality to life. A character who’s better-known has a history—a background which, whether shared with the reader or residing in the writer’s mind, ignites memories of previous encounters and speculations regarding future action.

Fashioning a complex character, a writer’s thoughts dive deeper: Joe’s pickup is caked with mud. He’s been to the lake no doubt. Does he remember that summer we swam there as boys? His sister almost drowned that July. I wonder how she’s doing since her husband died.

Allowing a character to travel on unrecognized without a familiar wave and a desire to pursue probing thoughts is a missed opportunity, reducing that fleeting personality to a casual passerby. A reader won’t relate to such a one-dimensional character. A writer should care enough about a character to slow down, pull to a stop, roll the window down, and bide awhile in the middle of the road, vehicles nose-to-tail, chatting over old times, debating the present, and making future plans.