Have you ever closed a book feeling dissatisfied? The plot was intricate, the writing style was good, the research impressive, but nevertheless, nothing quite gelled?

Chances are it was because there wasn't a character in the story you really cared about. When writing a novel the writer has to keep a lot of boats afloat, structure, narrative drive, prose style, dialogue, pacing, rhythm to name just a few. But without characters that are strong and believable, what you have is a near miss.

So the question is: What makes strong characters? They have to be true to themselves. That does not mean they have to be likable-think Hannibal Lector, Thomas Harris's great and ghastly creation-but strong characters have a complexity that is uniquely theirs. In my own work, I never know what the characters are really about until they reveal themselves in the course of the first draft. In my novel The Danger Zone, the character of Michael O'Malley is repellent, becoming more so with each appearance. Becoming more himself. Only in the last scene do we find that he has any redeeming quality whatsoever, but that teasing voice is there, just below the surface of the character.

Every character you create contains a part of who you are. A writer is constantly asking: "How would I behave in this situation?" or perhaps more honestly, "How would I like to believe I would behave?" Or, "How would I never dream of behaving in such circumstances?" The answers are often a complete surprise.

In a good novel, characters tell the story. If the characters are there merely to serve the plot, you have a lot of machinery clunking around, forcing the book onward.

The writer's job is to understand each character, even the most minor, to know them more than they know themselves, and to show that depth to the reader. When that happens, the reader comes to the end of the story, reluctant to close the book and say goodbye to people they have come to understand, to love or perhaps loathe.

And the writer rejoices.