Something in their expression

I wonder where other writers get their characters from, in particular the appearance of their characters? Do some people have anonymous, faceless “people” like shop window dummies, ready to be dressed, wigs placed on their heads and then the features emerge as their personalities develop? Do some have stereotypes which they then mould into someone more believable and realistic? Or maybe there are real people who enter novels, more or less disguised and tweaked away from the original.

I guess my “people” come from observation, people I pass in the street, sit near in cafés and pubs, see on TV, and something in their expression, their demeanour, the way they behave to others suggest an imagined character. Sometimes the characters are somewhat shadowy and their story unfolds they become more rounded, with history and personality. It takes a lot of work, and revision to make sure they are consistent, their eyes don’t change colour, they don’t change jobs or acquire partners, relatives, children unless it is actually part of the plot.

The story I’m working on at the moment has an unnamed narrator (she probably will have a name, it just hasn’t arrived yet) and she probably has blondie-brown or brownie-blond wavy hair, is tall-ish, and has a partner called Lol, no doubt short for Oliver, unless his initials are L.O.L! He is slim and with an olive complexion and dark hair,  and is full of energy and enthusiasm for whatever his current interest is. Where did either of them come from, what inspired me?  I think Lol came from a waiter or café manager I saw, always on the go, always buzzing about. And the as yet nameless narrator, may have been one of several people I knew at school, popular, energetic, confident people, probably good at hockey!

Now I have another character in mind – who won’t be in the story I’m writing, and this person – to be honest, I’m not sure if they are a he or a she, but their face appears briefly in an advert, peeping unexpectedly round a corner, grinning mischievously, they pull a face and then disappear. This person  – in my imagination, is indeed mischievous, if not downright naughty, and maybe a teenager, or a twenty-something, or a grown up. Is there spite, are they malicious? Maybe. Do they delight in being a rogue, being an imp, or are they secretly concealing a sadness, an anger which is hidden by pranks and japes? Maybe they will never appear in anythign I write, maybe they will morph into something – someone else!