How do I, as one person, build personalities, backstories, likes and dislikes for so many different people?

(Personally I think an overactive imagination and a very short attention span helps.)

I’ve been working on deepening my characters through hobbies, specifically. It’s so much fun. For some characters, I’m trying to determine what their hobbies would be to understand them better, and for others it’s actually relevant to the plot.

I just started a new job at an Assisted Living facility, and it’s been so much fun soaking up the personalities there and hearing about the many different hobbies the residents enjoy, some of them things they’ve loved their entire lives. While I try to avoid taking inspiration from real people directly enough you can trace it back to them (my motto is distressingly similar to a criminal’s; leave no trail), I’ve been gleefully gleaning ideas these past few weeks.

Another source of inspiration was an antique store some friends and I found downtown. It was a shop full of stuff from all kinds of different people over the past hundred years, a treasure trove of ideas.

And of course, I can always borrow my own hobbies for a story. While not often the most creative route to go, taking inspiration from your own life can generally turn out the most accurate. But there’s one hobby that happened in reverse, you could say.

I’ve been getting my book Rendova ready for re-release. In the story, the main character wants a career in crop-focused agriculture but ends up doing something quite different. Though he never ends up doing what he loves, he picks up a hobby of house plants. At the end of the story his friends give him a plant as a thank you. When I wrote that book, my family had pretty much never had a plant inside the house. But as of recent history I have two varieties of snake plants (named Louis and Antoinette), an aluminum plant that I love deeply and am thinking of naming Liam, marigold seedlings in my window, and kale growing outside my door. I definitely have a few family members concerned that I feel compelled to name my plants, but… they have personalities, I swear. (Now that I’m reading this back, I’m realizing my family might have a point. I suppose writing stories is a very healthy outlet for my hyperactive brain. If anybody ever asks why I write, the answer is it’s either this or my sister has to hear me counselling my plants.)

My first plant was given to me by my grandmother. It started as a way to help her downsize and tidy up her apartment. After working at the Assisted Living place, and observing how much it meant to people when their family called, I started talking to my grandmother on the phone. And now we have something in common that we are very, very excited about. I’m planning another trip to visit her and pick up some African violets.

I’ve realized lately how much it means to people when somebody takes the time to be interested in what they’re interested in. I’ve always struggled with both sides of that coin. I don’t feel like I share interests with most people, and I can rarely drag my introverted self out of the house to engage in anyone else’s. But taking that first plant from my grandmother brought her so much joy, and now it’s bringing me joy, too. At work, when I ask about what people are interested in, their eyes light up. I’d encourage you to do the same. It’s okay if you’re not interested in wood burning, computers, languages, fashion, hiking, crocheting, LEGO, or dancing like people you may talk to, and it’s okay if you feel awkward asking, “so, what do you like to do?” Take it from me: I am often an awkward conversationalist, but I’ve found it’s still worth the effort to strike up that conversation with somebody.

Anyway, I now have plants. What should I name the next one?

p.s. The photo is one I took of the aluminum plant. I’m half tempted to just name him Foil, but I don’t want to be one of those parents.