Interesting problem . . . character devlepoment, if you want defintion, is when you watch your character's personality affect their choices. It's actually hard to explian, but basically you just make your charrie show off its personality.

When writing like that, you kinda have to think about what that character would do, not exactly the sme thing is what you would do. 

If you make someone sad and quiet, don't give them much dialogue;only when they honestly need to said something. Usually when they do, it's surprisingly good advice. 

Top!

Man, I was kind of hoping this would be more popular, like Bummblebudy's thread... oh well. 

Thanks, Novelist!

Anyways, changed the name to Rising Tide. Probably nobody cares, but I'm going to keep posting. Excerpts and stuff. I'll start tomorrow. 

If one person posts on this, I will post a sneek peek. If not, this thread s dead.

Top! 

Top!

I can illustrate if needed. I'll post more later. 

Thank you so much, Leeli! Here's the first sneek peek:

            The next morning
at eleven forty-five, I sit in the waiting room at the Top Center, pretending
not to eavesdrop on the conversation between the people next to me. It’s getting
pretty interesting when I hear a familiar voice.

            “Areh Caroy?”
Lizzy calls. Restless, I jump up, grab my purse, and hurry up to the desk.
Lizzy, a girl maybe two years older than me with curly red hair, smiles at me.

            “Hello,” I greet.

            “I hope I pronounced
that right?” Lizzy checks. I nod.

            “Perfect,” I
promised. Lizzy smiled.

            “Ok. I’m afraid
there was a sort of glitch or something last night. I still have your name and
that you need something for your bank account, but I’m afraid I’ve lost who
you’d like to see. Can you just jog my memory?” I nod again, a little confused.

            “Um, Aaron
Gifford.” Lizzy frowns and types something on her computer. She squints at the
screen as if it started acting like an annoying boy.

            “Sorry, could you
please spell that?” I glance at the phone number in my purse and spell it out.
Lizzy bites her lip.

            “I’m very sorry,” she begins. “There’s nobody here by the name of Aaron Gifford.” She gives me an
odd look, like she might be a bit concerned about my sanity. It’s a rather unnerving
way to have someone look at you. “In fact,” she adds, “according to our
database, Aaron Gifford doesn’t even exist.”

Sorry, I'm copy-pasting, so it's a little big :) 

Here's the next bit!

          “What’s so
mysterious about news articles?” I demand. Nab stares sadly at the picture in
the center of the wall before answering.

          “Look at this.” He
flips open the binder to the middle. It’s an article about the Senator of Maken,
Jack Yal. It’s dated just one year ago, 4001. I shrug.

          “So what?” Nab
points to the screen. I turn and see a story about a man in the same position,
Senator of Maken. Only the date is one day after the one in the binder. And
it’s two completely different people. I frown from the binder to the screen.

          “Did he retire?” I
suggest, gesturing to the binder. Nab shakes his head.

          “It says nothing
about his retirement.”

          “Was he kicked out?
Wore out his time?” Nab shakes his head to both. For once, his eyes are
completely focused on one thing. Me. It’s a little scary. It looks like he’s
analyzing me, trying to figure out when I’ll come to his conclusion. It’s
slowly starting to dawn on me, but most of my conscience is trying to force it
back down.

          “This article said
nothing about his getting kicked out. In fact,” he flipped to a different article,
about the same man starting his term. “He was only in office for six months. He
needs to be there for three years before he’s even allowed to retire.” I
swallow hard and glance at the screen.

          “What are you
trying to get at here? I don’t even remember anyone named Jack Yal,” I mumble
nervously.

          “This,” Nab says
gravely, “is where it gets weird.” He begins to turn the pages rapidly. “Ron
Haren, Lara Yor, Jade Fronder, do you remember any of these names?” I shake my head.

          “No,” I reply.

          “Exactly. But here
they are, official news articles about them.”

          “Where are you
going with this?” I demand, hoping I don’t sound scared. Nab closes the binder
and taps the cover.

          “These people are
being replaced.”

Toppers!!!!!

Just finished the book yesterday! woohoo!

Here's another sneek peek:

“Thanks for letting us stay here.” Nab says.

          “No problem.”
Agrees our host as he shovels out a handful of assorted keychains from his pockets. Why he has
them, I don’t know.

          “What’s your name?”
Nab continues. The boy stops, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

          “Huh.” He murmurs.
“Strange. I guess I haven’t thought of one in a while.” I tense and Nab shifts
uncomfortably.

          “What?” I exclaim,
utterly confused. The boy shrugs.

          “You could just
call me Wanted.” Nab’s hand strays to his pocket and he steps in between me and
Wanted again.

          “What?” He echoes. Wanted shrugs and points to a poster at the back of the room.

          “All it says on my
posters anymore.” I turn to examine the sheet of paper he directed me to and,
with a sick feeling, see that he is correct. It’s a wanted poster of Wanted.
Wild hair, grin, and all. The only thing missing is the mask.

          “You- you’re a
criminal?” I whimper. Wanted’s face falls.

          “Convicted.” He
explains. “Framed. I was put on trial, but nobody believed me, even with the
surveillance video.” Nab survey’s Wanted, measuring him up.

          “Prove
it.” He challenges 

Toptoptop!!!!