This is a really interesting one, because different writers have entirely different ideas on the subject.

Some people, for example, work out life histories, motivations and so on all in advance before they start the characters going. Personally I can't do this: that always feels like a biography of somebody I've never met, just dead facts on a page. But some writers swear by it.

Other writers say that characters just come into their heads and start talking. Either they're using the definition differently or that doesn't happen for me either. Some characters I find easy to write; I quickly know what they're likely to say in response to things, I can imagine them clearly while they're speaking, and so on. I wonder sometimes if that's what people mean when they say characters speak to them, but it might be something different. My characters don't speak to me, for one thing: they aren't aware of me. They speak to each other. But sometimes when I'm on form I can think of what they'd say to each other pretty much instantaneously. I still wouldn't quite call that speaking, though, because it's me who thinks of everything and the characters don't feel external to that; it's all just talking to myself. The other qualifier is that I don't always go with the first thing the character 'says' in my head. That can lead to two-dimensional characters. Sometimes I consider what my first impulse is, and then have them do something different, so as to avoid getting simplistic. I can't in conscience say characters are speaking to me if I can say to them 'No, you didn't say that, say something less predictable,' and have them obey me - try that in real life and see where it gets you. So if anyone does feel that characters speak to them, I'd love to hear a more detailed description of how it works, because I'm always wondering.

I go by a method a friend of mine refers to as 'a rag, a bone and a hank of hair'. The quote is from Kipling's The Vampire, and while it doesn't necessarily mean vampire-raising, I find it a rather good expression, because I have to manufacture my characters from scraps.

Here's how it works: I can imagine a character in the abstract, but without any kind of sense of them. I have to see them move. Once I've seen them move, I've got their rhythm, and I know how they're likely to behave henceforth. For example, the short story 'Plain Useless' on this blog, the character of Gerry worked because I saw him open a caravan door with his hair half-combed. That was how he moved, and after that I could keep him moving.

A longer example. In my B-word novel (see FAQ if you don't know why I'm calling it that), the character of Ally, who was meant to be a walk-on, started working in my head because I put together three things: the image of him fidgeting in his chair; the heroine's reply to him praising a particular weapon ('Fat lot of good that'll be sighting in the dark, is what I think, but then I'm just a girl'); and the fact that at the end of their first conversation, in which she discusses a case with him and tells him she has a new boyfriend, he refers to an old bet they've made (that he'll shave his head if he loses), takes some scissors and cuts a big chunk off the end of his hair. That, worked out abstractly, told me what I needed to know about him: that he's a restless person, basically uncomfortable in himself but trying to ignore it; that his relationship with the heroine (which involves a complicated and not very happy sexual past) includes a considerable underlying sexual tension that's more about fronting up to each other than about attraction; that he's impulsive; that he's tense enough to do something drastic to himself for the sake of making a gesture; that the heroine has more of an ability to upset him than she believes; and that underneath the anxiety, he's angry.

I can work all that out now I've finished the book, but the adjectives weren't driving the character at the time. It was more as if I'd randomly strummed a chord on the guitar (I can't actually play guitar, but I've seen it done), and could henceforth improvise a song because I'd established the key and the basic sound of it. Hence, a rag, a bone and a hank of hair: get a few pieces and I can assemble the rest in harmony with them. It doesn't have to be physical details: the two protagonists of the novel I'm currently working on each have a foundation sentence rather than a foundation gesture. (I'll tell you when I've finished the book, but talking about work in progress is like going out in your underwear). But it has to be something concrete.

What does it feel like to create characters? I know how it feels for me; as to other people, well, guys, I'm looking to you to inform me.