One of my favorite examples of character chemistry comes at the beginning of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. The author explains that Bilbo is a hobbit, and hobbits are, for the most part, easygoing little creatures that love nothing better than their comfy, ordinary lives and avoid adventure like the plague. Bilbo is no exception, a textbook hobbit--but wait, his mother was from a family of rather notorious hobbits who were famous for their wild adventures. So he's got that blood in him--a tiny little bit of adventure. Maybe it's dormant, maybe he's aware of it and in denial, but Tolkein makes sure we know that it's there.
In comes Gandalf the wizard--and before anything even happens, the author makes sure we know that Gandalf is a legend. He roams the country shrouded in mystery, tales are told about him…but most importantly, adventures happen everywhere he goes. He causes them with his mere presence.
So here's an determinedly ordinary guy with a little bit of potential adventure in him, and he's about to meet an extraordinary wizard famous for causing adventures. It's as if a person with a tiny bit of kerosene powder in his bloodstream is about to meet a pyromaniac. What's going to happen?
The answer is predictable. It's also unpredictable, hilarious, exciting, terrifying, and incredibly satisfying. In fact, the answer is the entire story.
So here's the cure for writer's block--make your characters into chemicals that compliment and contradict each other, and then put them into a vat, snap the lid, give it a shake, and throw it as far as you possibly can, cackling with maddened glee.
If you can turn out characters so fiendishly potent that you just can't wait to combine them, you're probably a very successful author.
