(Author's note: The content for this column derives from a post I made on my blog, Prose Poetry Code, in 2017.)
Introduction: Birth
I enjoy writing child characters. There's something to be said for the simple pleasure of seeing the world from the point of view of a boy or girl. Immature by our standards, innocent, sometimes bewildered by the world around them, they can yet see a wonder that we adults have lost. When written well, a child's perspective can be beautiful, if for no other reason than it takes us, the readers, back to childhood ourselves.
Why, you may ask, should you bother writing from a child's perspective? Well, disregarding the obvious answer of "it's what the story needs", I can think of a few reasons.
First, children can be more ignorant of the inner workings of the setting. To them, especially to the younger ones, everything in the world is mysterious or unknown. That's exactly how a reader starts out, too. Your readers don't know who the political factions are, or what the different schools of magic teach, or which of the gods is really an ascended human from a bygone era. By writing from a child POV, you can introduce a reader to the more complex parts naturally; they follow the same path as the character.
This works even better if you're doing something training-based, like a magic school (Harry Potter), an apprenticeship travelogue (the first parts of Peter V. Brett's The Warded Man), or something of that nature. As the child advances in knowledge, so does the reader, and there's no sense in them complaining about disbelief. Sure, it can be a slow reveal, but if that's what you want, then it might be just what you need.
Second, children are innocent. This can be used by a writer in a couple of ways. It's great for setting up good-versus-evil plot points, for example, because most kids won't be able to discern the subtle shades of gray. And destroying innocence can be a powerful dramatic tool, as any fan of Arya Stark knows all too well. But children as characters can also keep things "light". In escapist fantasy (as opposed to the gritty and grimdark types that are all too common these days), the child can be a kind of touchstone.
Finally, the third reason ties into both of the last two. Since children are less concerned with "adult" matters, as well as simply knowing less about them in general, that's that much you don't have to write about when they're the center of attention. Kids aren't going to be cynical and jaded. They won't care about romantic and sexual relationships. They don't have major responsibilities. Even the language you use for their narration can be simplified, especially if the child POV is only one of many.
Raising a child
The limitations, of course, are evident. Children don't normally have the same opportunity for adventure. Their lack of responsibility is countered by a lack of ability, whether natural (kids aren't as strong as adults) or social (kids can't vote, drive, etc.), and this can hinder a story.
One easy way to circumvent some of those restrictions is to make the child "attached" to an adult in some way. Obviously, one possibility is traveling with their parents. Babysitters, master craftsmen, robot nannies, and royal servants all work just as well. No matter how you do it, since the adult and child are together, they'll experience most of the same things. And then you have a quick and dirty way to increase dramatic tension by separating them.
At the other end of the spectrum are the children who are alone. Typically, these tend to be older, usually teenagers. That's because they're close enough to adulthood to interact with "grownups" on a more even footing, but they still haven't lost all of their childlike nature. Runaways, orphans, and incoming students all fit this mold, and their stories will likely involve lots of social conflict, issues of acceptance, and such.
Speaking of conflict, the kinds children can be involved in are often entirely different from those of their elders...at least to start. There's nothing stopping an adolescent from being the Chosen One; that's basically Harry Potter. But you can't jump right into the deep end there. Let kids be kids for a while, so that when they can't, it'll pack that much more of a punch. And always be aware of both the limits of youth, and its capacity for exceeding them.
Through the years
Character growth is one of the most important parts of any story, especially those that are part of a larger series. We enjoy and connect with dynamic characters who adapt to, and are affected by, their environment, their unique situation. Children, however, grow in more ways than one. Unlike adults, a child character not only has to deal with the natural growth caused by the plot, but also the physical, mental, and psychological growth associated with the various phases of childhood and adolescence.
Obviously, the youngest children are not very usable as narrative characters. They're too immature. Newborns and toddlers haven't reached a level of development that allows for the complex thought processes or deeper conflicts that make a great story. That's not to say they can't be given roles as major non-narrative characters, though. A baby is a great source of conflict, especially one whose parentage is in doubt. Very young children also provide a way to inject levity or even humor into a darker story.
Starting around the age of six—coincidentally enough, close to what we consider the age to begin schooling—children have completed their initial development and reached a stage where they can sustain part of a story through their perspective. Maybe not the whole thing, unless you're writing specifically for that, but there are plenty of great novels told through a young child's eyes.
As children move from this stage into the preteen or "tween" range of 8-12, they also grow more and more capable of holding their own in a story. Especially in historical or fantasy settings, preteens can begin to find real responsibilities and get into real problems without necessarily needing a parent or guardian around. For a more modern take, school and summer camp tales are some of the easiest ways to get kids involved in the "meat" of the story.
In my own writings, the youngest perspective character I've created is Jarra, from Lair of the Wizards, who begins the tale at eight years old. Despite her youth, she pulls her weight in the narrative, offering a distinct and different point of view compared to the rest of the cast, such as her seventeen-year-old brother. She isn't as mature, and I write her as such. In her chapters, the prose is simpler, with less emphasis on vocabulary and more on rhythm. That's not a failing on my part at all. No, it's deliberate. For the same reason, there's less "reading" of people—an eight-year-old just can't do that as well as someone older. The focus is always on what's happening right now, or what dreams may come.
The same goes for my other preadolescent characters: Dusk, from The Linear Cycle; Jarra's friend Leli; half the cast of my Orphans of the Stars series. In every case, my goal is to put the reader into a specific frame of mind. You're looking through the character's eyes, seeing things as the character sees them, and children just don't look at the world the same way as adults. As an author, you can exploit that to great effect; I like to think I do.
Coming of age
Eventually, though, every childhood ends. At what point that end comes is something that is different for different cultures and periods of history. It's even different for different genres of fiction! But it doesn't matter what the specifics are, because the teenage period is a time of transition for everyone.
Think about yourself at age 13, then again in the days before your 20th birthday. A big difference, right? Maybe you finished school, then started college. You maybe got a job or two. You might have been in a relationship. Whatever happened to you in those seven years, you were not even remotely the same person at the end.
Where adolescence truly starts is another matter of great debate that we can ignore here. For our purposes, it's enough to recognize that it does take place, that it's a process everyone undergoes. And it's a very appropriate source of conflict.
The "coming of age" trope is one of the oldest around because it's just about the most important change in a person's life. And many cultures the world over have rituals to celebrate it. A historical novel, then, can easily incorporate these into the narrative. They're going to happen, so maybe there's something about a specific instance that makes it notable. The boy in question—traditional rituals are very often divided among such lines—may have misgivings about the fate chosen for him. Or a disaster may strike as he's going to or coming from the site of his ascension into nominal adulthood. Girls, of course, get their own, but keep in mind that the "warrior princess" stereotype is often an unrealistic project of modern notions of equality.
Take away the need for historical accuracy, and things open up even more. What kind of ceremonies would a fantasy society practice? How do they treat their teens? In a lot of cases, "as adults" is a perfectly valid answer, but that accomplishes two things. One, it pushes the "coming of age" threshold back, possibly into preadolescence. Two, it may create a mental conflict not unlike Impostor Syndrome. And there are always the exceptional characters: the child soldiers, the teen mothers, the magical prodigies. All of these hit their stride in this stage.
But only if you write them properly. That, in my opinion, should be what you take away from this. Children aren't like other characters. Treating them as such not only detracts from the suspension of disbelief, it does the kids a disservice. Sure, a genius may have an extensive vocabulary, incredible reasoning skills, and a natural head for numbers at a young age. I did. But that's a vanishingly small minority which probably doesn't include your protagonist. (If it does, on the other hand, go for it! That's how we got Doogie Howser and his more annoying successor, Young Sheldon.)
Kids are kids. They have a special outlook, a distinct voice, that can be as enlightening as it is fun to write. Creating a child character, giving that child a major part in a story, lets us step back from the madness that is adulthood for at least a little while. It's another viewpoint, one so often at odds with our own, yet so familiar at the same time. There lies the beauty, I think. We can't recapture our innocence, but we can relive it vicariously through someone else's eyes.
As always, thanks for reading. In case you couldn't tell, this is one topic where I have strong opinions and the experience to back them up. I love writing child characters. I've based an entire series on them, not to mention the numerous ensembles that include children as young as eight. All of those rank among my personal favorites, and I'm not afraid to admit that. I hope you can find that same love for your characters. Even if it's not your thing, though, please remember to comment and share Hardcore Worldbuilding. Oh, and keep reading!