The Art of the Sidekick

Most of my friends over the years have nothing in common but me. They are as varied as people can be. If I look at occupations, they have been writers, a callgirl, bartenders and waitresses, a dominatrix, lawyers, preachers, hairdressers, a book buyer for a major chain, scientists, typesetters, doctors, computer geeks who do things I cannot understand but have been told have to do with software, artists, psychiatrists, psychologists, bloggers, journalists, moms, and a pastry chef (good person to know!). They have been every race, every religion, and have occupied every position on the LGBT spectrum, as well as straight. They have been in committed relationships, and not. If you brought 100 of them over my lifetime together, like for my funeral, they would ALL have funny stories, but I doubt you could find a selection of 100 people with less in common.

Except . . .

When I look at the qualities they embody . . . they are a tolerant bunch. A live and let live crowd, especially about what people want to do in private. They are kind--most of them to a fault. They are all SMART. I mean some are scary smart. They are all articulate. They all are politically and culturally aware--none are willfully ignorant. If they don't know about something, they ask questions. They don't all have kids but they all seem to genuinely find children at least interesting, and they don't talk down to them. And regardless of their religion or lack thereof, they generally do unto other. They loathe hypocrisy. They like to laugh. Some are quiet (and hence I am their loudest friend), and some are as exuberant as I am. Most of all, they are people who seem capable of loving large--of having DEEP friendships not acquaintances. I am blessed beyond belief. I don't HAVE acquaintances, generally. I have friends. I can look in my iPhone and though there are two people I would call first at 2:00 a.m. if I needed to cry or talk to someone, there are many numbers I COULD call at that hour and it would not seem strange--and most likely the first words would be, "What can I do?" One or two would say, "What can I do and do you need a casserole?"

All this to say, there is an art and a bit of luck, in choosing your friends. I think I put a lot into my friendships, and so it is self-creating to a degree. But intuitively, I guess I look for some things. The same holds true in creating friends and sidekicks for my characters. There's an art to it because when you create a sidekick, the character generally exists in some ways to propel your plot and to show facets of your main character. So in pondering, this seems to be what I put into my sidekicks:

• Conflict. In my books, the sidekicks are often best friends, but they are the voice of truth, the person in the book who kicks the main character in the a** when needed, or reminds the main character of truths about themselves that must be remedied in order for the main character to change/win/triumph. In Double Down, for example, Skye's sponsor in Gamblers Anonymous constantly bickered with her about her gambling and the fact that she would not follow the Twelve Steps of G.A. the way they are supposed to be followed.
• Truth. In reference to the above, my sidekicks speak the truth about the character. They're there, often, to cut to the chase for the reader a bit. They KNOW my character's back story--even the stuff that didn't end up on the page, and so they reveal truths.
• Tension relief. The sidekick provides moments of dialogue, comic relief, breaks in tension at times, so we can see the main character in a different light.
• Character development. If you look at my list of friends that I opened with, some have skirted the law or downright broke it. Some are very opposite from me. But all are smart and all value kindness. I would think that says something about ME and what I value. What a sidekick can do is tell your reader something about your main character--this is different from truth. This is character development. The best example I have of this is the Billie Quinn/Lewis LeBarge dynamic in Trace of Doubt and Trace of Innocence. Lewis is a genius and a misanthrope. The ONLY person he likes at the lab and in his personal life is Billie. He hates (!) stupidity and incompetence. Worse, he hates even plain old smart people. He can't deal with them. He likes genius. The fact that Billie is his best friend tells you she must be a genius, without me as author ever having to TELL you that.
  

So there you go . . . the art of the sidekick. Thoughts? What unifying threads are there amongst your friends? And what purpose do the sidekicks in your novels serve?