Character Appearance (Description) Is Not As Important as Dialogue and Action

In my last post, I mentioned how character appearance (height, weight, looks) is not as important as their dialogue and action. In the words of Ricky Ricardo, I should 'splain.

Appearance is somewhat important, but not as much as some writers think. Why? Because readers are remarkably adept at filling in the gaps.

Lamont Johnson, 30, black, former football player.

You probably have a pretty good image of what Lamont might look like. Do I really have to tell you he's 6 foot 4, 280 pounds?

Melissa Gruber, 32, mother of three, scrapbooking enthusiast.

I don't even need to mention that she's white for you to come to that conclusion. But maybe you'd like to know her hair color, or if she's perky. Does it matter? You already have a hair color picked out.

I, of course, know everything about Lamont and Melissa, because I created them. I do not, however, feel the need to give you every little detail. If I am good at my job as a writer, I should be able to communicate the details in telling ways as the story -- and character -- unfolds.

Appearance is really only important for the briefest of moments. The hard part is figuring out how to do it without stopping the story to give a head-to-toe evaluation.

Some writers actually do the head-to-toe thing, and it puzzles me. Why, oh Lord, why would someone halt the story to offer a bunch of statistics and useless descriptions?

Granted, there are some who can paint evocative portraits of their characters and not harm the story in anyway -- perhaps even deepening and expanding it. But . . . let's face it . . . most of us are not that writer.

The real problem is that many writers confuse description with characterization. They believe if they tell us Melissa is 5 foot 8, blonde, 130 pounds that it will reveal something about their character. God, I hope not.

What is revealing about Melissa is the choices she makes, the words she uses, and her outlook on life. The facts (mother of three, 32 years old, 5 foot 8) has little, if anything, to do with who she is.

That she is a scrapbooking enthusiast is more revealing than any of the other "facts." Dig a little deeper, and we might find she is also hooked on Internet gambling, is in a marriage full of frustration, and would like nothing more than to spend a week -- alone -- on a beach in Mexico.

Imagine, for a moment, a story opening like this:

Kirk scrambled up the side of the hill, a bullet slamming into the ground a few feet to his left. He lost his footing and grabbed at the dirt and roots before he began to slide. His shoes caught a holding and he pushed himself up, as another shot was fired, this one spearing a rock just above his head. He found his strength and vaulted himself the remaining ten feet to the top, and kept running, just to make sure he couldn't be seen by the gunman.

Next, he finds a pair of campers, one sitting in the shade, the other starting a campfire. What Kirk says to them as he runs into their camp will reveal a lot about his character. What will it be?

A. "You have to leave! There's a man with a gun coming!"

B. "How far is it to the highway?"

C. "Give me the keys to your truck! Now!"

Maybe it's me, but I would find any one of those statements more interesting (and telling) than stopping to give a physical description of Kirk and the two campers.

Kirk's physical appearance really doesn't matter. The color of his hair doesn't matter. That his eyes are misty blue or sparkly green doesn't matter. The only things that matter are what might deviate from the reader's expectations -- like he's missing an ear or is fifty pounds overweight.

Unless you tell them otherwise, the reader will assume he's relatively young, in good shape, probably handsome. But what is revealed about his character are the actions he takes and what comes out of his mouth. In other words, what he does and what he says is more important than how he looks.

Wouldn't you say that's true for, basically, anyone in the world?

While it's true that we live our lives making snap judgments about people based on the way they look and dress, we all know what really matters is what's on the inside. However, in the real world, we cannot determine someone's insides. We can only go on what they say and what they do while we try to mesh that with how they look and dress in order to decide what they might be like on the inside.

But in fiction . . . we can go deep inside. And that's where the fun is.

So, bottom line, don't focus with a character's physical appearance, unless . . .

• It deviates from the "norm."
• Or it reveals an angle to their character that is important.

And, even then, I'd suggest keeping it to a minimum.

Focus instead on the character's character. That's where the good stuff lies, and where the story is.

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Cardboard Characters

I received an email . . .

"How do I add depth to a character, lifting them out of the cardboard stick figures they've become?"

Good question, but, of course, not easily answered. There are so many variables, including the kind of fiction you're writing, the type of effect you're going for, and how much depth you want to apply.

Yes, breathing life into a two-dimensional fictional creation can be challenging.

It's always been interesting to me how some writers are so adept at making a character come to life with only a few brush strokes, while others spend pages upon pages (if not chapters upon chapters) and never quite accomplish it.

There are a few areas we can look at that might fluff things up.

First, you, as the writer, must know this character inside and out. There are about a hundred things you need to know. For example:

What makes him/her safe and content? What does this look like?

When was his/her first sexual experience? How has it affected him/her?

Who does he/she fear? For what reason(s)?

Strongest character trait?

Weakest character trait?

Laughs or jeers at . . . ?

Philosophy?

Political leaning?

Hobbies?

What do others notice first about him/her?

For the record, I adapted this from a seminar I took led by mystery author Elizabeth George. There are dozens of other questions, some general and simple, others more invasive and challenging. The point is that not all of these are for use, necessarily, in the novel -- but the author (creator) of the character should know these details because everything the character says and does comes from something, somewhere. You've got to know! If you don't, it will be apparent to the reader.

That being said, the new challenge is translating that character in your head into a series of written words. What to show? What not to reveal? What makes one character leap off the page while another is formulaic and stereotypical?

I would say that while appearance is important, especially in our everyday lives, in fiction, it's almost beside the point. Here's what is absolutely necessary:

Gender, age, occupation.

Those three things will tell the reader A LOT about the character. If Lisa is heading off for her first year of college, you already know a ton about her, and there's a lot you can assume. She's obviously female, she's eighteen, and a student. She's probably attractive, intelligent, and ambitious -- or at least has some very good intentions.

Other stuff is helps to fill her out: Is she going to college on Daddy's dime, a scholarship, or did she earn the money herself? Each choice says something different about her. Will she share an apartment with three other young women, stay in a dorm, live on her own, or with her boyfriend? Again, more shading without you having to spell it out.

In fact, I would suggest that "spelling it out" is one of the best ways to create cardboard characters. Letting the reader pick up the information on their own helps, at least in the reader's mind, to fill out the character without you having to do the heavy lifting (or typing).

Readers WANT to relate to your characters. Help them. What emotional buttons can you (lightly) press that will elicit an instant bonding reaction from the reader? Wow, that's mind-blowing, isn't it? But it doesn't have to be a Super Major Fantastical Magnificent Thing that makes us fall in love with the character. It could be a fear, a joy, a hope, a pain, something we can identify with even if we've never actually experienced it ourselves. Humor is another -- although not all of us possess the humor writing gene. That doesn't mean we can't do it.

Humor is a very effective bonding process. Imagine stepping onto an elevator. There are three other people inside. Somewhere between the 14th and 15th floor, one of the other three people "toots." I don't know about you, but I'd find that awkwardly funny, and would have trouble not laughing out loud. If one of the others burst out laughing, I certainly would not be able to contain myself -- and I wouldn't be surprised if all four people roared with laughter. And yet we get off the elevator and go our separate ways. Later, if I saw one of the other three, I would have to give him a knowing smile. We have a bond -- true, a silly, weird bond, but a bond nevertheless.

You can bond with the reader through humor . . . but that's a whole other column.

Also, try to avoid stereotypes. Yes, they can be useful and have a purpose, but usually are best used on secondary or lesser characters. That Lisa is blonde, blue-eyed and a former cheerleader for the South Hampton Cougars is not very interesting. That she managed to win a struggle against some highly influential friends who did not have her best interest at heart, leading her into a brief but hurtful addiction to meth is much more compelling.

Yes, the deviations from the stereotypes can be important, like if they have a limp, wear a toupee or have a predilection to visiting web sites featuring naked midgets. But those things are not their character, they are only passive facets of it. Allow the character to have quirks, but do not allow quirks to become the character.

But as important as these things are, equally important is WHEN to divulge this information. Trust me, we do not need a complete history and physical description the moment a character enters the picture.

Here's an important part: In fiction, it's not how the character looks, but what they say and do (and what happens to them and how they react to it) that is important.

Often the characters seem to be pawns in the story. The plot is moving them around. They act and react to (often incredible) events that occur in the story. Here's an interesting thought: What if the characters affected the plot as much as the plot affected the characters? If your story leans too heavily one way or the other, you may find an imbalance in characterization.

Here's another important part: Allow the characters to tell their story. I don't necessarily mean write from the first person perspective, I mean allow the story to unfold and the character to be revealed. Storytelling is not about telling the story -- it is about revealing. Parse out little facts as the story unfolds. That Lisa puts her hair in a pony tail, applies make-up to hide a tattoo, ignores the stares of men (young and old), and she has a sister named Meg can be doled out over a few paragraphs or a few pages. Why cram it all in?

Us writers have a problem in that so much stuff about the characters is in our heads that we either unload it all on the page, or don't unload enough. Those cardboard stick figures can be a result of either issue. We either give too many facts without the context of the story, or we "forget" to give some facts assuming the reader "gets it" without us having to explain. (That would be half-right -- we shouldn't have to explain, but it should still be revealed.)

Imagine this: One character is 40, an executive at a major ad agency, married, three kids, drives a BMW and plays golf every Friday without fail. Got a picture in your head? Good. Now, is that character male or female? What if a character has been picked up three times for DUI, plays Internet poker in the middle of the night, and has been having an open affair with the administrative assistant? Would you be shocked if they're all the same character?

So, we get back to the original question: How do I add depth to a character, lifting them out of the cardboard stick figures they've become?

A. Know thy characters, inside and out.

B. Appearance (description) is not as important as dialogue and action.

C. Allow the reader to pick up things without you spelling it out.

D. Allow the reader to bond with the characters.

E. Have the characters affect the plot as much as the plot affects the characters.

F. Allow the characters to tell the story and be revealed.

Obviously, this is open to your artistic whims, your mileage may vary, but hopefully, if you don't want cardboard to be part of your character's diet, these tips might help shake things loose.

If you'd like to ask The Writing Freak a question, by all means do so. The answer may not be as long-winded as this one, but then again, it might be. (As with the original question, I will not reveal your name unless you specifically say it's okay.)

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Temptations To Resist, Part 3

Resist having two characters being overly emotional simultaneously -- unless they're throwing punches.

This may not happen all that much, having two characters burst into tears at the same moment, but there might be one who becomes insanely angry, causing the other to cry. Now you have two people who are, basically, out of control.

An exception, of course, would be a brawl, having two men flail at each other -- which is an ingredient in a lot of action thrillers. After all, the hero has to duke it out with a villain or two.

Some may not consider it emotional to have a couple of guys try to beat the tar out of each other. And that may be true if the need for survival is driving the fight. But anger and/or fear are obviously at play. At least, they better be.

But what if another, non-violent emotion is at play? You can't have two characters losing control. One (hopefully the hero) should keep their senses and rise above the "issues" causing a higher level of testosterone or estrogen (whichever the case may be).

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Temptations To Resist, Part 2

When writing a female character who becomes overly emotional, resist having a male character give her a hug.

Yeah, it's cute, sweet, and maybe even normal for a guy to put his arms around an upset lady. But what is the relationship between the characters? Co-workers? Spouses? Strangers?

And, of course, why is the lady upset?

There are, obviously, situations where a nice hug is needed. But unless you (and the characters) are willing to consider the next level (i.e. what happens after the hug), you've painted yourself (and the characters) into a corner. What's the resolution of the embrace?

Wouldn't it be more interesting to not have the hug occur? How would the characters react, or not react?

Although a hug may be necessary, before heading down that path, consider alternatives which may provide more interesting reactions and depth.

Remember, if a female character accepts a hug, it will communicate that she is possibly weak and maybe even unstable. Is that the impression you want to leave?

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Temptations To Resist, Part 1

From Twitter:

When writing a male character who becomes overly emotional, resist having him punch a wall or another male character.

Many men, if not most, have trouble handling emotions. We all know this. Instead of breaking down in fits of bawling, they may react a little violently since they can't understand or come to terms with their feelings. And as men, they're certainly not going to cry.

In fiction, we often put characters into highly volatile situations in which they may not know how to react. Or maybe a better way to put it: You, as the writer, may not know how the character should react.

There are, of course, stereotypes as men as big galoots who shoot first and ask questions later. That's fine if your character is Dirty Harry, but not all that interesting.

A male character who struggles with his emotions is much more intriguing. Punching a wall (or someone else) may be a quick way to give some insight into your character, but it's a shallow insight. And we don't want that, do we?

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