Tag: how do I make my characters believable?

How to write with body language

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55% of human communication is nonverbal.

Which means more than half of what you say is nothing but expressions and gestures and eye contact.

Which means if you use nothing but “he said” and “she replied” to tag dialogue, your readers are missing half the message. Besides which, body language is also an effective way to show tone without “telling” tone. For instance:

“Hmmm,” she said unhappily/happily/thoughtfully. [All “telling”]

“Hmmm,” she frowned.

“Hmmm,” she smiled.

“Hmmm,” she tapped her lips with one finger.

We have the additional benefit of cutting the dialogue tag, “said,” which can get annoying in large doses.

Of course, use of body language isn’t limited to dialogue. You can say a lot without actually saying anything (useful if, like me, you are terrible at writing dialogue):

He hunched in his chair, elbows on knees, head in hands.

She bit the corner of her bottom lip, her gaze darting left and right.

He frowned, stroking his chin.

She leaned back and folded her arms, tapping her fingers against her skin.

He cocked one eyebrow, smirking.

There are countless other gestures to illustrate countless other emotions. Here are a few (in totally random order). Got any other good ones? Leave ‘em in the comments!

Grin

Smirk

Grimace

Furrow brow

Wrinkle forehead

Slap forehead

Twiddle thumbs

Twitch/tick

Bite nail

Suck thumb

Pick nose

Run hand through hair

Twirl hair

Skip

Amble

Stroll

Lumber

Swagger

Shuffle

Bob head

Flare nostrils

Wink

Nod

Shake head

Hug self/knees

Rub arms

Shudder

Shiver

Tremble

Scratch

Rub eye

Slouch

Tilt head to one side

Meet gaze

Look in the eye

Gaze slide to floor

Blink

Start

Shrug

Sigh

Sniff

Swallow

Wrinkle nose

Squint

Shift weight

Cross legs

Eyes glitter

Eyes glint

Clap

Snap fingers

Thread fingers

Fold hands

Nose in air

Look down nose

Look sideways

Peer

Glance

Stare

Glare

Purse lips

Push hair out of eyes

Farewell Tuesday

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Dear Rewriters,

In the interest of time management – such as getting more than six hours of sleep and posting Inspiration Monday prompts before the clock turns around to Tuesday – I have decided to cut Tuesday posts until further notice. I hope to be able to start them up again in the future, but in the meantime it should give me more time to: 1. Sleep; 2. Work on my book; 3. Get the Super Secret Project going.

InMon and Friday posts will go on as usual, so there’s no need to –

Wait. Super Secret Project?!?!?

Yes, yes. I can’t unveil anything yet (and don’t know when I will), because I haven’t got all the kinks worked out yet, but here are a few teaser clues:

I’ve been planning this since the institution of InMon, almost three whole months ago!

I want all of you to be involved

It will be a week-long event

There will be graphics! And a doorprize! And you don’t even have to leave the comfort of your own home!

I’ve said too much already.

shhhhhhhhhhh

 

Lemony Snicket: four victories and one epic fail

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A Series of Unfortunate Events. Even the title is enough to spark interest for its sheer cleverness. First, because of the play on the word “series,” and second, because “unfortunate events” is simultaneously charming and intriguing – a word which here means “makes you long to pick it up and peruse its pages.”

And Lemony Snicket’s thirteen-volume series does not disappoint. Except in one important respect.

Mr. Snicket, as stated, does not lack charm. His whimsical wit is reminiscent of Lewis Carroll and Douglas Adams, but with melancholy overtones. A chapter titled “Déjà vu” opens with a description of the stated phenomenon. We read to the end of the page, turn that page – and find ourselves reading the same page again. And this is only one in a long list of amusing devices.

Mr. Snicket uses reverse psychology to make his writing irresistible. He opens Chapter One of Book the First with:

“If you are interested in stories with happy endings, you would be better off reading some other book. In this book, not only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning and very few happy things in the middle.”

Mr. Snicket does not forget that his narrator is also a character. From starting each volume with a mysterious dedication to “Beatrice,” to slipping in snippets of his own sad story at intervals, to confiding in his audience that he often visits bookstores so he can find copies of his books and put them on the highest shelves where they won’t be found, Mr. Snicket carefully paints a picture of his baffling, utterly depressed self.

Mr. Snicket keeps us interested by feeding us tidbits of information that we know are important. We begin to desperately wonder what happened  to Beatrice, whether or not the Baudelaire parents are actually dead, and what in the world is in the sugar bowl. We devour each chapter, bookmarking every few pages – everywhere we see a clue. As we near The End, the mysteries are piling up, we are holding our breaths, we—

And this is where Mr. Snicket fails us.

Granted, he warned us there would be no happy ending. Granted, he did everything he could to persuade us not to read on. But we still expected different. We expected the ending to be happy after all because no matter how vehemently the author denied it in every printed line, we could read the truth printed on the white spaces in between. Or so we thought. But even if we took his words at face value, we at least expected answers. Every problem promises a solution, remember? Every mystery promises an explanation.

But all we are left with at the end are broken promises and a sugar bowl that will remain eternally shut.

And hours of amusement. Yes, even though I am grievously disappointed in the ending, I would still highly recommend the series. Such is the dark art of Lemony Snicket.

Backpacks across the galaxy: how to personalize the epic

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Epic-ness is all well and good, but without a personal touch, it can fall flat. We wouldn’t care whether or not Middle Earth fell to Sauron if we didn’t get to know Frodo and Sam along the way. It’s the little, everyday details that make us care; that show us the relevance of the big picture by connecting it to a close-up of the character(s).

This concept really threw me the first time I read Out of the Silent Planet. A man is on a walking tour in England, when he loses his backpack and is kidnapped by two men who take him to an alien planet. He escapes, and spends the next several chapters living among the locals, learning their language and discovering fascinating things about the universe. Then, on page 96, he gets a chance to look through a telescope at a planet the locals call Thulcandra:

He wondered for a moment if it was Mars he was looking at; then, as his eyes took in the markings better, he recognized what they were—Northern Europe and a piece of North America. They were upside down with the North Pole at the bottom of the picture and this somehow shocked him. But it was Earth he was seeing—even, perhaps, England, though the picture shook a little and his eyes were quickly getting tired, and he could not be certain that he was not imagining it. It was all there in that little disk—London, Athens, Jerusalem, Shakespeare. There everyone had lived and everything had happened; and there, presumably, his pack was still lying in the porch of an empty house near Sterk.

This last sentence is so amazing it makes me dizzy. From the alienness of another planet, the hugeness of the universe, the awe of seeing Earth from space, the vastness of human history—to the ordinariness of a backpack left on a porch. This is why C.S. Lewis is my favorite writer; he turns my brain inside out.

Douglas Adams does something similar (but much more humorous) in his Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy trilogy, when Arthur Dent is falling to his death and suddenly remembers he has a bottle of olive oil in his knapsack—possibly the last piece of the Earth left in the entire universe (this realization enabled him to learn how to fly…but that’s another post).

And I experienced something similar when I was driving home from visiting my grandparents last Christmas. We stopped at a Denny’s, and I happened to notice that the walls at this Denny’s had the exact same texture as the walls at home. And although I hadn’t been gone long enough to miss home, I suddenly got a lump in my stomach and felt homesick.

Moral of the post: the details make it meaningful. The next time you are writing a “big picture” scene, consider making your character notice or remember something that gives you a “close up.”

5 Ways to Make Your Characters Believable

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Characters are the soul of a story, and the more clearly you can paint those characters, the more believable they (and your story) will be. So how do you do that?

1. How they talk

The more character you can convey through dialogue, the better. Make sure your characters don’t all talk the same way. Teach yourself to write unique speech for each character by listening to real people around you. How do your friends talk, in contrast with your parents? How does your boss talk as opposed to the guy in the next cubicle? Do they have an accent? Do they use certain phrases a lot? Do they tend to focus more on the technical side of things, or the emotional side? Are they sarcastic? Passive-aggressive? Non-confrontational?

2. How they move

Body language is a great way to Show, Don’t Tell. She stared at him as he struggled to find words. His eyes darted around the room as he looked for an escape. She push her hair behind her ear as she blushed. He folded his arms and shook his head as he surveyed the damage.

3. How they act

Actions speak louder than words, even when you’re using words to describe those actions. I’m always tempted to write things like; “He was a generous man,” but that’s telling, not showing. Show he’s kind by describing a specific act of generosity, like paying for the groceries of the woman behind him at the checkout.

4. What they think and feel

Use your character’s thoughts to convey their deepest desires, and what they learn throughout the story. Thoughts can greatly enhance any of the above three methods:

Your character might be furious her father, and might think out a whole paragraph of passionate things she’d like to say to him. But maybe she’s intimidated by her father, so all she gets out is one weak sentence.

If their words are the opposite of their thoughts, make their body language match their thoughts. The child says he didn’t steal the cookie, but drops his eyes in shame.

And third, of course, thoughts convey motives. Maybe by reading the thoughts of our generous man, we find out that he is generous now because he feels guilty about someone he hurt in his past.

5. What they look like

I listed appearance last, because many writers rely on it too much. Avoid the laundry list description; “He had blue eyes, blonde hair, and a medium build.” Instead, think about the things you notice the first time you meet someone; you really just get a general idea of what they look like. Convey a sense of appearance, rather than a list of details; “Scraggly yellow hair and a grin that seemed almost too wide for his face.”