Thread: Character Descriptions

Now it can't be confusing. I see that Seamus is starting to cry, so he must be very sensitive, and she knows this about him. Forgot to mention that clue earlier, though I did get it. I think it might be reworded though:

She sped backwards then, his closing of the door, and the locking click of the belt signifying release.
His closing of the door and the locking click of the belt signifying release, she sped away.

Comma not needed after "then" ... and "backwards" is not needed, maybe still confusing.

A character description for this IS allowed to describe looks, right? So far, these are character introductions rather than descriptions. As I see it, these are characters who will be described in little details dropped as the story progresses. Sometimes, though, you want to describe how a character looks to give a visual impression to the reader, right?

A peculiar man crossed the parking lot, pants tucked into tall boots and the tails of a cranberry-colored jacket slapping at the backs of his knees with each step. He was young and clean-shaven, though his hair was brown and unruly, tamed only by a satin bow at the nape of his neck. As he passed through the sliding doors, he inclined his head to the greeter, one hand laid delicately over his heart. The greeter could scarcely believe that only a moment earlier, the man had slipped from behind the wheel of a Toyota Camry.

I have no idea where that scene goes (probably nowhere). Usually, my descriptions are more like this in story context:

Jonathan Thomas disgusted her. His lips were too thin, his fingers too long and pale. He ran them through his blond hair constantly, leaving pieces sticking up all over like exposed wires. Joy kept silent despite her anger. Thomas was a slight man, but behind his milky gray eyes and nervous affectations, Joy saw a deadly confidence.

Slythgeek, while your first description is definitely interesting and I am inclined to want to know more, I really felt the second description better. It just flowed. It even kind of creeped me out, which is great. I am already wary of Jonathan Thomas.
The first read better the second and third times. Tamed by a satin bow almost feels too cliche though, to be honest. I am left curious though, as to why his hand is held over his heart.

I don't know about physical descriptions to the reader. Personally, I don't care for them. Maybe an important trait or two, but that's about it. The truth is, the reader is going to develop a mental image of a character very quickly, and it probably isn't going to be in complete accordance with what the author is envisioning. As you start putting in those greater levels of detail, the user will at best simply ignore them in favor of her own mental image, or at worst be jarred by them because they conflict with what she is already seeing in her head. If you take a single, important trait and go with that, without providing much else, you're a lot more likely to actually impact the reader's vision of your character. That's my view, at any rate. When I'm reading, I don't like a lot of description of characters, and I don't provide much as a writer.

Personally, I like a good physical description. That's one thing I enjoy most about J.K. Rowling. She goes overboard with adverbs sometimes in her dialogue and strays into bad pacing a lot, but her character descriptions always have me visualizing in the best possible way. F. Scott Fitzgerald also wrote beautiful physical descriptions. Just read how he describes Daisy Fay in The Great Gatsby. It's not something that shouldn't be written, just something that should be written carefully. Of course, it's not always necessary, but I think it's a fun exercise.

I agree that I was a little cliche with that first one. It was spur-of-the-moment, and it often takes the second edit to get rid of cliches. I'm not sure I feel like editing it, though. It's not interesting enough for me to go on. Jonathan Thomas, however, is part of a larger story that's already mostly complete. That's why he's much richer.

My husband is fantastic at writing character descriptions. I wish I had his knack for it!

I'm new to the forum, but I assumed this section was for writing exercises/challenges and not arguing whether said challenges are valid at all. If I was not supposed to post my own take on the exercise, please correct me.

Originally Posted by slythgeek

I'm new to the forum, but I assumed this section was for writing exercises/challenges and not arguing whether said challenges are valid at all. If I was not supposed to post my own take on the exercise, please correct me.

Yes, I think that is correct. I noticed people were commenting on posts, so I just gave my general take on physical description of characters. I didn't see anything wrong with the descriptions themselves. They are well written.

Slythgeek, I just wrote mine out of the blue too, without it being part of any story. I personally like a comment here or there to see how I am affecting readers, but would rather just play again than fix something that was nothing but an exercise to begin with.

I like a physical discription of a character as both a reader and writer. Anyway:

Alexander rolled off of the top bunk and landed smartly on her feet. She pushed the stool over to the dresser and stood on it so she could see the mirror. She was exactly ten today but even for a ten year old she wasn’t exactly tall. In fact, even her twin leaned on her at times! She brushed her brush of deep red hair into something more controlled…just. She jumped down and pulled on the pair of tracksuit bottoms, tank top and running shoes. Emmalia, Alex’s twin, stood in the door way. She was identical apart from been a few inches taller, her hair was actually tame and she preferred jeans and a shirt. She also wore smart glasses and was practically blind without them. The two girls looked each other their ice blue eyes and grinned that knowing grin.

Edit: this is actually an introductry piece of the piece I'm working on at the moment. It's not edited yet and comes in after the first sentance. The novel is about both Alex and Emma equally which is why I put both of them up here.

LEONARD Leonard White hunched over the kitchen table, concentrating on something very important. He gripped the razor blade tight in his hand and made several slow, determined movements. There could be no mistakes; certainly not for someone as great as himself. The cuts had to be clean and precise. His art demanded it. Dusty, orange light poured through the window and warmed his face and hands. He sat in his underwear, sweating like a pale, hairy pig -- his pants, shirt, and shoes in a heap on the floor. But none of that mattered at the moment. Leonard's focus was unwavering, and the razor blade moved effortlessly through the photographs until they were all just a mess of cut up faces and shapes on the table.

A character I've been working on for a story for some time:

She had youthful looks for someone her age, smooth hands that have not yet worked and a clear face that had not stood against the testimony of time. She was good looking, in a professional manner, and dressed like any other freelance reporter. But she carried the light in her eyes that told of the fire in her blood that could move her further than any other freelance reporter grasping for the glory of a story.

With keen hands she checked the contents of her pockets, a wallet, a note book and a pen. All of the things required to get a good story. However she wasn't careless, leaning against the lamppost she waited for her story, a recent murder of any politician will bring all of the best reporters in for a story. But the murder of the former prime minister? That was a dangerous thing to handle, something was up with the sheep on top playing politics and she know her best shot wasn't with the murder or the political friends and enemies but the killer himself. She'd got a murder and she was ready to find him and stalk him like a panther on the hunt.

Breaking from the lamppost she walked, her stride unwavering and unable to show any idea of her plan, her youthful looks and her confident stride allowed her to disappear into the crowds of London.

Tiny

“Tiny? They call him Tiny?”


“Yep. He thinks it's funny.”


“I can see why.” I looked at the man who stood towering over everything at the end of the bar. He had to be almost seven feet tall and weigh 300 pounds. With his huge forearms, stout, but muscular chest, and firm stomach, I wouldn't have wanted to take him on in a fight, I knew that. He started to laugh, just then, and the whole room seemed to rumble from his deep base voice. His laugh was of the contagious type, too, which meant we all smiled or laughed with him. Damn, I thought! The man is a hippie giant, with his long graying beard and ponytail. He reminded me of a guy I used to work with, though Bob wasn't as big as Tiny. I stared at Tiny, without realizing it, until his piercing us finally rested on me. He gave me a wink and picked up his beer and walked in my direction. As he did, I saw he was wearing cowboy boots. A Western hippie, I immediately thought to myself? He reached me and held out his giant paw in greeting.


“They call me Tiny Cochran. You're new around here, aren't you? You were staring at me so I thought I'd let you have a good up-close look.”


I shook his hand, wondering if I would have my fingers crushed, but it was a firm handshake, not one of the bone-crushing variety.



“I'm Al Baxter. Pleased to meet you, Tiny. Can I buy you a drink?”



“Nope. You are new in town, so I'm buying.” He stared at me with an odd look. “You have an interesting face, Al. It's strong, but stoic. Can I paint your picture some day?”



“You are a painter?” I was surprised.



“Yep, that's me. I paint portraits. People interest me. Right now, you interest me. Joe, can we have two beers over here?”



“Coming right up, Tiny.”

From something I wrote ages ago:




“How do I know you are who you say you are?” I said uncertainly. The Seer had said I was after a Ganter. It was hard to say what she was as she wore a thick black heavy cloak on. She laughed softly. Her voice was musical, angelic and pure. She moved over to the window and drew the curtains. Moving to the middle of the room she unclipped the front of her cloak. She, in one swift movement, pushed the cloak off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground.

My jaw dropped. I had heard what Ganter’s looked like but to actually see one was mind blowing. Her hair was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Each strand was like a silk piece of silver very fine strand. She had it pulled into a braid so neat it was nearly impossible. Her eyes held no iris or pupil. They were just balls of moving silver liquid. Her face was perfect with strong sharp features like an Elf yet her ears were rounded and small. She was only around five foot tall yet seemed to fill the room. She wore a halter top that didn’t go around her back but was part of her very short and tight shorts. As a result her abdomen muscles which had very defiant lines identifying each pack were on show.

She winked at me. I frowned before leaping back at her next move. She threw her silver feathered wings out. They were each the six foot long so it was almost a good thing the room we were in was fourteen feet wide. She still managed to knock the photo of the Minister of the wall thought. She threw her head back and roared. I whimpered as the ground actually shock.
“Now do you believe me?” she grinned, showing every single one of her little pointed teeth.