Words, words, words. That's what we're made of. Herewith some of my thoughts on what we're doing with them.

I just found out this week that there are people in the UK who pronounce 'photo', 'fotie'. This delights me no end. We don't say that in the US. Around here, we call them 'pitchers'. Whether your character carries a 'fotie' or a 'pitcher' around, when you introduce him/her, you're going to need them to flash their ID at the reader. The question is, how much to show and tell? How much of your character can you leave to the imagination?

GK Chesterton was meticulous. This full-length portrait gives us a very thorough idea of his character's appearance:

Between the silver ribbon of morning and the green glittering ribbon of sea, the boat touched Harwich and let loose a swarm of folk like flies, among whom the man we must follow was by no means conspicuous – nor wished to be. There was nothing notable about him, except a slight contrast between the holiday gaiety of his clothes and the official gravity of his face. His clothes included a slight, pale grey jacket, a white waistcoat, and a silver straw hat with a grey-blue ribbon. His lean face was dark by contrast, and ended in a curt black beard that looked Spanish and suggested an Elizabethan ruff. He was smoking a cigarette with the seriousness of an idler. There was nothing about him to indicate the fact that the grey jacket covered a loaded revolver, that the white waistcoat covered a police card, or that the straw hat covered one of the most powerful intellects in Europe. For this was Valentin himself, the head of the Paris police and the most famous investigator of the world; and he was coming from Brussels to London to make the greatest arrest of the century.   – GK Chesterton, 'The Blue Cross', from The Innocence of Father Brown

As noted, a very thorough portrait, indeed. We even have the morning sky and the sea at Harwich as contrasting background. Anyway, Valentin is cool, he's serious, and he's in a disguise which apparently would fool the average Edwardian. That's us told. (Now go look up 'waistcoat', American readers.)

Is it possible to tell us less, and yet more? Sure. Try this one of O Henry's on for size:

The kid was a boy of ten, with bas-relief freckles, and hair the colour of the cover of the magazine you buy at the news-stand when you want to catch a train.   – O Henry, 'The Ransom of Red Chief', from Whirligigs

Of course, that's just the physical appearance. In this story, O Henry is setting us (and the hapless kidnappers) up for a fall. Red Chief only looks harmless – unless you're wise enough to note that 'bas-relief freckles' are an almost universal danger sign. We won't give away the ending, just in case you haven't read this one yet, but be aware that angelic is as angelic does. There are no angels in this sneaky story.

Sometimes the author leaves things to our imaginations on purpose:

A beautiful woman with a radiant smile upon her face, with abundant hair tied into a classical knot, on which white powder lay like a soft hoarfrost, was resting on an ottoman, supported on her left arm. She was nude in her dark furs.   –   Leopold Ritter von Sacher-Masoch, Venus in Furs

You recognise the author's name, no doubt. So you know what kind of story Venus in Furs is. When you're writing that kind of story, you don't want to get between the reader and his [definitely 'his'] fantasy. Her skin is pale, she's wearing, er, furs, and she's beautiful. Pick your version of beautiful.

Mind you, we aren't saying you should write this kind of story. Or that if you did, you shouldn't be embarrassed about it. Or that h2g2 would actually publish such a story. But if you did write such a story, the principle of 'less is more' usually applies. Just saying.

On a much more edifying and seasonal note, we would like to point out that an introductory description of a character should be chosen with regard to personal qualities – that is, it pays to have a reason why the fellow has a sharp nose:

The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dog-days; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.   – Charles Dickens, 'Marley's Ghost', from A Christmas Carol

Notice that Scrooge's nose is pointed in order to tell us something. Of course, when you use this sort of physiognomy-as-portent method, be sure your readers are likely to agree with your assessment. For example, Scholem Aleichem might have considered a 'plump matron' a jolly, and possibly desirable, woman. If you're writing for Vogue, using that description would prejudice the reader against her, and make her [the reader, definitely a 'her' in this case] wonder why she doesn't call Jenny Craig. To each subculture its own nonsense. Know your reader.

Whatever your character's description, remember not only to flash that passport fotie at the reader, but to remind him [or her] occasionally just what this person looks like. Don't expect them to remember the Titian hair, twinkling eye, sharp chin, etc, unless you bring it up every once in a while:

He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together.  – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, 'A Scandal in Bohemia', from The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

We all know Sherlock Holmes has 'long, nervous hands'. He also has 'aquiline features'. But it's nice to be reminded. [And it helps the writer remember, too, so he doesn't mess up the way he did with Watson's first name].

Whether you present your reader with a detailed lithograph or a charcoal sketch, whether you draw in all the features or use broad brush strokes, is up to you. Make your portrait match what you want to say about the character, and remember to help the reader keep the 'pitcher' in mind. Re-read your draught as if you were unacquainted with these people. Ask yourself, 'Can I see the people in this room, or are they talking bubbles over the fireplace?'

Get rid of the bubbles, and put some people in there. Remember, you are your own art department.

Writing Right with Dmitri Archive

Dmitri Gheorgheni

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