9 Tips For A Powerful Antagonist That Work For Any Genre

January 9, 2019 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 4 Comments

Your story needs a successful antagonist – one who wins a lot, who has odds overwhelmingly in their favor, moves the story ahead and directly challenges the protagonist’s story goal.

Without a powerful antagonist, your protagonist has nothing substantial to fight against—there’s little reason to cheer for them.

Ways to Make Your Antagonist Menacing

Backstory – Your antagonist needs a past and a history. Evil is grown not born. Even if it never comes out in the story, YOU need to know what made them like this.

Justified – Your antagonist is the hero of their own story and can rationally justify their thoughts and actions. Their actions and motivations are not random or nonsensical.

A Moral Code – Your antagonist can’t be completely bad all the time. Let them rescue kittens, love their moms, never break their word, whatever. Some antagonists have a moral framework they restrict themselves to—they only kidnap and murder men who abuse children, for instance. Anyone can fall in love, but who loves your antagonist? Is there something in your antagonist worth loving?

Heighten Tension –You know what Game of Thrones does really really well? There are some serious underdogs and overwhelming villains and antagonists. Here’s the key observation. The odds always remain in the favor of the bad guys and when it begins to tip the other way, a new antagonist emerges on the scene. The characters in the story rearrange themselves according to the actions of the antagonist.

You need a successful antagonist because if there’s no struggle, if the threat of loss for the main character isn’t imminent and devastating, there’s no underdog to cheer for.

The Inciting Incident Determines The Antagonist

Sometimes things can get really muddled in story land, and as the writer it’s hard to know exactly who or what is the main antagonist. Flip to the beginning of your story. What’s the inciting incident? Whatever problem is caused by the inciting incident is the main story problem and whatever is causing or in opposition to the main story problem is the antagonist—generally.

A man is marooned on a mountain in a snow storm. What’s his main story goal? If his main story goal is to survive and get off the mountain, the snow storm (nature) could be a valid antagonist. If his main story goal is to survive the storm, get off the mountain, and kill the person who left him stranded on the mountain, then the snow storm (nature) is merely an obstacle to his goal. Do you see the difference?

An antagonist actively works to prevent the protagonist from reaching their main story goal.

Antagonists vs Villains

The antagonist is the source of the opposing plot movement, and they get to win quite a bit right up until the end of your story. The antagonist is a role. The villain is any character who opposes your protagonist. (Consider Disney’s The Lion King. Scar is the antagonist and the hyenas Shenzi, Banzai, and Ed are villains. The hyenas oppose Simba but don’t move the plot ahead. Do you see the difference?)

In genres like romance, the hero/heroine can’t be the antagonist because the hero and the heroine must end up together (that’s a rule!). But, they are often at odds for most of the story. The antagonist is whatever person or force is keeping them apart. They will have to overcome obstacles, sometimes that obstacle is a villain, but the obstacles aren’t the antagonist. The antagonist must lose.

In Patricia Brigg’s novel Cry Wolf the main story problem is that Charles knows Anna is fated to be his mate, but she’s terrified of him. The antagonist is Anna’s fear, PTSD, anxiety, etc. However, there’s also a witch in the story – the witch isn’t keeping Charles and Anna apart, but she does present a story problem which Charles and Anna must work together to solve. The story problem is Anna’s fear of Charles, but the witch creates an ancillary story problem that presents an obstacle and serves as a plot device to force the hero and heroine to work together.

So, for the story to have a satisfying ending, Charles and Anna must defeat both the witch AND Anna’s fear. It’s important (read much much easier) for your character to fight a physical villain than themselves. It’s hard to portray that fight well. An ancillary villain provides the action and tension needed to represent the internal battle against the real antagonist.

The Case Of Dexter

Sometimes, the antagonist looks a lot like your protagonist. Take the example of television’s Dexter. Dexter is charming, holds down a job, was raised by a cop and lives his life by a strict moral code. However, Dexter kills people. He’s a serial killer. But Dexter is the protagonist – so how does that work?

Let’s dig a little deeper. At best, Dexter’s an anti-hero or even a villain protagonist — he can’t be both the protagonist and the antagonist.

We can get behind Dexter’s need for justice, his ability to act without caring what people think, his moral limits. But the antagonist in Dexter is actually his personality disorder – the psychopathy. The psychopathy is always just on the edge of winning out, of taking over, of silencing the (through voice overs) moral limits or obstacles Dexter places on himself.

The story obstacles in each episode would be the morals his father imposed on him and the laws and technology that might apprehend him from reaching his story goal (successfully murdering whoever he’s targeted).

Another example of this kind of antagonist construction is the film Flight with Denzel Washington. If serial killers aren’t your thing, Washington’s character’s main antagonist is alcoholism, but the investigation launched against him acts as an ancillary villain and story obstacles.

Who’s your favorite successful villain from movies, television, or books?

Been told you should learn Deep Point Of View? Had an editor or critique partner tell you to “go deeper” with the emotions in your fiction? Looking for a community of writers seeking to create emotional connections with readers? Check out the Free Resource Hub and then join the Going Deeper With Emotions In Fiction Facebook group.

4 Tricks To Keeping Fight Scenes Authentic

October 17, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 1 Comment

You want to deliver the best punch possible to any action or fight scene because in deep point of view, the reader is IN THE ACTION so it better be believable. You need words that will pack a lot of meaning into them, show don’t tell, maintain a fast pace, move the story ahead, and deliver characterization – action scenes need to do a lot of work so don’t skip or skim over details that could make or break these pivotal scenes for readers!

In deep point of view, we (the writers) are not telling the story. We are writing it as though the story is happening in real time and coming directly from the character. Removing distance, telling, and filters helps, but ask yourself some key questions:

What does your MC see as the stakes of this action scene?
What won’t they do? What would be their instinct at first?
What would a better fighter do? Why don’t they do that? How does that make them feel?
How far would they go to survive? What principles won’t they sacrifice? Why?

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The fallout of these scenes can be very powerful, but the outcome feels fake if the battle to get there wasn’t bloody (physically or emotionally).

How To Put Your Reader In The Action With Action Scenes

Using Internal Dialogue To Enhance Action

Let’s dive a little deeper at the techniques and stylistic choices that add a punch to your action scenes in deep point of view. How much internal dialogue you use will be determined by your POVC’s (point of view character’s) personality, perceived threat level, and also the genre you’re writing in. Sword and sorcery novels will be expected to have less internal dialogue in action scenes than paranormal romance for instance.

Some genres prefer what I call thoughty characters and skim over the action details. The specificity is in the emotional chaos and trauma caused by the action scene. Other genres want to focus on the physicality of the fight scene and work through the emotions later.

Remember, in a life-or-death action sequence all you have time to do is react. Psychology tells us that the part of the brain responsible for survival—that fight, flight or freeze response, shuts down or slows functions that aren’t needed to survive. That’s why bladders release when people are scared. That’s why we have a hard time thinking or forming articulate sentences when we’re frightened or panicked. Everyone will have a different window of tolerance so what terrifies one person will cause barely a blip for another. If your character is or isn’t freaking out, make sure the reader knows THE WHY.

But not every action sequence is a life-or-death scenario. Be strategic in what you need that scene to accomplish story-wise. What are some of the stylistic choices you can make when writing an action scene?

Strategic Word Choice Brings Sound And Emotion To Action Scenes

Hit, punch, jerk, stab, strike, slice — these are all words that sound fast. Compare that with words like push, gouge, impale, run-through, pummel — these are all well-used words in action scenes too, but they don’t sound fast. It’s the hard-consonant sound that can get onomatopoeia working for you. That’s not to say don’t use words with longer soft consonant sounds, but it’s something to keep in mind.

Instead of having your POVC strike an opponent in the face, have them crack an eye socket. You don’t have to be graphic or gory if your genre doesn’t call for it, but if you’re able to describe with more precision what’s happening it’s easier for readers to picture.

She swung wildly with her knife.

She swung for his eyes with her knife.

One makes you wince and the other doesn’t quite engage you the same way, right.

Use action scenes to build characterization. Someone who’s a trained killer will know precisely what organs, joints, or bones they’re aiming for, what damage they’re aiming to create, and how debilitating that injury will be. The housewife assaulted as she’s getting into her van in a parking garage will be fighting for her life. She might not be able to use the same specificity as the trained assassin. It’s the difference between a sucker punch to the gut and one to the spleen. These strategic word choices show your reader a lot of things about your character—but be true to your character. If they couldn’t find their spleen with a map, they probably wouldn’t use that word, right.

Be strategic with your verb choices. I pointed out the sound value that can work for you, but verbs can also infuse either positive or negative emotion into each action sequence. Let the verbs do some of the emotional lifting so you don’t have to use internal dialogue to show those details as much. Trust your reader. Consider:

nudge vs punch vs wallop

These words hint at the nuance behind the intended force but also the emotion behind the blow. This is economic writing that packs a punch – pun intended lol

Prolonged Action Scenes Can Tire Readers

Most action scenes are short. You can’t maintain that breakneck pace without readers checking out just to breathe. If you’re writing a prolonged battle scene (whether it’s with fists, swords, or words) remember to give the reader a chance to breathe.

Move the fight to a new location – the argument moves to another room, another player enters the scene (the waitress brings the meal), you get the idea. This also gives you a chance to change or ratchet up the emotional tension in the scene.

Do Your Research When It Comes To The Physicality Of Action Scenes

Nothing will jerk your reader out of the story like something impossible. We’ve all seen the bad guys jump off a roof and walk away from that. *rolls eyes* Where we might turn to our partner or friend and comment about the lack of reality in a movie and keep watching, many readers will distance themselves from the story and never get back into the action again.

I am very blessed to have a sister-in-law who’s a critical care paramedic, and a friend who is training to be a competitive MMA fighter. I have bounced questions off of both of them to make sure I’ve gotten details correct.

A fight to the death should be dirty. Too many fight scenes employ these half-hearted, polite swings and head butts. If your life is on the line, you’re going to draw blood, break bones, there won’t be any holds barred.

A writing teacher rightly criticized one of my fight scenes between two trained soldiers as being too tame. These were two characters trained and experienced in killing people. One is overpowered and stops relying on fancy moves and is simply trying to survive. The critique rightly pointed out that character didn’t want to live, because a teen in prison with a make-shift shank would fight back harder than that. I undermined that character’s believability by pulling up short on the action scenes.

In your current WIP, how much experience does your POVC have with fighting? How would they handle a physical encounter with someone bigger and stronger than them? How would they rationalize a physical encounter with someone they overpower?

4 Steps Anyone Can Take To Avoid Writer Burnout

September 28, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 1 Comment

Writer burnout is a real thing and it’s absolutely devastating. How awful to have the time to do what you love to do, but not be able to bring yourself to the laptop to do it. Sometimes this is just a simple sign of procrastination or fatigue, but sometimes it’s a symptom of something bigger.

What does your work week look like?

There was a point in my life where I was working part time four days a week, 5 hours a morning. I had freelance clients that could account for 5 to 20 hours a week without any predictability. At the time I had three teenagers and my husband who all (legitimately) had demands on my time. The only time I could find to write for myself was late at night. I would begin about 9 or 10pm and write until 2-3am. I would go to bed for a few short hours, get the kids to school and me to work, and then come home after work and sleep until the kids got home and start all over.

That’s a classic recipe for burnout. And I couldn’t write for three months because of that insane schedule that put me much father behind than if I had just paced myself to begin with.

What Does Burnout Look Like?

Lack Of Motivation

That passion, that need to empty the creative reservoir, is gone. You can go for days without even opening your laptop or thinking about your story. You find a million other things to do instead like clean, take up a new/old hobby, whatever. Your first thought when you had a few spare minutes was to write and now you’re just not interested.

Lack Of Energy

Writing no longer gives you energy, it exhausts you. More than that, the idea of writing exhausts you. You’re tired all the time until you’re tired of being tired. This is also a sign of depression which can cause writer burnout or be a symptom of it.

Poor Memory

You used to be able to retain a million things in your head, and now you make a list and forget you made the list. Age can play a part in this, but you know what normal is for you. You just pause one day and realize that your memory of late has really sucked. Ask yourself why.

You Ignore Your Health

Maybe you’ve lost your appetite, or the opposite–you’re allowing yourself to indulge in things you wouldn’t otherwise. I’m not talking about a cheat night or a special occassion, but an indulgence that’s become a regular thing of late. This could include drinking more alcohol than you normally would, spending a whole day or weekend or week on the sofa bingewatching Netflix or BritBox. Maybe your exercise routine has completely gone out the window and you don’t even miss it?

Your Creativity Is Gone

When you do write, it feels contrived and forced. You hate what you write. You have to spend twice as long as normal to get the same wordcount. You begin to resent the deadlines you’ve set for yourself. Everything sucks. Why bother. You can’t think of anything to write about or where the story should go next and just thinking about it is exhausting and crushing.

Now, any of these things could be a symptom of poor planning on your part, outside circumstances spilling over into your writing space (like a new baby), depression, or poor self-esteem. But we all know what normal looks like for us and with burnout, it’s worse than whatever our normal is.

How Long Should We Spend Writing Every Day?

The only cure I’ve found helpful is to take a break. That could mean building time into your schedule to socialize or exercise. Force yourself to take regular breaks away from the laptop every two hours. Eat regularly and drink plenty of water. Get lots of rest.

Here’s the truth that many of us don’t like to acknowledge. Being creative is tiring. We may just be sitting in a chair and “thinking” but we’re expending emotional energy and you only have so much to give in a day.

According to Alex Pang, author of Rest, the answer to ‘How many hours a day should a knowledge worker work’ is four hours.

Yeah – that surprised me too. We can give 100% to our creative work for about four hours a day. After that, we’re forcing ourselves into exhaustion and you just can’t maintain that for any length of time without consequence. Burnout, in all honesty, is one of the lesser consequences. I have friends with serious health issues because they can’t step away from their creative work.

You Can Prevent Burnout

Cut Yourself Some Slack – Whatever goal you’ve set for yourself, continue to move towards it but not at the risk of your health or your family. You’ll get there. Maybe not as soon as you’d like, but when you get there you’ll actually have the energy to enjoy it. Pad your deadlines to allow for life to interrupt, for you to have an off day, to go for a hike or to the beach. Being a writer doesn’t mean you only write.

Take Care Of Yourself – It’s important to take care of our health and bodies. I know writers who write through chronic health issues and their strength amazes me, but they admit it’s really hard and exhausting. Writing is so much easier if you’re healthy. Get up and move around. There are health complications of a sedentary life. Many writers have back issues, repetitive strain issues with their hands or wrists or necks. I know others who struggle with blood pressure problems. If writing/working too much is the cause, that’s an easy fix.

Listen To Your Body – There’s a tired you can push through and there’s a tired you need to listen to and learning the difference is hard. I have learned what I can push through by just getting up and moving around, changing where I’m writing, remembering to eat, or working on a different project. But sometimes, after a three or four hour intensive writing session, my body needs rest and it’s important to listen to that. Your brain needs a rest too. If you are hitting a wall and just can’t think of how to solve a problem or where to take your story next, get out from behind the desk and go for a walk. Go catch a movie. Something where your brain can change gears for a bit.

Refill Your Creative Think Tank – Get out of the writing cave and experience some life. How do you write about life if you don’t live it! Go for a walk. Go for a hike with your dog or a friend. Go the beach. Visit that fair. Watch the movie. Don’t forget to continue to enjoy your other hobbies. When I shut down my laptop for the day, I’ll often sit in front of the TV with whatever knitting project I have on the go and just unplug. Be willing to leave the phone behind. Read a book. Watch a play.

Whatever relaxing and enjoying life looks like to you, go do that with people you love.

Learn to recognize the warning signs and take a break before your mind and body force you to. My crazy work schedule sent me into burnout and I couldn’t write for a year. A YEAR!! Now, I’m better at seeing the signs. I don’t ever want to go through that again, and I hope maybe this post can help you avoid that outcome too.

Dive Deep!

Have you had writer burnout or been close to it? What are some warning signs you’ve now learned to pay attention to?

3 Tips On Writing Internal Conflict With Emotional Punch

September 20, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 5 Comments

Does your main character have a line in the sand, a personal boundary or belief they will not violate? This internal conflict is central stories written in deep point of view often. What happens if the character violates their belief or boundary? What would they sacrifice in order to avoid crossing that line? What would either action show readers about what kind of person they are?

In Mission Impossible: Fallout near the very beginning of the movie, Tom Cruise’s character Ethan Hunt draws a line in the sand that defines his actions for the rest of the movie. Benji is anxious about a deal they’re trying to make happen and Hunt turns to him and says, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

That line in the sand isn’t just about Benji. Hunt means it for anyone he cares about or works with. If he feels responsible for you, he won’t let anything happen to you. (Nothing permanent, anyway.)

In the movie Law Abiding Citizen with Jamie Fox and Gerard Butler, the goal of Butler’s antagonist is to convince Fox’s lawyer character: I don’t make deals with criminals. That’s the line in the sand.

I’ll never be hungry again! – Scarlet O’Hara

What Does Internal Conflict Look Like?

Internal conflict is the experience of having opposing psychological beliefs, desires, impulses or feelings — when you believe one thing and act in a different way. If you want to Google it and learn more, you’ll want to search for cognitive dissonance. This internal conflict is often a battle between what we know and what we feel. Most of the time, people crave consistency, so this internal conflict is when we’re basically at war with ourselves but it’s how we justify our behavior or correct course. This can lead to irrational behavior.

People struggling with internal conflict are squeamish. They might turn pale or lose color. They might feel dizzy or lightheaded. They might tremble or even pass out. Most of these reactions are observable, so another character could comment on them. A character in deep point of view can share the feeling of being dizzy, trembling, feeling lightheaded, queasy or nauseous.

People justify their actions, often audibly. Consider the guy who finds the courage to talk to or ask a girl out and she brushes him off. He’ll have this inner conflict, knowing he hasn’t really lost anything and feeling rejected or unwanted. One way he might choose to create consistency again, regain control of his feelings, is to justify why it didn’t work out. She wasn’t as pretty up close. She’s actually a snob and I’m better off without her. Or perhaps he decides she wants him to work harder so he doubles down and creates consistency between what he believes and how he feels that way.

Another facet of the above point is ignoring what’s plain to everyone else. The woman in an abusive relationship might know her boyfriend is toxic to her wellbeing, but feels like she can’t leave. Leaving means being alone, means supporting herself, means not knowing what tomorrow might bring.

It could mean that every derogatory thing he’s ever said to her is actually true, and she’s sure she’d face any negative consequences he’s threatened. So to create consistency between what she knows and feels, she avoids acknowledging the abuse. She justifies or explains away his behavior so that she doesn’t have to do anything about it.

What Emotional Layers Could Be At Play With Internal Conflict

There are dozens of emotions possible with internal conflict based on what’s at stake, right. In Laurel K. Hamilton’s Blue Moon, the protagonist Anita Blake doesn’t believe in torture. But there’s a short scene where she’s desperate to get the truth from someone and resorts to torture. She crossed her own line in the sand. She’s disregarded what she knows and gave in to how she felt.

The fallout of that is her renewed faith in the boundary that she won’t torture, and when it comes up again in the novel where she needs information from someone and is encouraged to expedite the process with pain, she refuses and that costs her emotionally. As soon as a character questions their abilities or self-worth and sees themselves falling short in some way, we have shame.

Shame is a very powerful emotion to play with as a writer. Shame doesn’t tell us we did a bad thing, shame says we are bad. Shame is so heavy, such a burden emotionally that typically people will do anything to get out from under that weight. But shame is a secondary emotion, so work backwards and identify the primary emotions that would cause shame.

Subtext Is Needed For Internal Conflict

The only way internal conflict works as a story device for emotional arc is when the reader is aware of the conflict in the protagonist. The best way to show this to readers is to use subtext. This is a more advanced fiction writing tool, but if you can master subtext you’ll take your writing to another level. Subtext is what’s not being said, it’s the unspoken communication. I’ve written about subtext here and here and here.

Can you think of a movie or book that had really great internal conflict that ratcheted up the stakes for the protagonist?

4 Ways To Write Dynamic Character Descriptions

September 18, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 1 Comment

Last week, I shared about describing minor characters and how we shouldn’t let these opportunities pass us by. This week, I wanted to dive deep into how our protagonists (and antagonists) describe themselves. This often trips up new writers and offers particular challenges if you’ve chosen to write your whole novel in deep point of view.

Avoid The Obvious

I’ll begin by restating a point I made last week that you need to avoid the obvious unless there’s something remarkable about it. Everyone has two eyes, a nose, two ears, a chin, hair, etc. If there’s something about one of those features that shows readers either something about the character being described or the one doing the describing, then that’s fine. Otherwise, you might not need to tell readers things they already assume to be true.

Avoid Cliche

The protagonist who looks in the mirror and catalogues their appearance is a bit tired. Same with the character who walks past a mirror or store front window and notes their appearance. Unless this character is often checking themselves out, this has become cliche.

Particularly in deep point of view, one common violation is the protagonist who touches their curly red hair. Who thinks that to themselves? I sure don’t. I might push the hair out of my face and think – ugh, I need a hat. I am not going to think: my unruly and frizzy black hair is driving me crazy. There may be an argument to be made for someone choosing an outfit and holding up dresses in front of herself in a mirror, but even then, they’re not going to think: which outfit highlights my hourglass shape and full-figured bosom?

Remember, the character is telling the story–you aren’t. What would the character think? What does the character see?

What Does Your Character See?

This leads to my next point. There are many occassions that we look into a mirror to examine a particular part of our face or figures. We might focus on the pimple on our chin or study our neck to see if the cat’s claws left a mark. This is fine if it serves the story, but avoid the temptation to have the protagonist catalogue their appearance while they’re in front of the mirror.

What does the character see? What do they focus on or zero in on? People who aren’t particularly self-confident will avoid looking at particular parts of their body. They go to great pains to only look the parts of themselves they like. What don’t they notice? What do they continuously overlook? And what does that show readers?

Examples

In Adrienne Young’s Sky In The Deep, the main character Eelyn never describes herself or her appearance. Instead, we get a sense of what she looks like, what fashions she wears, by the way she notices her partner’s hair, expressions and clothing. Her fighting partner, Myra wears her long hair in long braids, keeps the hair on one side of her head shorn (brush cut) to the scalp. Eelyn adjusts Myra’s armour and so on, so readers understand what Eelyn’s wearing by how she notes problems or adjusts Myra’s clothing and vice versa.

We get a sense of what Eelyn sees as normal when she is kidnapped by another people group and all she can see are the differences and how foreign they look to her. Readers have no problem understanding the dress, culture or appearance of the characters though the author doesn’t tell us what she’s wearing or how she wears her hair directly appart from where it differs from what’s normal to her.

In Claire Douglas’ Local Girl Missing, we’re not told what the two main characters look like. We see them through the eyes of the other twenty years apart. This novel had a unique construction in that one character tells her story in the present and the other character tells her story through a journal twenty years in the past. It’s interesting to see what has and hasn’t changed, which fits a small-town setting quite well.

What Stands Out Or Isn’t Normal For Your Point Of View Character?

If your character is tall, does she notice the one man she doesn’t have to look down on? That could be one way to show readers she’s very tall for a woman in her society.

A character with blue eyes, who feels those blue eyes are her best feature, may spend time only choosing tops that complement or bring out the blue in her eyes.

There are innumerable workarounds for this. But don’t stop there. Dive deeper into character. Physical beauty is often in the eye of the beholder. One man sees a scrawny woman and another sees a woman who’s lithe and toned. Let the physical details you choose to bring out share something about the character doing the describing, even if they’re noting their own appearance. This is easily contrasted by the views and reactions of other characters — do they have a realistic or authentic view of themselves?

“I’m a sight this morning: two shirts, heavy pants, a scarf wrapped twice around my neck and tucked into a thick sweater knitted by my daughter thirty birthdays ago…and still my body shivers with a cold that will never go away, a cold that has been eighty years in the making.” The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks

Sure, we know what Noah, the point of view character above, is wearing but that doesn’t show us anything about his character. It’s how he feels about what he’s wearing–that shows us much more than his clothes do, right. Someone who’s eighty can have a variety of perspectives about their current season of life, but Noah here — seems tired. He’s worn down.

Write Minor Character Descriptions Like A Pro Even If You’re A Beginner

September 11, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 2 Comments

There are serious pitfalls in adhereing only to “show don’t tell” when it comes to character descriptions because there’s so much more you can do than simply catalogue a character’s appearance. The goal with any character description should be to paint a word picture for readers, but more than that — what can the description show us about the character doing the describing?

Minor character descriptions are often overlooked by busy writers, because these characters don’t influence the plot a whole lot. They’re often walk-on characters. We have to jot down their names or we forget them. However, every description should move the story forward, so if the character themselves doesn’t influence the plot or character arc then what the description says about the point of view character should!

Avoid Cataloguing Common-To-All Features

If you meet someone and they have no lips, for instance, that would definitely draw the eye no matter how hard you tried not to stare. Most of the time, however, the characters in our stories will have a few common-to-everyone features that we don’t notice unless there’s something remarkable about it.

Noting eye colour, curly hair, great boobs, or an aristocratic jawline will only tell readers what a character looks like. More important, for the sake of story, is what kind of person the main character thinks they are, because that gives readers insight into their motives and opinions. Remember, you’re not telling this story, your main character is. What would your point of view character notice, what would draw their eye?

Have Descriptions Pull Double Duty

What do I mean by pulling double duty? Let your descriptions of minor characters describe what’s important to the point of view character. Show don’t tell is great — it’s a beginning writer’s lesson. Up your game and make descriptions do more than describe a character’s appearance or dress.

What a pov character notices about someone else can serve two important story functions:

- it shows readers what’s important or remarkable to the point of view character based on what they notice and overlook
- shows what the pov character discerns about another character’s values and motives

Whether the pov character’s evaluation is accurate, whether they are a reliable narrator, can be fleshed out in another part of the story.

Examples of Minor Character Descriptions

“Marguerite was dark, greasy skinned and morose-looking, wearing a shiny purple dress that appeared to have been bought when she was a little thinner.” The Silkworm, Robert Galbraith (a pseudonym for J.K. Rowling)

The point of view character here is Strike, an army veteran turned private detective. How does Strike feel about this woman presented to him as a potential love interest? We get to see Marguerite as Strike perceives her — we see her through his perspective.

What Strike notices shows us many things not just about the person he’s observing and evaluating, but about his character as well. From this we get a good guess about what’s important to him and what he’s avoiding. A woman wearing a dress a little too small is trying too hard, she wants to be something she’s not — this woman would need reassurance and comfort to find her confidence. Is he the kind of guy to offer a woman those things?

Her dress isn’t lavender, periwinkle or plum — it’s purple. Maybe this makes him a stereotypical male and maybe he’s the kind of person who doesn’t concern himself with variations – it is what it is.

He doesn’t notice if Marguerite’s hair is curly or if she has long legs. Do you get the sense that even if she possessed features he found attractive, he still wouldn’t be interested based on what he’s assumed about her character?

“Catherine is one of only four women in the class of ’31 and her cruelty knew no bounds. I’ve lost track of all the times I’ve thought Oh God, oh God, she’s finally going to let me, only to be hit in the face with Dear God, she wants me to stop NOW?” Water For Elephants, Sara Gruen

Jacob is the point of view character here. This is the first time we hear of Catherine. Jacob doesn’t tell us what Catherine looks like, maybe it doesn’t matter to him. He feels that Catherine is a tease and a flirt and has decided she finds pleasure in playing these games. What does it show us about him that he continues to play her games knowing the likely outcome — does that make him desperate, a fool, a glutton for punishment, an optimist? And what does this show us of his opinion of women in general — his ideas about consent and other things? This is a guy we can cheer for, right.

“The Windward Spirit, the store boat for all the light stations along that part of the coast, was an old tub, but trusty as a cattle dog, Ralph Addicott said. Old Ralph had skippered the vessel for donkey’s years, and always boasted he had the best job in the world.” The Light Between Oceans, M. L. Stedman

Tom is the point of view character here. Maybe it’s just me, but every time I read this I can’t help but think that the description of the boat is actually a description of Old Ralph: old, well-seasoned, but trustworthy. Tom’s perception is that Ralph won’t let him down. Now, keep in mind that Tom doesn’t actually know Old Ralph, they’ve only just met.

What does this tell us of Tom? Perhaps he’s an exceptional judge of character? Moreso, Tom is the kind of person who likes to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. He doesn’t like to think poorly of anyone or assume anyone has unpure motives. You can bet this bit of character insight is important later on in the story.

What Function Does The Description Serve For Your Story?

In each of these descriptions by main characters about minor characters, they serve the story by showing readers insight into the protagonist’s goals and opinions. We get to see what’s important to them and how they see the world. In each of these stories, knowing this about the main characters provides foreshadow.

These small descriptions build upon one another like blocks in a foundation. A reader, an intelligent reader, may be able to say what kind of person the main character is — what they like about them, but they won’t tell you why they think that. These are subtle descriptions of character that readers pick up on even if they can’t articulate how they’ve come to their opinions about the protagonist.

Come back for Part 2 where we look at describing main characters to readers.

Know what function your description needs to or could serve in your story. Don’t let a description only serve to tell readers what someone looks like.