As a creative writer, you’ll never be able to control how every reader reacts to a character in your work. Folks will bring their own set of utensils to the table, and some will not have brought a spoon despite the fact that you’re serving soup. However, you can broaden possible interpretations of your characters by controlling the number of descriptors and contexts you use for them.
One of my old University of Texas professors John Daly defined having interpersonal relationships as the act of understanding someone beyond the stereotypes you have of their social groups. Whether consciously or not, in the early stages of meeting someone, you are testing the waters to see what jokes, references, and ideologies overlap. This applies to broader social groups along the lines of age, class, and country of origin, as well as more specific labels such as an old head, an indie kid, or a frat guy. At the risk of sounding glib: people make assumptions based on limited information. The same is true when a reader first encounters a character on the page.
Let’s imagine you are introducing a character with simple declarative statements.
Take the descriptor: “He is a monster.”
When you render an idea with only one element, that is to assign paramount power to that single descriptor. This character may also be a good father and a caring friend. But when a reader crosses this sentence, those traits become secondary or inconsequential in comparison to that clear definitive tag of “monster.”
However, if you were to say, “He is a monster and a good father.” That is to imply that readers should hold those truths in equal measure. He may be a monster but he’s a good father, he may be a good father but he’s a monster. You can’t have one without the other, and the reader must wrestle with those contradictions. And then, when you add further descriptors, you can start to sculpt a rounded person.
Imagine each of these descriptors as pins on a board. When you have one pin it takes center stage and is a powerful point of focus. With two pins you can weave a thread between them. All assumptions about that character will now exist somewhere on that line. But depending on where you place that third pin, you can construct wildly different characters.
“He is a monster, a ruthless leader, and a good father.” That description could construct the image of a cruel king who happens to love his family. But if you say, “He is a monster, a foodie, and a good father.” Then suddenly, the geometry around this character shifts, and now he could just be a mean chef who likes his son.
Roy Peter Clark summarizes this idea well in his book Writing Tools. “A self-conscious writer has no choice but to select a specific number of examples or elements in a sentence or paragraph,” he says. “Use one for power. Use two for comparison, contrast. Use three for completeness, wholeness, roundness. Use four or more to list, inventory, compile, and expand.”
When we apply this idea to a broader story context, we can see a similar logic in showing characters in different settings.
In season one of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, we are introduced to Susie Myerson, the titular comic’s manager. When you meet her in her home environment at the Gaslight club, she is a wry, streetwise, and tough-edge character who more or less verbally dominates everyone she interacts with. In the first episode, you primarily get this one side of her, making for a powerful and memorable introduction to the character. In a later episode, when she gets on a phone call with the main character’s mother Rose, Susie flounders, unable to remember her own name, outmatched and intimidated by Rose’s presence. That phone call makes you contrast these two sides of Susie, and then when you add in a few more scenes, you have a full and vivid idea of who this character is.
Often, you’ll want to tease out when you place these pins. The importance of the character, scope of the story, and particular needs of a moment will determine how many pins need to be in play at a given time. Sometimes you’ll need one descriptor; sometimes you’ll need five. If you have one of those toys that teach toddlers shapes, you’ll want to put the triangle in the triangle hole and the rhombus in the rhombus hole.
For better or for worse, as Jon Franklin says in his piece on character, “A writer chooses what matters.” Thinking about the geometry of a character is an exercise in understanding how people process information. You’re guiding readers through their assumptions as you grapple with the fact that characters can hold any number of disparate truths. It is the writer’s responsibility to decide if and when to reveal that great complexity that all people, and potentially all characters have.
Announcement:
Thanks for reading. Austin folks, there is still room for my Building Confidence as a Writer workshop coming up on June 4th at 1 PM! I would love to see you there!
*Special thank you to Lady Jade and Kelly Wei for their wonderful feedback this week!
Yes, buuuut... I'd rather be shown, not told, that the character is "a monster, a ruthless leader, and a good father."
Descriptors work well for more basic stuff (hair color, distinctive physical features, etc.) but if you're going to describe personality, it should rather be done through scenes. So have the character do something despicable, then in the next scene show how he interacts with his son, thus revealing how he is a good father.
Which is kind of what happens in your example of "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel"... but then, in film & television, you kind of have to show ;)
BTW, regarding physical descriptors, my favorite author (Roger Zelazny) had this rule of only using three when he first introduced a character. Go to the essentials. Add more later if needed, and as needs arise.