I painted this a few years back in one of those paint-and-sip adult art classes. As much as I don't need any sort of basic acrylic instruction, I can always use the extra push to sit down and do it. While caught up with a paintbrush full of pigment, my mind wanders to the sound of droning conversation and the tune playing behind it all. This is one of my favorite ways to contemplate plot holes or story ideas in general.
While writing, I typically listen to classical music so my mind doesn't get caught up in lyrics. It helps me focus, especially when listening to random piano tracks I've never heard. Instead of anticipating where the music is going, my creativity takes the driver's seat.
This happens at the charity while I'm sorting through clothes as well. If two of my fellow volunteers are in a conversation (especially about grandkids), I'll check myself into imagination land. The other day, one of the ladies put Billy Joel into the CD changer. For two hours. Right about when we were all yearning for variety, one of his most famous tracks took over the soundwaves.
If a single song could be a master class in vivid lyrical visuals, Piano Man is it.
Billy doesn't rely on lengthy descriptions of hair color, build, or ethnicity. Instead, he gives us one or two small details about the people gathered at the bar where he's playing. The collective mood is loneliness with discontent peppered in. By the end of the song, we can all relate to several of these people just living their lives and wishing for something better.
I love this sort of storytelling. There is no paragraph of exposition I'll never remember—just a brief peek of the most prominent traits for each person. I can picture each one. This is why I don't always knock people in critiques if I have little character description. If the rest of the supporting details like inner thoughts, dialogue, or routines help me picture someone, I'm good.
My eyes make a wide arc when I read something like: "She has short brown hair with purple streaks, green eyes, and skin the color of almonds. She's tall and built like a dancer."
Boring. Typical. Telling. And I'm not a "show, don't tell" quibbler, either. Telling is necessary to keep a story moving. We all have to do it or readers would drown in description and wonder if the plot took a bathroom break. But, for main character description, list mode doesn't fly. Even a background character deserves more love than this.
How about applying the Piano Man formula to our lithe but boring brunette? What about that same description could be boiled down to one or two details?
"Her purple-streaked, chestnut ponytail whipped around her while she spun on one pointed shoe."
Getting better. We have hair color mixed into an action. This paints a clearer, more relatable picture with fewer words. Does eye color matter while this woman is twirling about? Not really. Who could see it? On the other hand, the hair color can come into play as a prominent feature of the ponytail flowing with her motion. The one missing ingredient is mood. This isn't a necessary step, but it can make the visual even richer.
"Her pink lips curled up on her final spin. When she ended with a split, the purple streaks in her chestnut hair glistened in the spotlight."
I could still push this further, but I'm satisfied with the brief description, mood, and overall image. Two sentences give enough of an idea of this character's confidence. Imagination will fill in the gaps.
List descriptions make fine placeholders in a first draft. They could even work in context with a character's view of someone if a snappy reaction is added after.
"She has short brown hair with purple streaks, green eyes, and skin the color of almonds. She's tall and built like a dancer. The shrew just had to be skinnier than me."
This is more acceptable since the flat description has a purpose. The character viewing our brunette dancer thinks little of her, but their jealousy comes through. We have to wonder why the POV character cares about the dancer's build. Is their love interest watching? Are they in competition for a dance role? Does this person only like people thicker than they are? It all depends on the story and situation.
When descriptions look more like an extensive list or aren't relevant to a situation, I start skimming. Even so, I'm still guilty of overwriting. When a character is dear to me, I want to do them justice. But, by spitting out eye and hair color, weight, makeup preference, clothing, skin color, and build in close proximity, I'm expecting my readers to remember a heap of information I wouldn't recall if I were the reader. The balance is tricky to strike. When in doubt, remember Piano Man.
Keep on smilin'!
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