On Detailing Characters

"Your need to tell me absolutely everything, as if every tiny detail were just so integral to the plot, was supremely annoying." You can always tell when an author has gone through many drafts, and when an author has gone through just a few. There are many details that work their way into writing that don't necessarily have to be there. Some of these unnecessary details may offer seasoning to the story---mood, tone, or serve to draw attention to something specific; just be careful, as too much seasoning can ruin the flavor of your soup. You don't want it too bland, but you don't want it too salty, either. This is what makes being a writer nicer than being a cook; you can add more detail or edit superfluous detail out without destroying the piece, whereas a soup might be ruined with too much fiddling. By trial and error, you can find a good balance and I encourage you to experiment this way. To play on one of Gandalf's quotes: "A good author is neither too detailed nor too sparse, but puts in precisely as many details as he or she means to."

The amount of detail that is required in fiction is usually proportional to the length of the piece. There are, of course, always exceptions; but let us leave that for another time. There's Tolstoy, with his monumental War and Peace, who also wrote the incredible and concise "Death of Ivan Illyich". Dostoyevsky could achieve length while maintaining a perfect balance between detail and brevity, as in The Idiot (he is therefore my favorite of the Russian novelists). After having read the Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann---which describes every character's breakfast, daily routine, symptoms of illness, sex life, and appearance in each scene, then page-by-page their ignorance---it is difficult to believe that Mann could then hone down and perfect his very short novella "Death in Venice" with its very sparse, yet essential detailings. Yes, in "Death in Venice" he describes the character's meal of half-rotten strawberries; but he had earlier described fresh strawberries. These details were offered to show the readers, in a symbolic way, the protagonist's deteriorating health and decaying sense of moral identity. Absolutely essential details; every word in that short story is necessary. One may worry that not all readers could catch the reason for such meticulous orchestrations; it won't make the story less entertaining if the reader doesn't get it. A friend of mine who is not familiar with methods or theories regarding literary criticism or analysis read "Death in Venice" with me. While he didn't catch all of the details and symbols (I later pointed them out to him, allowing him to experience more layers of meaning in the story), he still very much enjoyed it. Likewise, he knows much more about music than I do and has often pointed things out to me in Beethoven's work, for example. I enjoyed the symphonies before I knew these things, but then had more to enjoy after learning them. We can enjoy such classics as Robert Browning, Thomas Gray, Walt Whitman, Jane Austen, the Brontes, George Eliot, Charles Dickens, even though many of the details in their work were based on etiquettes long outdated or obscure contemporary facts that have since been lost.

In my "A Note on Writing Characters," I launched into a tirade about including too much detail and how it is a fault in literature. There has been some confusion regarding this point. I must take responsibility for that in not being clear enough in writing and presenting it.

That letter was all about striving to achieve a good balance of things. Too much detail is almost just as bad as too little detail (although, if given the choice, as a reader I would prefer too little detail over too much; my imagination has always been a vivid one and there's no supreme harm in picturing a character slightly different from what the author had intended. Think of how you feel when a big Hollywood movie company decides to make a film based on a book you've read. The characters are never exactly as you have imagined them while reading because you now experience them through several different new lenses---the screenwriter's, the director's, the actor's, and the costume, jewelry, and makeup technicians'. Anyway, sometimes the less the better. The movie will show you things as they are, whereas a book can offer you a glimpse of things as they might be; the written word is going to give your brain more to work with. Less detail also gives your mind more to work with. This is why I prefer the Hyrule of Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time rather than that of Twilight Princess; Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy over Jordan's Wheel of Time twelve-book saga; the King Arthur stories over the Illiad, etc.) Some books I have enjoyed just for the details, such as Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude and Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian. But these are few and far between, and much harder to achieve.

Several people latched onto the little partial sentence "I do not need to know a character's hair and eye color when I first meet them". The hair and eye color are not always essential. I don't recall knowing King Arthur's eye and hair color right off in the legends, or much description at all of Odysseus in the Odyssey. What's nice about these stories is that they were passed down in oral tradition; people tended to remember the juicy, interesting bits, and thus all the unnecessary things sort of got left out and forgotten over time. What we end up with are the fascinating bones of tedious historical accounts. Which is more interesting to read---the history of Troy or the Illiad?* Did we need to know Achilles' eye color in the scene where he and Hector are facing off? Not really; besides, their faces would have been obstructed by helmets. If it makes sense to offer these details at the time, then do it. If not, your story (and your reader!) are going to be just fine without them. You will most often find that one or two well-placed details will be far more effective than any lengthy list of characteristics. (See "Modern Love" and "Descent of Man," both by T.C. Boyle, and The Fox by D.H. Lawrence; there are links in the author's comments below.)

Let me also offer some examples from my own work, since I am the only writer whose intentions I am 100% sure of. Below are the brief descriptions of three characters from one of my projects.


Character 1: Alexander. He is introverted, quite shy, judges first by gut feeling and visual impressions.

Character 2: Whitby. He is extroverted, kind and considerate, somewhat absentminded so he generally picks up on only one or two details.

Character 3: Viole. He is extroverted, insane tendencies, obsessive-compulsive so he fixates on one person or one feature.


In this particular project, I am usually narrating from Character 1's (Alexander's) perspective, in a third-person limited point of view. It would not make sense to offer Whitby's eye color when he walks into the scene because Alexander is shy and usually avoids eye contact. I would give a brief overview of his clothes or shoes instead, when it makes sense to. Alexander does look at faces, however, though tentatively. I might say that after Whitby has been talking to him for a little while with a gentle voice, Alexander will glance up at his face. That is because Alexander goes by feeling. He grows to adore Whitby because he has a round, warm face with laughing eyes. He instantly fears Viole because that antagonist is in the middle of a fit with his face contorted like a beast's when they first meet. Whitby and Viole both have brown eyes. I don't feel like I need to say that to the reader, though, and the comparison is meaningless here because they are nothing alike. Whitby is somewhat oblivious; in one scene he walks in and the only thing he notices is that Alexander is nervously tapping his finger. Alexander has blue eyes, but I almost never say that because the fact that they are pale is more important than the color; I will often offer "pale eyes" when he is required to use them to express something. However, if I use "pale" too much, the reader might become irritated (they know I don't need to remind them in every scene) or insensitive to it. "Eyes" more often suffices. Viole is obsessive-compulsive. He fixates on Alexander, particularly his hair; thus, most of the few times that I offer Alexander's hair color and/or texture is in the scenes with Viole. Does that make sense?

If you are still uncertain, turn to your real life experiences for guidance. What do you look for when you meet a person for the first time? Do you make a list of all their visible characteristics in your head? Is there one aspect or feature that strikes you most out of all the rest? I design jewelry and love costumes, so the first thing I look at is what a person is wearing. It may seem superficial, but I take great care in choosing my clothes, especially my jewelry; they are always expressions of myself and my tastes. So it is natural that, by default, I assume other people are the same way, even though it's not always the case. I'm also extremely shy in person, so I don't always look strangers in the eye and I miss things like eye color in the initial meeting. I don't care much about hair at all, so I rarely notice that (which can be a problem sometimes when I'm looking for someone I am supposed to meet). In case you're wondering, yes, I have a hard time remembering faces. But I'm very likely to compliment someone on their necklace or their purse the first time I meet them, if it catches my fancy.

Try to avoid having all of your characters do or notice or say the same things. Otherwise you will run the risk of having them be indistinguishable from each other. Here are some helpful questions to ask yourself when starting a scene: Whose point of view are you showing from? What would your character look for when first meeting another? An artist might notice colors first. A rock music fan would probably be looking at your shirt to see if it is a band shirt, and whether he knows the musicians or not. A character whose religion is important to them may be seeking something in common with you by looking at your neck to see if you have a Star of David or a cross hanging there. A foot fetishist will be looking at your shoes first. A chauvinist might stare at a female character's breasts or legs. A rich, haughty person may be casting a critical eye over your outfit and trying to decide where you shop and what your income status is. Some people don't really even look at the new person at all. Etc. etc. etc.

Ask your friends and family members what they first notice about people when they meet. You can even do a quick experiment. Print a color picture off the computer of a celebrity or some random person you find on Google, or find a picture in a magazine. Then show it to your friends and ask them to write the first thing that they notice about the person in the picture. Is it their hair or eye color? Is it the outfit? Facial expression? Jewelry? See if you can find some pictures of different looking people to show and consider the reactions you receive. (You will find that people may look longer and notice more in the pictures they find attractive; likewise, they will not dwell long on pictures they find uninteresting or disturbing.) This may seem like a silly or embarrassing exercise (you can say it is for a school project or sociological study), but it will definitely help broaden your perspective.

A good rule of thumb in trying to figure out how much detail you need is to ask yourself if you think the readers would get what you want them to without this or that. If you answer "yes," it is usually better to leave it out. Try to show more than tell; try to describe rather than explain.



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