In previous posts, we’ve discussed physical description and dialogue to present your characters. In this segment, we will explore the use of action as an effective and essential method to create and develop your characters as well as moving your story forward. I can use some help. So, I hope my fellow writers will chime in with thoughts and examples.
Screenplay vs. Novel/Short StoryThe next time you watch a movie, pay attention to what you know and feel about the characters. How was information about a character conveyed to you? Film, of course, is visual and auditory. You see the actor’s facial expressions and body language, dialogue includes voice inflection and emotion, and there is plenty of action. Characters are doing something throughout the movie. Action is critical to a film. But before production of a movie begins, a screenwriter has to put the story into words. The director uses the screenplay to bring the story to life.
So which job is easier: screenwriter or novelist? The two are very different. A screenplay is meant to be performed. A novel/short story is to be read. A movie is visualized on the screen. A novel is visualized in the reader’s imagination. As a writer, you have advantages not available to the screenwriter. You have narration, internal monologues, details, points of view, psychology, etc. that are difficult to capture in a film. Screenplays compensate with action. This is one reason that film adaptations of novels often greatly differ from the source material. A two-hour film is not enough to capture all the nuances of a great novel.
Action, of course, is extremely important in novels and short stories. You’ve heard the saying, “Actions speak louder than words.” Actions can reveal a character’s true motivations, personality, add depth to their identity, build tension, and drive the story. When you write your story, you will need to make decisions of when to place action. Unlike the screenwriter, you are not under pressure to tell the entire story using action, but use of action will be necessary.
Writing teachers like to preach, “show, don’t tell.” In other words, use action to show a scene rather that passively explain it. For example, compare this sentence:
“Sarah became angry and left the room” with
“Sarah rose forcefully from her chair, knocking it to the floor. She stomped her feet as she headed for the exit, slamming the door behind her.”
Compare “Jen tried to hide her fear as she stood face-to-face with Sandra” to: “Jen contorted her face into a mask of defiance as she returned Sandra’s stare. Yet, the twitching of her upper lip and tremulous knees betrayed her fear.”
Not every detail in your story needs to be shown through action. Sometimes you will need simple narrative to transition from one scene to the next. We probably don’t need to know what Sarah ate for lunch. The key is to determine when “show, don’t tell” is best served. Is it valuable in revealing something about a character? Does it enrich the plot? Build tension?
Sometimes I try to think like a screenwriter. If my story was a movie, I will ask myself if an action scene would be worthwhile and add value. Below will be some common situations and examples where action could be used to present or develop a character.
First ImpressionsIn most stories, you will want to introduce your characters as early as possible. Remember, first impressions are critical. Think of a few words that best describe your character. What are his/her main traits? Think of how you can communicate those traits to the reader. Is he/she a bully? Then show her bullying someone. Is she a lifeguard? Then consider a scene where she saves the life of a drowning child? Is she kind? Arrogant? Is she a lawyer? Is she having an affair? Think of what you want your readers to know and put it into action.
Example: This is the first appearance of Faith from my story “Nurses Eat Their Young”
The four of us awkwardly sat in silence hoping our preceptor would come to rescue us from our unwanted presence in the break room. No such luck. Our anxiety soared to new levels when Faith approached us seemingly with a purpose. Towering over one of my fellow students and placing the big hands on the back of her chair, Faith glared down at her.
“Hi, I’m Rebecca. I’m one of the nursing students,” said my timid classmate.
“Get up,” Faith growled. Rebecca, scared and confused, looked to us as if we could clear up some misunderstanding. “I said GET UP! YOU’RE IN MY GODDAM CHAIR.”
Rebecca, visibly shaken, lifted her 5’1” and barely 100 lbs body off the chair, shrinking away from her antagonist, before unceremoniously melting into another identical empty chair.
Faith meanwhile dragged her claimed prize chair over to her three colleagues where their unpleasant conversation continued.
The point here is to establish Faith as an intimidating bully. After this introduction, she becomes more despicable as the story goes on, with tension slowly building up to a showdown.
As a quick aside, I used capital letters to convey forceful shouting. Although this is not technically correct, many writing teachers strongly discourage this practice, and encourage good word usage and exclamation marks instead. Others say it can be appropriate if used very sparingly. I did it quite a bit in my earlier studies, but now try to avoid it.
Example: This is the opening paragraph of The Poacher 3:
I just finished an hour on the elliptical machine when I got the call. After cooling down and toweling off, holding my water bottle, I took a seat on the bench...and watched Kristin. With exceptional balance and posture, knees slightly bent, her MMA gloves up high, she again approached the heavy bag, firing jab, jab, right hook combinations. She jabbed again, feinted, then buried a hard right to the rib cage - if the bag had a rib cage. She paced her breathing, danced to her right, then threw a vicious left cross. Her shoulder glared from the reflection of light off her sweat. At 5’7” and a tight athletic body, she made any physical activity look graceful. I was proud to call Kristin my friend and colleague. There are very few people, men or women, I respect more than Kristin, but it was hard not to admire her agile lithe movements as she went to work in her gym bra and shorts.
She stopped to cool down, then joined me at the bench, as I handed her water. “Ready, Brad?” she asked, “Paperwork awaits.” Her work phone dinged. I knew what it was. The same message I got. Her eyebrows furrowed as she read the message. “The chief wants to see us.”The purpose of this opener was to establish Brad and Kristin as longtime friends and coworkers. We learn Kristin is an athletic woman who know something about fighting. There are sexy overtones as Brad watches her. The relationship between the two characters will be the central theme to the story.
Example: This is Deanna from Chapter 2 of “The Catpin Chronicles”
“‘Scoose me, ‘scoose me, over here. Anybody gawnna take our order? I wanna see the manager. You should all have your asses fired.” My fiancée was growing impatient. No surprise there. Our plans were simple: dinner at the bar and grill, then a movie.
“Let’s go, let’s go, people. We want SERVICE!” Deanna continued. “Gawd, why are Texans so damn slow.”
“My name is Vickie, and I’ll be your waitress,” chirped the smiling thin waitress, her blond hair pulled back into a bun, accentuating her thin upbeat face. “Are y’all ready to order now?”
“Ready? Are you freakin’ kiddin’? And what’s with the ‘y’all’. Y’all this, ‘y’all that. Doesn’t anybody tawk right here? If I hear one more Texas drawl, I swear I’m gawnna scream.”
The waitress’ smile looked more plastic by the second as she withstood the abuse. Deanna is certainly assertive. Some would say aggressive. Sometimes she can even be boorish. Okay, I know, sometimes she can be a total bitch. The young waitress twitched nervously as she backed off in intimidation. Her head bobbed and her hands trembled slightly as she took our order. Deanna glared at her, relishing the head game she controlled with this young woman. The poor girl couldn’t get away from our table fast enough as she stammered, “I’ll be back shortly with your meal.”
“Don’t you think you should tone it down,” I suggested.
“Why? Someone needs to hold these losers accountable,” she responded.
I looked at her thick black hair, the round gold earrings against her tan skin, the brown eyes, the bare shoulders above the strapless top. I gazed at her facial expression and body language. She was the alpha female and she wanted everyone to know it.Apologies for the bad New York accent. I should note that some writing teachers say avoid trying to use a dialect in your writing. It is confusing and hard to follow. Anyway, Deanna is another bully who quickly presents as rude and obnoxious, because, as we all know, New Yorkers are rude and obnoxious people. (It’s a joke! Don’t send me hate mail. I’m from that part of the U.S., so I can laugh about it. Keep the New York salute (flipping the bird) to yourself.
Character DevelopmentAdding DepthHumans are complex creatures. I love stories where characters are more three-dimensional. Everyone has emotions, needs, fears, desires, dreams. When you can take the reader more deeply into the inner realm of the character, the story can take on a new level of emotion and tension. The more we know about someone, the more we can invest in the story.
Example: This is from Phoenix_Falcone’s recent post “Room 2102.” In the opening paragraphs, we meet Monique, a veteran sex worker who just experienced a rather degrading encounter with a client. When she is alone in the hotel room, she enters the bathroom to clean herself.
Like the aftermath of every other job in recent memory, she stood there in the tiled bathroom cubical, head tilted up towards the god-like showerhead above her, praying for change. Her tears camouflaged upon joining the stampede of the shower, the water migrating over her round, still-perky breasts, across her flat stomach and beyond her shapely hips. Most would consider her to still be in her prime, even though she was in her mid-thirties. Not that she felt that way. And after this particular failure, she felt disgusted, brushing her teeth furiously, attempting to remove any trace of the cum she could still taste, longing for the fresh mint to overtake and hide the vile memories of a few hours ago. Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and dropped slowly to the floor of the steam filled bathroom. It was not the first time she’d cried to herself about her situation. This was also not the first time a customer had shortchanged her in the last six months, and it would not be the last at this rate.
Mistresses and prostitutes are usually depicted as villainesses on FCF. Monique is a prostitute filled with sadness, disgust and regrets. As the story unfolds and conflicts develop, readers will have a deeper understanding of Monique and are less likely to view the moral actions of the characters in clear black-and-white terms.
The complete story can be found at
https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=115394.0Element of SurpriseOne of my favorite things about writing characters is to defy reader’s expectations of them, that is, to show a side of them that wasn’t previously known by how they react to a certain situation.
Example: In Kiva’s Fight Journal, Luanne was previously presented as a self-absorbed perfectionist and braggart with a very condescending attitude. In a later chapter, she makes a surprise appearance.
“Kiva?” A male voice calls. Oh fuck, it’s Mac. He followed me outside. “Look,” he says, “I had a very nice time tonight and would very much like to see you again. If you had enough of dancing, I thought we could go back to my place. You know, we can talk where it’s quiet and get to know one another better.”
“I told you,” I snarled. “I’m leaving. I’m going home.”
“Well sugar, I don’t think you’re in any shape to drive. Here, let me take you home.”
He reaches to grab my arm but I pull it away and try to scurry down the steps to the parking lot. The heels and the alcohol take over as I trip on the last step and fall on my ass, letting out a shriek.
“I got you, honey,” Mac declares. “You’ll be just fine.”
A large pair of hands descends and lifts me up by the arm pits. The next thing I know is that I’m upside down. My hair is hanging straight down toward the asphalt and I see the parking lot beneath me moving. That’s when I realize that I’m hoisted over his shoulder and being…carried.
“My Ford F-250 truck is over here, sweet cakes. I got plenty of room in the cab. I’ll take you back to my place where you can get some rest and freshen up.”
I try to scream but can only get out some weak moans. “No, please put me down,” I beg.
“No worries, honey. We had fun tonight but the night’s still young.”
I’m in a cold panic. I can’t make a sound. I feel like I’ll pass out.
“Kiva?” a woman’s voice calls. “Kiva, is that you? Kiva, ANSWER ME!”
I’m not sure who’s voice it is. I don’t think it’s one of my nurses. I see a pair of long legs and boots. I can’t see further.
It IS Kiva! What the FUCK! Kiva, what’s going on? Do you know this man? KIVA, ANSWER! DO YOU KNOW THIS MAN? SAY SOMETHING.
I suck in air and try to find my vocal cords before gasping out the word, “HEELLLLP”.
“Alright, mister,” the woman scolds. You let her go immediately. I got a picture of your face and license plate. Put her down, NOW!
“What’s your problem, lady? I’ll take good care of her.”
“I’m done talking,” she growls. Next, I hear a smacking sound of a fist crashing into a jaw. Mac’s grip on me loosens and I’m sliding down his back. A long leg with a boot kicks upward and my captor doubled over, letting out an “Oooommph” as I tumble onto the asphalt.
Lying on my side, I’m confused and disoriented. I here a man say, “Holy Shit, did you see that. That chick just kicked some guy in the balls.” Mac is doubled over. Then I see…her. I see, the long legs, the blonde hair, the statuesque figure .It’s Luanne? Luanne? Yes, no doubt about it. She takes a step back, then delivers a roundhouse kick to the head, sending Mac sprawling on his back. She plants her boot on his neck and screams, “YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU SO MUCH LAY A FINGER ON HER, I’LL TAKE YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!”Luanne’s selfless heroic action seems in stark contrast to when we last saw her, saving a woman she had fought. This is a personal scene for me. Although you wouldn’t know it from the “women” on FCF, there are some bonds that women share. The world is a scary place. When I leave work at 1:00 AM, I call security for a chaperone to walk to my car. If I am alone with an Uber driver, I text someone and take pictures of license plates. We know the statistics on disappearances and abductions. This scene set up a later where we learn of Luanne’s miserable childhood thanks to bad parenting and a traumatic experience she suffered in college, gradually making her a more fully developed character.
Example:
In my story, “The Better Woman;” the character Jailyn is an underprivileged young woman from “the wrong side of the tracks.” The story is narrated by her opponent, the educated and affluent Marissa. All we know about Jailyn throughout the story is from Marissa’s presumptions about her. When Jailyn wins the match, she refuses to humiliate Marissa (as Marissa planned to do to Jailyn), and dumping her abusive boyfriend, thus showing she had more class and integrity than her arrogant opponent.
“Jailyn, sit on her face,” the man’s voice now sounding like pure evil. That goatee, that scowl, the scar. He looks like the devil. I feel paralyzed with horror. “Ooh, this gonna be good.” A chill runs through my entire body. I begin to hyperventilate. I can’t go through with this. I lose my composure. I’m sobbing. Tears roll from the side of my eyes to the mat.
“Can we stop, now? Let’s just go.” It was Jailyn. I had not heard her voice since the accident.
“In a little bit,” her man answered. “We’re not quite done yet.”
“I didn’t come here for this,” she implored. I just wanted a wrestling match.”
“ I’m gonna tell ya one more time, your opponent asked for the victory pose. She wanted to do it to you.”
“I didn’t agree to any of her changes,” Jailyn said with lament in her voice. “YOU did.”
After an awkward pause, the man responds. “But babe. Look what we’re getting out of it. Fuck, man. I’m rock hard right now. All right, let’s do this. You’re gonna sit on her. Y’know, sit on her chest and slide your crotch to her mouth.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Hell yeah, man. Just get your pussy in there and show her who has the better womanhood.”
“No”
“All right, he countered, “let’s build up to that part. For now, let’s you and me have a make out session over your rich bitch.”
“No,”, Jailyn’s voice now stronger and defiant.
I remain in the position of the vanquished, flat on my back with my conqueror and her man standing on each side of me. The man reaches over me and grabs her head, bringing his face to hers, forcing a kiss on her lips”.
“Stop it,” she cries, pushing his head away. He tries again. She backs off, slapping at his hands. “I said STOP IT. This isn’t right.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you,” the man growled. “Ya keep yappin all this shit about finding yourself, potential, and whatever the fuck else. What the fuck do ya think ya are? Cause you’re just a fuckin nobody. Being my girl ain’t enough for ya?”
Jailyn assertively places her hands on her hips, raises her chin, and with a touch of courage in her voice, breathes, “No, it isn’t.”
The couple stand over me glaring at each other, their eyes blazing. The man glances down at me and breaks the uncomfortable silence. “What are you lookin at, loser? By the way, I saw half your pussy.”
“Leave her alone,” Jailyn demanded
“Are you fuckin kidding me?” Zack responds. More silence. “I can’t take you, anymore. I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re tryin to be, but it’s over. We’re done. I’m outta here.” Abruptly, he turns and walks away. Before exiting the ring, he turned to his girlfriend one last time and with eerie calm, spoke the most bone chilling words I’ve ever heard, “I’m warning ya, don’t come home.”
“Goodbye asshole,” she yells behind him.Inciting EventsMany stories will have a triggering event that lights to fuse leading to further tension, then a climax. This post is getting long, so I’ll give only one example. This is from a Kiva’s Fight Journal story called “Travel Nurse” that has not yet been posted. Robin is a nurse from a temporary agency who shows up to work in our ICU. She has a snotty know-it-all attitude that rubs some of the local nurses the wrong way, especially a veteran nurse named Beth.
Today, Robin and Beth are scheduled. My shift is 12 noon to 8 pm. Hopefully, there was no drama this morning in my absence. Something is off in the breakroom.
“Kiva, you missed the excitement,” Brianna tells me with a hint of a giggle.
“Yeah, Kiva, you should have seen it,’ the other nurses join it. “Unbelievable.”
I’m fearing the worse. “Where are Beth and Robin?”
“Well, um…Robin went home early.”
“Oh Good Lord, what happened?” I demand to know. “What did Beth do to her?”
“Well, we don’t know for sure if it was Beth,” Lisa replies.
“Did someone hit her? What HAPPENED?’
The group of nurses look at each other for a second until Joanne begins to explain, “Robin took her lunch out of the refrigerator. She took a bite out of her turkey sub. The next thing you know, her face turns beet red, her eyes roll back into the back of her head, she breaks out in a sweat. She couldn’t speak. We didn’t know what happened. We were ready to take her down to the ER. She started running around in a circle, frantically flapping her arms around, making these gasping noises. She ran into the bathroom, stuck her head under the sink, and drank as if that was the only water in the world. She was there for half an hour, just gulping and gulping. Then she took all the ice cubes out of the freezer. She drank everyone’s juice and sodas. We didn’t know what was going on. She refused to let us take her to the ER.”
“Alright! What happened!” I demand to know again.
“Someone spiked her sub with Carolina Reaper Pepper.”
”What?”
“Carolina Reaper Pepper,” Joanne repeats as she hands me her cell phone with the browser open.
I read, “Carolina Reaper Pepper holds the Guiness Book of World Records for the world’s hottest pepper. 1,000 times hotter than jalapeno.”
“And Beth did this? Oh God, she’ll get fired. She could get sued by Robin.
“Well, no one actually saw Beth do it.”
“Where is Robin?”
“Her mouth burned so much she took the rest of the day off.”
Fuck! Now what. This place has become so toxic. As much as I love Beth, I’m now wondering if she shouldn’t go.
I march over to Beth. “Beth, this is so juvenile. Do you realize how much trouble you could get into?”
“So let them fire me,” Beth, still wearing blue scrubs, snarks when I confront her.This not only tells you how devious Beth can be, but escalates a conflict that needs to be resolved.
There is so much more we could discuss, but I’ll stop here. I’d love to see your comments, even if you are not a writer. Tell us what you think.
