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Rant-'o-the-Week: Can't
think of one. Must have been quiet. I do have an update on
my last week's report on the IRS. As you recall, I asked them
for:
-
1 Form 1096
- 1 Set of instructions for Form 1099-MISC
- 12 Forms 1099-MISC
I received, starting five weeks later and then
every few days, four—to date—mailings. Each purported, in the
cover letter for each, to contain the above. One mailing actually
did. The others had a cheery cover listing the above, but contained
various numbers of forms, not the correct quantities of any of
them. To date I have accumulated:
-
4 Form 1096 (But I only need one, no matter how many
1099s I send in.)
- 13 Set of instructions for Form 1099-MISC (These are 8-page
booklets. One is
good. Thirteen is a dozen too many.)
- 12 Forms 1099-MISC
At
that, the IRS is one up on the Arizona Department of Revenue.
The latter sent a set of 2006 state tax forms to "Jean
Morrill, deceased". My mother died in 2005 and I filed her taxes
for that year. She earned no income in 2006 or, if she did, I
want to know how.
Feedback
and today's lesson: Tom Kappel responded to my request
for essays with some enlightening information for fiction
(and, to some extent nonfiction) writers out there:
Give
Your Characters Body Language “Tells.” by
Thomas V. Kappel
Have
you ever wished that you or the lead character in your stories
could read minds or know what those around
them are thinking?
Are they being truthful or not? Are they trying to deceive
someone? Are they allies or not—friend or foe? Well, your
astute detective, newspaper reporter, female heroine, or
main character can utilize their observation skills
to move the
story and plot forward by knowing and utilizing character “tells.”
Good writers do this now, but it can be done better once
you know and understand the process.
Scientists, a few years ago, researched and found that people
communicate 7% of their meaning through the spoken word,
38% through the tone of voice, and 55% through their physiology
or body language. I’m sure many writers have some acquaintance
with this research, but it has taken the game of poker to refine
the many aspects of body language and turn them into character “tells”.
As in high stakes poker with lots of money on the table,
the potential for the success and sale of your novel or story
can
be greatly improved with the careful use of character tells,
but they must be unique to a character and used sparingly.
"Tells" are facial, vocal expressions, or body language
that is specific to an individual. They are the body reactions
unique
to each person that—tells—you a lot about them. For the most
part, these involuntary body responses fall into
four main groups; emotion, attitude, posture, and expression.
Emotion signals in dialogue can be verbal change in tone,
word choice, volume, and delivery. Unconscious changes to
the body,
like a tightening of the throat or a change in breathing,
may make voices tremble, hesitate, harden or soften, and
become shrill
or edgy. Remember that 38% of communication is through tone
of voice. Physical signs of emotion are many and include
sweating, rapid pulse, blushing, blinking, clenching of teeth
and,
of course, fainting.
Attitude tells can be sudden changes in dress, appearance,
or mental stance and can be shown by the body as resignation,
surrender,
condescending, stoical, reserved, or depressed.
Posture signals can be changes in walk or stance such as:
jaunty, cocky, ambling, plodding, stooped, lifeless, or absurd.
Weight
shifts, movement of feet, placement of hands, head position,
tightened muscles, and white knuckle clenched fists are a
few posture signals. Do they slouch or straighten or make
themselves
appear larger or turn sideways as a larger or smaller target?
Do they take a step back or move aggressively forward? Do
they lean forward or lean back?
Posture signals can be subtle
but
important, just ask a poker player about posture signals.
Expression is perhaps the largest area for introducing tells
in characters. Eye movements, facial expressions, and gestures
are a few of the many areas where unique conscious and unconscious
changes can be observed and used. Eye movements can be very
telling with avoiding eye contact, staring off in the distance,
dropping
down or away. If they move their eyes to one side, their
creative side, they may be about to make up a story or tell
a lie. If
they move their glance in the other direction, they may be
honestly trying to recall or tell the truth. A person’s
expression also may instantly become dazed, dreamy, calm, bland,
frozen,
wistful, belligerent, bitter, or wry by a word, a question,
or a change in their perceived situation.
Characters are people. Understanding and knowing the people
that populate your writing is critical for the success of
your writing.
Understanding character “tells” and using them
properly in novels and stories can go a long way in making
sales and
becoming a more successful writer and author.
—end—
Entranced at the notion of not having to write
my own essay for this week, I asked two of our WritersCollege.com
teachers to root around in their lessons or other work for some
examples. They did so.
Patrika
Vaughn teaches, among her plethora of courses, Dialogue
Writing ("Dialogue is what makes your
writing - fiction or non fiction - come alive for readers.
Learn how to make dialogue work for
you- to develop character, advance your plot, impart information,
show conflict or tension, set the mood, and make readers part
of the action.") Patrika sent me some samples:
1) I gasped as my mousy Sunday School teacher sauntered into
the classroom, her drab brown hair suddenly a fiery red and
her oxfords replaced by stilleto heels. The clingy black
mini she wore was nothing like her usual tents, either.
What was
going on here?
2) ”Honest, I didn’t!” Mary insisted. She
stared at the floor, not looking at him nor at the gold lamé
dress
he’d discovered under their bed.
“We had a deal, Mary. Neither of us was going to indulge in luxuries until
we got those damned credit cards paid off. Where the hell did this come from?” He
shook the dress in her face.
“It’s old, Joe...I bought it last year, remember?” Her voice
quavered.
“Come on, Mary. The fucking price tag is still on it, dated last week.
Stop it..”
Mary’s shoulders slumped as she raised her eyes to Joe’s. “Okay,
I’m busted. See, I got a raise this week and figured I could reward myself
without breaking my promise...could pay for it out of the extra income. But you’re
right and I’m sorry, Joe. I’ll take it back.”
“Right. And don’t ever lie to me again,” he said, tossing the
dress onto their bed.
And
Jana Shellma, who teaches Creating
Characters ("Learn to make
your characters live and breathe. Get inside their head...know
how they relate to one another. Write such full characters
that their arms and legs stick out when you try to close the
book!!!") had this observation:
My
protagonists almost always have a "sixth
sense" that is probably merely being able to read these "tells"...
The
following is an excerpt from my Poppy Hanna mystery Irreversible
Error which I really ought to call Double Jeopardy, but that's
been used over and over. This is about the murder of the town
marshal who also claimed to have shot his wife in self-defense....Poppy
is psychic, and knows the step-son of the town marshal didn't
do it, because he told her the law library "smelled like
school"... Well, do we need a better reason? Here it is:
I went to interview the Town Clerk, Karen Arnold. I wanted
her to tell me how long Gerald Rivers had been the Town Marshal,
and how the town came to hire him. Karen, slightly built with
glasses perched on the end of her nose, seemed torn between
telling
me everything she knew and getting on with the pile of invoices
she had in front of her. She finally pushed aside one pile,
and picked up another and began folding them and inserting
them in
envelopes.
"I've got to get these water bills out, or there won't be enough money coming
in for my paycheck."
"Was Gerald Rivers paid by the town as well?"
"Don't get me wrong. There's always enough money to pay everyone, it's just
that it never looks like we're going to make it another month. It's gotten better
lately."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Maybe we got ahead, we didn't have a town marshal for awhile,
and we didn't have to pay anyone. We have a deputy marshal. That was Everett
Meadows and he's acting town marshal now. He's getting paid the same as he was
before. Still..."
I
waited for her to continue her thought.
"It seems like we're doing better now than we were there for awhile."
"Has there ever been an audit?"
She
gave me a shocked look, and stopped folding invoices. She pushed
herself away from the desk and went around
behind a larger desk six feet
away from where I was sitting.
"Are you saying that I've been dishonest?"
"Good heavens, No. Let's look at this another way. Is there any way any
one could get their hands on town funds without going through you?"
"Well, they're not supposed to, but I suppose it could be done." She
suddenly looked thoughtful, pulled out a desk drawer and began leafing through
a ledger. Several minutes passed, as she pulled out a large checkbook, and placed
it above the ledger. She had forgotten that I was there. I cleared my throat.
She jumped, then pulled a brown sweater up over her shoulders.
"Oh. I'm sorry. Forgive me. I get sidetracked sometimes. Do you have any
more questions? I'd like to get this work done."
I
excused myself and left her, her hands running nervously through
her hair as she leafed through a ledger,
looking for something. I had an idea there might
be an audit.
Since
I play at being a fiction writer too—something of which
I have persuaded no agent or publisher yet—I looked
for an example from my mystery Sword, which I am, even
now, spamming to literary agents from here to Zimbabwe. I immediately
found
two things. I'm probably not as good at this as Patrika and Jana.
And its not easy to find a short example. This is as short as
I got:
"Linda Shifter?" I
asked, putting on my best smile. My size tends to intimidate
people
and I have
learned to smile a lot, especially at women, and most especially
at young women wearing minimal clothing. It's probably some sort
of character defect. Maybe it was just Spring.
She
put one forearm up along the door frame, and the other on her
hip, which she cocked out to one side. She looked up at me.
"Get the fuck outta here."
Well,
some people were more intimidated than others. I removed my
sunglasses and my smile and looked down at her a long
moment. She was a foot shorter than
me. She exuded a sensuality that would have made a Cub Scout snort. But
I could tell by looking at her bare stomach and her triceps
that she would go flabby
in a few years. She was simply well-proportioned, not physically fit. You
can get away with that when you're young.
"What is it," I asked. "My face? Or did you see the copy of Watchtower in my back pocket?"
She
thought that one over. "Who are you? Whattya want?"
"Now we're talking business," I said. "I'm Sam Hardman. I'm one
of the investigators Del Taylor hired to find the missing sword. And I take it
that you are Linda Shifter."
"Yeah," she said after a pause. "I'm her. Don't know nothin' about
no sword, though."
"Why don't we do this," I said. "I show you my identification
so that you won't feel threatened. You invite me in. We sit down somewhere. And
I tell you more. What can it hurt?"
She
thought about that. "Oh, shit," she said. She turned
and walked away, leaving me to close the door and trot after.
Her jeans were worn thin in
two spots on her rear end. Being a trained detective, I could
see a flash of green panty through the threadbare material.
Inside,
I realized at once why the lawn and house exterior looked ratty.
Linda had let herself go. Dirty dishes lay on
the furniture
as well
as on the dining
room table. There were clothes strewn everywhere. There was
dust. There was unopened mail and empty envelopes from mail
that had
been opened.
Linda
led the way to the living room, plopped herself onto a sofa
that would have been perfect for Paul Bunyan, and
picked up a cigarette
from an ashtray
on a coffee table. There was a rack of expensive stereo
gear built into the far wall. Some thin mylar Magnaplaner speakers
about the
size
of
Black Pearl's storm
jib were vibrating every air molecule in the house.
I
found a chair that didn't seem to have anything sticky on it
and sat facing her. She hadn't offered me anything
to drink,
for which
I was
grateful.
"The sword," I shouted, "is the one Carl found last Friday. Don't
you know anything about it?" I admit I was just testing. I'd seen a report
of a telephone interview with Linda in Osmond's file.
"What?"
I
got up and found the eject button and pushed it, cutting the
cowboy off in mid-divorce. The sudden silence was almost as
shocking
as the noise had been. I sat down again and repeated my question in a
normal voice.
"Oh sure," Linda said. "That sword." She
had picked up a huge stuffed teddy bear and was holding it
to her chest with her left arm.
I
put the disk down on the coffee table between us. "That sword. It's missing,
as I'm sure you know. I've been asked to find it. I'll be talking to everyone,
so don't feel picked on. I'll leave if you really think I'm bothering you. But
I need your help." It sounded like a good
line to me.
Linda
grabbed for the cigarette hanging from
her lower lip, and tried for the ashtray on
the table
in front
of her. The
ash fell
on her
shorts instead
and
she absent-mindedly brushed it off. She put
the teddy bear aside and picked up the disk. She
stood and
went to the
stereo cabinet.
"Well, sure I'd help," she said. "But what do I know?" There
was a single clear plastic storage box out of place and Linda picked it up, put
the disk into it, and put the box away. While I waited for her mind to function
I decided that the panties were more of a blue-green color.
"For starters," I said, "I'd like to rule out Carl as the thief
right away. But to do that I have to know where he was during all of the past
weekend."
Linda
turned and paced across the floor. "Give him an alibi you mean." She
snorted. "I dunno where he lives. How would I know what he did last weekend?"
"Good point," I said. Establish a common bond, the books all say. "Well,
maybe I can at least check your name off the list. Can you give me some idea
of what you did last weekend?"
She
sat, took in a big drag on her cigarette and carefully blew
a smoke ring at the
ceiling. I suppose
she thought
it a sophisticated
gesture.
I
don't think I did so well there. Tells, as Tom Kappel pointed
out, give us clues as to what the character is really saying.
Or really hiding. Go back and re-read Tom's essay. Do your
characters really mean what they are saying? If they do not,
how would your clever protagonist know this?
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