Using Specific Detail

It makes fiction come alive

Last week on the Kureishi Chronicles,* Hanif shared a writing exercise, which was to create a character in 250 words. “Make one person come alive on the page.” At first I wasn’t much impressed with this exercise, but after I pondered it, I realized it was a good one.

Photo by Pereanu Sebastian on Unsplash

And here’s why—to make a person come alive on the page in 250 words you have to use specific detail. This exercise reminded me of a comment I read on LinkedIn the other day, which of course now I can’t find. But the writer had posted an excerpt from the novel, The Vanishing Half, which described a character in such a way that he came to life in just a few sentences. I’ve read that book—taught it at a workshop—but I don’t have ready access to it at the moment (I tend to lend books to my sister and since I live in a very small cottage if they don’t come back to me I don’t worry about it), so I can’t dive into it for an excerpt.

But I can pull other books off my shelf to find examples I like. This, for example, from Free Love, by Tessa Hadley:

When slanting sunlight was suddenly blinding in one wing of the dressing-table mirror, Phyllis adjusted it and the light ran instead around the cut-glass toiletry set and her bottles of L’Air du Temps and witch hazel and cleansing milk. She sat forward in her petticoat, leaning on her elbows to see more clearly in the mirror, feeling the flirting of the breeze on her bare shoulders, smelling the soap on her skin. She was forty but still had an expectant, animated prettiness: her sandy, tanned face was brushed with faint freckles across the upturned nose, her rather dry fair hair—not yellow, but a shadowed gold like washed-out straw—was backcombed into volume for tonight, and stiff with hairspray. She put on pale lipstick carefully, pressing her lips together, frowning at the mirror because she thought that her mouth was too big—too soft and indefinite, as if she might blurt out something coarse or raw. In fact, she was easy, an easy person, easily made happy, glad to make others happy. She was pleased with her life. The year was 1967.

This comes in at 182 words, for those who are counting. This particular example also demonstrates one of my favorite ways to make description interesting: pair it with action. Note how Phyllis is putting on lipstick, moving the perfume bottle, and so on. This is the first glimpse we have of her and it sets her up nicely. Also, describing a character as they look in a mirror or window is the oldest cliche in the book—but Hadley subverts that by loading on the details and movement.

Here’s another, shorter example, from The Lost Man, by Jane Harper:

Nathan could see Xander’s city softness exposed like a layer of new skin. His edges had been gently rounded by nuanced debate and foreign coffee and morning news. They had not been chipped away and sanded down to a hard callus. Xander thought before he spoke, and he weighed up the consequences of his actions before he did anything. Mostly, Nathan thought, that was no bad thing. But it depended where you were. Nathan opened the car door.

That excerpt gives us a good idea of Xander—and some insight into Nathan as well. I love the way Harper accomplishes both in a small number of words. She uses details we all know of city life—foreign coffee and morning news—in what is to me at least, a new way. And then the fact he had not been “chipped away and sanded down to a hard callus” tells us exactly what Nathan thinks about rural living—and likely life itself.

And, finally, on a lighter note, here’s an excerpt from the book I am currently reading, Snap Out of It, by Maddie Dawson. This is the main character, Billie, describing her social media influencer daughter Louise (known as Lulu online):

I can see stress in her beautiful blue eyes. She’s all made up, of course, even though it is very early in the day, and her glossy brown hair is piled up on top of her head in a glorious bun, and she looks perfect, because she has to: people recognize her. I’ve seen it happen. People come up to her and say, “Ahhhh, you’re Lulu!” And by the way their eyes shine, you can just tell they think they’re in the presence of royalty. They scrutinize her outfit, her makeup, her hairstyle—and possibly her mother, unless her mother has had the good sense to duck out of the way.

Now you try it. Think in terms of using specific detail—not just tree, but fir tree—and getting some action in while you describe the person. And look for examples in the books you are reading—what brings a character to life on the page as you read? Pull examples apart and parse out what other authors are doing.

And if you feel like it, post your 250-word description in the comments.

*In case you haven’t stumbled across his blog yet, here’s the background. Hanif Kureishi, the writer behind the classic movie My Beautiful Laundrette, was walking in Rome after Christmas when suddenly he fell to the ground, hitting his head. He’s been paralyzed in a hospital in Rome ever since. To while away the time, he dictates posts to his girlfriend, sometimes shocking her with his stories, and other family members. He’s often hilarious, sometimes racy, and always totally worth reading.