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stephbgI produce a fair few words these days, some business-related, some rant/lj related. This regimen rarely requires that I generate character studies, or indeed describe fictional characters in even the briefest of terms.
That's right. Every word in this blog is true.
Sure, I've made a couple of recent forays into very short fiction, but they've been not much more than scenes with minimal dialogue and an unfortunate tendency to flippancy.
So, having exposed the sketchiness of my credentials to discuss the business of characterisation, I'll just get on with it.
I've been gambling with my entertainment dollar lately, and have lost. I have learned my lesson that all remaindered paperbacks marketed as medical thrillers are crap, and even if they mention a juicy disease or bit of science on the back cover, they are unlikely to deliver.
That's right. All of them. (It's a big day for pronouncements I see.)
This is why we are here:
Dr Jonas Smith paused at the entrance to the clinic. His fair/dark straight/curly hair was trimmed neatly/in need of a trim, and he sported a clean-shaven/slightly-shadowed chin. His blue/brown/green eyes scanned the room, and he straightened his blue tie/white coat/purple trousers before approaching the desk/nearest nurse/water cooler.
Dr Katherine Jones was waiting for him. Her fair/dark straight/curly hair was trimmed neatly/in need of a trim, and she sported a clean-shaven/slightly-shadowed chin. Her blue/brown/green eyes scanned the room, and she straightened her blue tie/white coat/purple trousers before approaching her fellow doctor/colleague/ex-lover/aarvaark.
If I'm not mistaken, that's how you "tell" about a character, rather than "show". Unlike the promised pathogens, that's the endemic quality of writing I've encountered lately. Having established that Dr I've-Already-Forgotten-Who wears glasses and likes a nice red, there's rarely anything else in the text to give them any life. The behaviour on show is unrealistic, the motives pedestrian, the emotions unlikely, the reactions frankly ludicrous.
You're a young idealistic female resident doctor, dedicated to easing suffering and saving lives. You've just found out that your beloved guardian (for yes, we are an orphan) was part of a conspiracy to suppress a medical risk for the sake of the almighty dollar. At the time your guardian is in the spa. Do you:
(a) Have a little cry
(b) Remonstrate
(c) Call the police/medical board/the pizza guy
(d) Throw a live toaster into the spa, then throw yourself in afterwards.
Yes, (d).
Bored now.
That's right. Every word in this blog is true.
Sure, I've made a couple of recent forays into very short fiction, but they've been not much more than scenes with minimal dialogue and an unfortunate tendency to flippancy.
So, having exposed the sketchiness of my credentials to discuss the business of characterisation, I'll just get on with it.
I've been gambling with my entertainment dollar lately, and have lost. I have learned my lesson that all remaindered paperbacks marketed as medical thrillers are crap, and even if they mention a juicy disease or bit of science on the back cover, they are unlikely to deliver.
That's right. All of them. (It's a big day for pronouncements I see.)
This is why we are here:
Dr Jonas Smith paused at the entrance to the clinic. His fair/dark straight/curly hair was trimmed neatly/in need of a trim, and he sported a clean-shaven/slightly-shadowed chin. His blue/brown/green eyes scanned the room, and he straightened his blue tie/white coat/purple trousers before approaching the desk/nearest nurse/water cooler.
Dr Katherine Jones was waiting for him. Her fair/dark straight/curly hair was trimmed neatly/in need of a trim, and she sported a clean-shaven/slightly-shadowed chin. Her blue/brown/green eyes scanned the room, and she straightened her blue tie/white coat/purple trousers before approaching her fellow doctor/colleague/ex-lover/aarvaark.
If I'm not mistaken, that's how you "tell" about a character, rather than "show". Unlike the promised pathogens, that's the endemic quality of writing I've encountered lately. Having established that Dr I've-Already-Forgotten-Who wears glasses and likes a nice red, there's rarely anything else in the text to give them any life. The behaviour on show is unrealistic, the motives pedestrian, the emotions unlikely, the reactions frankly ludicrous.
You're a young idealistic female resident doctor, dedicated to easing suffering and saving lives. You've just found out that your beloved guardian (for yes, we are an orphan) was part of a conspiracy to suppress a medical risk for the sake of the almighty dollar. At the time your guardian is in the spa. Do you:
(a) Have a little cry
(b) Remonstrate
(c) Call the police/medical board/the pizza guy
(d) Throw a live toaster into the spa, then throw yourself in afterwards.
Yes, (d).
Bored now.
