Using Nonverbal Postures in Writing Fiction

In the course of writing, we often search for the proper way to express the feelings of a character. It may be tragedy, joy, or a simple daily experience that defines the moment, but the hunt for the right word or phrase to convey that sentiment may not achieve a satisfactory end. Allowing the reader to appreciate a character’s emotion takes more than words. It takes action.

“Good writers may ‘tell’ about almost anything in fiction except the characters’ feelings. …. but with rare exceptions the characters’ feelings must be demonstrated: fear, love, excitement, doubt, embarrassment, despair become real only when they take the form of events—action (or gesture), dialogue, or physical reaction to setting. Detail is the lifeblood of fiction.”

—John Gardner, On Becoming a Novelist

In our day-to-day activities, we communicate our emotions and the way we feel by our actions. The position of a character’s arms and hands, their stance, their walk, or the tilt of their head show the character’s mood and disposition. Above all, the face and eyes provide the reader with a look into the character’s mental workings. The narrowing or widening of the eyes, the arching of an eyebrow, the twist of a lip, a tear, may tell the reader, without another word, what the character is feeling.

“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on the broken glass.”

—Anton Chekhov

Some non-verbal postures are subtle and others obvious. When a woman adjusts the knot in her husband’s tie, it shows something. When she adjusts the tie of another woman’s husband, it shows something else. Each action delivers a different message, and each is effective. They cross the invisible lines of propriety wordlessly. Movies are successful because they show, but the book is always better because it allows the reader to see action “their way.”

“Show the readers everything, tell them nothing.”

—Ernest Hemingway

Opportunities abound to show rather than tell. Not to be forgotten is the character’s reaction to circumstance. We react to stimuli around us, and when writing we should allow our characters to react as well. When an auntie busses an eight-year-old’s cheek and he is quick to wipe it off, it conveys the child’s feelings. When a character opens the door of an outhouse and wrinkles her nose, pulls a white lace handkerchief from her sleeve, and holds it to her face, she shows the reader the odors in the outhouse are offensive. She also shows her preference for white, lacey handkerchiefs and where she chooses to carry them.

“Create a world in front of your readers where they can taste, smell, touch, hear, see, and move. Or else they are likely going to move on to another book.”

—Pawan Mishra, On Writing Wonderfully: The Craft of Creative Fiction Writing

Including non-verbal postures in dialogue further enhances the writer’s ability to show a character’s disposition. Actions and speech are often concurrent. We do things while we speak.  A man may stroke his beard or a woman may twirl a lock of her hair around a finger while conversing. People continue to work or play while they speak, whether knitting or digging a ditch. Including these actions in dialogue help to bring the reader into the author’s fictive environment. Standing alone or when mated with dialogue, nonverbal postures show emotion and, equally important, surroundings and reactions.

Actions may also be woven in between dialogue in order to keep the reader abreast of which character is speaking without the repetitive use of annoying “he said” “she said” tag lines. This is especially useful when more than two characters are conversing.

“Storytellers don’t show, they tell. I’m sticking with that.”

—Ashly Lorenzana

While we should strive to show our character’s emotions, detailed narration adds richness to a story and should not be neglected. Places and surroundings can be told. They can move the story and skim over unnecessary details of backstory or the passage of time. And, while telling can be expeditious, vivid detail lifts narration to a higher level, as Margret Mitchell does as she invites the reader into Scarlett O’Hara’s bedroom in this paragraph from Gone with the Wind.

“It was ten o’clock in the morning. The day was warm for April and the golden sunlight streamed brilliantly into Scarlett’s room through the blue curtains of the broad windows. The cream-colored walls glowed with light and the depths of the mahogany furniture gleamed deep red like wine, while the floor glistened as if it were glass, except where the rag rugs covered it and they were spots of gay color.”

—Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind

Whether one chooses to show or tell, as Gardner said, “Detail is the lifeblood of fiction.”