Avere's Messy Corner

Many writers develop a character profile through brainstorming. There are a lot of ways to brainstorm.

Make a list of your character's traits and characteristics.

Journal as your character.

Create a playlist that your character would like.

Interview your character.

Role-play by putting yourself in your character's shoes in different circumstances.

Create a collage.

Consider the following questions.

What are their strengths and weaknesses?

What happened to your character prior to the beginning of the book to make them the way that they are?

What is your character's main motivation? What do they want from life?

What do they need from life? Are they aware of it or are they searching for something else?

What are their insecurities and fears?

How do they speak around others?

How are they different when they are alone?

How do they grow throughout the novel?

Do they have any unique quirks, habits, accents, sayings, or mannerisms?

What is their moral code? Values? Do these change as they evolve?

You’ve met her before. The girl with “flowing ebony hair,” “emerald eyes,” and “lips like rose petals.” Or him, with “chiseled jawlines,” “stormy gray eyes,” and “shoulders like a Greek statue.”

We don’t know them.

We’ve just met their tropes.

Describing physical appearance is one of the trickiest — and most overdone — parts of character writing. It’s tempting to reach for shorthand: hair color, eye color, maybe a quick body scan. But if we want a reader to see someone — to feel the charge in the air when they enter a room — we need to stop writing mannequins and start writing people.

So let’s get granular. Here’s how to write physical appearance in a way that’s textured, meaningful, and deeply character-driven.

1. Hair: It’s About Story, Texture, and Care

Hair says a lot — not just about genetics, but about choices. Does your character tame it? Let it run wild? Is it dyed, greying, braided, buzzed, or piled on top of her head in a hurry?

Good hair description considers:

Texture (fine, coiled, wiry, limp, soft)

Context (windblown, sweat-damp, scorched by bleach)

Emotion (does she twist it when nervous? Is he ashamed of losing it?)

Flat: “Her long brown hair framed her face.”

Better: “Her ponytail was too tight, the kind that whispered of control issues and caffeine-fueled 4 a.m. library shifts.”

You don’t need to romanticise it. You need to make it feel real.

2. Eyes: Less Color, More Connection

We get it: her eyes are violet. Cool. But that doesn’t tell us much.

Instead of focusing solely on eye color, think about:

What the eyes do (do they dart, linger, harden?)

What others feel under them (seen, judged, safe?)

The surrounding features (dark circles, crow’s feet, smudged mascara)

Flat: “His piercing blue eyes locked on hers.”

Better: “His gaze was the kind that looked through you — like it had already weighed your worth and moved on.”

You’re not describing a passport photo. You’re describing what it feels like to be seen by them.

3. Facial Features: Use Contrast and Texture

Faces are not symmetrical ovals with random features. They’re full of tension, softness, age, emotion, and life.

Things to look for:

Asymmetry and character (a crooked nose, a scar)

Expression patterns (smiling without the eyes, habitual frowns)

Evidence of lifestyle (laugh lines, sun spots, stress acne)

Flat: “She had a delicate face.”

Better: “There was something unfinished about her face — as if her cheekbones hadn’t quite agreed on where to settle, and her mouth always seemed on the verge of disagreement.”

Let the face be a map of experience.

4. Bodies: Movement > Measurement

Forget dress sizes and six packs. Think about how bodies occupy space. How do they move? What are they hiding or showing? How do they wear their clothes — or how do the clothes wear them?

Ask:

What do others notice first? (a presence, a posture, a sound?)

How does their body express emotion? (do they go rigid, fold inwards, puff up?)

Flat: “He was tall and muscular.”

Better: “He had the kind of height that made ceilings nervous — but he moved like he was trying not to take up too much space.”

Describing someone’s body isn’t about cataloguing. It’s about showing how they exist in the world.

5. Let Emotion Tint the Lens

Who’s doing the describing? A lover? An enemy? A tired narrator? The emotional lens will shape what’s noticed and how it’s described.

In love: The chipped tooth becomes charming.

In rivalry: The smirk becomes smug.

In mourning: The face becomes blurred with memory.

Same person. Different lens. Different description.

6. Specificity is Your Superpower

Generic description = generic character. One well-chosen detail creates intimacy. Let us feel the scratch of their scarf, the clink of her earrings, the smudge of ink on their fingertips.

Examples:

“He had a habit of adjusting his collar when he lied — always clockwise, always twice.”

“Her nail polish was always chipped, but never accidentally.”

Make the reader feel like they’re the only one close enough to notice.

Describing appearance isn’t just about what your character looks like. It’s about what their appearance says — about how they move through the world, how others see them, and how they see themselves.

Well, that’s pretty funny, yeah? The most powerful and useful tip of all times is now killing stories? Huh? Okay, okay, let me show you how using ‘show don’t tell’ can make your stories worse and your readers struggle.

So, we all know that writing is a process of our own, where we all put efforts in. We write for hours, excited about the idea that came to us late at midnight. We are so proud to share it with people, to give them our sparkle to let them feel the same we feel. We want them to understand and live through every single bit of our imagination. And that’s where the killing starts.

When reading as a writer, you must question every single choice that the author decided to keep in the final draft of the story. You must assume that it was intentionally left there to hold a clue, convey a feeling, connect ideas, and/or point to an overall theme. Here's a starter pack of questions to ask when reading as a writer, broken down into the 3 main elements of storytelling:

SETTING

Why did the author choose this setting?

Does the setting affect the story? If yes, in what way?

How do the characters interact with the setting?

Could the setting be different? If yes, how would that affect the overall story?

CHARACTERS

Did the author develop all of the main characters in the story?

What makes the characters relatable?

How do the characters reflect the theme(s) of the novel?

How do the characters change throughout the story?

Are you satisfied with the way the characters progress or are there opportunities to do more?

PLOT

What makes you care about what happens to the characters in this story?

What conflicts (internal and external) cause the characters to act the way they do?

Are the characters' choices moving the story forward naturally or is the author forcing the characters to do something that may not be natural to them?

How does the plot contribute to the theme of the story?

How does the author build momentum towards the climax?

How long does the author give between climax and resolution?

OVERALL

How did the author transition from one scene to the next?

How did the pacing change through the story?

Do you feel like the pacing fits the moment?

Did you notice the flow of language?

Did it shift to match the pace, tone, or mood of the scene?

What did you think of the author's word choice?

Did it enhance the reading experience and, if so, how?

What part of the story hooked you and why?

What character grabbed you and why?

What did the author choose to show in the scene?

What do you wish they did show?

How did the point of view affect the way you experienced the story?

Could a switch in point of view have improved the story? If so, how?

What stylistic choices did the author make with the prose, and how did those choices impact the overall storytelling?

What do you like about this story?

What did the author do well?

What wasn't done well?

What tone and mood do the writer use throughout the story and how does that affect your reading experience?

Be sure to defend your answer with more than “yes” or “no.” The answers to these questions will improve your writing.

Reading like a writer takes practice. After all, you’ve spent decades reading as a “reader,” i.e. the intended audience. Switch up your focus and approach content from the writer’s perspective. It will make you a better writer. Put the above tips into practice and you’ll see how quickly your storytelling abilities improve, specifically pacing, plotting, and characterization.

When I first got into writing, I found myself struggling with all these character profile sheets that asked for descriptors like favorite color or favorite tattoos. Don't get me wrong - the fun in creating these profiles is bringing them to life in your author-ly mind. But when I finally hit the pages, I realized that my characters' interiority is what made each of them so memorable to me and my readers. Here are some questions I think could be worth asking of your characters before you try writing a chapter with them:

Who do they go to when they hit a low point? If not who, then where?

How do they react when someone compliments them?

They have to do some spring cleaning. What are they tossing?

What’s their go-to spot for a date (romantic or platonic)?

How do they react when they’re slighted? Do they totally rage out, plot something for later, or move past their feelings?

Who will they cry in front of?

What do they consider to be some of the cruelest injustices in the world?

What’s the first thing they’ve ever owned?

How do they relax during their down time?

What personal misconception gets in the way of them achieving what they want?

Do they love anyone?

Do they hate anyone?

How do they comfort others?

What brings them comfort?

Do new skills come easily to them, or does it take perseverance?

Who and/or what cause are they willing to blow their lives up for?

What rumors are attached to them?

What soothes them?

Do they like to share?

What is their calling?

Imaging thinking actual human writers are Not Real because they use... professional writing in their works.

Imagine thinking millions of people who have been using em dash way before AI becomes a thing are all robots.

╰ Facial expressions

These are your micro-signals, like the blinking neon signs of the soul. But they’re small, quick, and often lie harder than words.

Raised eyebrows — This can mean surprise or disbelief, sure. But it can also be a full-on, silent “Are you serious right now?” when someone’s being ridiculous. Or even curiosity when someone’s too emotionally repressed to askthe damn question.

Furrowed brow — That face people make when they’re doing long division in their head or trying to emotionally process a compliment. It’s thinking, yes—but also confusion, deep frustration, or quiet simmering rage.

Smiling — Can be happiness… or total fake-it-till-you-make-it energy. Some smiles are stiff. Some don’t reach the eyes. Show that.

Frowning — Sure, sadness. But also: disappointment, judgment, or the universal “I’m about to say something blunt, brace yourself.”

Lip biting — It’s not just nervousness, it’s pressure. Self-control. Anticipation. It’s the thing people do when they want to say something and decide, at the last second, not to.

╰ Eye movement

The window to the soul? Yeah. But also the window to when someone’s lying, flirting, or deeply trying not to cry in public.

Eye contact — Confidence or challenge. Eye contact can be gentle, curious, sharp like a blade. Sometimes it’s desperate: “Please understand me.”

Avoiding eye contact — Not always guilt. Sometimes it’s protectiveness. Sometimes it’s “I’m afraid if I look at you, you’ll see everything I’m trying to hide.”

Narrowed eyes — Calculating. Suspicious. The look someone gives when their brain’s saying “hmmm...” and it’s not a good hmm.

Wide eyes — Surprise, yes. But also sudden fear. The oh-God-it’s-happening look. Or when someone just found out they’re not as in control as they thought.

Eye roll — Classic. But try using it with tension, like when someone’s annoyed and trying very hard not to lose it in public.

╰ Gestures

This is where characters’ emotions go when their mouths are lying.

Crossing arms — Not just defensive. Sometimes it’s comfort. A self-hug. A barrier when the conversation is getting too personal.

Fidgeting — This is nervous energy with nowhere to go. Watch fingers tapping, rings spinning, sleeves tugged. It says: I’m not okay, but I’m trying not to show it.

Pointing — It’s a stab in the air. Aggressive, usually. But sometimes a desperate plea: Look. Understand this.

Open palms — Vulnerability. Honesty. Or a gesture that says, “I have nothing left to hide.”

Hand on chin — Not just thinking. It’s stalling. It’s delaying. It’s “I’m about to say something that might get me in trouble.”

╰ Posture and movement

These are your vibes. How someone occupies space says everything.

Slumped shoulders — Exhaustion. Defeat. Or someone trying to take up less space because they feel small.

Upright posture — Not always confidence. Sometimes it’s forced. Sometimes it’s a character trying really, really hard to look like they’re fine.

Pacing — Inner chaos externalized. Thinking so loudly it needs movement. Waiting for something. Running from your own thoughts.

Tapping foot — Tension. Irritation. Sometimes a buildup to an explosion.

Leaning in — Intimacy. Interest. Or subtle manipulation. (You matter to me. I’m listening. Let’s get closer.)

╰ Touch

This is intimacy in all its forms, comforting, protective, romantic, or invasive.

Hugging — Doesn’t always mean closeness. Could be a goodbye. Could be an apology they can’t say out loud. Could be awkward as hell.

Handshake — Stiff or crushing or slippery. How someone shakes hands says more than their words do.

Back patting — Casual warmth. Bro culture. Awkward emotional support when someone doesn’t know how to comfort but wants to try.

Clenched fists — Holding something in. Rage, tears, restraint. Fists mean tension that needs somewhere to go.

Hair tuck — Sure, flirtation or nerves. But also a subtle shield. A way to hide. A habit from childhood when someone didn’t want to be seen.

╰ Mirroring:

If two characters start syncing their body language, something is happening. Empathy. Chemistry. Shared grief. If someone shifts their body when the other does? Take notice. Other human bits that say everything without words...

Nodding — Not just yes. Could be an “I hear you,” even if they don’t agree. Could be the “keep going” nod. Could be patronizing if done too slow.

Crossed legs — Chill. Casual. Or closed-off, depending on context. Especially if their arms are crossed too.

Finger tapping — Time is ticking. Brain is pacing. Something’s coming.

Hand to chest — Sincerity, yes. But also shock. Or grounding—a subconscious attempt to stay present when everything feels like too much.

Tilting the head — Curiosity. Playfulness. Or someone listening so hard they forget to hide it.

Temple rub — “I can’t deal.” Could be physical pain. Could be stress. Could be emotional overload in disguise.

Chin stroking — Your classic “I’m judging you politely.” Often used in arguments between characters pretending to be calm.

Hands behind the back — Authority. Control. Or rigid fear masked as control.

Leaning body — This is the body betraying the brain. A tilt toward someone means they care—even if their words are cold.

Nail biting — Classic anxiety. But also habit. Something learned. Sometimes people bite because that’s how they self-soothe.

Squinting — Focusing. Doubting. Suspicion without confrontation.

Shifting weight — Uncomfortable. Unsure. Someone who wants to leave but doesn’t.

Covering the mouth — Guilt. Hesitation. The “should I say this?” moment before something big drops.

REAL fights aren’t about the dishes in the sink. They’re about what the dishes represent. Neglect. Disrespect. One more little way you made me feel like I don’t matter.

When characters explode, make sure it’s a culmination, not a random Tuesday outburst. Sow those seeds way earlier. Every ignored text. Every moment one character flinched but didn’t speak. Let it simmer like a pot left on the stove too long — and then blow the lid off.

“You left your socks on the floor again!” Translation: You stopped caring about making me feel wanted.

╰ The “Fight Like Yourself” Principle Your shy, conflict-avoidant character isn’t going to suddenly monologue like a Shakespeare villain. They’re going to stutter. Misfire. Maybe say something stupid and instantly regret it. Your cocky, snarky character? They’ll joke until they’re cornered — and then bite. HARD.

Write fights in a way that honors your characters’ personalities even when they’re falling apart. Actually, especially when they’re falling apart.

The sarcastic one cracks a joke that lands wrong. And when the other person flinches, really flinches, the jokester looks like they just slapped themselves in the face.

╰ The "Weaponized Vulnerability" Strike Want a fight that stings? Let one character use something the other trusted them with, something private, something raw as a weapon. It’s dirty. It’s low. It feels like betrayal because it is.

“You know why nobody sticks around, right? Even your mom didn’t.” (The one thing they confessed one night, drunk and shaking. Now thrown back like a grenade.)

╰ The “No Winner, Only Wreckage” Outcome A good fight doesn’t end clean. Nobody walks away feeling like they "won." They walk away wrecked. Lonely. Furious. Guilty. Sometimes victorious in the worst possible way. If both characters don’t feel like they lost something by the end of it, time to dig deeper.

One character storms out thinking, I showed them. But on the way home, they realize their hands won’t stop shaking. And the empty seat beside them has never felt so heavy.

╰ The “Body Language Screams Louder Than Words” Method Fights aren’t just yelling. It’s clenching fists that don’t throw punches. It’s pacing like a caged animal. It’s backing into a corner you don’t even realize you’re in. Describe the tension bleeding out of their bodies.

The vein in his temple throbs. She’s standing stiff as a lamppost, arms folded so tight she might snap her own bones. The air between them buzzes with too many things left unsaid.

╰ Some Types of Fights to Play With...

The Blow-Up Over Nothing: Petty argument becomes nuclear meltdown because of all the built-up resentment.

The Long-Slow Death: Cold silences. Sharp comments. No shouting — just a slow suffocation.

The Misfire: They’re mad at someone else, but they unleash it on the wrong person. (And regret it instantly.)

The Final Straw: One wrong move, one broken promise too many, and snap — years of loyalty gone in a second.

A good fight scene shouldn’t just bruise skin. It should bruise souls.

Write a fake 5-star Goodreads review of your WIP—as if you didn’t write it. Go ahead. Pretend you're a giddy reader who just discovered this masterpiece. Bonus: add emojis, chaotic metaphors, and all-caps screaming. It’s self-indulgent. It’s delusional. It’s delicious.

Give your main character a Pinterest board titled “Mentally Unstable but Aesthetic.” Include outfits, quotes, memes, cursed objects, and that one painting that haunts their dreams. This is not about logic. This is about ✨vibes.✨

Make a “deleted scenes” folder and write something that would never make it into the book. A crackfic. A “what if they were roommates” AU. The group chat from hell. This is your WIP’s blooper reel. Let it be silly, chaotic, or wildly off-brand.

Interview your villain like you’re Oprah. Ask the hard-hitting questions. “When did you know you were the drama?” “Do you regret the murder, or just the way you did it?” Bonus points if they lie to your face.

Host a fake awards show for your characters. Categories like “Most Likely to Die for Vibes,” “Worst Emotional Regulation,” “Himbo Energy Supreme,” or “Best Use of a Dramatic Exit.” Write their acceptance speeches. Yes, this counts as writing.

Write a breakup letter… to your inner critic. Be petty. Be dramatic. “Dear Self-Doubt, this isn’t working for me anymore. You bring nothing to the table but anxiety and bad vibes.” Rip it up. Burn it. Tape it to your mirror. Your call.

Create a “writing comfort kit” like you’re a cozy witch. A candle that smells like your WIP. A tea that your characters would drink. A playlist labeled “for writing when I’m one rejection email away from giving up.” This is a ritual now.

Design a fake movie poster or book cover like your story is already famous. Add star ratings, critic quotes, and some pretentious tagline like “One soul. One destiny. No chill.”

Write a scene you’re not ready to write—but just a rough, messy outline version. Not the polished thing. Just the raw emotion. The shape of it. Like sketching the bones of a future punch to the gut. You don’t have to make it perfect. Just open the door.

It’s one of the first instincts writers have: describe your character. What they look like, what they wear, how they move. But the truth is — readers don’t need to know everything. And more importantly, they don’t want to know everything. At least, not all at once. Not without reason.

Let’s talk about when to describe a character’s appearance, how to do it meaningfully, and why less often says more.

It’s one of the first instincts writers have: describe your character. What they look like, what they wear, how they move. But the truth is — readers don’t need to know everything. And more importantly, they don’t want to know everything. At least, not all at once. Not without reason.

Let’s talk about when to describe a character’s appearance, how to do it meaningfully, and why less often says more.