Still ya know, it’s not even a matter of ‘allowing’ the reader to fill in the details of the character’s appearance anyway, because being human we cannot do anything other than (instantly) assigning a look based upon the demeanor of a character the moment she/he walks into the scene. That’s what brains do. They assign reasons to acts, and looks to actors. This is the reason they say to describe the character as soon as they inter the story. But actually, for me, it is already too late. So inevitably, I have to erase the portion that didn’t match, what the author said was how the character was ‘spose to looked like.
I believe emphasizing a character’s actions go further in way of painting a clear picture of the character then paragraph or two of mere description.
Oh…and how ‘bout the ones the go off into a 300 word breakdown of what the character is wearing… :D
But Then, examples are always better. How ‘bout a classic?
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While Mrs. Douglas was speaking freely on a subject she knew little about, Jubal E. Harshaw, LL.B, M.D., Sc.D., bon vivant, gourmet, sybarite, popular author extraordinary and neo-pessimist philosopher, was sitting by his pool at his home in the Poconos, scratching the gray thatch on his chest, and watching his secretaries splash in the pool. They were all amazingly beautiful; they were also amazingly good secretaries. In Harshaw’s opinion the principle of least action required that utility and beauty be combined.
Anne was blonde, Mirian red-headed, and Dorcas dark; they ranged, respectively, from pleasantly plump to deliciously slender. Their ages spread over fifteen years but it was hard to tell which was the eldest.
Harshaw was working hard. Most of him was watching pretty girls do pretty things with sun and water; one small, shuttered, soundproofed compartment was composing. He claimed that his method of writing was to hook his gonads in parallel with his thalamus and disconnect his cerebrum; his habits lent credibility to the theory.
A microphone on the table was hooked up to a voicewriter but he used it only for notes. When he was ready to write he used stenographer and watched her reactions. He was ready now. “Front!” he shouted.
“Anne is front,” answered Dorcas. “I’ll take it. That splash was Anne.”
“Dive in and get her.” The brunette cut the water; moments later Anne climbed out, put on a robe and sat down at the table. She said nothing and made no preparations; Anne had total recall.
Harshaw picked up a bucket of ice over which brandy had been poured, took a swig. “Anne, I’ve got a sick-making one. It’s about a little kitten that wanders into a church on Christmas Eve to get warm. Besides being starved and frozen and lost, the kitten has—God knows why—an injured paw. All right; start: ‘snow had been falling since—’”
“What pen name?”
Mmm…use Molly Wadsworth, this one is pretty icky. Title it The Other Manger. Start again,” he went on talking while he watched her. When tears started to leak from her closed eyes he smiled slightly and closed his own. By the time he finished tears were running down his cheeks as well as hers, both bathed in catharsis of scmaltz.
“Thirty,” he announced. “Blow your nose. Sent it off and for God’s sake don’t let me see it.”
“Jubal, aren’t you ever ashamed?”
“No.”
“Someday I’m going to kick you right in your fat stomach for one of these.”
“I know. Get your fanny indoors and take care of it before I change my mind.”
“Yes, Boss.”
She kissed his bald spot as she passed behind his chair. Harshaw yelled, “Front!” and Miriam started toward him. A loudspeaker mounted on the house came to life.
“Boss!”
Harshaw uttered one word and Miriam chuckled. He added, “Yes, Larry?”
The speaker answered, “There’s a dame down here at the gate—and she’s got a corpse with her.
Harshaw considered this, “Is she pretty?”
………………………………………………
See…an introduction of four new characters with hardly any description. There is actually very little character description in the entire novel: and it’s 438 pages long, with ten or fifteen major characters and around 80 minor ones.
