Bodies in Motion - Put your story’s characters to work performing tasks

One summer, I earned tuition money by hammering gables and trusses together. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. I just banged away until the nail was flush. But that’s not how the veterans worked. Three hits — wham, wham, wham — and the nail goes in. I tried that, hit my thumb a few times. Hit nothing but wood for a good part of a day. And then I had it mastered. Because I worked quickly, I paid with a sore arm the few days. After that, I learned to switch off between hands. Left for ten nails. Right for ten nails. Much to the delight of the veterans.

Movement told a story. A silent film would have shown my progress and probably how I learned. How I fit in and then found my own way. And my movements contrasted with others. First, with the veterans, and later with the “college boys” who never went past “tap, tap, tap.”

As part of revision, I’ve often thought of scripted scenes as silent movies. What could I tell without dialogue? I’ve done it in an intuitive way, but lately, I’ve tried to be more methodical. And just as I’ve tried to discover who my characters are by interviewing them, I’ve now imagined them doing tasks. Not every task is revealing or appropriate to a character, but I’ve always learned something by going through the list.

Note: This is a diverse list, but you may have better actions to explore, given your knowledge and your story worlds. Also, it’s often worthwhile to consider whether the character doing the task is enthusiastic or reluctant, energized or sleepy, ignored or witnessed, calm or agitated, confident or concerned, and healthy or fighting pain.

    1.    Using a tool. This doesn’t need to be a hammer. It could be a scalpel or a soldering iron or a coffee grinder.
    2.    Weaving through a crowd. Make it dense. Make it the opposite sex. Make the destination urgent.
    3.    Opening a gift. Or is it a bomb?
    4.    Assembling flat-packed furniture. Who needs instructions?
    5.    Lining up a putt in golf. Or serving match point. Or playing catch.
    6.    Arm wrestling. Or boxing. Or trying to catch a toddler who doesn’t want a bath.
    7.    Bandaging a wound. Or cutting hair. Or tickling someone.
    8.    Cradling a child. Or calming an angry dog.
    9.    Waiting in line.
    10.    Spotting someone who matters from afar.

Imagining how your character walks down a sidewalk alone, with a friend, or next to a clown can be revealing. Doing different dances. Or, though it may get close to dialogue, singing or giving a eulogy (just keep the sound off). Have your character shake hands. Watch his or her face in reaction to joyful or tragic news. Also watch the hands, the posture, how the feet shift.

Don’t gravitate toward watching characters when they are sitting down. The whole body matters. Do observe them in longer processes like making a meal or digging a garden. Find moments when they are intrigued or bored, and see how that shows up from head to toe. Complicate things by having two or more characters who need to cooperate to complete a task. Explore failure as well as success. Take characters out of their comfort zone with action they aren’t prepared for.

I like to have characters play a game of frisbee. Do they waft the disc into the air or fire it? Toss level or flick from vertical to horizontal? Aim right at the opponent or make them run?

Do they dive for the frisbee or just let it hit the ground? When do they move their feet? At the last minute? Or before the disc has left the opponents hand?

These exercises (and ones you can develop) can tell a lot about a character, and it’s important to write down what you learn. When movements come up in your story, even if they aren’t ones you’ve explored, you’ll find you’ll be able to see, distinctly, how your characters will move. As a bonus, you’re likely to have more movements that aren’t cliche. Something fresh is more likely to emerge because you spent time in the world of motion.