I’m often telling my fiction students that they are like magicians. Instead of pulling a rabbit from a hat, however, they are pulling a believable world from words. No camera, no microphones, no actors, no special effects… the only thing they have available to them is words. Just like the magician only has sleight of hand and misdirection. It's easy to fail...
...but when it works, it’s magic.
A fiction writer at her best can make words seem like a world… something visceral that the reader could almost walk into.
That’s the sleight of hand involved in fiction… words masquerading as world.
And, I think thinking of your characters’ hands as additional props (barometers even for how they are feeling) can really help as an element to your magic show.
Think about how often we do something with our hands/arms. I’m typing this right now. You might be holding a cup of coffee or absently petting an animal on the couch next to you.
Someone in your house is brushing their teeth, scratching an earlobe, touching an old scar, or washing dishes.
Dr. Fauci, flabbergasted, puts his head down into his hand.
We, as people, are forever doing things with our hands: some of it utilitarian and some of it more nuanced and associated with emotion.
Utilitarian: we pound a nail because we want to hang a picture
Emotional: we cross our arms because we feel vulnerable
Like with our world, our characters should use their hands in utilitarian and emotional ways.
I often allow some writing time in class. While my students are writing, I’ll shout out prompts and reminders, and one of them is “Get their hands doing something.”
As an example, here’s a scene:
Nick walked into the kitchen. His daughter was sitting at the counter texting.
“Please tell me that’s anyone but that Hayes boy.”
She didn’t look up from the screen. “You said not to lie to you.”
Nick was clearly getting angry. “I don’t understand, two nights ago you said yourself he’s a loser.”
“I never said that.”
“You see,” he said, “now there’s the lying again.”
“Whatever.”
Nick walked over to the coffee pot and refilled his cup. He turned back to face his daughter. “Ok, name one good thing about him.”
She looked up into the ceiling as though her answer were there. Then she looked at Nick. “Well, he’s not you.”
Nick stood seething with anger.
Now, that same scene except with an emphasis on how hands might “flesh out” the scene.
Nick walked into the kitchen. His empty coffee cup dangled by its handle from his finger. His daughter was sitting at the counter, her thumbs like little pistons on her phone.
Nick closed his eyes and squeezed his forehead with his free hand. “Please tell me that’s anyone but that Hayes boy.” He opened his eyes and watched her from under the brim of his palm.
She didn’t look up from the screen. Her thumbs didn’t stop. “You said not to lie to you.”
Nick set the coffee cup down. He leaned, holding the sides of the island’s countertop. His knuckles whitened under the pressure of his grip. “I don’t understand, two nights ago you said yourself he’s a loser.”
One of her fingers found its way to her ear and she itched inside it absently. “I never said that.”
“You see,” he said, pointing at her, but then taking the finger back just as quickly, “now there’s the lying again.”
Her thumbs were back to business. “Whatever.”
Nick walked over to the coffee pot and refilled his cup. He turned back to face his daughter. “Ok, name one good thing about him.”
She looked up into the ceiling as though her answer were there. Then she looked at Nick. Her thumbs were still. “Well, he’s not you.”
Nick squeezed the coffee cup in his hand until it registered a slight internal crack.
It’s not the only way, but orchestrating your characters’ hands is a way to add more visceral life to your story. It’s almost a choreography of sorts. If you want to get started, just watch the people in your own household. Their hands are seldom still.
Your characters’ shouldn’t be either.
If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."
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