Spring Fling, a conference for the Chicago North Romance Writers of America, was the other weekend. I didn't know about it, but a friend of mine attended virtually and had nothing but rave reviews about it. Since it was virtual, participants got to see every presentation and panel, instead of having to chose to fit a schedule. That sounds very very cool.
"I'm so smart now," she told my critique group. "I learned about tension and character arcs and--Oh! There was this thing!" She dug into her copious notes, which shows better than anything what a great time she had. "Okay," she explained, "so you can assign every character a movement."
There's a theory from anatomy and kinesiology called Laban Movement, created by a dance choreographer. He said that any human movement has four parts: Direction, Weight, Speed, and Flow. Each of these can is on a polarity: Direction is either direct or indirect, weight is either heavy or light, speed is either quick or sustained, and flow is either bound or free. Or, as Wikipedia explains it: Both punching someone in anger or reaching for a glass are done by extending the arm. But the strength of the movement, the control of the movement and the timing of the movement are different. So basically, there end up being eight broad categories of movement: Float, Punch, Glide, Slash, Dab, Wring, Flick, and Press.
Now you can assign each character a characteristic motion. This character who is direct is a Punch Guy. This anxious dude is a Wring Guy. Then if you write your character through this lens, their physical stances and their motions will set them apart from one anther. This will also trickle into their dialogue, because a Flick Person and a Float Person will speak differently. Then it will affect their thoughts and motivations. Looking at your characters through this lens will color every aspect of their characterization.
I think this is a helpful thing to think about. Not because I believe there are eight type of people. That rings of explaining everything you do through the lens of your astrological sign or your Myers-Briggs type, which I generally find reductive. But I think this could be helpful because 1. it is descriptive enough to be an easy visualization to keep your characters from all sounding and acting the same. And 2. if you keep referring back to this lens, it can keep your characters on target and in character.
A while back, a friend of mine was trying to explain a theory that I now see is remarkably similar: every character is a color and the three primary colors (red, yellow, and blue) are aspects of a character that I have now forgotten. I think red was active and blue was thoughtful, so a red person acted before they thought and a blue person thought very hard but never acted and a purple person would both think and act. My friend then proceeded to tell me that the main character of my story was red, and I got a bit miffed, decided this framework was unhelpful, and didn't think of it again until now.
But now, I'm working on revisions for a novel, and I'm reading through and constantly asking myself "What does this scene have to do with this central theme? How can I bring the theme out in this section? How can I tie it all back together?" It's kind of like I'm looking at my whole novel through a lens and making sure everything lines up and stays on target. And suddenly these methods of forming a character through a lens make more sense to me.
It doesn't matter what lens you look through: movement types; elements like water, air, fire, and earth; or even zodiac sign. Simply having a lens, even if you only use it during one round of revision and not through the entire writing process, can be useful. Just coming back to one central visualization, one solid idea throughout a story can pull things tighter and cut out extraneous bits that wander away from the point you're trying to make or the idea you're trying to express.
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