11 Secrets to Writing Effective Character Description

[longknife]

As an author, one always seek to entertain readers. These tips make a lot of sense and should be of help to all of us who try to tell stories that keep our readers interested. Check if out @ 11 Secrets to Writing Effective Character Description WritersDigest.com

I got tired working on my huge historical novel and started working on a short story. This came at an opportune time and I'm trying to do my best to take advantage of the tips. Anyone care to read the first part and give me feedback?

 

[JoeB131]

As a writer, I would be happy to do so.

 

[longknife]

As a writer, I would be happy to do so.

Tell you what. Here's the first few paragraphs for you and anyone else. If you're interested, I'll send you more, PM me.

El Rancho Jamul

by, Dale Day


Even through a faint mist, the sight of water stretching from north to south as far as he could see was beyond Gabriel Fletcher's expectations. Since leaving the craggy, green hills of eastern Tennessee, he had experienced swamps, huge rivers, endless plains, towering mountains, and arid lands that stretched his strength near its limits. But the Pacific Ocean caused him to suck in a deep breath.


Gabe had been riding for so long that time faded in his memory. At last reaching his goal, the ocean washing against the shores of the state famous for its golden wealth, seemed somehow barren.


Having already found nuggets at the bottom of a pool beneath towering cliffs, he knew the riches of California to be real. He had been watering his mare and pack mule when he decided to cleanse some of the grit from his wiry body. As he was the day of his birth, Gabe leaped into the chilly water and savored relief from the hot, dry air. The feel of something sharp turned his gaze downward and that was when he saw the bright glint of gold. A dozen nuggets soon joined the meager number of silver eagles he had earned from trading some beaver pelts he had from his passage through the Great Rockies.


It was a start and perhaps would give him a leg up on finding a place to call home.


There was no thought of staying in that place as his goal had always been the Pacific.


Massive boulders covered the brownish hillsides surrounding him. Oak trees grew here and there and, in the bottoms, rains had carved dry wash beds. Where water lay not too deep below the sand, imposing cottonwood trees grew.


Many hooves had created the trail he followed. Reading the signs, he saw that both cattle and horses had often passed that way. A sure sign of civilization. There were even a few signs of human footprints – not wearing boots or shoes he knew. Clearly Indians of some kind. Gabe, ever alert to danger, carefully scanned the area, his hand on the butt of his Spencer repeating rifle.


He crested a ridge and buildings came into view two or less miles away. He pulled the spy glass from his saddle bag and examined them.


A tall structure with a circle of fans first caught his attention. A fairly new invention, the wind pump lifted water into a large tank where it was available for the house and irrigation when the wind blew. A large patch of green told him that latter was part of the use. A half dozen horses grazed there,. There was also a large garden patch behind the cluster of buildings and he noted it was not being well tended.

 

[JoeB131]

It's very well written.

 

[longknife]

It's very well written.

Thank you.

I've already complete 8,600 words of the first rough draft.

 

[longknife]

It's done! The first draft of el Rancho Jamul is completed at a bit over 28,000 words.

Two blurbs. Tell me what you think:

From blood-drenched fields, Gabriel Fletcher leaves behind a burnt-out home to head west to the golden promise along Pacific shores.

From blood-drenched fields, Gabriel Fletcher leaves behind a burnt-out home to head west to the golden promise along Pacific shores. He seeks but a peaceful place to raise a family. What he finds is a woman to love, a place to live, and the fight of his life

 

[Roadrunner]

As a writer, I would be happy to do so.

Tell you what. Here's the first few paragraphs for you and anyone else. If you're interested, I'll send you more, PM me.

El Rancho Jamul

by, Dale Day


Even through a faint mist, the sight of water stretching from north to south as far as he could see was beyond Gabriel Fletcher's expectations. Since leaving the craggy, green hills of eastern Tennessee, he had experienced swamps, huge rivers, endless plains, towering mountains, and arid lands that stretched his strength near its limits. But the Pacific Ocean caused him to suck in a deep breath.


Gabe had been riding for so long that time faded in his memory. At last reaching his goal, the ocean washing against the shores of the state famous for its golden wealth, seemed somehow barren.


Having already found nuggets at the bottom of a pool beneath towering cliffs, he knew the riches of California to be real. He had been watering his mare and pack mule when he decided to cleanse some of the grit from his wiry body. As he was the day of his birth, Gabe leaped into the chilly water and savored relief from the hot, dry air. The feel of something sharp turned his gaze downward and that was when he saw the bright glint of gold. A dozen nuggets soon joined the meager number of silver eagles he had earned from trading some beaver pelts he had from his passage through the Great Rockies.


It was a start and perhaps would give him a leg up on finding a place to call home.


There was no thought of staying in that place as his goal had always been the Pacific.


Massive boulders covered the brownish hillsides surrounding him. Oak trees grew here and there and, in the bottoms, rains had carved dry wash beds. Where water lay not too deep below the sand, imposing cottonwood trees grew.


Many hooves had created the trail he followed. Reading the signs, he saw that both cattle and horses had often passed that way. A sure sign of civilization. There were even a few signs of human footprints – not wearing boots or shoes he knew. Clearly Indians of some kind. Gabe, ever alert to danger, carefully scanned the area, his hand on the butt of his Spencer repeating rifle.


He crested a ridge and buildings came into view two or less miles away. He pulled the spy glass from his saddle bag and examined them.


A tall structure with a circle of fans first caught his attention. A fairly new invention, the wind pump lifted water into a large tank where it was available for the house and irrigation when the wind blew. A large patch of green told him that latter was part of the use. A half dozen horses grazed there,. There was also a large garden patch behind the cluster of buildings and he noted it was not being well tended.

Every word should count, and be important.

For example, we all know a wind ;pump works, when the wind blows.

Lots of trimming to do.

 

[longknife]

As a writer, I would be happy to do so.

Tell you what. Here's the first few paragraphs for you and anyone else. If you're interested, I'll send you more, PM me.

El Rancho Jamul

by, Dale Day


Even through a faint mist, the sight of water stretching from north to south as far as he could see was beyond Gabriel Fletcher's expectations. Since leaving the craggy, green hills of eastern Tennessee, he had experienced swamps, huge rivers, endless plains, towering mountains, and arid lands that stretched his strength near its limits. But the Pacific Ocean caused him to suck in a deep breath.


Gabe had been riding for so long that time faded in his memory. At last reaching his goal, the ocean washing against the shores of the state famous for its golden wealth, seemed somehow barren.


Having already found nuggets at the bottom of a pool beneath towering cliffs, he knew the riches of California to be real. He had been watering his mare and pack mule when he decided to cleanse some of the grit from his wiry body. As he was the day of his birth, Gabe leaped into the chilly water and savored relief from the hot, dry air. The feel of something sharp turned his gaze downward and that was when he saw the bright glint of gold. A dozen nuggets soon joined the meager number of silver eagles he had earned from trading some beaver pelts he had from his passage through the Great Rockies.


It was a start and perhaps would give him a leg up on finding a place to call home.


There was no thought of staying in that place as his goal had always been the Pacific.


Massive boulders covered the brownish hillsides surrounding him. Oak trees grew here and there and, in the bottoms, rains had carved dry wash beds. Where water lay not too deep below the sand, imposing cottonwood trees grew.


Many hooves had created the trail he followed. Reading the signs, he saw that both cattle and horses had often passed that way. A sure sign of civilization. There were even a few signs of human footprints – not wearing boots or shoes he knew. Clearly Indians of some kind. Gabe, ever alert to danger, carefully scanned the area, his hand on the butt of his Spencer repeating rifle.


He crested a ridge and buildings came into view two or less miles away. He pulled the spy glass from his saddle bag and examined them.


A tall structure with a circle of fans first caught his attention. A fairly new invention, the wind pump lifted water into a large tank where it was available for the house and irrigation when the wind blew. A large patch of green told him that latter was part of the use. A half dozen horses grazed there,. There was also a large garden patch behind the cluster of buildings and he noted it was not being well tended.

Every word should count, and be important.

For example, we all know a wind ;pump works, when the wind blows.

Lots of trimming to do.

Yes - line editing is the next step. The writing is the easy part - once the research is done. It's the review and revision that brings out the best of the writing.

 

[September]

I specialize more on the artistic aspects when it comes to character design/ character ideation... rather than relying on conveying my description with words.
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