Why Actions Speak Louder than Words

Sat Feb 20 2016

We've all heard the cliché. The thing is, it's a cliché because it's true. Actions really do speak louder than words. But did you ever stop to think about why?

It's because actions are the embodiment of our choices. We act the way we do because of the choices we've made. Our actions reflect our efforts to attain whatever goals or desires we've fixed our minds on.

Look at the guy in this picture. He has clearly made some bold, definitive choices in how he presents himself. Why? Beats me. But the fact of his choices is plain to see. As you look at him, don't you find yourself evaluating what kind of person he is? I do. It's human nature.

I have no idea why that guy dresses and makes himself up in that manner. But kudos him. I doubt I would be brave enough to present myself in even remotely so bold a fashion in public. Whoever this guy is, he clearly knows himself. He is clearly quite certain about who he is and how he wants to be seen.

Nobody ends up looking like that by accident, right? There is a clear and directed sense of intentionality in his presentation. Everything from the gloves to the silver hair-band to the eye liner practically shouts "This is who I am and I like it and I don't need anybody else's approval."

Brave. Confident. Self-aware and self-assured. Those are the personality traits I read in that picture.

If it's True in Life, it's True in Writing

Just like that guy, every choice your characters make allows readers to infer things about those characters. It's a show, don't tell thing. That guy doesn't have to tell me he's brave, confident, and self-assured, because he shows it to me in his personal styling choices.

Thus, as a writer, it's up to you to ensure that the choices your characters make accurately reflect who you want readers to believe those characters are. There are a couple of really easy ways to screw this right up.

"Why'd They do That?"

The first way is to show your characters doing things for no reason we can figure.

Well, there's always a reason. The problem comes when a character's reason for action is your reason rather than theirs.

Let's take an example, as one might find in a garden-variety fantasy novel:

The problem with this passage is this, and I'll bet you saw it: Why did she turn off the path?

Here objective had been clearly articulated: reach Mole's Inn before nightfall. We know all she has to do to get there is keep following the path. We know she's worried about the possibility of werelings in the vicinity. So what the heck is she doing randomly leaving the path like that?

As readers, we can't see any logical reason for it. We can't see how that action is consistent with any of her goals. As readers, we want to yell at her, "What are you doing, you moron? Get back on the path!"

Once she reaches the clearing, we can understand what's going on: she left the path because the author needs her to be at this hut for some reason.

That's fine. An author is welcome to need her to end up at that hut. But that authorial need is not sufficient reason to send her there. Although she may be right where the author wants her, as readers we can't shake the feeling that she shouldn't be. That if Sonja were a real character with real, believable motivations, she wouldn't be.

Here, the author's goal has trumped the character's goals, causing the character to behave in a way that's does not feel believable.

Fixing It

As an author, it's totally fine to need Sonja to end up at that hut for reasons having to do with the plot you're trying to construct. The trick is to arrange the situation such that her motivations coincide with your goals.

How might the author change the situation to achieve this? Part of the problem in the original is that there's really nothing stopping her from going directly to Mole's Inn. So when she doesn't, it feels wrong. Ergo, put something in her way:

Problem solved. By changing the situation, the author can change Sonja's immediate goals. Sure, she probably still needs to get to Mole's Inn eventually, but now we've given her the slightly more urgent goal of not getting eaten by the werelings.

By giving her a reason to go off the path, we can align her character-motivated actions with our plot-oriented goals. That is, now we can get her to the hut without making her seem like an idiot.

"Why Didn't They Just …"

The second way to screw up a character's actions is the opposite of the first: to fail to let the character take an obvious action that would seem to advance her goals.

We've all seen this in countless badly made TV shows and movies, where the good guys fail to finish off the bad guys when they have the chance, or vice-versa.

As before, there's a reason this happens: the character's obvious strategy would mess up what the author has in mind for later. The good guy can't kill off the bad guy when he has the chance in chapter 1, because then you don't have a story.

True enough, but as before, an author can't let their own goals for the story trump the character behaving in believable and sensible ways. To carry on with our example:

If you think back to the earlier scene, I'll bet you'll spot the problem: why is she trying to drive the wereling off with a spoon when we know she has a knife at her waist? Ok, sure, she can't get her breath, and yes, that's a hindrance, but is all the more reason to use her knife!

If she'd just draw the blade and stab it, surely it would get off of her long enough for her to regroup and defend herself properly. That is, if the silvered blade didn't kill it outright. And anyway, if she has the strength to hold it off for several seconds before it bites her--as the scene implies she does--then surely she has the strength to stab it at least once.

She does fight, but she fights stupidly. With a spoon. Yet we know she's not stupid, right? Because she was canny enough earlier not to fall for the werelings' trap on the trail. Why doesn't she draw her knife? No reason given. She just doesn't, leaving readers once again wanting to yell at her "grab your knife, you moron! Stab the thing!"

As before the author's goals are not aligned with Sonja's motivations. The author's plot needs have prevented Sonja from doing the obvious thing that would save her. The author clearly needs Sonja to be transformed a wereling for the rest of the plot to unfold the way they want, but that authorial need is not sufficient reason for her to fight with a spoon when we know she's smart enough to use her knife.

Again, the author's goal has trumped the character's goals, causing the character to behave in a way that does not feel believable.

Fixing It

Just as in the first example, it's totally fine for an author to need Sonja to get turned into a wereling. You just have to make it happen while also making sure your characters are being appropriately smart in the circumstances you throw at them.

To fix the above problem, what might the author do? An easy route is to let the fight play out such that the knife doesn't do her any good, due to forces outside her control: She might draw her knife, but then the wereling grabs her wrist before she can stab it. That would work, though perhaps it risks making Sonja appear too weak. Or perhaps when the stool tips over, she might land on her side with her knife hand pinned to the floor. That would work too.

Or maybe it's her fault:

The rest of the fight can proceed as before, and readers will understand entirely why she doesn't use her knife: because the wereling duped her into a false sense of security.

Any of those options would work, but I like this one precisely because it is Sonja's fault. In the others, Sonja couldn't have done anything. She was either powerless or unlucky. There's an arbitrariness to such outcomes that always makes a story feel forced, as though I can see the author coercing the plot to their will rather than just letting things happen.

But if Sonja puts the knife down on purpose, then nothing feels forced. We see her make a choice--one motivated by manners and wanting to appear the polite guest, which itself tells us something about her personality--then we see her suffer the consequences of that choice. To me, a story always feels more organic when the outcomes of situations are down to the things the characters do than to blind chance. The cause and effect is clearer that way.

We Don't Care What You Want

Bottom line is this. Every author, in every story, has their own goals for where they want the plot to go and how they want it to unfold. As you should. It's your story.

The thing is, readers don't care about any of that. We don't care what you want. We only care what the characters want.

Which means that your job as a storyteller is to manipulate the circumstances around your characters to make the characters naturally want to do things that drive the story where you want it to go.

Never let yourself say "Ok, now I need Sonja to go off the trail so she can end up at the hut in the wood" and then write it that way.

Instead, ask yourself "Why might Sonja decide to go off the trail right here?" Figure that out, then create that situation in the story. Then she'll do exactly what you need, in a way that feels entirely believable and doesn't make your character look like an idiot.

I mean, the last thing you want is readers yelling at your characters, "Hey, you moron!"