We used to have a cookbook, the theme of which was that if you found three harmonising ingredients, you essentially had a meal.<\/p>\n
So, if you just wanted a posh starter, you could put some pears, Roquefort and walnuts on a plate with a bit of dressing and, boom, a starter that you\u2019d want to gobble up. Or you could add salad leaves and one or two other ingredients to bulk things out, and you\u2019d have a substantial lunch.<\/p>\n
The same idea just goes on working. Scallops, peas, spring onions. Yum. Pork, apples, potatoes. Or (and this one has to be made with home made Oxfordshire elderflower cordial) gooseberries, elderflower and absolutely anything creamy.<\/p>\n
Now all this sounds like a distraction, except that I\u2019ve wanted for a while to write something on tiny characters. Or micro scene descriptions. You know the kind of thing: you introduce a character who plays a part for a page or so, then vanishes from your book. You want that person to be lifelike and compelling for their brief appearance, but you have no great arc to play with, and you just don\u2019t have much time or page-space either.<\/p>\n
So:<\/p>\n
Choose three or four simple ingredients. Lay them on the plate. Exit.<\/p>\n
That \u2013 or something like it \u2013 is the formula. I realised this last night as I happened to pick up one of my Fiona Griffiths books. (And, by the way, re-reading your old stuff is always a good idea. You always learn something.) In that book \u2013 This Thing of Darkness<\/em> \u2013 I came across this passage, which runs to about 200 words, or about two-thirds of a paperback page:<\/p>\n The boy \u2013 Lockwood\u2019s son, I assume \u2013 takes us through to a big, light-filled room. Cream carpet, soft suede sofas. A painting, which might be the [$2 million] Rauschenberg, hangs over a stone fireplace.<\/em><\/p>\n A slim woman \u2013 cropped trousers, leopard-print shoes, loose green jumper \u2013 is talking on the phone. Holds a hand up to us, meaning wait. The boy vanishes. Jon and I hang around, looking at the Rauschenberg and try to see if we can see two million quid in it.<\/em><\/p>\n [\u2026]<\/em><\/p>\n The woman finishes her call and approaches. \u2018Hi. I\u2019m Marianna. Thank you for coming out.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n There\u2019s something disconnected between her words and the rest of her. As it happens, I had to push to get an appointment, so if anyone should be thanking anyone it should be us to her. But her handshake is limp, absents itself too early, and her gaze gropes in the space behind my shoulder for someone who isn\u2019t there. I think she\u2019d forgotten we were coming.<\/em><\/p>\n I introduce Jon and myself, and conclude, \u2018Would you prefer us to call you Mrs Lockwood? Or Marianna?\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n Again, that absent dart of the eyes, then, \u2018Oh Marianna\u2019s fine. Look, someone should have told you. You didn\u2019t need to come out again about the pictures. They\u2019re here. We got them back.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0There\u2019s a bit more yadda yadda before the scene ends, but nothing that especially adds to the characterisation of Marianna Lockwood. Yet she seems alive, no? This doesn\u2019t seem a character without life or personality \u2013 but there\u2019s almost nothing there. The actual level of authorial input there is about as low as you can get.<\/p>\n So, if you agree that this little micro-scene basically works, let\u2019s try to figure out what\u2019s going on.<\/p>\n First ingredient, the room.<\/strong><\/p>\n This is Lockwood\u2019s home, so the room is a reflection of her. It\u2019s large. It\u2019s full of light. It\u2019s got suede sofas. (Q: who the hell has suede sofas? A: anyone without young kids and who values the aesthetic over the practical.) It\u2019s got a stone fireplace with, yes, an incredibly expensive picture hanging above it.<\/p>\n Second ingredient, Lockwood\u2019s appearance.<\/strong><\/p>\n Not much here, but we need something. She\u2019s slim. She\u2019s casually dressed (trousers and a jumper), but also with some style \u2013 the shoes are a bit fancy, the trousers are cropped. Some thought has gone into this ensemble.<\/p>\n Third ingredient, her politeness.<\/strong><\/p>\n Two junior cops have just turned up at this woman\u2019s home. She doesn\u2019t normally deal with those kind of intrusions, but she thanks them for coming. She says it\u2019s OK for them to call her Marianna. She\u2019s reasonably polite in the way she says the cops aren\u2019t actually needed here.<\/p>\n Fourth ingredient, the master \/ servant relationship.<\/strong><\/p>\n The element that gives this little scene its crackle is something else, however. Pears and walnuts go nicely together, but it\u2019s the blue cheese that turns a nice pairing into a killer combination.<\/p>\n So far, we have a woman who\u2019s rich, polite, and aesthetically aware. But she\u2019s not exactly polite, is she? In fact, she has a surface politeness which conceals a rich woman\u2019s total lack of interest in ordinary folk.<\/p>\n So when Fiona and Jon enter the room, Marianna\u2019s on the phone. She doesn\u2019t cover the mouthpiece and whisper \u2018Sorry, two minutes.\u2019 She doesn\u2019t make a wrinkly, smiley apology face. She just raises a hand to mean, \u2018Wait.\u2019 That\u2019s an order, not a request.<\/p>\n Then when she does say \u2018Thank you for coming\u2019 she gets her words wrong. As Fiona observes, it\u2019s not really a situation that calls for thank you. The politeness is the politeness of an internet chatbot \u2013 on autopilot, not actually reading the situation<\/p>\n And then: there\u2019s that disconnection between the words and the rest of her. Her handshake isn\u2019t real and vanishes too fast. Her eyes are elsewhere. Her thoughts clearly are too.<\/p>\n In short: she doesn\u2019t actually give a damn about these people or their concerns at all. She doesn\u2019t want a conflict, hence the politeness, but she doesn\u2019t actually engage even once. She doesn\u2019t ask them to wait, she commands them. She says thank you, but doesn\u2019t mean it. She shakes hands, but is thinking of other things.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n I think that basic strategy works again and again for these minor characters, these minor pieces of scene description and the like. If you find the right ingredients, you have all you need.<\/p>\n In terms of finding those ingredients, I think you almost always need the basics.<\/p>\n If we\u2019re in a new location (Marianna\u2019s living room), you need some basic description of what that\u2019s like. Big, light-filled, fancy sofas \u2013 done.<\/p>\n If we meet a new person (Marianna), we need some basic description of what she looks like. Slim, casual, stylish \u2013 done.<\/p>\n And then I think you need to find the point of piquancy \u2013 the blue cheese in your salad. Here, the piquancy comes from that polite \/ not-polite clash.<\/p>\n You don\u2019t have to throw your piquant elements in the reader\u2019s face. You\u2019ll notice that our little micro-scene has nothing along the lines of \u201cWait there!\u201d She commanded, an icy contempt carved into her classical features. That kind of writing never ever helps anything \u2013 except agents looking to add to their daily rejections count.<\/p>\n Just do the basics. Add your point of piquancy. And you\u2019re done. You have something clean, memorable \u2013 and short. Biff, baff, boff.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" We used to have a cookbook, the theme of which was that if you found three harmonising ingredients, you essentially had a meal. So, if you just wanted a posh starter, you could put some pears, Roquefort and walnuts on a plate with a bit of dressing and, boom, a starter that you\u2019d want to<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":32,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[29292],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6851","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-harrys-friday-email"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n