Words Lie, Body Language Doesn’t

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Words Lie, Body Language Doesn’t

Why is it that when you look at certain people, you think they’re pleasant or kind, or maybe even mean? Before they say a word, you make judgments about whether you want to saunter over and listen to their words.

It’s their body language–the set of their mouth, their facial expressions, their gestures. Often, these are movements they aren’t aware of, but telegraph so much information to you, you make decisions about your interest in approaching them.

This is true with the characters in the books you write, too. If you write about characters, it can’t just be their actions and their dialogue. You have to show us when they frown at something that happens, when they peer into a crowd looking for a friend. How they use their hands–or don’t use them–as they speak. When they scratch their ear and look down or hug themselves when they’re upset. These are the parts that endear a character to the reader, make us worry about or for them, or cause us to fear them. Leave them out at your own peril.

Here are about fifty descriptors that cover the head area–eyes, mouth, neck, etc. As with all my descriptors–they are from the writing of others. Use them for inspiration, but nothing more (that’s what I do):

Voice

His voice trailed off; the conclusions was inescapable
Spoke in a hoarse whisper
Said with weary resignation
Hollow voice
Voice low and gravely
Voice thick with conviction, guilt, etc
She asked between bites of calamari
Voice cracked and raw
Speaking in quiet tones
Hadn’t realized she was holding her breath
Breathy explosion of words
Tone weary, but cheerful

Voice low, tone uncertain
Something like a sigh
Words were slurred and lisping
Mouth turned up a fraction of an inch
Spittle on his lips
His thin voice took on a pedantic tone
The babble of talk died at his entry. He blinked as his eyes adjusted.
No, yes, maybe, I don’t know—Shit! She yelped
I sense a but coming
Yes, she lied
“I don’t know” Again, too rapid
Breath came in ragged gasps
Anger crept into his voice
Bark out critical info in short sharp yelps
Tight-lipped
brow puckered
Raised his right eyebrow

Hands

hands shaking in a palsy of rage
Hands clamped tightly together, leaning forward, knuckles white
His hands crossed in front of him
That fast-wave women do
shook like the wings of a hummingbird fingers tightly intertwined
knuckle cracking
flapped a hand,
Folded his arms across his chest
Soft handshake
Firm, manly handshakes

Face

Worry lines framed her mouth and tugged at her eyes
Forced a smile
muscles in his jaw bunched
her dead mother smiled across the gulf of time
Long face pensive and worried
Shook his head and turned back
His grimace that of a man who’s bitten into a moldy plum
Tears started again without sound or movement
Smile faded from his face
Tepid smile
Grit his teeth

Eyes

Vision narrowed to a pinprick
eyes locked on like magnets
studied her w/ a predator’s unwavering attention
blinked a couple of times
Squinted out into the audience
eyes narrowed to slits
Narrowed his eyes
eyes locked in a shared understanding
yellow rimmed eyes narrowing
eyes turned inward
peer sightlessly at a wall
Staring sightlessly into the darkness
Stared into the distance
Fixed expression
Looked at a place somewhere over his shoulder
Their eyes met, but he broke it off
meaningful eye contact
risked a peek
she screwed her eyes shut

Neck

skin on the back of his neck puckered
muscles at the back of her neck tightened
fluffed the hair at the back of her neck when she was thinking

Arms

elbows resting on his knees
locked arms

Walking

Recognized the swagger of a failed cop wanna be whose life had already peaked
Walked toward them with grim determination, her spine bent forward in a dowager’s hump
Strutted into the room as thought it was her favorite watering hole
Turned on his heel
Stepping lightly
Lumbered down the sidewalk
Walk with labored dignity
Shambling
Walked at her usual brisk pace, the swagger was gone, and her shoulders were slumped as though the night had beaten her down and stolen her confidence.

Sitting

He sat back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and tapped his fingers together
Crouched by the fire
Sat slumped in the water, his reputation in ruins around him

Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular Building a Midshipman , the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy. She is webmaster for six blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice book reviewer, a columnist for Examiner.com and TeachHUB, Editorial Review Board member for Journal for Computing Teachers, Cisco guest blog, IMS tech expert, and a monthly contributor to Today’s Author. In her free time, s he is the editor of a K-8 technology curriculum, K-8 keyboard curriculum, K-8 Digital Citizenship curriculum, and creator of technology training books for how to integrate technology in education. Currently, she’s editing a thriller that should be out to publishers next summer. Contact Jacqui at her writing office or her tech lab, Ask a Tech Teacher.