People are complicated, and much of what makes us who we are is hidden beneath the surface. As we interact with different people, we reveal different layers of ourselves. The same is true of your character—they will express themselves differently depending on the people around them.
How well do you know your character? And how well do the people around them know them? Let's look at the three faces your character wears.
Three Faces of Self
There's a quote floating around the internet right now which goes like this:
The Japanese say you have three faces. The first face, you show to the world. The second face, you show to your close friends, and your family. The third face, you never show anyone. It is the truest reflection of who you are.
Setting aside the fact that it's probably about as Japanese as my big toe, it provides some interesting questions.
Your Character's Faces
Think of “faces” as what's showing: expression, opinion, reaction. Each face represents a different way your character interacts with and reveals themselves to the world.
Each face reveals a different aspect of your character. It's easy to focus on just one or two faces, but exploring all three in turn will help you understand your character better and make them feel more full, well-rounded, and believable.
For example, you may have already written tons about your spunky college-grad protagonist in the company of “the world” (co-workers, crowds, competitors), but haven't spent much time exploring them when with family. Or maybe, you've slung thousands of words exploring your female private eye's head when she's alone, but very few at the police station (the “world”) trying to fit in with a culture she doesn't much enjoy.
Uncover All Three
You may find it easier to write about one or two faces. Take the time, though, to explore all three.
You'll find that each face informs the other two, and as you reveal each one, you'll add dimension to your character and help your readers connect with them even more deeply.
Which face have you focused on most? Which face do you find most challenging to write? Let me know in the comments.
PRACTICE
Today, I want you to take fifteen minutes and write a scene exploring one of these faces—specifically the one you've least written.
Explore who your character is when they're either public (the first face), with close friends or family (the second face), or not public at all (the third face, completely alone). What your character reveals might surprise you.
When you've finished, share your scene in the comments and leave feedback for your fellow writers.
Great jumping-off point for getting to know your characters: looking at the three faces. This will make characters much more interesting and dimensional. I’m fired up to look deeper into who mine are. Thanks for the tip!
Wonderful! I’m so glad to hear that. 🙂 You’re very welcome!
I feel so shallow now 🙂 But, that’s a good thing in that it certainly is an opportunity for growth – just like my characters! I get so wrapped up in a particular aspect of my character’s dilemma that I do find myself tending to focus on a singular perspective at times. I have certainly delved deep into each of these three faces at times – but rarely, if ever, inside the same story. I can see where peeling back the layers a little at a time (and in the right amounts) can add a tremendous amount of depth and dimension (I really like your use of that word!) to the characters in our fictional world. Thanks for opening my eyes to creating a much richer and more realistic set of characters – can’t wait to give this a go in my next short story 🙂
Dave, you can always enrich your characters at the time of rewrite. Simply identify your character’s strongest traits (no more than four), select one character and run his/her dialogue, concentrating on one character per time for the whole story through those traits and do this for each of your characters. You will have each character’s unique voice and actions leap off your page. Happy writing!
Thanks for that awesome suggestion Natalie 🙂 I currently have my very first manuscript in the hands of my editor, but I will keep this idea in my back pocket when it comes back into my hands. But, I also like to “experiment” with some new stuff through the short stories I like to write, so that will be a perfect opportunity to put this suggestion into practice there too! Happy writing to you as well 😉
Glad to help, Dave, and congratulations on your outstanding achievement! Thank you for your kind regards. Best!
” I feel so shallow now 🙂 ”
“… a good thing in that it certainly is an opportunity for growth – just like my characters!”
You’re telling ME?
At the risk of making my story more romance and a lot less comedy, I have to present “The Three Faces of Eve” here with Krisha G., [and starting to work on Gerrard M.] …
I am not sure if characterization drives the REAL plot—or driving force—of the story (or most stories, if they are to be artfully crafted). However, for now, this is the part that goes onto my graph paper schematic (in a format that looks like big Twitter eggs, each):
*** Krisha has a managerial job in customer service (still STATESIDE [yet, set in the current era; and that’s possible to make “plausible” just by keeping the business she’s in, small ;)]). Her PUBLIC (mostly STRESSED-OUT, WORK) face has SOOO many opportunities to deeply mine. Nearly a rabid fan of Daniel Kahneman, this woman is too into quantification and incentive schemes for the size of the enterprise she’s at.
Man! Some of the possible comedic pratfalls—I just have to reload memories of ridiculous bosses I’d had from the New York City commercial real estate scene … and that’s the easier part … the adaptation part …
*** Krisha’s RELATIONSHIP face: never married, has a steady, exclusive (at the time of opening) relationship with Gerrard, and she is exhibiting an oxytocin-starved, “neo-feminist” …
A Gen Xer old enough to be a 3rd wave feminist, but living in 4th wave feminist America …
This cold-faced approach to him that provides a lot of sexual tension. Not sure how “natural” this face is, but she:
* Gets to compete with all those (to her) young sluts
* Gets to befriend younger female friends of the couple and hardly feel threatened, etc, etc, etc, ad infinitum …
* She has a supernatural hollow leg … it’s cool that drinking does not affect her …
* Gerrard, somehow, gets her to do weird things … that make it possible for him to get to know her …
My being nothing at all like Krisha in the relationship sphere, doesn’t mean I can’t play “dress up” …
She’s obviously the stereotypical b*ll-busting (or at least insufferably a quant) managerial type at work, and can’t turn it off for play … or romance …
*** Krisha’s PRIVATE face:
Of course she’s a b*&ch and she knows it.
Is this b*&ch … living a lie? Trying to survive? This way because of work stress? Up to the challenge of doing so in this way?
… other things I explore in my premise
This causes a crisis … of sorts …
[20 minutes because I’m not too efficient ….]
Further affiant sayeth naught.
Tina, I LOVE this! You’ve done a great job starting to peel this stuff back. I think you’re right – there’s a ton of potential here. I also think you’re going to have a blast figuring it all out. 🙂 Thanks for sharing!
Aww, you’re not shallow, Dave. 🙂 It’s always been my feeling that studying ourselves and the people aorund us enables us to be better writers. It’s never too late to explore!
Well said, but, I’d like to add to this topic. I believe, we have Four Faces. The Fourth Face is what we think and believe we are.
Show your character’s belief and perception of himself, and you’ve got his motivation and purpose for achieving his goal.
I agree. This is a classic spiritual exploration idea that our true inner self is different than the self we believe we are.
Most definitely. Thank you for posting your comment. Happy writing!
I totally agree. This is great because we can explore ourselves. Awesome.
:). Awesome right back. Delighted that you found it useful. Happy writing!
This one, I hadn’t thought of. Thanks Natalie. Really cool! Let me try it out. 🙂
My pleasure, Agomonee. Let me know how it goes. :0)
Sure!
I very much agree with you. We are, probably without exception, far different than we may think ourselves to be.
(Also, I notice your username is “NatalieHawaii.” Are you, by any chance, actually from here?)
Hi Ai-tama. Thank you for your kind regards. Yes, I live in Honolulu. You can connect with me on FB —> Natalie Melvin (Screenwriter, Producer). Same avatar. Cheers!
Absolutely, Natalie! That’s a whole other topic I’m itching to get into, myself: the topic of IDENTITY.
Who we are determines what we do. Who we believe we are determines our choices, too – and that applies to our characters. 🙂
Great food for thought. This is especially helpful for me, as much of the drive of my book is about the main character wrestling with how her own perceptions differ from those other people have of her and from who she really is and what she’s really capable of. Thanks!
I’m so glad to hear that, Charissa! Wow, it really sounds like you’ve got some good thoughts spinning now about your characters. I look forward to your further development of your main chararcter! Thanks for your comment. 🙂 Keep writing!
This was very helpful. I realize I have spent very little time with Akiko alone. I’m sure such passages would reveal a lot about her character, especially her fears (she seems so fearless to everyone around her).
For today’s practice, I picked up in my WIP where I had left off. I didn’t quite get her alone, but at least I got her ignoring those around her. I would have written more, but I got sidetracked researching Edgar Allen Poe. (Don’t pretend it hasn’t happened to you.)
* * *
Akiko had no memory of the rest of her school day. It wasn’t like the lost memories of her life before the fire. But she couldn’t focus on anything. Her teacher’s words were no more than the drone of an air conditioner in her ears. She would suddenly find herself seated at her desk in class with no memory of having walked there. Mr. Treacher was there beside her, as always during classes, but he may as well have been far out at sea. All Akiko could think about was Tommy: his voice, his scent, the way his hand had felt on hers when she had given him her phone number.
She felt Mr. Treacher nudge her, trying to bring her focus back into the classroom. He wasn’t rough, but his elbow wasn’t exactly gentle. Not like Tommy’s hand. Mrs. Forsythe, her English Lit teacher, was reading Poe. Why did they have to study Poe? Edgar Allen was dead. Akiko had no doubt he had been creepy when he was alive. Annabel Lee made her shudder in disgust. Though Poe only mentioned “lying down by the side” of his beautiful Annabell Lee, Akiko was certain the poem was about necrophilia. She shuddered again, and Mr. Treacher put his hand on her shoulder. It was a touch that was supposed to remind Akiko to sit still.
Why would Poe write such a thing? Why would anyone want to focus on the death of a lover? Why not write about the joy of life with the someone you love? About the smiles and the laughter, about long walks hand-in-hand with Tommy. About how Tommy is such a pillar of strength; how he will be her shoulder to cry on when she feels she just can’t go on anymore.
“Akiko?”
Great, Mrs. Forsythe had called on her. She had probably asked a question, and since no one had offered an answer, she had called on Akiko. Why today? Why was this the one class she and Tommy didn’t share?
She fidgeted in her seat. “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping she might at least get credit for her honesty, “could you repeat the question, please?”
Woo, what a glimpse! You’ve done a TERRIFIC job with this exploration. I don’t know her other faces yet, but here I see her conflict, her passion, and her priorities. This is a really solid selection.
“but I got sidetracked researching Edgar Allen Poe. (Don’t pretend it hasn’t happened to you.)” I won’t pretend that. 😉 I tend to get caught in Wikipedia loops all the time!
Thanks for your kind words, Ruthanne. I’m still relatively new to this writing thing, so seeing “TERRIFIC” is all caps is encouraging.
Great post Ruthanne! Thanks for the useful points.
Here’s my little contribution;
Vince sat at the Formica and chrome dinette set in the kitchen, pondering on how he’d carry out his last mission consigned to him by Ray “The Manta” Assante. The capo had given specific instructions for him to do this “piece of work” since he’d never left any evidence that could be traced back to him in any of the prior missions he’d undertaken. This had made him a favorite with The Organization in doing these types of jobs.
His days as a Navy SEAL had trained him to be thorough and able to read every single thing in a threatening situation. He could inflict permanent injury with no emotion at all; turning his feelings on and off with ease. It was something he alone had mastered. This side of Vince had always been hidden from the public life.
Dawn showed its face through the kitchen window as he nursed his cup of coffee. He took his Glock 21 pistol from the kitchen table, slipped it into his side holster and headed out the front door.
Lannie Richardson came slowly out of his dream and for a brief moment was disoriented to where he was at that precise moment. He hadn’t wanted to come out of the dream at all, for in this particular dream he was locked in a very sloppy kiss with his 10th grade sweetheart Marie Houseman. Maybe it was when he dropped her off from the prom, or maybe it was just a good night kiss after a trip to the movies, but it was passionate all the same. Marie had moved away to Davenport Iowa when Lannie was a senior, and in those days that was the end of it. He had never truly gotten over Marie, but he had moved on just the same and met Margaret. Ah, Margaret. That was another dream entirely, for another time. Then, he came all the way up out of the abyss of dream-land and realized he was in the loft of the McFarland’s barn, on the run with $33,560 dollars in stolen First National Trust Bank cash. What time was it? It was at the very least late afternoon, judging by the tint of the sunlight spilling over the field behind the barn which was what he could see from his vantage point.
Yikes! That was definitely an unexpected twist. 🙂 This is a great exploration of his thoughts, and the private face that’s both a romantic and a criminal. How does this compare to his other faces? That’ll be your next step, and I look forward to the development. Thanks so much for sharing. 🙂
Here’s my contribution for today. It took 30 mins not 15 but I did rather enjoy doing this exercise. Thank you Ruthann.
The Three Faces of Pammy in 30 minutes
In exasperation Pammy’s sister June blurted out,
“When are you going to leave that swine of a husband? Eh?”
“When the time is right.” Pam’s reply was cool and straight. “When I’m ready.”
“Yes, but when will that be, Pammy? He abuses you but not Ellie. Why is that, Pammy.”
“Because he bonded with her and I didn’t. He smothers her and excludes me. I do understand what’s going on, you know.”
She seemed almost cold these days, but June remembered the hot passionate days before Ellie was born. Her sister seemed a different person now. She then thought that perhaps she had to be a different person to survive in the awful situation in which she lived.
“Mum worries so much about you, you know, Pammy – well we all do – particularly Dad. Won’t you just let him give you some money to get some new clothes?”
June’s cajoling was fruitless and Pam got up to leave, dragging her old brown anorak around her shoulders.
“I’ll be off, then. See you soon.” A glimmer of a smile played around her face as she stooped to grab her bag. Standing up, she tucked the long, lank strands of blond hair behind her ears and left.
*
Relieved to be alone again, Pammy scuffed through the wet autumn leaves as the rain began to seep through her anorak. It wasn’t a new feeling for her and in the early evening light, the rush-hour traffic, with lights blazing, reflected the common need for a cosy home. Pammy glanced to her right and saw into the living room of a small semi: children scampering about in the orange light and a mother in a blue apron standing with plate. It looked idyllic. Pammy didn’t ‘do’ domesticity anymore and, she had no plans to include it in her masterplan for escaping her own family. In fact, she was very much enjoying working out her route to freedom. But it was very much her habit to live in the moment, particularly in solitude, and then think her thoughts through. Sometimes her own logic frightened her with its precision and she had to get on with something practical, like a bit gardening, to smooth down the hairs on the back of her neck.
*
There was no welcome when she got in, just the usual yell,
“Pammy is that you. Where’ve you been? Are you there, Pammy? Pammy? Get our tea. I’ll have shepherd’s pie. So will Ellie. And bring the red sauce. Go and see if that was your mother, Ellie.”
Pammy was shaking rain off her anorak in the kitchen when Ellie banged her way through the house.
“Your’e back! ‘Bout bloody time, too. Been whingeing to darling sister, have you. Again.” Ellie sneered at she looked her mother up and down with utter contempt. What did she say to you, eh?”
“She sends her love, Ellie, to you and your dad,” she lied.
Ellie laughed. “You bloody liar.”
Pam turned back to the sink to hide her wry grin.
“Tell your Dad dinner’ll be ready in about 20 minutes.”
Ellie slammed the kitchen door behind her and, Pammy leaned on the edge of the sink and studied her reflection in the kitchen window. One day I’ll fly away, leave all this to yesterday … clear as a bell, a favourite tune and its words came together, and above in the dark night the lights of an airliner blinked in bright response.
570 words 30 minutes
Oh, man. 30 minutes were very well-spent! This is terrific, Jean!
You’ve not only explored all three faces, but you’ve tied them together in a plot worthy of either a short story or a full novel.
I hope you keep exploring this. It seems that Pammy has a whole life ahead of her, a “masterplan” worth seeing through!
I’ve heard this saying many times over the years, but never knew the “origin”. It does make sense to me. I am very different at home and with family then I am at work or with friends. Great article!
I’m glad to hear it, Lori! I know I’m completely different, too. 🙂 Thanks for your comment!
Private Face
______________________
Miss Rosa Ortiz found herself staring at the glowing screen of her monitor. Many different terms existed to convey her dilemma, but life was too short to bother with such nonsense. So, she opted to conclude that she was… tired.
Not empty, nor stressed.
Combing her onyx mane and scratching her cheek, she nodded away the noise of the A/C and humming of her PC.
She was simply tired.
The valiant and fiery latina had died down; a kindle under rain; the flicker of a candle; the ashes of a fire.
Her smoldering coal gaze had waned into sullen wet puddles. The glow of her visage now merely an icy sheen.
Tired.
The timid early sunlight had peered into her office, caressing her chilly skin. Rosa bit her lip as her attention darted to the window. Miss Ortiz was still tired.
But she smiled.
The morning light thawing through her once more.
__________
Should be reading my class novel but you know, teenagers. :b
You should definitely read this in class. Made me wondering why she was so tired.
Ooh, this is a great post! You’ve done a WONDERFUL job exploring her private face, her sense of self, her identity. I love it! I think your class will benefit from your practice here. 🙂
I always say humans have many sides to them. It makes sense. I have a personal side that I share only with myself. It helps to know who you are, just like knowing our characters. We can improve ourselves wherever needed. We need different sides of our personality. To protect ourselves.
Absolutely!
You guys are sure helping me with my “Writer’s Experiences.” Wonder, interest, mystery, and everlasting.
I agree my writing experience is hasnt developed properly yet-
but it will soon ,as writing comes with time
Emma wiped her clean shoes on the hand-me-down door mat, the black HELLO barely discernible in the dimly lit concrete corridor. She heard laughing on the other side of the door, and became mildly interested in the door’s chipping white paint, revealing an old layer of yellowed-white underneath. Her face was suddenly filled with heat, but it dispersed with a quick shudder of her shoulders.
Emma pushed the door open and the laughing was amplified as the sound barrier opened, but the noise immediately faltered with the creak of the door announcing someone new. A sense of curiosity permeated the air for half a second before Emma stuck a beaming face around the hallway corner and sang a big “Hello!” to a small table crowded with twenty-somethings. She was met with a chorus of greetings in return and the laughing resumed — at what, Emma didn’t know. They invited her to sit, and her roommate sent a genuine smile Emma’s way. “I’d love to, yes! One second!”
Emma moved past the kitchen and into her room. She closed the door artfully, making the exact amount of noise a person should make when closing a door normally. She released a stale breath and laid face down on her bed. Emma took a few labored breaths through her top sheet and felt her whole body relax with the smell of clean linens and familiar air.
Her head shot up, she sucked in a fresh breath, and she plastered a smile on her face. She threw her shoulders back with a quick exhale and moved to open the door, barely noticing a patch of chipping paint.
Wow, Sammy! I don’t know for sure, but I can tell you that it’s a perfect description of two of the faces of an introvert. You’ve got an absolutely wonderful scene here.
I hope you keep exploring this! Your style is really readable, and you’ve shown a terrific grasp on those two faces. I find myself wondering what she’s doing next, and where this story is going!
Thanks so much for sharing. 🙂 Keep writing!
This article is gold and definitely goes on my bookmarks. It’s my first time posting here and every opinion or criticism is welcomed. I know I have a lot of mistakes but hey, practice makes perfect right?
***
Mark asked for the bill knowing he couldn’t stay outside much longer. When he’s just about to pay though,in his wallet he finds this photo of him and a girl. This girl that was now a beautiful, strong woman, because of her he was here with fakes ids hiding from the police after all. That was his favourite photo of them and mostly of her, because she looked genuinely happy, complete, a young feminine masterpiece that blossomed around him. He remembered how much he loved the new colour she dyed her hair, a honey gold blonde that made her eyes pop up even more. Christian curled it for her and she was wearing her usual black eyeliner and a pink dress that really showed up her curves. Smiling ear to ear, the girl was half hugging him.
He smirked knowingly, remembering all the recent events from the past year and he was having a mixture of feelings.
He looked at the photo and the fierce woman with green eyes, who put him in jail came in his mind. Surprised how good she played the game, Mark was actually proud, how she went all in and didn’t let anything standing in her way. And then he got frustrated.
He got pissed at himself because after all these years he still got a weakness for her. It was his own fault because he slipped, losing picture of the great game and getting himself caught in a older one.
But he was sure of one thing. Wanting to see Gabi again.
Welcome to The Write Practice, Alexandra! 🙂 I’m glad you’ve joined us here. And yes – practice is the whole point. It’s how we all get better.
This is a great exploration of that face! I love that it could go in multiple directions. He could be a jerk; he could be a hero. He could be a lovelorn hero, or he could be a creepy stalker. No matter what, his focus on this woman and his loss is clearly a defining moment, and you’ve done a terrific job starting to peel that onion.
Thanks for sharing this! Keep writing. 🙂
Lia laughed, awkwardly, her lips stretched painfully in a cheerful smile that, to her, sounded false. The man who had made a joke about France, her country of origin, a sturdy, tall man in his late forties, threw his head back, laughing out loud at his own jest. Lia stared at him hard, her lips still fixed in a fading smile, fury boiling inside her. What a moron. What an absolute, hopeless ignorant man. What the hell did he know about France? She started fidgeting with her flute of champagne, her eyes now looking at the beautiful garden where the moron was throwing a party, in her new country, the place where she had decided to move. As the man was still giggling, Lia excused herself and stormed toward the farthest corner of the perfectly kept, huge garden. She was, of course, more mad at herself than to him. Why hadn’t she said something instead of bursting into that phony, ridiculous laugh? why hadn’t she told him, loud and clear, what she really thought of his very rude joke? even better, why hadn’t she told him where to put his joke, along with his fake “champs” and trashy food??
She dropped on the grass, took her high shoes off, gulping down the rest of the champagne. She was smarting, furious at the reason why she hadn’t said a wrd. Could someone like her, a girl on her own, a complete stranger, a foreigner to an underpopulated country where she knew nobody, afford starting on the wrong foot?
Yes, the guy was an idiot, a pompous git, but his company made millions and he had hinted to the possibility of giving her a chance, a proper job. “Come to my party, I’ll introduce you to a few people who work FOR me'”. Lia has accepted, with some excitement. She was sick of working as a waitress at a crappy chinese restaurant in west Sydney, where she also lived, in an overcrowded flat that she was sharing with other young people desperately looking for a better life, a better job. She felt sick to her stomach. She had come hoping for a better future, in a country that she had always associated with freedom, wild spirit, cheerfulness, honesty. Something she felt was painfully amiss in France. She would have liked to leave, immediately, shatter the very expensive flute against the wall, storming out without looking back ever. THen the moron came along “there you , my little frrrrench girl, iz everyzing all right?” he asked in what he clearly thought was a hilarious imitation of a french accent. Lia heard some of the people who worked FOR him giggling, stupidly. Slowly she sootd up, brushed some grass from her dress and in a clear, sharp voice she said “sure, I am fine. Can I please have another glass of champagne?”.
This is a really solid exploration! You’ve done a great job peeling back her public and private faces. Wow! Her choices and internal response are very telling. You’ve got some terrific tension building here, and I can’t wait to see where this goes. Thanks for sharing!
I really like this post. While I hope that I know my protagonist well enough to be able to show her different sides in different circumstances (comfortable around family, apprehensive toward other people in general, and constantly in a state of self-doubt when she’s alone), reading this makes me realize that I should keep this aspect in mind when I go back to edit my draft.
Thanks, Ai-tama! I’m really glad this has helped you. It’s fantastic fun (and sometimes heart-breakingly revealing) to study these things in our characters as well as ourselves. More power to your edit!
I didn’t think about the different faces either. Not only does it add depth to the character but I suppose that it would also add surprise when writing a scene, and that would be a wonderful discovery.
sci fi fantasy is interesting ,I love this topic , but haven t explored these avenues yet of the
three faces strategy ,but soon will ,thank you for sharing with the write
practice ” Happy writing ”