People seem to agree (at least, in the comments on my last post) that less is more in character description, and natural better than forced.
So of course, I had to write the worst character intro description I could, because doing things the wrong way is way more fun than it should be.
Come on, you’d totally keep reading this, right? 😉
I interrupted the flow of early-story action to study the oil painting of myself I’d just happened to finish the night before, because looking in a mirror is, like, so cliche, amirite? My sapphire blue eyes captivated me from beneath perfectly groomed, raven black eyebrows; my lips were like ruby-red cushions of desire, and my adorable little nose was almost as perky as my breasts. My alabaster skin glowed in the painting as it does in real life, like, all the time, and I sighed excessively over the tiny mole on my upper lip that everyone said lent my appearance a charming hint of imperfection that is so important in a heroine, but that I hated with a passion. Because I’m flawed. Did you catch that?
“Dude,” said my boyfriend, who was ridiculously handsome in ways that I will explain in excessive detail in a few paragraphs, “you are beautiful, and you forgot to mention that your earlobes are small but perfectly formed, but perhaps you could admire your painting and think more about your appearance when there aren’t any zombie capybaras invading your family’s colonial brick mansion, which is lovely but really not defensible in any way?’
I sighed and flipped my long, wavy, ebony locks back over a perfectly formed shoulder. ‘Fine,’ I said, ‘but when we get to the obligatory Zombies in the Mall Scene, I insist on at least twenty minutes in a changeroom with adequate lighting and a 3-way mirror. The People have a right to know how my butt looks in a miniskirt.”
He didn’t answer. A capybara was gnawing on his kneecap. Asshole.