When you write about people, how do you tell about them in a way that lets others in on what made them remarkable to you?

Do you:

• Describe what they wore?
• Concentrate on physical features?
• Mimic their speech mannerisms?
• Try to catch the flavour of the impression they made?

All of those techniques can be good, if used wisely and appropriately. One thing you definitely want to avoid, besides libel, is pigeonholing the person you're describing, real or fictional, and expecting other people to share your prejudices. Never assume your reader will instantly dislike a character you're describing because he/she is 'Not Our Sort'. You have no idea what Sort your reader is.

Here's an attempt by me to describe someone. You've probably never met anyone like this (to me, delightful) character, unless you've lived in the American South.

Back when I was in North Carolina, there was a gentleman at my parents' church who made quite an impression on me. I wish I could tell you his real name, because it's almost inimitable. The closest pseudonym I can come up with is Cadwallader Frawley. Mr Frawley was a diminutive dynamo – barely five feet, but a very natty dresser. One of his favourite 'go to meeting' outfits was a purple-and-white suit with wide-panelled checks. He cut quite a figure in it with his two-toned wingtips, the whole ensemble set off with a matching purple bow tie. Oddly, when Mr Frawley danced over in your direction – he was amazingly spry for a man in his seventies – you didn't notice the fashion right away. You were simply overwhelmed by his friendly grin and infectious laughter. Your next thought was, 'Oh, no, he's got his Chorus Book with him.' Mr Frawley, an incurable Cheerful Fairy, lost no opportunity to cajole any informal church gathering into an impromptu singalong. All he needed was a lull in the general conversation, a chance to shout, 'You all know 'Victory in Jesus', don't you?', and an unwary pianist. As it dawned on you that you were the target of opportunity, you looked wildly about for a convenient exit.

Now, do you see Mr Frawley? He was an old dear. I hope I've managed to convey what was fascinating about him without sounding critical or patronising. Remember to be honest, but charitable. Sooner than you think, dear writer friend, you, too, will be elderly. Your quirks, so endearing to your contemporaries, will make the younger folk titter. Your 14-year-old grandnieces will make mock of your eccentricities, like I catch mine doing. You think I don't see those eyerolls, millennials? I see those eyerolls, and make mental notes to talk about you in writing columns.

Is communicating character important in writing? Oh, yes, for two reasons. One, it makes what you say more entertaining to read. Who wants to read about boring people? Two, it makes your writing more useful. Readers get an opportunity to reflect on the actions, reactions, and general strengths and weaknesses of different patterns of behaviour – and maybe they learn something.

You can influence other people's thinking, too. Can you guess who this writer/speaker is talking about? If you can't, where have you been in the last six months? (I'd like to book a ticket.)

…a damaged, sociopathic narcissist…

He’s like the guy drowning but waving off a lifeboat saying, ‘Get out of here, I’m very buoyant. I’m the most buoyant. Everybody talks about my buoyancy. I’m a tremendous floater.'

He says that with the confidence of a man who could easily find Saudi Arabia on the map, if he was given three tries and the map only included countries ending with 'Arabia.'

John Oliver, on various occasions.

Those are the mildest insults I could locate among the ones that didn't contain disqualifying swear words. Boy, can Brits swear.

Remember, though, that as you judge the characters of your characters, readers are judging you. What do you, personally, think about this writer's description?

Francis Macomber was very tall, very well built if you did not mind that length of bone, dark, his hair cropped like an oarsman, rather thin-lipped, and was considered handsome. He was dressed in the same sort of safari clothes that Wilson wore except that his were new, he was thirty-five years old, kept himself very fit, was good at court games, had a number of big-game fishing records, and had just shown himself, very publicly, to be a coward.

Ernest Hemingway, 'The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber', in The First Forty-Nine Stories

If you have a few minutes, read that story. Notice the characterisations, and what they tell us about the author's view of the world. What we think about as we read descriptions like these says a lot about us as individuals, about the times we live in, and about the way we appreciate literature – which is probably very different from the way the author thought we were going to appreciate literature when he wrote this. Our attitude toward big-game hunting has changed, for example. And toward race and gender relations. If you don't want to brain at least two of these characters by the time you're finished, I miss my guess. You may actually approve of the ending more than Hemingway intended you to. Personally, I kept thinking, 'What would Slavoj Zizek say?' and thinking that cow manure would play a large role in his heavily-accented response. You may fervently wish for an alternate version of the same tale penned by, say, Margaret Atwood. Or Toni Morrison. Or for that matter, Konrad Lorenz or Gerald (not Lawrence) Durrell.

So: avoid violating libel laws and the rules of public decency. But after that, feel free to characterise. Just remember: someday, somewhere, some reader will be sitting in judgement over your opinions. Write with that in mind.

An afterthought: I'm not saying, 'Be politically correct.' I agree with Zizek: political correctness is cow manure. Political correctness is trying to be careful not to say in public what you are thinking and saying in private. Somebody turns on their mobile mic, and see where that gets you. I'm saying: express your own attitude genuinely. Say what you mean about people, and be open about your own views. But try to be kind, if you can, and make an effort to see past your own prejudices. That way, both you and your readers will benefit.

And full disclosure: I am really not a Hemingway fan. Feel free to disagree.

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Dmitri Gheorgheni

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