Characterisation, in a nutshell, is all about the revelation of character through action. Just what we’re interested in as screenwriters in others words; visual storytelling. The question is, how to go about it. And for answers, I’d suggest that consulting your own experience of how people make themselves known to you is a good starting point.

For instance, a few years ago I had the misfortune to be involved with a dodgy businessman. If he’d been an outright conman I’d have spotted it a lot earlier, but he was more of a Walter Mitty than anything; a fantasist with dreams of being a successful entrepreneur. Even at the time, there was one visual clue as to his true nature: the background image on the screen of his laptop was an expensive motor of some kind. Not being conversant in carspeak, I couldn’t tell you what, but it was a nakedly aspirational image that said a lot about how shallow he was.

Another Mittyish character from my commercial dealings was more touching, and wasn’t any kind of ripoff merchant. His visually fascinating flourish was that he actually lived in the business unit he rented on an industrial estate, one of the rooms being reserved as his bedroom. That was quite sweet really, as was the fact that he named the unit after his son, whose death had triggered him to leave the stable banking world he’d been part of and seek a new life as a business guru. Mittyish – but endearing. If I was writing something drawn from him, I’d have Mel Smith in mind.

Then there are moments we witness from people we may never see again, but point to interesting personality facets. Steve Whitaker, the comic artist whose death I recorded recently on this blog, shared one with me that if he never got round to using it, I’d like to one day. He’d been in a supermarket, and the person in front of him had just two or three items to pay for. But they put them a foot away from the food of the person in front, and left another foot before placing the bar marking out the next customer’s shopping. A lovely visual shorthand for ‘I need my space’.

Years ago, on my way to an anti-racist rally in London, one participant stood out on the coach we were on. He was dotted all over with badges, each allying him with another cause, whether environmental, international, trade union, or artistic. The sheer range, combined with the way he’d got his packed lunch ready, and his awkward way of dressing, painted a picture of a man whose whole life was about causes, but for whom the causes were in all likelihood a means of connecting with other people. Each of the badges was his way of saying hello to a potential friend.

All of those examples are easily conveyed visually. One of my favourites would be trickier on that front, but would I believe work over the course of a story. This was drawn from a woman I knew who was a tremendously talented artist, writer, and musician, but who never seemed to get anywhere with all that potential. As I got to know her well, it seemed every time an opportunity came up she’d experience a real or imagined illness that stopped her from having to deal with it. And what seemed to sum her up was a short film she wanted to make…and of course never did. Its title? ‘Waiting For A Miracle (And Nothing Ever Happens)’. A precise declaration of her stance on life at that time…I hope she’s moved on and managed to make things happen since, as her talent is unquestionable. Interesting, and inevitable, that our choices say so much about us.