I was reading this script.
In the script.
This woman looks in a full length mirror.
This is the writer’s
not so subtle way to —
Let a reader know what the character looks like.
The writer is not very good. The writer writes most of this as interior monologue. As in these are thoughts going through the woman’s mind looking in the mirror. Kind of an amateur mistake. That indicates the writer does not know the difference between writing prose and writing for film. Oh well. These things happen.
What the woman sees : Her perfect flawless alabaster complexion, her dewey eyes like deep aquamarine pools, her flowing, lustrous Titian hair, her firm, swelling and perfect breasts, her tapering delicate waist flowing into smooth and supple hips descending to long, firm and flawless legs —
[OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD. IS THIS WRITER INSANE?]
Okay. This writer is clearly a man. No woman on Earth looking in a mirror sees that. Ever.
What that woman would actually see : I have a blemish, will that cover? Those damn Biore strips are not working my pores are huge. Fuck, is that a line? This new conditioner sucks now my hair is flat. It is time to fire the stylist she got this fucking shade wrong again what is that supposed to be, strawberry? My breasts are too small. My thighs are too big. My waist is too long. My nose turns up wrong. I have to do more time on the treadmill. Maybe I should try colored contacts. Damn it my hips are huge, nothing is going to cover these hips — Sweet Mother of Jesus is that cellulite?!?
That is what women see in the mirror. Every single one of us. Every time we look.
Get it right.
[ps : no i did not take that directly from a script i would not do that but that is what was happening so you get the idea]