Description is something that gets in the way of many authors. Why? Well, because it’s so darn hard to write. And no wonder. If you’re not careful, descriptive sequences can become static, even dull. Writing action and dialogue is so much more fun. On top of that, description incorporates so many elements. It doesn’t just cover describing the setting — it also involves descriptions of the characters’ clothes and appearance, the “props" your characters use, the weather, and so forth. If you’re not very accomplished at writing description, then sometimes you might want to avoid writing it. But then, you can wind up with stories where people wander vague hallways or buildings, and readers don’t get a sense of time or place from your story. A story without enough description is missing something. People who read a story that’s lacking in description might ask “Where does this take place? Are there buildings around them?" I must admit that often happens when people look at my early drafts. At the same time, some writers err in the other direction, including too much description. They fall in love with their setting and can’t help tell the readers about it. And tell and tell. This can impede the flow of the narrative. Imagine readers skimming your book in the store. If they see pages and pages describing the castle grounds, or the chic hotel, they will probably put it down and pick up someone else’s book instead. How bad is bad description? Think of bad description as being like that teacher who droned on and on and put the class to sleep. Good description is more like the teacher who got students involved by using anecdotes and making the class interactive. You don’t want the descriptive passages in your story to put your readers to sleep, do you? Avoid Huge Lumps of Description In the past, authors could get away with including long, detailed descriptions in their stories. There’s an infamous anecdote about a penny dreadful called Varney the Vampire. The author couldn’t decide what happened in the next installment, so he interrupted the story to send all his characters off to the park or the zoo. The story picked up again in the next installment. This problem wasn’t limited to the penny dreadfuls. Many famous novels of this period came to a complete stop while the author described something (such as a cityscape, a history, or even an entire profession) for a chapter or two. Unless they’re seeking out writers known for lyrical descriptive passages, today’s readers wouldn’t put up with that sort of thing. They don’t want to sit and read several pages about a park outing that had nothing to do with the story, or about the workings of the fireplace in a Medieval castle. They have better things to do with their time — and they want to read a story, not a travelogue. Of course there are authors who, even in today’s marketplace, can get away with pages and pages of description. Even genre writers. (John Crowley is a great example in the SF/fantasy field.) Those writers get away with it only because they’re really really good. Either their writing is lyrical, or it’s witty, or it’s somehow so enthralling that people don’t care that the book has ground to a halt. However, not all readers will put up with this, even if the writing is the terrific. Also, it’s worth noting that there are many published writers who rhapsodize on everything from history to their characters’ politics for long passages without being lyrical about it. In these case, the reality is that even the fans know to skim those passages. Make Description an Active Part of the Story To make your stories more interesting, you must find ways to blend the description into the story. Descriptions that just sit there are generally known as “narrative lumps." Like lumps on proverbial logs, they sit there and do little to your story. Send those lumps to the gym and make them work out. They can set the scene, move the plot, set the mood, foreshadow events, give us a sense of character, whatever they have to do to get the ball (or log) rolling. The great thing about using descriptions in combination with action is that you can cut the description down into palatable pieces. In a fantasy short story, I once wrote the following sentence: “Zara grabbed her mug and gulped it down, shivering when a few drops the ale trickled under her leather top." I made my words work for me. I didn’t have to say “The ale was cold. She wore a leather top." Instead, I used action to fit that description into the story in tiny bits. How did I come up with that line? It came from imagining Zara and what she might experience when she drank that ale. Try it with your own stories. Try to think of your story as scenes unfolding in a movie or play. What do your characters interact with? Let’s say you’re writing a story set in a modern-day office building. Instead of stopping the story to describe the lush lobby with trees and waterfalls, come up with a reason for this description to be in the story. Yes, even “Because this office should have a fancy lobby" is a legitimate reason for the description to be in the story, as long as it doesn’t drag the story to a stop. Now, come up with an excuse — whoops, I mean a reason — for the characters to be interacting with that setting. Are your hero and heroine walking through the lobby while having an argument? Or are they sitting at the fountain when they realize they may be in love? What they are doing will influence what they interact with, and how they filter those details. Want to describe the heroine’s living room or bedroom? Then describe it as a part of a scene full of tension, such as an argument, or during the love scene. Blend the description with action. The same goes for describing the characters. Something as simple as “He picked up the invitation with his slender fingers" is more exciting than “She noticed that he had slender fingers." zzz Don’t forget to trust in the intelligence of your audience. You don’t have to spell everything out for them. You can make them figure out what something, or someone, looks like by dropping hints. Early in Walter Miller, Jr.’s classic post-apocalpytic novel A Canticle for Leibowitz, a monk realizes for the first time that the pope’s cassock is getting threadbare, and that the carpet in the pope’s audience room is worn. Miller uses description to clue the reader in on this world and to mark changes in the way the character is viewing the world around him.
Posted on: Sat, 06 Jul 2013 06:28:09 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015