The Delight is in the Details
by Jan Drexler
Writing is a complex task.
We work with words, using them to build sentences and paragraphs. But writing is much more than buildings blocks. Any computer could do that.
What we do when we work with words is artistry. We create worlds, moods, emotions, action. We convey hope, despair, love, and hate. We might even affect a reader’s world view.
Our goal is to make the reader forget that they are reading and immerse them in an experience.
That’s easy to say, but how do we do it?
One key is in the details we add to our writing.
Here’s a simple example to start us off:
He kissed her cheek.
Simple and straight forward, right? But where is the experience of the kiss? The way this sentence is written, there is no reward for the reader. No “being there” feeling.
So, let’s add some details:
He cupped her chin in his hands, turning her face toward his. Her eyes softened as he drew her near. The time to claim her as his own hung before him, sweetly tantalizing, but this wasn’t the time. Longing to feel her rosebud lips, he ran his thumb over them in a light caress, then planted the kiss on her soft, fragrant cheek.
This is a different experience, isn’t it? Now we’re getting a hint of both characters and an idea of the story behind the original sentence.
Let’s try another example. This one is from my book, “The Amish Nanny’s Sweetheart.” First, I’ll give you the bare-bones scene, then I’ll show you what the scene is like after I added the details.
Bare-bones, first draft:
Luke left Judith standing in the road. She looked around at the unfamiliar landscape and pulled her shawl tighter. She headed off the opposite way Luke had gone, hoping that this was the way he had brought her.
And now, here’s the way this description appears in the book:
Luke slapped the reins on his horse’s back harder than he needed to and the horse jumped into a trot, leaving Judith standing by the side of the road.
Judith stamped her foot and turned around to walk home. But as she took the first few steps, her anger at Luke faded. The road stretching in front of her was unfamiliar, and the night was dark. The wind had picked up, tugging at her shawl.
Ripples covered the black, oily surface of the lake and lapped against the shore along the roadside. From the woods across the water came the hoot of an owl. A night bird trilled in response. Judith backed away and started down the road, hoping she was heading the way Luke had brought her.
Do you see how the details I added filled out those few paragraphs, bringing the reader right into Judith’s mind, experiencing what she experienced?
But how do we add those details? And how many details do we add? How do we know when to stop?
One thing I do when I’m filling out a scene like this one is to place myself there. I know the lake where Luke took Judith – it has appeared in most of my Love Inspired Amish books. When I wanted to add the details to this scene, I started by closing my eyes. I went back in my memory. What does that lake look like? Where are the woods? The road in relation to the lake shore?
I thought about times when I’ve been in an unfamiliar place, and times when I’ve been outside on a dark, cold, windy night. I thought about what a lake looks like on a night in early spring, after the thaw and before the first leaves appear on the trees.
Finally, to all those memories, I added Judith’s feelings about what she had just experienced: an unwelcome kiss and a disagreement with the boy she thought she liked. Anger fading to uncertainty and fear.
But it is easy to go too far when describing a scene. Details can slow the action and bog the story down.
Here’s another example from the same story. In this scene, Guy (the hero) has just finished milking the cows and is running the milk through the cream separator. At the same time, he and Judith are having a conversation. I hope this snippet gives you an idea of how the scene goes:
Guy watched Judith from under the shock of hair that always fell over his eyebrows as he started assembling the cream separator. He tried to catch her eye, but she seemed distracted. She stepped forward to help him sort the dozens of rings and filters, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Well?” Guy set the filters in their place and attached the big onion-shaped hopper on the top of the cream separator.
“Are you serious about learning Deitsch?” She handed him the clean steel buckets that would hold the separated milk and cream. Guy started the slow, heavy crank, getting the separator up to speed before he poured the milk into it.
“Of course I am.” He lifted the first pail and poured the steaming milk into the hopper. “At least, I am if you’re going to teach me.”
In preparation for writing this scene, I learned how a cream separator from the 1930’s works. I read descriptions and I watched You-tube videos. Too late, I realized I should have asked my dad, because he used one of these every day when he was growing up.
But now I know how to run a cream separator, and I know a LOT more than the little details I mentioned in this scene.
And I don’t know about you, but I love sharing information like this with anyone who will listen! I could have added SO MANY more details about cream separators…but I didn’t, and I’m sure you know why:
This scene isn’t about cream separators!
I put in enough details to place the reader in the milk house with Guy and Judith, but not so many that the purpose of the scene is lost.
In other words, don’t let your story get overshadowed by the details.
Learning to sprinkle in the right details at the right time is part of developing your writing skills, so today we're going to play a little game!
Choose one of the following sentences and add in a few details. Make the sentence your own, and share it in the comments. Practice making the sentence come alive for your readers!
1) She turned the page.
2) He closed the car door.
3) It rained all day.
4) It snowed.
5) The meal tasted good.
6) She saw him walking toward her.
7) The dog barked.
8) The smoke was thick.
9) She heard a door slam.
10) A baby cried.
Have fun!
*I will draw the names of two commenters this week to win their own copies of "The Amish Nanny's Sweetheart!"
Jan Drexler is a long-time Seekervillager who credits the ladies of Seekerville for giving her the tools she needed to launch her writing career. In her former life she was a Homeschool Mom, but was forced into retirement when her youngest son graduated from high school. That’s when a computer and a deep well of family stories to draw from inspired her to delve into a long-held dream of writing historical fiction with Amish characters. When she isn’t writing she spends much of her time satisfying her cross-stitch addiction or hiking and enjoying the Black Hills of South Dakota with her husband of more than thirty-six years. Her writing partner is her Corgi, Thatcher, who makes life…interesting.
Writing is a complex task.
We work with words, using them to build sentences and paragraphs. But writing is much more than buildings blocks. Any computer could do that.
What we do when we work with words is artistry. We create worlds, moods, emotions, action. We convey hope, despair, love, and hate. We might even affect a reader’s world view.
Our goal is to make the reader forget that they are reading and immerse them in an experience.
That’s easy to say, but how do we do it?
One key is in the details we add to our writing.
Here’s a simple example to start us off:
He kissed her cheek.
Simple and straight forward, right? But where is the experience of the kiss? The way this sentence is written, there is no reward for the reader. No “being there” feeling.
So, let’s add some details:
He cupped her chin in his hands, turning her face toward his. Her eyes softened as he drew her near. The time to claim her as his own hung before him, sweetly tantalizing, but this wasn’t the time. Longing to feel her rosebud lips, he ran his thumb over them in a light caress, then planted the kiss on her soft, fragrant cheek.
This is a different experience, isn’t it? Now we’re getting a hint of both characters and an idea of the story behind the original sentence.
Let’s try another example. This one is from my book, “The Amish Nanny’s Sweetheart.” First, I’ll give you the bare-bones scene, then I’ll show you what the scene is like after I added the details.
Bare-bones, first draft:
Luke left Judith standing in the road. She looked around at the unfamiliar landscape and pulled her shawl tighter. She headed off the opposite way Luke had gone, hoping that this was the way he had brought her.
And now, here’s the way this description appears in the book:
Luke slapped the reins on his horse’s back harder than he needed to and the horse jumped into a trot, leaving Judith standing by the side of the road.
Judith stamped her foot and turned around to walk home. But as she took the first few steps, her anger at Luke faded. The road stretching in front of her was unfamiliar, and the night was dark. The wind had picked up, tugging at her shawl.
Ripples covered the black, oily surface of the lake and lapped against the shore along the roadside. From the woods across the water came the hoot of an owl. A night bird trilled in response. Judith backed away and started down the road, hoping she was heading the way Luke had brought her.
Do you see how the details I added filled out those few paragraphs, bringing the reader right into Judith’s mind, experiencing what she experienced?
But how do we add those details? And how many details do we add? How do we know when to stop?
One thing I do when I’m filling out a scene like this one is to place myself there. I know the lake where Luke took Judith – it has appeared in most of my Love Inspired Amish books. When I wanted to add the details to this scene, I started by closing my eyes. I went back in my memory. What does that lake look like? Where are the woods? The road in relation to the lake shore?
I thought about times when I’ve been in an unfamiliar place, and times when I’ve been outside on a dark, cold, windy night. I thought about what a lake looks like on a night in early spring, after the thaw and before the first leaves appear on the trees.
Finally, to all those memories, I added Judith’s feelings about what she had just experienced: an unwelcome kiss and a disagreement with the boy she thought she liked. Anger fading to uncertainty and fear.
But it is easy to go too far when describing a scene. Details can slow the action and bog the story down.
Here’s another example from the same story. In this scene, Guy (the hero) has just finished milking the cows and is running the milk through the cream separator. At the same time, he and Judith are having a conversation. I hope this snippet gives you an idea of how the scene goes:
Guy watched Judith from under the shock of hair that always fell over his eyebrows as he started assembling the cream separator. He tried to catch her eye, but she seemed distracted. She stepped forward to help him sort the dozens of rings and filters, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Well?” Guy set the filters in their place and attached the big onion-shaped hopper on the top of the cream separator.
“Are you serious about learning Deitsch?” She handed him the clean steel buckets that would hold the separated milk and cream. Guy started the slow, heavy crank, getting the separator up to speed before he poured the milk into it.
“Of course I am.” He lifted the first pail and poured the steaming milk into the hopper. “At least, I am if you’re going to teach me.”
In preparation for writing this scene, I learned how a cream separator from the 1930’s works. I read descriptions and I watched You-tube videos. Too late, I realized I should have asked my dad, because he used one of these every day when he was growing up.
But now I know how to run a cream separator, and I know a LOT more than the little details I mentioned in this scene.
And I don’t know about you, but I love sharing information like this with anyone who will listen! I could have added SO MANY more details about cream separators…but I didn’t, and I’m sure you know why:
This scene isn’t about cream separators!
I put in enough details to place the reader in the milk house with Guy and Judith, but not so many that the purpose of the scene is lost.
In other words, don’t let your story get overshadowed by the details.
Learning to sprinkle in the right details at the right time is part of developing your writing skills, so today we're going to play a little game!
Choose one of the following sentences and add in a few details. Make the sentence your own, and share it in the comments. Practice making the sentence come alive for your readers!
1) She turned the page.
2) He closed the car door.
3) It rained all day.
4) It snowed.
5) The meal tasted good.
6) She saw him walking toward her.
7) The dog barked.
8) The smoke was thick.
9) She heard a door slam.
10) A baby cried.
Have fun!
*I will draw the names of two commenters this week to win their own copies of "The Amish Nanny's Sweetheart!"
Jan Drexler is a long-time Seekervillager who credits the ladies of Seekerville for giving her the tools she needed to launch her writing career. In her former life she was a Homeschool Mom, but was forced into retirement when her youngest son graduated from high school. That’s when a computer and a deep well of family stories to draw from inspired her to delve into a long-held dream of writing historical fiction with Amish characters. When she isn’t writing she spends much of her time satisfying her cross-stitch addiction or hiking and enjoying the Black Hills of South Dakota with her husband of more than thirty-six years. Her writing partner is her Corgi, Thatcher, who makes life…interesting.
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