Too Many Notes
Right now I’m reading a paranormal-werewolf-romance-action novel. The author has an engaging style, so it’s an enjoyably easy read. Her large cast of characters could be overwhelming, but she knows how and when to introduce each person, so I haven’t had trouble keeping the plot lines straight.
I’m only a quarter of the way into the book, so I’ll reserve my full critique until I’ve finished. But there’s one aspect of her writing that does give me pause. It’s what I call the “answering the phone” approach to description. Here’s an example (this is an exaggerated fabrication and is not a passage from this novel):
She was reading a book while lounging in the recliner. The phone rang. She put down her book, gout out of the chair, and walked across the room. When she got to the phone, she picked up the receiver and said into the mouthpiece, “Hello?”
When I read a passage like this, my editor-brain kicks into hyper-drive. There is no need to describe the character walking across the room unless there is something unique about it:
The room is in a humongous mansion, so the character has to run to get to the phone before it goes to voicemail.The character has difficulty walking, so this is a miraculous moment that she could do so unassisted.
The writer has used four sentences (45 words) to describe action that could be condensed into two sentences:
While she was reading a book, the phone rang. “Hello?”
It’s pretty utilitarian language, I admit, but keeping this description brief allows you to more fully dissect a more important scene later on.
Given that the first draft of my novel Dead Hungry was over 280,000 words, I certainly can be verbose. And in an early draft, it’s sometimes useful to describe each step of the action because it allows your brain to work out the details. But your reader doesn’t need to see this. The reader relies on the writer’s ability to be concise and precise.
More later. I’ve got to go answer the phone.
I’m only a quarter of the way into the book, so I’ll reserve my full critique until I’ve finished. But there’s one aspect of her writing that does give me pause. It’s what I call the “answering the phone” approach to description. Here’s an example (this is an exaggerated fabrication and is not a passage from this novel):
She was reading a book while lounging in the recliner. The phone rang. She put down her book, gout out of the chair, and walked across the room. When she got to the phone, she picked up the receiver and said into the mouthpiece, “Hello?”
When I read a passage like this, my editor-brain kicks into hyper-drive. There is no need to describe the character walking across the room unless there is something unique about it:
The room is in a humongous mansion, so the character has to run to get to the phone before it goes to voicemail.The character has difficulty walking, so this is a miraculous moment that she could do so unassisted.
The writer has used four sentences (45 words) to describe action that could be condensed into two sentences:
While she was reading a book, the phone rang. “Hello?”
It’s pretty utilitarian language, I admit, but keeping this description brief allows you to more fully dissect a more important scene later on.
Given that the first draft of my novel Dead Hungry was over 280,000 words, I certainly can be verbose. And in an early draft, it’s sometimes useful to describe each step of the action because it allows your brain to work out the details. But your reader doesn’t need to see this. The reader relies on the writer’s ability to be concise and precise.
More later. I’ve got to go answer the phone.
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