Pump Up Your Descriptions

Finalist 2014 Readers’ Favorite Annua... Location, Location, Location

Pump Up Your Descriptions

Descriptions puts readers into your story while engaging all their senses — sight, sound, smell, taste, feel. If dialogues move the plot forward, descriptions flesh out scenes.

Victorian writers over described scenes and gave credence to the statement “That’s more than I need to know.” However, the selective use of details adds to the description.

The most common things we tend to describe are character’s physical appearance, clothing, neighborhoods, housing, furniture, scenery, weather. I personally am not much into characters’ appearances, I give hints and leave the rest to the readers’ imagination.

New writers often break into the story creating author intrusion, especially when describing people. The reader is subjected to a litany of details about height, weight, hair color, etc, that give no chance to the reader’s own vision.

Slightly more experienced writers use the overworked mirror trick, letting the character provide the description: She watched herself in the mirror as she brushed her “long black shiny hair and put a touch of pink lipstick to her full lips, etc.” Ouch!

Showing not telling has to be again your mantra, and constitutes a better way to introduce appearance. A short character can be shown when a character has to stand on a chair to reach the middle cabinets in a kitchen. Overweight shows when struggling into an outfit that refuses to zip, or a man can rest his hand on the stomach that overhangs his belt, or can’t see his feet.

Worse are expressions like “she didn’t look 45,” which I’ve read in any number of books and best sellers. What 45 looks like? Or 32 or 55 for that matter. The people I know from my school years had aged at such different rates that there could have been 20 years between us instead of a mere few 12 months. Stop wondering, I look younger than most

There are better ways to describe someone appearing younger than their years might be: “Her face was unlined, and she moved with the energy of a young woman. Then he looked at her hands and saw raised veins and age spots.” There, the contrast is created and no one told readers anything. By adding details, the reader’s imagination does the work instead of having to figure out what X number of years look like.

How we manipulate our descriptions changes the story we are telling, err, showing.

Same goes when describing a room. Use the description to create the atmosphere, summon a vision.

Luminescent bulbs on the roof cleared the way. Inside them, a sort of slow-twirling jelly emanated a cold blue light. The two lateral corridors bent after a short while, hiding their ultimate destination so we decided to explore the chapel first. Arranged in rows, wooden benches waited for the faithful, and the altar bore a sign which we were now able to distinguish and recognize: the well-known mutilated human hand—yellowish brown on the white stone—saluted us. Further to the left, an opened book sat on a lectern podium.

We all perceived danger; we had questions running through our minds but no one uttered a word. Slowly, we approached the altar. Three stone steps led to the lectern and everything needed for a mass was in place, but none of us recognized any of the various religious symbols.

From Once Humans: Daimones Trilogy, Vol.2, Finalist 2014 Readers’ Favorite Book Award in Science Fiction.

That description tells a lot more about contrast between the known and the unknown, the danger, the interference from aliens in otherwise familiar and reassuring details, and about the doubts that assail the speaker than it does about the room.

Likewise for exterior description. A playground with brightly colored and innovative equipment built by a committee of parents is different from a playground with a netless basket rim, cracked cement and a broken swing. Each fleshes out the economic status and condition of far different neighborhoods without giving the professions and incomes of the people who live there.

Personal perspective makes scenery more than just a scenery. In Switzerland, I love looking up at the Alps and feel they are opening to eternity, to a different world with untold promises, but they mentally imprison a Swiss friend. They are the same mountains, though; an Alp is an Alp is an Alp. Which way a character reacts makes scenery work hard for your story. Does the person love the sea? Is it frightening because of an accident that killed a relative? Does sailing a boat through a storm represent a (wo)man vs. nature challenge?

Weather gives chances for all types of descriptions, but it shouldn’t always rain at funerals, or when characters are in bad moods. Describe cold to give readers a feeling of temperature without saying it is below freezing.

The snow created ephemeral, white faeries who twisted—spun by the gusts of wind—as they appeared and disappeared with an hypnotic dance. I might have lost Alaston if I had not been aware of his presence and position.

From Once Humans: Daimones Trilogy, Vol.2, Finalist 2014 Readers’ Favorite Book Award in Science Fiction.

Noises and smells can flesh out a story, or let readers imagine the harsh violence of past events.

The Space Marines accomplished their mission with impeccable efficiency and the orders gave them carte blanche in the attack. ‘Brutal and swift’ best described their assault tactics. The smell of ozone covered, in part, that of the melting flesh.

The Marines gained control of the area and ejected part of the debris and wreckage from the main docking bay. The second wave landed on a cleared deck and didn’t require any delicate maneuvers from their pilots to touch ground.

Telle wrinkled his nose as he stepped outside the shuttle. Much of the stench of burned organic and inorganic materials still lingered, and the smell fought against the atmospheric filtering systems.

From The Rise of the Phoenix: Daimones Trilogy, Vol.3