Description Is In The Details

The last few critiques I’ve received on stories have included compliments on descriptions. That, more than any other praise, makes me over-the-moon giddy-happy.

Why?

Because I’m awful at describing things. Really.

I reread old stories and discover that my settings are washed out and generic. Fight scenes choreographed in a void, maybe with a surprise!chair that vanishes after use. I never realized how important setting and scenery were – window dressing, I thought – until I saw what happened in my own stories without it.

Six years ago, about when I first noticed this particular weakness, I had no clue how to fix it. My attempts seemed forced and clumsy. The rare times it worked, I couldn’t tell why. Luck seemed the only way to replicate it.

But this is where it’s amazing to have friends who are writers.

I began whining to one writer-friend whose descriptive abilities leave me amazed and breathless. And she told me a trick she read somewhere (apologies: I don’t remember who originated it) that has so far worked fantastically well for me.

The exercise goes something like this: you walk into a room (or street, or trees, or anywhere); what are two or three things you notice? A sound or smell, item or color or shadow – anything that you observe. If you like writing exercises, write that entrance. I’m not a fan because I get bored too easily, so my version of this exercise just became a conscious part of everyday life.

In writing, two or three details can evoke the tone and feel of the whole while adding personality to the setting. More than that risks becoming a list.

My stories do not roll through my head like a movie; I have to work harder at creating settings. It becomes a conscious effort to imagine the space through which my characters move. Even after six years, I still struggle with it.

With a recent short story, the setting was what fascinated me the most – even more than the characters, which had rarely if ever happened before. But when the editing process began, I discovered that the world in my head did not appear on the page. Rather than neon colors and complex organic shapes, I had a landscape of a neutral, blurred quality.

But I now have the ability to fix that, unlike just a few years ago. When I passed the second draft off to my writing group, I received a lot of positive feedback on the world.

Description isn’t all-or-nothing; you don’t have to know everything. In fact, it’s often more fun for both you and your readers to let them fill in the blanks. You just have to give them – and their imaginations – something to work with.

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