![]() Occasionally I’m writing a scene that begins to feel like a cheap sock-puppet show (no disrespect to PBS or any puppet-friendly network). The characters may argue or banter, but because they do nothing but speak, the narrative thins out and becomes less palpable. It takes on the one-dimensionality of a fast sketch, rather than the flesh-and-blood tangibility I had been going for. The people become talking heads, or, if they’re alone, they walk through a gray landscape where little of their world assumes a form. Other times, I may read a book whose world is too tangible. Some authors catalogue every detail in a scene—the woodwork of an office doorway, the names of volumes on a lawyer’s shelf, the thirteen toys in a store window. The relentless listing overwhelms me and jumbles my sense of a scene, as if the characters were lost in a hoarder’s house. I’m guilty of this in my own writing sometimes, too. The solution is a reasonable balance of description to create the impression of a scene. Here is the strategy that has helped me: A narrow focus creates a broader canvas.
If you select one aspect of a setting and describe it pointedly, reader’s minds have an unconscious tendency to fill in the blank spots with their own details. For example, in my current work, I wrote a scene in which the main character enters a school office to appeal his suspension from his job: Lunchtime vacated the classrooms near Felicity High’s entrance and skated all the students into the cafeteria. I parked the DeSoto down the street at Woolworth’s instead of the school lot, then headed for the front office. Ida’s [the school secretary] Royal typewriter rested massively on her desk in a slant of tired sun, unmanned. The machine’s carriage return, I remembered, sounded like an artillery shell socketing into the hull of a submarine. The memory elicited an unexpected longing in me, but that faded when I saw the envelope tucked next to it, marked with my name. Looking around as if I were reaching into a cash register, I tore it open and found a key that unlocked her desk drawer. Inside she had saved my month’s paycheck. When I started this scene, my first instinct was to chomp right into the narrator’s surroundings with a description of the frosted-glass door, the blinds on the window, the dust motes on the air, the clutter on the secretary’s desk, and the coat rack blocking the view of the principal’s office. In the end, I added no more details except for an ink blotter and a long corridor to the boss’s office. It was more challenging (and fun) to zero in on one object associated with that environment, the typewriter, and describe its unique qualities. I learned that as I deepened the focus on the machine’s sounds, its position in the light, even the feelings it inspires in the character, the presence of the office grew stronger around it—not because of any words I wrote, but because of my own imagination. I think that’s the responsibility of a writer—to respect the reader enough to leave some of the story up to his or her personal creativity. What kind of a descriptive writer are you—a sparse Hemingway or a rich Faulkner? Somewhere in between? As a reader, which kind of author do you prefer?
2 Comments
8/7/2013 08:33:25 am
I can definitely see where focusing on one object alone can give the reader a better ability to explore without having the limitations of a complete setting. Then again, I can also see the advantage of having an author give precise details to an entire surrounding. But I absolutely agree with you in terms of giving the reader an opportunity to use their imagination. There are countless times that I read a book and my interpretation of the characters or even the environment is different than what my friends or fellow authors have thought. So I guess what it really comes down to is what kind of relationship the author wants to have with their readers and how far they want them to go with the words they provide for them. Great post, this one had me thinking! I tend to focus on the surroundings but I will keep objects in mind now.
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8/7/2013 11:50:22 pm
Hi, Gina. Thanks for visiting the site. As with most issues in writing, the best strategy comes down to the situation. I still think, though, that I rarely enjoy movies made from books that I love because the movies often upset the picture of the setting I had in mind. I think it also depends on the genre - if you're writing a thriller set in America 2013, you'll describe less of the setting than you would for a historical in ancient China or a sci-fi/fantasy novel. Thanks for your insight!
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AboutAnthony Otten has published stories in Jabberwock Review, Valparaiso Fiction Review, Wind, Still: The Journal, and others. He has been a finalist for the Hargrove Editors' Prize in Fiction. He lives in Kentucky. Recent Posts:
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