# Let's talk about descriptions



## Svrtnsse (Aug 18, 2018)

In a recent thread I mentioned that it might be time for a discussion about writing descriptions. This is a topic that's dear to me, and which I find fascinating. How do you put images into the mind of the reader?

I'll start us off with an image from a blog post I wrote for my own blog a while back:






I believe that within the fantasy genre there's a fondness, not least among writers, for vivid and intricate descriptions that dazzle the reader with visions of worlds beyond time and dream. You know, the cool stuff.

It's fun to write descriptions like that, but it can also be difficult. It's easy to lay it on too thick, or to miss something important, or distract from the story.

We often talk about how to write. Whether or not to use certain kinds of words. How to achieve a consistent voice or a tight point of view. Should I write in first person or in third? Past or present?

Only rarely, I find, do we talk about how we read.

Specifically, how does the human mind transform words on a page into stories in our minds?

Imagination. Association. First impressions. Expectations. Pattern recognition. Creative thinking.

There's some crazy stuff going on in that warm squishy mess behind our eyes. Science doesn't know half of it, but that doesn't mean we can't wonder about it, or try and put it to use when writing.

Make the reader do the work.

Can we write in a way that encourages the reader to create their own image of what we're telling them? Should we? How?

My opinion is that we can. My opinion is also that you should do what you feel like and take my ramblings on the matter with a pinch of salt.

How then?

Well, that's a good question, isn't it?


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## FifthView (Aug 18, 2018)

I'm sure I'll return to this thread many times.



Svrtnsse said:


> Can we write in a way that encourages the reader to create their own image of what we're telling them? Should we? How?



Three questions.

Can we? Yes.

Should we? I don't know. This question seems more complicated after a little thought than it might seem at first. The question turns on a continuum. To what degree should we show?  Which items should be shown; which, left to the imagination? Even if the answers to these questions are different for different authors and/or different stories for any author, I suspect they'll broadly be relevant. One story might require a bit more description of the particular sorts of elves in that world, whereas a different story might not need to describe them much at all; so, should? It's very vivid question, itself, heh.

How? While the second question might get more attention in this discussion, this question might ultimately be the best and deserve even more attention. But as I said, I think I'll be returning to the thread many times.


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## Heliotrope (Aug 18, 2018)

OMG, love this. I'm going to be a frequent poster here too. Great post Svrt!

Oh gosh...



Svrtnsse said:


> Make the reader do the work.
> 
> Can we write in a way that encourages the reader to create their own image of what we're telling them? Should we? How?



I believe we should be writing in a way that encourages the reader to create their own images. Some new writers go way too far, IMO trying to describe every detail of a scene. Why? To what purpose? Do I care, as the reader, that the bedspread is pink?

I think we should give enough that our goals as storytellers are met. It think it is important to think about your goal for the scene. Do you NEED the reader to know that the character is poor? Then a few, choice descriptions of the state of the home, oh their clothes, or what they had for breakfast may be enough. I think of it like a dot to dot. I add a few, very specific dots and let the reader fill in the lines. I always go back to Chekov:

_Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass._

A lot of new writers want to describe big, broad, obvious things in the scene. Stuff that is mundane. I know what a moon looks like. Unless you have a totally new way of describing the moon, don't tell me about the moon. Find a small, intimate detail that is special to your world, or special to your character and tell me about that. Tell me something new and interesting. Let me fill in the blanks.

A GREAT description makes me see the world in a new way. It wakes me up from my sleepwalk of life. This is why voice is soooo important IMO. I don't want to know about the wood panelled walls or the green carpet. I want to know the character's opinion on them. I want to know what the character sees as important.

_What unites great novels is the *individual manner *in which they articulate experience and force us to be attentive, waking us from the sleepwalk of our lives. And the great joy of fiction is the variety of this process: Austen's prose will make you attentive in a different way and to different things than Wharton's; the dream Philip Roth wishes to wake us from still counts as sleep if Pynchon is the dream-catcher.

- Zadie Smith, Fail Better 
_
A great description is one that forces me to be attentive. That makes me see the moon in a new way. That makes me see my dinner in a new way. New authors always describe stuff exactly as they see it. The visual. That is boring. That is sleepwalking. I want to see it from your (or your character's perspective.) I want to know an opinion on it. Tell me that. I can fill in the blanks about the mundane stuff on my own.


_


_


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## skip.knox (Aug 19, 2018)

Readers will use their imagination when they have reason to do so, and that happens most readily when they have reason to care what's going on at the moment. It happens also when the author sets an expectation of action. Here's an example from one of the best writers in the business, Raymond Chandler. It's from _The Long Goodbye_. You don't even need a setup to appreciate it.

It was two o'clock when I got back and they were waiting for me in a dark sedan with no police tags, no red light, only a double antenna, and not only police cars have those. I was halfway up the steps before they came out of it and yelled at me, the usual couple in the usual suits, with the usual stony leisure of movement, as if the world was waiting hushed and silent for them to tell it what to do.
"Your name Marlowe? We want to talk to you."
He let me see the glint of a badge. For all I caught of it he might have been Pest Control. He was gray blond and looked sticky. His partner was tall, good-looking, neat, and had a precise nastiness about him, a goon with an education. They had watching and waiting eyes, patient and careful eyes, cool disdainful eyes, cops' eyes. They get them at the passing-out parade at the police school.

I chose this at random. There are scores of such passages. The usual couple in the usual suits, that relies on 20th century stereotypes, not much use for us fantasy writers. But then we get "the usual stony leisure of movement" which is just brilliant. The description would be lazy without that. Chandler is concise, and concise is never lazy.

Then there's the glint of a badge. Chandler doesn't describe the action except tangentially. Almost without noticing it, he's brought the cops out of the car and close to our MC. Notice the three short sentences ending with that "gray blond and looked sticky." Five words and the first cop is described. Then two whole sentences about their eyes, without ever saying anything about their color, narrow or wide, round or squinty. 

And, what I like best of all, the description itself sets tension. We have no doubt a confrontation is about to happen. And we're instinctively with Marlowe because of the way the cops are described: the unmarked car, the time of day, and the pejorative connotations of Pest Control, stickiness, nastiness, and disdain. We hope Marlowe gives one of them a poke in the nose. But of course, this is Chandler, so it goes the other way. For a while.

Descriptions, in short and however vague this sounds, should reverberate. If they are only describing, merely describing, they're not pulling their weight. Dialogue should do more than talk; description should do more than describe.


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## Demesnedenoir (Aug 19, 2018)

Here is an interesting point (note, I'm headed to bed so haven't read all the responses) but:

When the human brain reads "A mouse sat on the desk," it's been shown that at least a lot of people won't form an image of said mouse because they don't yet know if its a piece of computer equipment, or a scurrying little critter who loves cheese. Uncertainty pauses the movie being painted in the reader's head. This can be useful, or detrimental. If it's done too often, it can get funky.

But here's the thing... writers don't do it with this obvious example that often, we do it with things like "But here's the thing" OR 

"Sitting in the dark corner of the office, William..."

The adverbial phrase/clause opening delays the readers experience, it pauses the movie while we wait. Even with the dark corner description, we don't know what to put there. At best its an incomplete still shot. I LOVE adverbial phrase openings, but I've come to realize I need to limit them. They tend to lend an air of authorial oomph to my snobby, writer's ear, but I curb my natural predilection for this style of sentence in order to keep the movie rolling.

They can also lead to dangling participles, but even when written correctly, one should consider if you use them too often.


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## skip.knox (Aug 19, 2018)

OTOH, if I read "A cockroach sat on the typewriter" I see the image clearly. ;-)


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## Svrtnsse (Aug 19, 2018)

Demesnedenoir said:


> When the human brain reads "A mouse sat on the desk," it's been shown that at least a lot of people won't form an image of said mouse because they don't yet know if its a piece of computer equipment, or a scurrying little critter who loves cheese. Uncertainty pauses the movie being painted in the reader's head. This can be useful, or detrimental. If it's done too often, it can get funky.


This is interesting, because it doesn't match my personal experience (that doesn't mean it's wrong).

Perhaps I'm not a very critical person, but in the example above I assumed the mouse was the little furry kind that loves cheese. If it had turned out to be the plastic kind with a laser in its belly I'd have been annoyed, and perhaps I might even have felt cheated.
Then again let's assume that's just me.

According to the above, a lot of people wouldn't form an image of the mouse because they don't know what kind it is. This raises a few other interesting questions: For how long can the mouse remain an undecided entity, and what happens when the time runs out? Will the mind settle on the mouse being one of the two (furry or plastic), or will the existence of the mouse be phased out of awareness?

I don't know the answer to these questions, but my guess is that the mouse can't remain undecided for long - a few seconds at most, or a few lines of text. It's difficult to imagine something being two different things at the same time. I also think that if the mouse is at all relevant to the scene I would settle on it being one or the other, and not push it out of my mind.

So how do we tell the reader what kind of mouse it is?
We can tell them the mouse is nibbling on the keyboard cable, or that it's upside down with it's tiny belly-laser feebly trying to penetrate the dusty air of the room (okay, maybe not, but it's really early and I've only had my second cup of coffee). What I want to get to is that by we can nudge the reader in the right direction by using descriptions that are more closely related to one of the other.

Examples:
 - A cute little mouse.
 - A sleek black mouse.

I'd like to think that in both of the above examples there's a good hint at what kind of mouse is referred to. There's still room for ambiguity, but not as much as if it's just a mouse without any descriptors.


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## Laurence (Aug 19, 2018)

My first impression as a writer was that I should go out of my way not to info dump. I took that to heart and avoided in the most part any whole sentence solely dedicated to description. I felt I always had to get an action in there too. 

For all of you, when does a sentence or two of description become an info dump?

Can anybody come up with two similar examples in which the authors create vivid descriptions, each using a few adjectives / adverbs, but where one works while the other doesn’t? It’d be great to find that line of over describing, or just describing the wrong things.


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## Svrtnsse (Aug 19, 2018)

I don't have any examples yet, and that may be some time, but I picked up on something else here:


Laurence said:


> For all of you, when does a sentence or two of description become an info dump?


To me, and I could be wrong here, an infodump isn't an exessively long description of something (that's visible to the character/reader in the scene that's taking place). The way I see it, an infodump is exessive information about something that isn't immediately relevant to the current situation.

Let's say I'm writing about a knight journeying to a distant outpost in the mountains. The reason there's an outpost that far away may be relevant to the story, and knowing that reason may be crucial to understanding the implications of what's happening there. I could take a few paragraphs to explain this in order to make sure the reader knows what's going on.
However, that information may not be necessary at that time, and the reader may not know why it is important, meaning they also won't be very interested.
At the start of the story, it's enough to know the knight is on a journey. I don't need to tell the reader that the outpost was built there because the kings third cousin threw a tantrum and demanded that a fungus farm be created in that spot or they'd go on a crusade and sack Carthage.

Explaining the intricacies of court intrigue to someone who doesn't understand it, isn't interested in it, and doesn't know why it's important - that's an info dump.

As for description, they can be exessive and overly elaborate, but I wouldn't compare them to infodumps.


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## FifthView (Aug 19, 2018)

Laurence said:


> My first impression as a writer was that I should go out of my way not to info dump. I took that to heart and avoided in the most part any whole sentence solely dedicated to description. I felt I always had to get an action in there too.
> 
> For all of you, when does a sentence or two of description become an info dump?



This reminds me of a recent Mythcreants podcast. (Link.) They're talking about various literary devices, and they eventually get to imagery. One of the podcasters, Wes Matlock, has a pet peeve. Some people, after reading something, might say, "That was such good nature imagery," when, in fact, it isn't good imagery but only good images. There's a difference. Another podcaster says, "Oh no, they're not the same?"

I hadn't actually thought about it much either.

So he said that imagery is a particular literary device that is used "to appeal to and evoke the senses." He lists all the senses. He gives an example that someone might write:

_He looked across the room, and there was a ghost._

The ghost might be a thing, and it _might_ be an image, but this isn't imagery because it doesn't really appeal to or evoke the senses. A hundred people might imagine a hundred different types of ghosts—size? color? what's it doing? what's its shape? does it seem threatening? friendly? is it the sheet-covered variety or some dead person a la the Harry Potter novels? Ghost _might_ be an image, but you're really appealing to the mind. What's a ghost? What's a ghost look like?

So he says you could write something like this:

_The ghost hovered in the air._

You still might not know the size, etc., but at least you know what it's doing, and this paints an evocative picture for the reader and would be considered imagery, even if it's simple. You might not be painting a picture of the ghost down to all the warts and freckles that the dead person had while alive and still has, heh, but you are appealing to the sense of sight. Whatever the reader has imagined a ghost to be—well, that's hovering now.

Let's suppose you are writing a scene about a middle school kid sneaking into the principal's office after hours.

_There was a desk and chair, a floor lamp in one corner, and a calendar on the wall beside it ._

That's just a list of things. Is it imagery or a collection of images? Heh.

_There was a desk and chair, a floor lamp in one corner, and a calendar on the wall beside it with a large picture of Marilyn Monroe over the month of July._

School's out in July, she's there in September, so maybe that part at least could create an image of that _principal_, heh.  Is the description of the calendar imagery? I'd say the specificity of that image probably does appeal to sight, especially the month; if a reader doesn't know what Marilyn Monroe looks like, maybe that part doesn't appeal to sight so much.

You wouldn't need to simply mention that there was a desk and chair, though.   Maybe if you kept the mention of the desk and chair and floor lamp, you could add things to the descriptions of those that would create imagery and better suggest the sort of person this principal is—if that's important for some reason. ***

I'd continue down this line of exploration, because the difference between simple images and the use of imagery is fascinating. But you wrote something that reminded me of that podcast.



Laurence said:


> I felt I always had to get an action in there too.



You can have activity without also needing a character to act. You can make inanimate objects active or give a sense of activity while describing things. There are simply sunbeams, or are the sunbeams bursting through the canopy and dappling the forest floor with irregular pools of light? (Maybe that's going too far, hah, but it makes a point.)

The podcaster gave examples for all the senses, and every example was active. "The fluorescent light hummed above her." (This appeals to our hearing; so, imagery.) But does imagery always require activity? I don't think so; the example of the calendar above doesn't.

***So "if that's important for some reason" points at the difficulty of coming up with a simple guideline.

On the one hand, what's important can vary quite a bit depending on what you want to accomplish and whether you should want to accomplish it, heh. On the other hand, I'd say that every single bit of description _must_ be important. Chances are, if it's not, then you are info dumping. But important how?

Even a simple list of chair, desk, and floor lamp could be very important if your middle school kid is breaking into what used to be a principal's office in an old, abandoned school, and all the other rooms are bare, the furniture completely missing everywhere else.

"A simple wooden chair," though slight, could be very revealing in the right context.

Perhaps what is important is simply setting the scene up for an action sequence that's about to happen; before you can have your character trip over a chair, maybe you should list it as being in the room when he first enters, including its location. This consideration ties into the issue of clarity. If elves figure heavily in your story, you wouldn't want a character to say, halfway through the novel, that he hates elves because he can't tell them apart—what with the same shade of purple hair cut at the exact same length, same height, and the fact that all the male elves look just like the female elves—unless you've already described them this way fairly early in the story. So, timing also plays into the importance.

The list goes on and on. Maybe it's important to set a tone, build dread, or....whatever.

*Edit:* I brought up the image v imagery issue because it's interesting, but I think that _description _encompasses a lot of things. So I'm not saying that imagery is the only way to describe. I don't think I made that clear above.


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## Demesnedenoir (Aug 19, 2018)

But if it was just a roach, would you see a doobie? heh heh.



skip.knox said:


> OTOH, if I read "A cockroach sat on the typewriter" I see the image clearly. ;-)


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## Demesnedenoir (Aug 19, 2018)

I am basing this notion on science I've read and filed away in my brain, I don't recall examples outside of the mouse. It was fascinating, and I applied to  a conversation I was having with my editor about adverbial phrases/clauses. As a one time publisher and now editor, she figures they are often used to sound "more literary". 

And yes! the notion of being cheated is real, for folks who jump in one direction or another, which is another problem with delayed descriptions. The actual pause in the human brain is tiny, and one would expect in a novel that context would take care of which mouse it is pretty quickly. Although! I do recall reading a book while tired and kind of spacing off, and reading something... and having to stop, rewind, get the context, and then "ooooh" because everything had stopped making sense. 

The bigger point is not the mouse story of a scientific experiment, but rather writing sentences that "pause" the movie in the readers head. A major culprit (or hero when used well) being the adverbial clause/phrase. I'd be curious to check on children's books, but I expect all writers do it, the trouble can develop when doing it too often. 



Svrtnsse said:


> This is interesting, because it doesn't match my personal experience (that doesn't mean it's wrong).
> 
> Perhaps I'm not a very critical person, but in the example above I assumed the mouse was the little furry kind that loves cheese. If it had turned out to be the plastic kind with a laser in its belly I'd have been annoyed, and perhaps I might even have felt cheated.
> Then again let's assume that's just me.
> ...


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## Demesnedenoir (Aug 19, 2018)

Well, first, the classic info dump. Because that will help define what they are. A few lines of description don't really count.

Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks. I haven't read this book in 30 years and I STILL remember the info dump when Allanon is unloading a pile of history onto the poor reader... I mean the main character. When saying not to info dump, this is an extreme example.

A few lines here and there won't bug folks much, except some people have become hyper sensitive to info dumping during critiques. The average reader is probably far less sensitive.



Laurence said:


> My first impression as a writer was that I should go out of my way not to info dump. I took that to heart and avoided in the most part any whole sentence solely dedicated to description. I felt I always had to get an action in there too.
> 
> For all of you, when does a sentence or two of description become an info dump?
> 
> Can anybody come up with two similar examples in which the authors create vivid descriptions, each using a few adjectives / adverbs, but where one works while the other doesn’t? It’d be great to find that line of over describing, or just describing the wrong things.


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## FifthView (Aug 19, 2018)

Demesnedenoir said:


> Well, first, the classic info dump. Because that will help define what they are. A few lines of description don't really count.
> 
> Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks. I haven't read this book in 30 years and I STILL remember the info dump when Allanon is unloading a pile of history onto the poor reader... I mean the main character. When saying not to info dump, this is an extreme example.
> 
> A few lines here and there won't bug folks much, except some people have become hyper sensitive to info dumping during critiques. The average reader is probably far less sensitive.



There can be lengthy descriptions that feel almost exactly like an info dump, hah. Did this author just spend two pages describing every banner in the assembled army—including those of houses that will never be heard from again in the story—to give me the sense of the massive scope of the army? Or did he do it because he spent half a year deciding those, drawing pictures of all the banners, etc., etc., and he wants me to know he did?

Perhaps there ought to be a separate thread called The Various Types of Unnecessary Information to Avoid.

But on some level, this is subjective. Such a lengthy description of banners really can give an impression of the scope of the army, the many influences coming together, and the POV character truly enjoying his massive influence. Even if that sort of thing also bores me and I could have easily relished the story without them.

I would say that lengthy descriptions of a forest and mountains aren't really giving me much info; so, not an info dump obviously.*

*Edit: Unless I also get treated to the entire history of two elven kingdoms and 3 dwarven kingdoms during the description, hah.

But this brings up another, potentially important use of description: the insertion of info. Is that an intricately painted vase, or is it an intricately painted vase from Hutlut, delivered to King Yumur as a peace offering in 3235, and showing the masterful craftsmanship those people are known for?


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## Heliotrope (Aug 19, 2018)

Laurence said:


> For all of you, when does a sentence or two of description become an info dump?



A description is not an info dump. An info dump is when an author feels that the reader simply cannot enjoy or understand the story without reading through  a stack of information about backstory, etc.

*Example of an info dump:  *

_Mark: Hey Janice, tell me about that story you are writing. 

Janice: Ok. So a thousand years before the actual story starts there were some deities who got in a fight, and they were nature deities, and they ruled everything, and they were really cool because their souls could travel around to different bodies, and that was how they could see everything and hear everything, and so they were mad at each other because....... 
_
And then Mark's eyes glaze over and he swears to never ask Janice about her story ever again. Why? Because all the back story is BORING. It isn't boring to Janice. To her it is interesting because she spent hours working it all out, but to Mark, it is boring. Where is the plot? What is the _actual story _about?

New writers who spend more time on world building than on plot usually fall into the info dump category. They can't help themselves. They are so enamoured with their histories and cleverness they love to dump it around all over the place. They start the story with a ten page "prologue" setting everything up for the reader, and then dump more "clever" info all over the place in the main text.

*Example of non-info dump: *

_Janice (after ten hours explaining her backstory): So Mark, tell me about your story! 

Mark: Ok. A spoiled reporter joins a dysfunctional boat crew on a mission into the Amazon rainforest in order to find a magical object that could save her ailing brother's life. 

Janice: Oooooooooh! What is the object, is it really magical? Could it really work to save her brother? 

Mark: *You will have to wait and see. 
*_
A skilled writer knows what information to tell, and what to leave off the board for the reader to find out later. A skilled writer knows the PLOT is more important than all the fancy world building you did.

Simply describing some visual or tangible aspect of your world is not an info dump. Describing pages and pages of back story is. 
_
_


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## Heliotrope (Aug 19, 2018)

Imagery:

Imagery is when the skilled writer evokes an image in order to present a mood, metaphor, symbol, etc, and thus, deepening the text. A lot of people use the term "Treat the setting like a character". That often means that the setting it self has moods, and changes with the scene in order to reflect what is happening in the story. A very famous example of this is the intro to the Fall of the House of Usher: 

DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.

Poe masterfully evokes the senses to give the entire scene a sense of foreboding. He uses the images to create a mood, so that by the time we get to the house we are already in a creepy, melancholy state of mind. This is imagery at it's finest. 

Another example is from the book Just Breathe by Susan Wiggs. 

She brought the sack of groceries to the overlook, took out an egg with Jack's face on it and let it fly. The egg soured high in a perfect arc into the sky. Then it plummeted to the rocks below and the waves surged in to carry the mess out to the sea. 

She picked up another and threw it. _Take that. And that._ One after another, she hurled the eggs, and when she ran out, she moved on to the lemons and oranges and potatoes. With every throw, the poison ebbed as though sucked out to the sea. 

The fact that the character, Sarah, has had twelve failed inseminations is not lost on the reader.  This passage is another example of imagery. The writer has shown an image that acts as a symbol for the character, and how she feels about her own wasted eggs. Her rage, her frustration. 

Simply describing what a beach looks like is not imagery. It is an image, but it brings nothing extra to the story. Describing the character chucking eggs into the sea, and the water carrying the mess away (like menstruation) takes the simple setting description and turns it into something more. THAT is imagery.


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## FifthView (Aug 19, 2018)

Heliotrope said:


> Imagery:
> 
> Imagery is when the skilled writer evokes an image in order to present a mood, metaphor, symbol, etc, and thus, deepening the text. A lot of people use the term "Treat the setting like a character". That often means that the setting it self has moods, and changes with the scene in order to reflect what is happening in the story. A very famous example of this is the intro to the Fall of the House of Usher:
> 
> ...



Helio,

Those are excellent examples of imagery being used for a purpose, but I'm not sure they define imagery so much as hint at some of the uses of imagery. Again, the question falls back on What's important? What are you trying to accomplish via the use of imagery? Different authors will have different uses for different situations. The list of uses may be long if we apply imagery for different effects.

The core use, stated broadly, would be to appeal to the senses to evoke a sense of _being there_. "Being there" may mean giving the reader a sense of dread or foreboding, as in the Poe example, or a sense of the frustration and irritation the character feels in your second example.

What I think is interesting is the notion that we humans are extremely keyed into our senses, to the degree that our inner states are quite affected by our senses. So, appealing to the senses and giving the sense of being there is likely to mean that something inside will be triggered also.

But I don't think the use of imagery necessarily _must_ touch all the deep buttons all the time. We can have a generalized sense, or subtle sense, of existing within the moment of the scene without also having our cores shaken so dramatically. 

Again, as a caveat, I'd say that using imagery is not the only way to "describe." Description as a process seems to me to entail more than simply the use of imagery to give the immediate sense of being there. Or, one can describe in other ways, too, I mean. Even so, imagery is likely to be one of the most used tools in the bag for any given piece of writing.


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## Nimue (Aug 19, 2018)

Phew.  You could say any number of things about writing description--and what's tough is that it may or may not be useful depending on the writer and where they are with their process.  For instance, right now I'm happy to write in a way that puts images and emotional connotation in a reader's mind.  The extra layer of creating symbolism through imagery just doesn't feel that important for me--sure, it happens on its own from time to time, but wracking my brain for metaphor and motif every time I think about description is not, say, a first-ever-draft endeavor.  Neither is considering ways to write description that makes the reader work to construct their own image.  Clarity alone would thrill me!

For another instance--Helio, the advice you gave at the beginning of the thread to not describe the broad visuals of a scene, but to find illustration in unique detail, is great advice for many beginners who find themselves describing everything from top to toe out of a sense of obligation.  But for people at other stages in their writing, it can give the impression that everything must be approached obliquely, and nothing can be stated outright.  Like for Laurence:



Laurence said:


> My first impression as a writer was that I should go out of my way not to info dump. I took that to heart and avoided in the most part any whole sentence solely dedicated to description. I felt I always had to get an action in there too.
> 
> For all of you, when does a sentence or two of description become an info dump?
> 
> Can anybody come up with two similar examples in which the authors create vivid descriptions, each using a few adjectives / adverbs, but where one works while the other doesn’t? It’d be great to find that line of over describing, or just describing the wrong things.



I'm really leery of talking in broad statements for the reasons outlined above, so I hope you don't mind if I pick the example of the scene-setting description in your own opening chapter, Laurence.  And kind of mangle it in some rewrites.



> The interrogative sky bent Iren as he limped from black stone to burnt earth. Though his soles hadn't truly felt the grip of earth in what felt like days, the vast basin was notably spongy. Damp with death. ... Of course. Just as hot out here, Iren’s increasingly commanding physical self interrupted him. Soon it would be all he was. In the twenty third hour of daylight the smaller, red sun still cracked a brand like a bud oozing sap. Iren’s moans were barely audible, but he annoyed himself nonetheless.
> 
> Iren trod with the curious care of one who walked on embers, though the ashes on the would-be staging ground were cool enough. The space spoke of Dehreun’s success and his people’s failures. With the patience of the suns he had increasingly introduced foreign woods as tolerable lumber, sources closer and more damnable each year. Fires remained unexplained.



So this is the first glimpse we get of the world in this story.  The cinematic pan-in is an oft-maligned tactic in the fantasy novel opening, but here there's not even a wide shot - the focus remains only on the character.

Let's pull out, and I'll describe the scene distantly, with detail pulled from throughout the passage (hope I'm not completely screwing it up...written quickly and without the artistic flair of the above, of course.)



> Iren stumbled out from the cleft in the black rocks and onto the basin plain.  Once this path would have led through cool shade, over a carpet of pine needles, but now the bare earth baked beneath the second sun’s red eye.  The old black ashes underfoot were all that remained of the forest.  Pale tracks across the basin all led to Shehran, its roofs tiny under the vast shimmering sky.



Kinda bland, but serviceable.  It places Iren in the scene, tells us a hint of conflict (the forest has been burnt) and points to where he’s going (Shehran).  Of course, this doesn’t do everything that the passage above does, but it does (I think) paint a clear basic picture of the setting.

Ideally, I think you’d take that description one step further and give it more feeling, ground it a little more in Iren’s sensations.



> Iren stumbled out from the shadows and into the scorch of the red sun.  His feet stirred up the acrid smell of old ashes, and for a moment raised the ghost of the forest.  Once this path would have led through cool shade, over a carpet of pine needles, to a home sheltered by the trees.  Now the basin plain stretched bare in every direction, crisscrossed by the pale tracks of mining cart and logging sledge.  The ramshackle roofs of Shehran huddled under a sky as vast and unforgiving as the invaders’ rule.  Everything shimmered--because of the heat or his own exhaustion, Iren didn’t know.



Yes, there’s information there, but it’s pretty necessary towards understanding Iren’s emotions and the upcoming conflict, right?  And you’re still giving the same basic details about the scene.  IMO, that’s not a tedious amount of description or background information.

Since you requested it, I’ll give a stab at a real info-dump!



> Iren looked across the basin at Shehran, his childhood home and now mining camp for the invaders.  It’d been twenty years, and he could barely remember the way the valley used to look, full of tall pines spreading shade and sheltering the village.  The air had been cool and sweet under the trees, ringing with birdsong. Then the fires had raged in the aftermath of the war, and everything had turned to black stumps and choking ash...



The problem with this type of writing is that it stops the action completely, detaches itself from the character, and goes wandering.  It’s not necessarily the information it contains, but that it’s all related in a motionless, uninteresting way.  Nothing’s hinted at or implied, just handed up on a platter.

I hope that helps a little bit.  If anyone wants to edit the sloppiness out of those examples, feel free, lol.


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## Laurence (Aug 19, 2018)

That second example is dreamy, you really showed me the benefit of widening the lens. I couldn’t put my finger on why it felt like I was just moving from one action to another.

Now I just need to figure out when that needs to happen in each scene. I guess that’s a lifetime of learning flow and pacing will teach me that.


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## FifthView (Aug 20, 2018)

Laurence said:


> That second example is dreamy, you really showed me the benefit of widening the lens. I couldn’t put my finger on why it felt like I was just moving from one action to another.
> 
> Now I just need to figure out when that needs to happen in each scene. I guess that’s a lifetime of learning flow and pacing will teach me that.



Nimue's examples are great, great. Looking at the differences reminded me of an old post of mine: The Four Principles of Puppetry

The first of the principles listed there, stolen from Mary Robinette Kowal's breakdown of principles she uses, is _focus_.

Key idea:  _As a writer, you can only show the audience one thing at a time. Show them what you want them to think about. 
_
This relates also to what Demesnedenoir mentioned above about giving a still shot that interrupts the flow of the "movie" in the reader's head.

It also relates to the idea of panning that Nimue discusses. Think of a camera that starts focused on one thing; as the camera moves left (or right), it naturally picks up the immediate _next thing_, and so on and on. It doesn't leap forward, skipping things, and it doesn't leap backward to find something several steps back, but it flows in one direction. All these things a pan captures are connected to one another immediately, like a seamless stream.

Often, this is to mimic how a character experiences the world. Sensually—let's say with sight, since that most closely resembles an actual cinematic pan—when a character turns his head, he sees things strung together in an even line. But more importantly, his mind is triggered by those things in a line also, i.e. his thoughts and sensations. Most importantly: _Whatever the character's focus is (or, narrator's) will also be the reader's focus_. So if it's jerky, leaping forward a few steps, then back a step, then back a step again, then forward one step...well, this will interrupt the flow for the reader. Tying disparate things together then becomes difficult for the reader; building the picture of what's going on, the physical environment _plus_ the information about it, becomes difficult.

IF you are using an omniscient approach, then having a narrator go back and forth can lead to the same sort of discombobulation. Your approach to description in the example Nimue used does this.



> The interrogative sky bent Iren as he limped from black stone to burnt earth. Though his soles hadn't truly felt the grip of earth in what felt like days, the vast basin was notably spongy. Damp with death. ... Of course. Just as hot out here, Iren’s increasingly commanding physical self interrupted him. Soon it would be all he was. In the twenty third hour of daylight the smaller, red sun still cracked a brand like a bud oozing sap. Iren’s moans were barely audible, but he annoyed himself nonetheless.



I say this is omniscient, because I have the sense an outside narrator is characterizing the sky as interrogative; plus, if Iren is bent, _his_ focus isn't on the sky, so the narrator must be focusing on the sky. And, the opening focuses the reader's attention on the sky, above Iren's head. That isn't so much an issue, but see how the focus shifts around.

Sky-->Iren-->black stone-->burnt earth.

This by itself is a decent enough panning motion; the reader's attention is being moved in this line.

But then the reader's attention is moved a bit backward, back to Iren, this time the soles of his feet. Then back to the earth, where it had been before. And the phrase _in what felt like days_ shifts the focus backward again over time, thus shifting the reader's attention to wonder about those previous days. Then we are moved to consider the whole basin. Then focus on the earth again, a narrow focus, in the allusion to the dampness of every spot of it. Then back to Iren. _Soon it would_ _be_ shifts our focus ahead in time, skipping some steps. I think maybe _In the twenty third hour of daylight _is a skip backward, as we are forced to consider (focus on) those last twenty three hours. And then we are back up into the sky, focusing on the sun. Then back to Iren.

 I don't mean to harp strongly on this, I'm just using your paragraph as a handy example, so sorry if this comes across too strongly. Getting into the flow of narration is still a major hurdle for me, because my mind naturally wanders all over the place as-is and I've not yet developed a habitual, comfortable sense of narrative flow when writing, myself. I posted that thread about Mary Kowal's four principles over a year ago, and I do believe I understand it well, but that doesn't mean I've actually mastered the lessons much at all, heh, in my own writing. [And incidentally, that applies to a lot of my observational threads and comments across Mythic Scribes.] So I'd say don't stress about this too much at this point if your writing doesn't impress you overnight; time and practice are probably required—for everyone. 

*Edit: *I've realized that perhaps my way of describing this, using your paragraph, might be confusing if you applied the same process to Nimue's examples. The character's thoughts do seem to leap back in time, for instance:

_and for a moment raised the ghost of the forest. Once this path would have led through cool shade, over a carpet of pine needles, to a home sheltered by the trees. _

But I think these thoughts are a natural line, or progression—or reaction—from what was stated directly before:
_
Iren stumbled out from the shadows and into the scorch of the red sun. His feet stirred up the acrid smell of old ashes
_
"Stumbled" focuses the reader on the fact that Iren is moving, so "his feet stirred up" seems a natural progression of that idea.

"from the shadows and into the scorch of the red sun" mentions the sun, sure, but those old ashes naturally lead to stirring a memory also. And since the reader's already been focused on the movement from shadows to scorching sun, the memory of a cool shade and sheltering trees flows naturally, I think.

So it's all about how you tie these things in a seamless string, even if on the surface you have "disparate" things.


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## FifthView (Aug 20, 2018)

Nimue said:


> The problem with this type of writing is that it stops the action completely, detaches itself from the character, and goes wandering. It’s not necessarily the information it contains, but that it’s all related in a motionless, uninteresting way. Nothing’s hinted at or implied, just handed up on a platter.



I have often found myself doing something like this. In my attempt to describe a thing, I'm stuck on a single snapshot, adding lots of details but halting the forward progression of the narrative. I want to describe a thing, and I end up approaching it from many angles, but the end result is a herky-jerky assemblage of facts, many of which probably aren't incredibly relevant to what's going on in the story at this moment in the story.


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## Heliotrope (Aug 20, 2018)

FifthView said:


> I have often found myself doing something like this. In my attempt to describe a thing, I'm stuck on a single snapshot, adding lots of details but halting the forward progression of the narrative. I want to describe a thing, and I end up approaching it from many angles, but the end result is a herky-jerky assemblage of facts, many of which probably aren't incredibly relevant to what's going on in the story at this moment in the story.



I think, in these cases, it is helpful to have a 'surrogate' that can frame the description in _experience. _Take for example this excerpt from Storm of Swords... 

_The day was grey and bitter cold, and the dogs would not take the scent. 

The big black bitch had taken one sniff at the bear tracks, backed off, and skulked back to the pack with her tail between her legs. The dogs huddled together miserably on the riverbank as the wind snapped at them. 
_
I love this description because Martin gives us something to watch. I have often noticed this in films as well (and Martin was a screenwriter, so I have no doubt that it is where he probably learned this technique). If you look closely, there is always _something moving _in the scene. Even if it is just a panning, wide lens, "here is the setting" scene, there is still a cat, or a squirrel, or a driving car, or a spider, or leaves blowing in the wind, along the lane and up the worn stone wall of the mansion... ANYTHING that gives the scene a sense of something _experiencing _it. Something being there, and living there.

If I have a character in a forest and he is standing still, I could just describe one thing after another. The sun making its way across the tree tops, the type of trees, the way they are packed together, the thick carpet of ferns below. Or, instead of simply describing a static forest, what if I described the character watching a squirrel making its way up a tree trunk with a nut? I could then describe the type of tree, the way the squirrel jumps from limb to limb, maybe knocking last nights rain off the leaves and onto the thick cluster of ferns below, the way the bright morning sunshine breaks through the canopy, making it hard to see the squirrel at certain angles. At least it brings some life to the description, instead of it being a series of facts.

Do we need more from Martin? Do we need a large, sweeping wide lens snapshot? Or do we get the picture? It is bloody cold, they are bear hunting, they are by a river bank, there is a pack of dogs.

If there is nothing moving, than you need a pretty strong voice, like the opening scene from Oryx and Crake:

_Snowman wakes before dawn. he lies unmoving, listening to the tide coming in, wave after wave sloshing over the various barricades, wish-wash, wish-wash, *the rhythm of a heartbeat. He would so like to believe he is still asleep. *

On the eastern horizon there's a greyish haze, lit now with a rosy, *deadly* glow. *Strange how that colour still seems tender. *The offshore towers stand out in the dark silhouette against it, rising *improbably* out of the pink and pale blue of the lagoon.... 
_
I love this description just as much, because we get so much personality out of the description. We get a good feeling of how Snowman feels about this setting.

Now, with that all said, CS Lewis has a lot of simple, factually stated descriptions that do nothing other than paint a picture. So does Tolkien. So I don't think your way is wrong. So long as it is clear and just a little interesting.


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## Svrtnsse (Aug 20, 2018)

Another thing that ties into this is scene structure.
I looked over my own writing last night, but was too tired to post examples, and I found that a lot of the time I begin a scene/chapter by describing the environment within which the scene takes place. These descriptions range from a single paragraph to a couple of pages in length. However, once the description is done, I don't usually get back to it. After that it's really just the characters in the scene acting out the story. If they do interact with the environment, it's generally with something that was already described at the start of the scene, or with something that wouldn't have been "visible" at the start.

For example, in the first chapter of Lost Dogs #1 Roy enters a small book shop. There are books, bookshelves, a small table, a ladder, and two characters - the shop keeper and the customer. Because of reasons, the customer sits down to wait while Roy talks to the shop keeper. I hadn't mentioned anything about chairs or stools or anything else to sit on though, so she sits on the lowest run on the ladder. 
I could have put her on a stool or a chair, but I'd run the risk of the reader going "where did that come from?" and I'd rather avoid that.


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## Laurence (Aug 20, 2018)

Svrtnsse said:


> Another thing that ties into this is scene structure.
> I looked over my own writing last night, but was too tired to post examples, and I found that a lot of the time I begin a scene/chapter by describing the environment within which the scene takes place. These descriptions range from a single paragraph to a couple of pages in length. However, once the description is done, I don't usually get back to it. After that it's really just the characters in the scene acting out the story. If they do interact with the environment, it's generally with something that was already described at the start of the scene, or with something that wouldn't have been "visible" at the start.
> 
> For example, in the first chapter of Lost Dogs #1 Roy enters a small book shop. There are books, bookshelves, a small table, a ladder, and two characters - the shop keeper and the customer. Because of reasons, the customer sits down to wait while Roy talks to the shop keeper. I hadn't mentioned anything about chairs or stools or anything else to sit on though, so she sits on the lowest run on the ladder.
> I could have put her on a stool or a chair, but I'd run the risk of the reader going "where did that come from?" and I'd rather avoid that.



See I feel like I subconsciously went out of my way in my first draft to initially mention things that wouldn't appear again, so as to fit in as much scene setting in as few words as possible. The ensuing overload on the reader sure backs up your logic.


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## Heliotrope (Aug 20, 2018)

Nimue said:


> Helio, the advice you gave at the beginning of the thread to not describe the broad visuals of a scene, but to find illustration in unique detail, is great advice for many beginners who find themselves describing everything from top to toe out of a sense of obligation. But for people at other stages in their writing, it can give the impression that everything must be approached obliquely, and nothing can be stated outright.



Hmmmmm, no, I do not mean everything must be approached obliquely. I do mean that what the reader needs to know about is the stuff that is unique to your world. Not the mundane stuff. Take this description from 1984. If you want to talk about how an excellent world builder describes a scene, this book is probably the best you can get. This is the first description we ever get, on the first page of the book:

_The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At one end of of it a coloured poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the wall. It depicted simply an enormous face, more than a metre wide; the face of a man of about forty-five, with a a heavy black moustache and ruggedly handsome features. Winston made for the stairs. It was no use trying the lift. Even at the best of times it was seldom working, and at present the electric current was cut off during daylight hours. It was part of the economy drive in preparation for Hate Week. 
_
This is the description Orwell gives us of the building. Winston doesn't stand in the doorway, unmoving, taking it all in... panning over the scene. He doesn't need to describe wooden (or marble, or linoleum) floors, dirty windows, or flickering lights. The reader can fill in those blanks on their own. What he does describe is the stuff that is unique to his world. That stuff paints a far better picture than any image of worn linoleum ever could. We don't need to be told that the building is falling apart, because it is implied when he explained why Winston can't take the elevator. We get the description of the world through Winston experiencing the world in his own, unique way.

I don't think it is helpful to think of a video camera panning a scene when writing fiction. Fiction is so different than watching a film. In fiction you are grounded in the POV of the narrator, or the character, and standing back to observe takes away the momentum. It detaches the reader from the experience.

If we look at your lovely description:

_Iren *stumbled out* from the shadows and into the scorch of the red sun. *His feet stirred up* the acrid smell of old ashes, and for a moment raised the ghost of the forest. *Once this path would have led through cool shade, over a carpet of pine needles, to a home sheltered by the trees. Now the basin plain stretched bare in every direction, crisscrossed by the pale tracks of mining cart and logging sledge. *The ramshackle roofs of Shehran huddled under a sky *as vast and unforgiving as the invaders’ rule*. Everything shimmered--because of the heat or his own exhaustion, *Iren didn’t know.*_

I've bolded the places where, I felt, you did a nice job describing the scene through Iren's experience of it. We get a bit of a thought, and some movement. This is why it is so important, when giving life to descriptions, to make sure that we are doing it through the unique lens of the POV.

I think it is confusing to tell writers to pan out, and then give an example that is still deeply in the focus of the POV. I don't really believed you panned out here. I think you simply slowed it down, and fed the reader smaller bits of information, taking the time to ground the reader in each concept before moving on. But I don't read this example as "panning out".


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## Heliotrope (Aug 20, 2018)

Nimue said:


> So this is the first glimpse we get of the world in this story. The cinematic pan-in is an oft-maligned tactic in the fantasy novel opening, but here there's not even a wide shot - the focus remains only on the character.



To add... I don't see why this is a problem. Why does there have to be a wide shot of the scene? Why can't the focus remain solely on the character? If I read through some of my favourite character driven authors, they almost never spend any time at all using wide shot descriptions of setting. Everything is grounded solely on the character and the character's experience in the world.

It happened on a Thursday. It must have, because Mariam remembers that she had been restless and preoccupied that day, the way she was only on Thursdays, the day when Jalil visited her at the _kolba._ To pass the time until the moment that she would see him at last, crossing the knee-high grass in the clearing and waving, Mariam had climbed a chair and taken down her mother's Chinese tea set. The tea set was the sole relic that Marian's mother, Nana, had of her own mother, who had died when Nana was two. Nana cherished each blue-and-white porcelain piece, and the graceful curve of the pot's spout, the hand-painted finches and chrysanthemums, the dragon on the sugar bowl, meant to ward off evil. 

It was this last piece that slipped from Mariam's fingers, that fell onto the wooden floorboards of the _kolba_ and shattered. 

- A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini.

Based on your description, this entire passage would be "info dumping", but it isn't. It is creating an image of a home, with a girl, and the way that girl feels in the home. It is creating an impression of what life is like for this girl, deeply from the POV of the girl. Just because it doesn't focus on aesthetics, written on out visual order as she looks around, doesn't mean it isn't a "setting description" (and a very excellent one, at that). The character doesn't need to "pan out and show the reader a wide shot of the setting" because the character is living, right now, in the setting. She is touching things, and remembering things, and waiting for things.


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## Demesnedenoir (Aug 20, 2018)

Svrtnsse said:


> Another thing that ties into this is scene structure.
> I looked over my own writing last night, but was too tired to post examples, and I found that a lot of the time I begin a scene/chapter by describing the environment within which the scene takes place. These descriptions range from a single paragraph to a couple of pages in length. However, once the description is done, I don't usually get back to it. After that it's really just the characters in the scene acting out the story. If they do interact with the environment, it's generally with something that was already described at the start of the scene, or with something that wouldn't have been "visible" at the start.
> 
> For example, in the first chapter of Lost Dogs #1 Roy enters a small book shop. There are books, bookshelves, a small table, a ladder, and two characters - the shop keeper and the customer. Because of reasons, the customer sits down to wait while Roy talks to the shop keeper. I hadn't mentioned anything about chairs or stools or anything else to sit on though, so she sits on the lowest run on the ladder.
> I could have put her on a stool or a chair, but I'd run the risk of the reader going "where did that come from?" and I'd rather avoid that.



Screenwriting! LOL. Set the scene, let the characters go.

In novels everything can work, in general, but its good to present a variety. Personally, I have two tendencies:

Broad lens to set the scene, then tighten the shot.
Tight lens, pan back.

If I start a scene with dialogue, that's almost always me consciously changing up chapter openings. I just don't naturally do this. And as a reader, I have a weird dislike for chapters which open with dialogue, unless it's real snappy. And if a book opens with dialogue, it just bugs me... totally irrational. I could make up reasons, but in the end, even more irrational than my wife's fear of snakes.


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## Nimue (Aug 20, 2018)

Heliotrope said:


> To add... I don't see why this is a problem. Why does there have to be a wide shot of the scene? Why can't the focus remain solely on the character? If I read through some of my favourite character driven authors, they almost never spend any time at all using wide shot descriptions of setting. Everything is grounded solely on the character and the character's experience in the world.


This is precisely my issue with talking about description in general.  I hesitated about whether even to post what I did in this thread or in Laurence’s critique thread, because it intended as specific advice for his case.  The first chapter of a novel, taking place on an alien planet, in a setting where something catastrophic recently happened and where conflict based on factors of the setting is about to erupt into action later in the chapter... Yes, I think a scene-setting passage to help us understand the context is in order.  Does that mean every book needs scene-setting like that?  Nope!

If you read his original excerpt and didn’t have trouble envisioning the wider setting, but instead can point a finger at the issue being something else, I think that’d be valuable for him to hear as well.

And that was supposed to be my point about the advice you gave earlier—it’s easy to think advice is a blanket statement, but it’s not.  There’s always an example to prove that.  That doesn’t mean the advice isn’t worthwhile, even priceless, to some.  But we have to try different things and trust our instincts as well as the advice.



Heliotrope said:


> I think it is confusing to tell writers to pan out, and then give an example that is still deeply in the focus of the POV. I don't really believed you panned out here. I think you simply slowed it down, and fed the reader smaller bits of information, taking the time to ground the reader in each concept before moving on. But I don't read this example as "panning out".


I’m not sure we’re on the same page with this one—the first rewrite I gave is the “wide shot”, which doesn’t have a lot of that POV detail.  The second example is supposed to be character POV focused writing that still gets across the wider scene-setting info of the first example.  Not sure how well I articulated that


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## Nimue (Aug 20, 2018)

FifthView said:


> Nimue's examples are great, great. Looking at the differences reminded me of an old post of mine: The Four Principles of Puppetry
> 
> The first of the principles listed there, stolen from Mary Robinette Kowal's breakdown of principles she uses, is _focus_.
> 
> ...


Yes, thank you Fifth—you’ve explained something I didn’t know how to get across besides rewriting the passage and gesticulating hopefully...  It’s about focus and flow.  And I think the culprit here is getting wrapped up in prose, tying yourself into knots for a cool sentence.  I get caught in that all the time.  Maybe just slow down sometimes and let yourself tell the story.  Better yet, let the character tell the story—let him look around and describe things to the reader, let him remember things.  Not for pages and pages mind, but sometimes amid the action.  Try it and see if you like it.  Some people might have trouble not just telling the story, and might need to let go and make the story happen in all its nitty-gritty detail, and let the reader figure it all out.  It really, really depends.

Besides getting feedback, I can also recommend letting your writing sit for a long time, and coming back to it as a reader.  See if it feels confusing or incomplete.  Try to notice how authors use description when you read, as in Helio’s examples.  Perhaps re-read a familiar book and notice when the author hints and when they explain, especially in the first few chapters.


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## Demesnedenoir (Aug 20, 2018)

I'm not sure what persnickety reader would call that an info dump. It gives info, but a dump? Historical, magical, and other lore simply can't always be given in an organic manner...

Allanon!

So, it must be fed out in small pieces.

Allanon!

Instead of gigantic doses like the aforementioned druid:

Allanon! 

who is still, despite the info dump, a pretty good character (at least when I was a teenager) BUT,

For the love of God and all that is well written, Allanon! Shut up!





Heliotrope said:


> To add... I don't see why this is a problem. Why does there have to be a wide shot of the scene? Why can't the focus remain solely on the character? If I read through some of my favourite character driven authors, they almost never spend any time at all using wide shot descriptions of setting. Everything is grounded solely on the character and the character's experience in the world.
> 
> It happened on a Thursday. It must have, because Mariam remembers that she had been restless and preoccupied that day, the way she was only on Thursdays, the day when Jalil visited her at the _kolba._ To pass the time until the moment that she would see him at last, crossing the knee-high grass in the clearing and waving, Mariam had climbed a chair and taken down her mother's Chinese tea set. The tea set was the sole relic that Marian's mother, Nana, had of her own mother, who had died when Nana was two. Nana cherished each blue-and-white porcelain piece, and the graceful curve of the pot's spout, the hand-painted finches and chrysanthemums, the dragon on the sugar bowl, meant to ward off evil.
> 
> ...


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## Chessie2 (Aug 20, 2018)

Svrtnsse said:


> In a recent thread I mentioned that it might be time for a discussion about writing descriptions. This is a topic that's dear to me, and which I find fascinating. How do you put images into the mind of the reader?
> 
> I'll start us off with an image from a blog post I wrote for my own blog a while back:
> 
> ...


Readers are going to make up their own imagery regardless of the extent we through in order to describe things. That seems a pretty reasonable viewpoint. How far each of us goes though depends on our style and voice. There is no wrong or right, I don't think, because of our unique artistic stamp.

Also depends on what you (the writer) deems necessary per scene. In my introductory scenes, I work hard to produce an image of character, setting, and emotional turmoil. During love scenes I will describe emotions versus the act. During conflict scenes more emotion. Guess you could say I describe emotion more than anything. Where some might say "show don't tell" I tell and show equally in my work. Just how I roll. Some readers have said that they love this style others have found my work annoying. *shrugs*


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## Heliotrope (Aug 20, 2018)

Nimue said:


> I’m not sure we’re on the same page with this one—the first rewrite I gave is the “wide shot”, which doesn’t have a lot of that POV detail. The second example is supposed to be character POV focused writing that still gets across the wider scene-setting info of the first example. Not sure how well I articulated that



Ahhhh, yes. Makes sense after this explanation. Thanks for this.


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## FifthView (Aug 20, 2018)

Heliotrope said:


> So I don't think your way is wrong. So long as it is clear and just a little interesting.



Well, my way, what I meant to describe (ahem, heh) is that I can often get stuck on a point. Probably my lengthier comments here display it very well.  But I mean two types of cases.

In the first, I reiterate information over paragraphs. A character steps into a courtyard that is bustling; I add description of some of the things happening in that courtyard, various actors and activities. In the next paragraph, and maybe even the paragraph after that, I focus again on the bustle. Sure, I have a character moving through the courtyard; and, if I added particularly new reactions or thoughts for the character each time I introduce these new examples of bustle, it might be okay. There'd be a progression of sorts. But no, I find I'm just putting in more examples of bustle. Because I feel, darn it, I want the reader to know it's bustling. The same thing can happen if I've used description to let a reader know a chamber in the castle is cold, it's verging on winter. Later, in following paragraphs, I use more references to the cold.

In the second, I get stuck on describing something. I mean, I can write a whole paragraph describing a castle. I might first start with the walls; gotta add color, something about the stone, and if the walls are oddly composed—they were raised by magic and have an unusual color, are made of an unusual substance—then info-dump a mention of their history, who raised them. Then I have to give the layout of the castle, courtyard, walls. Then, its position on the landscape. Is it near a cliff overlooking the bay? That main gate: does it face east or west? What's the relationship of the castle to the town; how far does it sit from the town? And so on. I suspect that this sort of development was what Laurence was driving at with "info dump." Sure, it might not be a classic info dump, as the term is usually used; but then again, it can almost read like an encyclopedia entry. An encyclopedia entry titled, "Castle Vertur and its Surrounding Areas."

Both types are like turning in a circle, heh. That point at the center of the circle becomes something of "the focus" and the whole effect is like getting stuck on a snapshot. I fail to move forward in the narrative. (Although, with the first example, I do have the characters moving through the scene; it's just that the world isn't completely moving with them! Heh.)

Mostly, I'm talking about early drafts. I think all of this can be put down to not being very clear about what I'm wanting to accomplish as I'm writing the draft. So I can repeat a description ("cold," "bustle") because, not knowing where I'm going, I can't very well have a clear idea of what's important; or, I can focus on one thing like a lengthy description of the castle and its environs in a single paragraph because I know, at least, that the castle is important!



Heliotrope said:


> I think, in these cases, it is helpful to have a 'surrogate' that can frame the description in _experience. _Take for example this excerpt from Storm of Swords...
> 
> _The day was grey and bitter cold, and the dogs would not take the scent.
> 
> ...



This is really great. Today, I decided to flip through pages of Robin Hobb's _Fool's Quest_ to see what she did. There's this passage that exemplifies how she made a travel episode interesting—you know, how fantasies often have episodes of long travel over a landscape.

_We made the crossing that night. As we drew closer to the river town, Vindeliar left the sleigh. He mounted a horse and rode at the head of our procession beside Ellik. And later that morning, when we finally reached a forested area of the foothills and made camp, Ellik bragged to all about how simple it had been. "And now we are on the northern side of the Buck River, with little between us and our goal but a few small towns and the hills. As I told you. The bridge was our best choice."

And Dwalia smiled and agreed.

But if she and Vindeliar had tricked him into choosing the bridge instead of the ferry, it still did not make our journey through the hills any easier. He had been right about the sleighs. Dwalia insisted we must do our best to avoid roads, and so the soldiers and their horses broke trail for the heavier beasts that pulled the sleigh. Our passage was not easy and I could tell that Ellik chafed at how little we moved forward each night.

Shun and I had little time to speak privately. "They mentioned a ship," she said to me once as we crouched in the bushes, relieving ourselves. "That may give us a chance of escape, even if we must leap into the water. Whatever happens, we must not let them take us out to sea."

And I agreed with that, but wondered if we would have any opportunity to flee our captors._

So all around this first person narrator, others are acting in various ways during the journey, and Robin Hobb is able to give a sense of progression to that journey, mentioning landmarks of the environment and modes of travel, without focusing solely on those.

Between these shortish-descriptions of travel, Hobb slows down the passage of time by putting breaks in the travel. When they camp, we focus in on that period of camping—these are longer—and we get dialogue and various interpersonal reactions and actions. All the while, either at camp or the "quicker" passage of time when describing movement over the landscape, the first-person narrator is noticing and evaluating these people around her.

Some of this discussion of description has turned to the way we can focus in on a character, and I do think that doing so can help to tie diverse events, aspects of the passing environment, etc., together in a progression. This is like the paragraph from Nimue I mentioned: Something is described, then the character reacts to it. This will _help_ to keep us from turning on just one point or aspect of the setting; why would a character realistically keep reacting to _just one thing_ in the environment, heh, like the castle walls or the cold? Unless there's some very important reason why a character would. But if the narrative is moving forward, and a character is moving through an environment, the character's thoughts about the setting would move along with that landscape.

Incidentally, the cool thing about that passage from Robin Hobb is that, though it is written in first person, the other characters on this journey with the MC are shown to be reacting to the landscape and to each other as well. It's not just the POV character reacting to everything.

(So once again I'm about to return to MRU.....But I'll put a break on it just right here.)


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## Svrtnsse (Aug 20, 2018)

FifthView said:


> In the second, I get stuck on describing something. I mean, I can write a whole paragraph describing a castle. I might first start with the walls; gotta add color, something about the stone, and if the walls are oddly composed—they were raised by magic and have an unusual color, are made of an unusual substance—then info-dump a mention of their history, who raised them. Then I have to give the layout of the castle, courtyard, walls. Does the main gate face east or west? Then, its position on the landscape. Is it near a cliff overlooking the bay? That main gate: does it face east or west? What's the relationship of the castle to the town; how far does it sit from the town? And so on. I suspect that this sort of development was what Lawrence was driving at with "info dump." Sure, it might not be a classic info dump, as the term is usually used; but then again, it can almost read like an encyclopedia entry. An encyclopedia entry titled, "Castle Vertur and its Surrounding Areas."


This kind of thing happens to me too, and I have to keep reminding myself it's not needed. It causes some really stupid issues for me when writing. I try to force my text to match what's in my mind, instead of adapting my mind to what works in the story.

Example:
In the scene I've been working on tonight I've got Alene sneaking up on a location. I know exactly how the location looks and I know exactly where Alene is and where all the other involved characters are. She's coming in from the west, sneaks past a building on her left, and just at the corner she sees Matthew, and Matthew sees her, and it's all very unexpected and exciting. Big drama. 
Only, in my mind, Matthew sits in the wrong spot and looks the other way. 
This really bothered me. I had to figure out a reason for her to walk out past the corner further, and I had to think of something she could do which lets her draw his attention without alerting anyone else. It got convoluted, and the prose started limping, and the story lost its flow.
In the end it occurred to me that I'd never told anyone what direction Alene would come from, and I hadn't told anyone what direction Matthew was looking in. All I'd said about him was that he sat on his chair by the door. There was no reason for me to come up with some convoluted reason about whatever. I could just change my mind about what direction she's coming in from. It doesn't actually matter.
The current version just has Alene round the corner and discover that Matthew sees her.

I believe I'm making this same kind of mistake a lot and it's hard both to spot and to fix. I'm really close to my story as I write it, and to change my mind about what I'm picturing in order to improve the reading experience is really difficult.


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## Heliotrope (Aug 20, 2018)

I do it too. I think it is a first draft issue. Other descriptions usually come to me in later drafts, once I have been in a setting for a while. It is like when you go outside, you notice the loudest noises first. If I stepped onto my back patio I would hear cars, then pressure washers, than kids playing, than birds, than maybe the neighbours having wine on their porch... but for the first draft I would fixate on the cars.

The GRRM thing has been a lifesaver for me on a number of occasions. I had a scene where my mc woke up on a ship, and even though she was literally, seconds ago in the subway system, the description of the ship was not interesting at all. It was so mundane. Wood planks. Rickety table with pitcher on it. Port windows. Bleh. My critique partners were all, "You had such lovely descriptions before! Why does this one suck so bad?" And I couldn't figure it out. Then I remembered the dog on the riverbank and I added a cockroach to the scene, making it's way along the floorboards, up the worn wall, across the table, closer and closer to where the MC lay in the cot. Suddenly the boring description became "hidden" in the grossness of the oncoming cockroach, and the scene was more interesting.

I have used this same approach with boring exposition, or "info dumps" about back story or boring magic stuff that is necessary to the story. If I give the reader something else to focus on, like the MC desperately has to pee so bad but the dumb old sage just keeps going on and on about boring magic history and the MC can't get away and she is literally about to pee herself, then the reader get's distracted by the MC's need and doesn't realize they are reading a ton of boring "info dump". 

Info dump is just exposition done badly, lol.


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## Nimue (Aug 20, 2018)

I think you almost need to write the initial meander--until you get to the stage where you don't, I suppose.  I have an example from my writing of both this and a different answer to the "set the scene or sketch it?" question.  I'm hesitant to post these snippets because they're all rough draft stuff, but I guess that can be my just desserts for throwing Laurence under the bus...  Take this as an illustration of a thought process, not good writing!



> Light glittered on the leaves, a filigree faint as gossamer.  The seedling shivered in the window’s draft, but that light did not waver.  Magic.  It had come back to her.
> 
> Sabhenna lifted her head from the stones and crawled across the tower floor to the little sprig of green.


These are the opening few lines to the current draft of my WIP--and that description of the tower room is just about all that's in the chapter.  It's a tower, there's stone, there's a window and a draft.  Objects are mentioned as she interacts with them--a bed, a chest, a jug and platter with food on it, but no real description of these things.  The passage continues focused on her situation and her goals, largely interior.

Now, the previous draft opened similarly in-moment but paused a little ways in for this description:


> The tower room held no comfort for her, but she searched for memory in it anyway, staring until her blurry vision resolved.  The undying blue fire flickered in an empty hearth, casting eerie shadows across the stones.  The heavy-draped bed crouched like a monster in the center of the floor. But she had known another scene, once.


And I could feel right away that this didn't work.  The character doesn't have a reason to describe the room, really--she's been trapped in it for ages, it's not new and noticeable for her.  More than that, though, the reader doesn't need the room to be described.  It's the opposite of the alien world - the familiar fantasy trope of the damsel in a tower.  Even if you're not obsessed with the Lady of Shalott *cough*, an image immediately comes to mind.  Other reasons, too - the room isn't a recurring setting, and will be looked at more clearly from another character's POV.

In the current draft, the closest I come to that is this dialogue beat from another character:


> “He said he would take care of me, that I would have fine things…”  Her gaze flickered over the deep-dyed bedcurtains, the stone fireplace where the blue witchlight burned, over the bloodred velvet gown that Sabhenna wore.


Because she, unlike the MC, has reason to notice.

Now...I don't really know if omitting the setting description really is the best move for this opening.  Still a rough draft.  But I do know that it feels better to me than the pause to look around.  Maybe exploring the setting _is_ essential, whether this is done in a draft or in notes or just in your head...but not everything you find out needs to make it on the page.


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## FifthView (Aug 20, 2018)

Heliotrope said:


> CS Lewis has a lot of simple, factually stated descriptions that do nothing other than paint a picture.



I've been thinking of something I wrote earlier when discussing imagery. I've commented that other methods of description are possible; imagery is not the only way to describe.

I'd given an example of a list of items, a list of images, that might not be considered imagery because they don't appeal to the senses. A string of nouns, things in the environment. When these don't have a lot of specificity—chair, table, floor lamp—we aren't appealing to the senses; these are abstract ideas. What's a chair? What is the picture of that chair, it shape, style, material, size...?

I don't know the exact threshold between the two, images and imagery, heh, or when a list of things, however modified by adjectives, transcends a mere list of items and actually appeals to the senses. But I started thinking, if imagery appeals to the senses then...what about appealing directly to the mind? Those are really the only two methods of describing anything, I'd think. Every method of description, or instance of description (word, phrase)  would fall into either one or the other of those categories, since these are the only two ways to appeal to a reader's understanding, impressions, etc.

The first example I came up with, thinking about this, was a sort of metaphor. Here's a silly example of what I mean, created as I pondered this:

_That December morn was as cold as Stalin's heart, and as unrelenting.
_
There is the facile, cliched example frequently found, "as cold as ice," which I think appeals more to the physical senses. But a reader needs to have some _idea _about Stalin to understand this description, heh; and, the allusion will bring something more than mere coldness to mind. So it's an appeal to the mind. This also harks back to one of the original questions in this thread: What do we leave to a reader's imagination? What is the allusion bringing to the reader's mind, exactly? What does that abstraction, _unrelenting_, bring to mind?

I'd mentioned that an example string of things might be entirely pointless or very suggestive in the right context:

_There was a desk and chair, a floor lamp in one corner, and a calendar on the wall beside it ._

If a student is sneaking into the principle's office after hours during a school year...well, this doesn't do much. But if the student is exploring a school that was shut down long ago, and this old principal's office is the _only_ room encountered that still has furniture in it, this might be suggestive. What if in that latter case, the description was something like this:

_There was a desk and chair, a floor lamp in one corner, and a calendar on the wall beside it . On the desk sat an old typewriter with a sheet of paper still in it; beside the typewriter, a thick stack of paper was neatly organized._

Okay, the prose might be fixed; there's a bit of passive voice at the end. But in the context of this passage, something more than a simple visual is being suggested. I think this sort of development appeals to the mind as the reader tries fitting this scene, these objects, into that context. I do wonder whether this passage as a whole begins to cross the threshold into imagery as we move further into it; but I don't know, heh.  The mention of an old typewriter is more specific than desk, chair, floor lamp, more suggestive? And the organization of typewriter, with a sheet of paper in it, and a stack of paper neatly organized beside it is becoming more specific in the interrelations of these things than the first sentence was with _those_ things.

If this interrelation between the idea of a string of images vs imagery is a fun puzzle for you, how about this passage:
_
Early in the morning, while all things are crisp with frost, men come with fishing-reels and slender lunch, and let down their fine lines through the snowy field to take pickerel and perch; wild men, who instinctively follow other fashions and trust other authorities than their townsmen, and by their goings and comings stitch towns together in parts where else they would be ripped. They sit and eat their luncheon in stout fear-naughts on the dry oak leaves on the shore, as wise in natural lore as the citizen is in artificial. They never consulted with books, and know and can tell much less than they have done. The things which they practice are said not yet to be known. Here is one fishing for pickerel with grown perch for bait. You look into his pail with wonder as into a summer pond, as if he kept summer locked up at home, or knew where she had retreated. How, pray, did he get these in midwinter? Oh, he got worms out of rotten logs since the ground froze, and so he caught them. His life itself passes deeper in nature than the studies of the naturalist penetrate; himself a subject for the naturalist. The latter raises the moss and bark gently with his knife in search of insects; the former lays open logs to their core with his axe, and moss and bark fly far and wide. He gets his living by barking trees. Such a man has some right to fish, and I love to see nature carried out in him. The perch swallows the grub-worm, the pickerel swallows the perch, and the fisher-man swallows the pickerel; and so all the chinks in the scale of being are filled.  [Thoreau, "The Pond in Winter," Walden.]_

I think that some would come to this analysis and say, "OMG, what great imagery?"  There are certainly great images. Great things being put together.

I think that a lot of the specificity used does appeal to the senses—"on the dry oak leaves on the shore" for instance. So I think there is imagery, yes.

I also think there are many things here that appeal to the mind directly; e.g., "wild men, who instinctively follow other fashions and trust other authorities than their townsmen_." _What is a wild man, in this context? He goes on to define it in a way that appeals to our understanding.

"_The latter raises the moss and bark gently with his knife in search of insects; the former lays open logs to their core with his axe, and moss and bark fly far and wide."_ —an interesting example of using imagery to define an abstraction for us, wild man vs naturalist. Appealing to the mind and senses, _both_.

The whole passage is masterful, even though the "focus" shifts around a bit. [Scare quotes intentional....] Then again, it's also a masterful example of giving a snapshot of a place. I would note that there's a lot of activity suggested, or of people doing active things, but these are ever-present, ongoing, repeating actions during the "moment" of this place. How to explain this...



Heliotrope said:


> Or, instead of simply describing a static forest, what if I described the character watching a squirrel making its way up a tree trunk with a nut?



Thoreau's scene is static, even with the activity. This is every morning; these actors, the wild men, are perpetually returning visitors. Your example of a character being in a particular moment includes a squirrel engaged in a specific activity happening _now_.  A singular event. Does it happen all the time there? Maybe the reader will have that impression, maybe not. In Thoreau's example, his lens is focused on the place as a whole, even if bits and pieces in it receive focus for the reader as the reader progresses through it and makes some sense of that place and those people. There is a sense of progression in the thought—that final sentence is a killer.

Anywho. I think I'm drifting and about to engage in endless repetition, heh, so that's it for now.


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## Heliotrope (Aug 21, 2018)

Ohhhh, this discussion is getting so deep now  I love this.




Nimue said:


> I think you almost need to write the initial meander--until you get to the stage where you don't, I suppose.



I agree with this 100%. We discussed in another thread that I'm a discovery writer. I have to put EVERYTHING in my first draft because I never know what I'm actually talking about, lol. I take out the stuff I didn't need after I figure out what the story was actually about.



Nimue said:


> And I could feel right away that this didn't work. The character doesn't have a reason to describe the room, really--she's been trapped in it for ages, it's not new and noticeable for her.



This is sort of what I'm trying to get at in all my posts... I think it is important to think about. As a writer I think it is really valuable to think about why you feel you need a description at that moment, and does it make sense for the POV to suddenly start describing stuff that may be very familiar to them, and how do we go about that in a way that feels natural to the POV?  Your examples are perfect.



Nimue said:


> but not everything you find out needs to make it on the page.



Totally.



FifthView said:


> Early in the morning, while all things are crisp with frost, men come with fishing-reels and slender lunch, and let down their fine lines through the snowy field to take pickerel and perch; wild men, who instinctively follow other fashions and trust other authorities than their townsmen, and by their goings and comings stitch towns together in parts where else they would be ripped. They sit and eat their luncheon in stout fear-naughts on the dry oak leaves on the shore, as wise in natural lore as the citizen is in artificial. They never consulted with books, and know and can tell much less than they have done. The things which they practice are said not yet to be known. Here is one fishing for pickerel with grown perch for bait. You look into his pail with wonder as into a summer pond, as if he kept summer locked up at home, or knew where she had retreated. How, pray, did he get these in midwinter? Oh, he got worms out of rotten logs since the ground froze, and so he caught them. His life itself passes deeper in nature than the studies of the naturalist penetrate; himself a subject for the naturalist. The latter raises the moss and bark gently with his knife in search of insects; the former lays open logs to their core with his axe, and moss and bark fly far and wide. He gets his living by barking trees. Such a man has some right to fish, and I love to see nature carried out in him. The perch swallows the grub-worm, the pickerel swallows the perch, and the fisher-man swallows the pickerel; and so all the chinks in the scale of being are filled. [Thoreau, "The Pond in Winter," Walden.]



I love this. I think this is an example of what I was saying. Sure I used a squirrel in my example, but it was just an example. I easily could have used an indigenous villager out on his daily hunt, or a group of fishermen by a river. The fact remains that this description doesn't simply show a series of images and sounds and smells, or whatever, it shows things LIVING it. Experiencing it. Pulling fish out of the water. This is another example, IMO, or the dog by the riverbank. It gives us something to watch. Some movement.

I'm not saying a writer must use this tactic all the time, I'm saying it's one strategy. Like NImue's hiding the description in some dialogue. There are a lot of ways to sneak in some description without resorting to the "Stand back, tell the reader a few things about the scene, jump back into action again."


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## Heliotrope (Aug 21, 2018)

FifthView said:


> If a student is sneaking into the principle's office after hours during a school year...well, this doesn't do much. But if the student is exploring a school that was shut down long ago, and this old principal's office is the _only_ room encountered that still has furniture in it, this might be suggestive.



Yes, I think context has a lot to do with it. In the same book I mentioned earlier, A Thousand Splendid Suns, he does give a very detailed, step by step description of a hillside:

_It was Muhsin, Jalil's eldest son by his first wife, Khadija, who suggested the clearing. It was on the outskirts of Gul Daman. To get to it, one took a rutted, uphill dirt track that branched off the main road between Herat and Gul Daman. The track was flanked on either side by knee-high grass and speckles of white and bright yellow flowers. The track snaked uphill and led to a flat field where poplars and cottonwoods soared and wild bushes grew in clusters. From up there, one could make out the tips of the rusted blades of Gum Daman's windmill, on the left, and, on the right, all of Herat spread below. The path ended perpendicular to a wide, trout-filled stream, which rolled down from the Safid-koh mountains surrounding Gulf Daman.... 
_
Etc etc... it goes on to describe more and more beauty and perfection, willow trees circling a clearing, etc etc etc... BUT, and this is important. BUT, the entire description is not there to tell the reader how beautiful it is. The entire description is there to contrast the cutting comments of the grandmother, who declares after this paragraph:

_"And so, your father built us this rathole." 
_
The entire description was meant to add weight to the characterization of this bitter, miserable woman who can't find beauty anywhere. It does double duty.

SO in this case, yes, context is VERY important.

*note, I do like how he uses the road to ground the reader in the description, so you can sort of imagine yourself in a car or walking along the road, instead of just standing still looking at stuff.


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## Laurence (Aug 21, 2018)

Thinking about why I’m describing things definitely gives me more confidence in a scene if nothing else.


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## Nimue (Aug 21, 2018)

Laurence said:


> Thinking about why I’m describing things definitely gives me more confidence in a scene if nothing else.


I feel like honestly, knowing what you need to describe and what you’re trying to say by describing it will get you most of the way there.  It’s almost easier to focus on the how, the prose, because that’s all there on the surface.  But you can always polish words later—it’s more difficult during revising to cut through a flowery tangle of words to figure out what you do or don’t need to say.

Oooh... While we’re on the subject of “what the character would see”, can we talk about describing your POV character’s appearance?  I am a giant sucker for character description, I totally need to know what characters look like, and I’ll forgive any number of omniscient intrusions or glances in the mirror to get that information early—but I know many readers find blatantly inserted self-description obnoxious. 

I’ll list some of the ways I can think of to do this...

- Description from another character’s POV - Probably the ideal, but if you only have one POV, not going to happen.  Also might take a while to get to, if the POV switch doesn’t happen until later.

- Omniscient beginning or insertion that describes the character - the style needs to be able to support this, and it can feel like an interruption, but this establishes a strong picture of the character right away.

- The mirror/pond/reflective surface of choice - Oft maligned, but effective, and may be an opportunity for characterization - how the character sees themself.

- Comparison to other characters, family or otherwise - Good option, when in-character, not very intrusive, but it can be hard to paint a complete picture just by comparison.

- Character guessing how someone else sees them - A small favorite of mine, but again bad at creating a complete image - there must be a point to this aside, or the character comes off as real vain.  Good for characterizing, again.

For example, I used this one in my WIP:


> Forsaken gods knew what she saw in Sabhenna’s face.  She was gaunt, she knew that, and her long black hair hung full of tangles, soil on her hands and under her cracked nails.  Thirty years shy of a muttering crone, but only that.



What are the tricks you guys use?  Of course, this depends on how much you want to describe your character’s, if at all!


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## Svrtnsse (Aug 21, 2018)

Nimue said:


> Oooh... While we’re on the subject of “what the character would see”, can we talk about describing your POV character’s appearance? I am a giant sucker for character description, I totally need to know what characters look like, and I’ll forgive any number of omniscient intrusions or glances in the mirror to get that information early—but I know many readers find blatantly inserted self-description obnoxious.


Right, here goes...

Actually, I don't have that much to say. I write in third person, so I can just add in how someone looks when they first appear without having them reflect on it overly much themselves.Edit: ythat might have been a bit hasty of me.

That said, I looked over the introduction of Roy in Lost Dogs #1 and it ties in a little bit with the environment and how he stands out compared to the locals. It begins with describing the surroundings:
_Roy took the last few steps up the stairs from the subway station and emerged into the busy street. People everywhere. Noise and dust. Horses, camels, donkeys. Even a small elephant. Heat. Not a hint of a breeze.

Better get moving or some fool would pick him out as a tourist and try to sell him something, or rob him. 

People from the cold, dark north weren't common here, and at well over six feet tall, Roy stood more than a head above the average Tin Jian human. Rough and unshaven, with short black hair, blue eyes, and shoulders as broad as a bull's. Fifteen years under the merciless southern sun had turned his pale skin a worn leathery tan, but it was still nowhere near the deep brown shades of the true southerners.

He'd long since adopted the dress of the locals – loose flowing cotton in plain bright colours – and it made him a little less conspicuous, but not much. For today's meeting he wore a long sleeved white tunic and a long brown skirt converted into trousers using a clip at the bottom. Leather sandals and a broad brimmed hat._​
Then there's Alene from Lost Dogs #3. This also starts with a little bit of introduction to the setting to put her into a context:
_Alene marched through the night with fast angry steps. The city lay dark and empty around her, but the moon had come out to shine and gave her enough light not to walk into anything. She'd calmed down a bit since she left the man's apartment, but the beast within her still wanted blood.

The man had made a fool of them. With false words he'd lured them into his den and tried to have his way them. The miserable bastard. They'd shown him. Shown him good.

Her. 

Not them. Her. She – the little black punk with the big red hair – Alene Moneya. Short and thin, with dark brown skin, green eyes, and a sharp angular face. Combat fatigues and black leather boots. A black tee that had ripped in the fight, and a pair of dog tags that said to donate her body and belongings to cancer research in case of death. 

For the evening, she'd let her hair fly, but usually she kept it tied back or in a wrap._​
Before this I hadn't thought about how I've tied the setting into the descriptions, but now that you (Nimue) mentioned it, I see it clearly. I was going to just include the actual descriptions, but I don't think they would have made as much sense without the context they're in.


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## FifthView (Aug 21, 2018)

Heliotrope said:


> I agree with this 100%. We discussed in another thread that I'm a discovery writer. I have to put EVERYTHING in my first draft because I never know what I'm actually talking about, lol. I take out the stuff I didn't need after I figure out what the story was actually about.



Yep. This is what I was doing in my NaNo project. I'd made the conscious decision to discovery write it and began the project with far more blanks than I normally would. So if I used repetitious descriptions only barely modified differently, or got stuck on one description for a lengthy bit, it was because I didn't know exactly what I was wanting to accomplish in that scene.

Technically, I knew for the first 4-5 chapters what I generally wanted to accomplish by the end of those chapters; but, for all the little details for the particular scenes, I was winging it. I was also discovering the overall plot—where I was going.

I think this may be why I used -ly adverbs so much. Placeholders. I knew what some action or event was supposed to be "like," but the best words weren't with me as I wrote the draft. I had to press on for word counts. You mentioned to Devor that those -ly adverbs often point at an underlying issue; I think maybe I used them precisely for this reason, heh. I haven't actually formed a work habit or writing process yet, but I'd've gone back and considered those -ly adverbs when it came time for revising the rough.



Heliotrope said:


> I love this. I think this is an example of what I was saying. Sure I used a squirrel in my example, but it was just an example. I easily could have used an indigenous villager out on his daily hunt, or a group of fishermen by a river. The fact remains that this description doesn't simply show a series of images and sounds and smells, or whatever, it shows things LIVING it.



I wasn't criticizing your example of the squirrel. I merely wanted to point out the differences between two approaches because they are significant. Sure, showing activity either way.  But the discussion had veered so strongly to the methods used via a close third-person POV approach—which, at its extreme, can lead to a sort of tunnel vision in the narrative—and away from a consideration of methods for creating a broader view of a setting. 

I.e.,



Heliotrope said:


> Why does there have to be a wide shot of the scene? Why can't the focus remain solely on the character? If I read through some of my favourite character driven authors, they almost never spend any time at all using wide shot descriptions of setting.



One aspect of some types of intimate third POV:  they tend to be very "in the moment."  Even if a character is just standing in a wood and watching a moving squirrel (among other things), the effect can come across as "a captured moment." This is that character _now_, that environment _now_. Additionally, as shown in various examples of this thread, when we add a character reaction like a thought about what has just been seen or a string of thoughts inspired by what has just been seen, the impression is of events happening in the present, the character reacting immediately. The Thoreau example may use a different kind of "present," i.e. an eternal state or long-lasting state, but this is different than what often happens in intimate third person narration; the thoughts he'd developed in reaction to that state were not immediate reactions but thoughts arising from consideration over time. (My impression, at least.)

I'm not saying  a tight  third POV is a bad approach, but that other approaches are possible. If they are possible, then what methods might be used to accomplish that wider shot and keep it interesting? Activity, life, yes. I don't disagree.


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## Svrtnsse (Aug 21, 2018)

I had some time to think, and I'll add a little bit more self analysis. Both of the descriptions are similar in that they follow roughly the same pattern. First a bit of context (in a way, this is the broader image that's being discussed here as well). 
Then there's the actual character. 
I list physical/visual attributes, like height and skin colour, and suchlike, and I list a few things that you can't see, but which still help you create an image of who they are.


Svrtnsse said:


> _Not them. Her. She – the little black punk with the big red hair – Alene Moneya. Short and thin, with dark brown skin, green eyes, and a sharp angular face. Combat fatigues and black leather boots. A black tee that had ripped in the fight, and a pair of dog tags that said to donate her body and belongings to cancer research in case of death._



There's no way anyone would be able to read what the dog tags say, but now that you know it anyway, it adds to the impression of Alene. 

Looking at this paragraph with a critical eye, it's really just a list of attributes. Some of them more detailed than others, but still just a list. There's no action or motion at all, and barely even any verbs. Still, it works - and that's the main thing.


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## FifthView (Aug 21, 2018)

Heliotrope said:


> Yes, I think context has a lot to do with it. In the same book I mentioned earlier, A Thousand Splendid Suns, he does give a very detailed, step by step description of a hillside:
> 
> _It was Muhsin, Jalil's eldest son by his first wife, Khadija, who suggested the clearing. It was on the outskirts of Gul Daman. To get to it, one took a rutted, uphill dirt track that branched off the main road between Herat and Gul Daman. The track was flanked on either side by knee-high grass and speckles of white and bright yellow flowers. The track snaked uphill and led to a flat field where poplars and cottonwoods soared and wild bushes grew in clusters. From up there, one could make out the tips of the rusted blades of Gum Daman's windmill, on the left, and, on the right, all of Herat spread below. The path ended perpendicular to a wide, trout-filled stream, which rolled down from the Safid-koh mountains surrounding Gulf Daman....
> _
> ...



Yep. Generally, introducing context in this discussion was my way of suggesting another thing to consider when considering the issue of _importance_. I think that every bit of description must be important in some way, although that's like a practical joke guideline for new writers because, hah, there are so many ways a bit of description can be important.

But also, the difference between having mere images—or, less than that, mere things—and using imagery was on my mind. The appeal to the mind via use of context, even when you aren't focused on creating vivid imagery. This circles my mind mostly because I'm not the sort of writer that does well with imagery extended over a whole manuscript, heh. I mean, I like things and I like context, and taking the time to try and describe everything with vivid imagery to invite readers into my vision is just the sort of thing that can bog me down. Not that I don't do imagery here and there and frequently; but it can be fairly basic imagery.

Then again, I think I'm not alone in that boat, heh. And even for writers who are great at creating vivid imagery consistently, there'll be passages and descriptions that are more basic, with basic nouns and verbs and to the point. So I think the consideration is useful for everyone.


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## FifthView (Aug 21, 2018)

Svrtnsse said:


> This kind of thing happens to me too, and I have to keep reminding myself it's not needed. It causes some really stupid issues for me when writing. I try to force my text to match what's in my mind, instead of adapting my mind to what works in the story.



I think this is a common problem, but it's a far more complicated issue.

An awful lot of our discussion revolves around the idea of interrogating the text, a scene, or the story in order to find what's important.

But an opposite sort of approach might be just as important:

If you want to include something particular, _find a way to make it important.
_
On the one hand, you have a story that you feel is important, and you are right to ask whether some bit of description, some info, is important to the telling of _that_ story, in _that_ scene, in _that_ chapter.

On the other hand, you want particular things to be in that story, heh. You want the story to be about more than the simple plot and characters, perhaps. You might want to provoke certain thoughts, have particular themes, have a tone, whatever. That grandiose castle, including its walls, layout, etc. etc., may be something you want in the story because it represents something or indicates something that you feel is important.

A lot of what I've said about screwing up the narrative by including too much description of "unimportant" things at the wrong time came from the same feeling you've expressed. I really feel as if I've muddled things or spun in circles when I should have just gone forward with the narrative and stick to what's important to the scene.

But, this spinning in circles could also be a sign that I know, at least on a subconscious level, that my interest isn't only in moving the plot forward.

Even if this is so, that doesn't mean I'm right to stick to my guns and never shoot a little darling, hah; nor, that I won't have to reconfigure how I'm including info in order to actually make it work while preserving the story, pacing, etc., that I also feel is right.


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## Heliotrope (Aug 21, 2018)

Nimue said:


> Oooh... While we’re on the subject of “what the character would see”, can we talk about describing your POV character’s appearance? I am a giant sucker for character description, I totally need to know what characters look like, and I’ll forgive any number of omniscient intrusions or glances in the mirror to get that information early—but I know many readers find blatantly inserted self-description obnoxious.



Oh god. I almost always write in first person, so this is a massive struggle for me. Usually I don't bother, in most cases, because I don't feel it really matters overly much what my character looks like, especially in short pieces. However, in my WIP I do want a few key characteristics to stand out, just so that my MC isn't invisible to the reader the entire time.

This is something that Rowling fans are having a hay day with, lately with Hermione. A recent live action production made Hermione black, with the (pretty decent) logic that Rowling never once said Hermione was white. She said she had curly hair, and was smart, but never did she specify that she was white.
People who imagined Hermione as white (or as Emma Watson) went ballistic. Same with the Disney film A Wrinkle In Time.  I always envisioned Meg as white... but it was never stated in the book.

Usually I do it by having other characters say something, or comment on something physical... I do want her sort of gawky/nerdy twelve year oldness to be clear... but if a reader thinks she is black, or short, or looks like their friend Sophie from up the street because they have a lot in common, than that is fine with me.



FifthView said:


> I think this may be why I used -ly adverbs so much. Placeholders. I knew what some action or event was supposed to be "like," but the best words weren't with me as I wrote the draft. I had to press on for word counts. You mentioned to Devor that those -ly adverbs often point at an underlying issue; I think maybe I used them precisely for this reason, heh. I haven't actually formed a work habit or writing process yet, but I'd've gone back and considered those -ly adverbs when it came time for revising the rough.



I use them in drafting for this very same reason. My first drafts are the most terrible crap anyone can imagine. I'm basically telling the story to myself. Some might not even call it a draft, they might call it a very detailed outline, with a lot of details that are crap. lol. But I use a ton of 'ly words, and boring descriptions, and even characters and sub-plots that don't exist in final drafts.


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## Svrtnsse (Aug 22, 2018)

FifthView said:


> If you want to include something particular, _find a way to make it important._


My initial reaction when I first read this was something along the lines of "no way!"

Then I calmed down a little.
My reaction comes from my experience with the current story I'm working on. A couple of times throughout the story I've had the opportunity to add in cool stuff, but I've decided against it. The story's laid out and it's meant to take the character from A to B, and I've got all of the elements and events I need to achieve that already included. Adding in more wouldn't have achieved anything as far as the story is concerned. It'd just be more cool stuff for the sake of adding cool stuff. It wouldn't progress the story.

This doesn't really have very much to do with adding descriptions does it? It's more about storytelling, right?
In my case, yes.

In the case of descriptions it might still apply though, but it's not nearly so clear cut.
Adding in little details that at first seem pointless and without meaning can still impact the story. Sure, it could be subtle, and you might not notice it, but it could still work. Often, a lot of things just happen and then pieces start falling into place in new and unexpected ways.

I don't tink there's a hard and fast rule for this, and you'll just have to go with your gut feeling. Sometimes it's cool to make room for something a little bit extra, and sometimes it's just not right to shoehorn something in just because it's cool.

At the moment though, I'm squarely in a spot where I try not to add in things that don't add anything I don't feel is needed. It still happens, but that's what the next draft is for.


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## FifthView (Aug 22, 2018)

Svrtnsse said:


> My initial reaction when I first read this was something along the lines of "no way!"
> 
> Then I calmed down a little.
> My reaction comes from my experience with the current story I'm working on. A couple of times throughout the story I've had the opportunity to add in cool stuff, but I've decided against it. The story's laid out and it's meant to take the character from A to B, and I've got all of the elements and events I need to achieve that already included. Adding in more wouldn't have achieved anything as far as the story is concerned. It'd just be more cool stuff for the sake of adding cool stuff. It wouldn't progress the story.
> ...



I think there might be issues of style that affect the choices, also.

Hand the same story idea, plot outline, and basic list of characters to two different authors, have them write it, and the telling will probably be quite different.

Let's say in this story that we've told both authors the MC should be someone who feels like an outcast in his society, but we don't give the authors a physical description of that character. Well, one might make the character a redhead with freckles in a society that is predominately dark haired and dark skinned; the other might make the MC 6'8" tall in a society where the average height is about 5'10" for males. One wants a redhead, for some reason, the other wants a very tall man. These physical descriptions can come into play in other ways throughout the story, also. (And perhaps one will choose to make the MC gay in a homophobic society, the other will give the character synesthesia. A third makes the character an intellectual artist in a society that prizes combat over everything.)

So there's something to be said, I think, about the way our choices of description are important from an authorial viewpoint but perhaps aren't required for accomplishing the story and plot.  Something to do with authorial voice and style.

This does bring up the question of whether some descriptions can be seemingly arbitrary for a reader, however. So the MC is blond with green eyes; does this become important to the reader? I have read lots of stories where I basically had my own vision of the character even if the author described that character in a slightly different way early in the story. This can become a little irritating if I don't get the author's description until later in the tale; but I just skim over that later description as if it didn't happen and keep my own vision in mind. The worst cases involve instances where something in the plot development or the resolution of a conflict or obstacle turns on the author's much earlier description:  a city guard or law enforcement officer is lenient on the MC because her blond hair reminds him of his sister—but I've been picturing her as a brunette!

For me, _find a way to make it important _seems good advice because it addresses the individual creative spirit. But this would only apply to those descriptions that an author doesn't want to live without, heh. We also have a vision for the story, so we have to weigh the two together sometimes and decide whether the description is worth the bother or might distract us in our writing or the reader in the reading.


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## skip.knox (Aug 22, 2018)

I absolutely agree about advancing the story ... but ... this is fantasy, and fantasy has its own reasons and seasons. One of which is a sense of wonder. Our readers--not all of them, to be sure--love to see special effects, to walk through a magical forest, to stand in awe before the awesome, or even just to be told about something quaint or exotic (cozy fantasy?). 

That can be accomplished, I hear the Voice of the Sage intone, while also advancing the story or developing character. To which the Unrepentant Heretic replies, those are facile phrases but what do they mean? If I walk the reader through the magical forest, pointing out blue leaves and prehensile vines, I'm still getting the character from A to B. The story advances, however modestly. As for characters, how far do the poor dears need to be advanced? If I've a character who is a liar, is it sufficient to see him lie once? Does a second lie develop him? Or does a second lie do no more than describing a second tree with blue leaves?

Even if I do not have my timid hero gain courage by battling those prehensile vines, describing the forest can simply evoke a sense of wonder, and that is sufficient unto itself. When J.G. Ballard wrote _The Crystal World_ (a very weird book), he would have done a disservice to the reader had he not given detailed descriptions of this world, for the world was the point, at least in part. 

I would--am trying to--learn how to write vivid descriptions, sufficient unto themselves. I would develop the skill first, before decided to tone it down or cut it out. Description, with no ulterior motives, deserves to stand with dialog and narrative, not be disguised with caveats and qualifications. Once it's there in the story, the Pitiless Editor can swoop in and make her stern judgments.

Or, as someone somewhere said once, and I may be paraphrasing: just write.

Then write better.


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## Laurence (Aug 22, 2018)

On the topic of advancing the story, how do you guys know when it's right to stop beating the reader over the head with description / explanation and move on? Do you target a very specific reading ability of user or do you err on the side of caution and go simple?

I say this because the issue I had (not explaining half the bits of worldbuilding I dropped in to the first chapter) stemmed partly from other conversations (such as in the Life Day Writing Excuses podcast) where they suggest you drop info in without explanations to get across that it's ingrained, unquestionably, in society.


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## Chessie2 (Aug 22, 2018)

Laurence said:


> On the topic of advancing the story, how do you guys know when it's right to stop beating the reader over the head with description / explanation and move on? Do you target a very specific reading ability of user or do you err on the side of caution and go simple?
> 
> I say this because the issue I had (not explaining half the bits of worldbuilding I dropped in to the first chapter) stemmed partly from other conversations (such as in the Life Day Writing Excuses podcast) where they suggest you drop info in without explanations to get across that it's ingrained, unquestionably, in society.


I think it all depends on how you write and the audience you write for. Also depends on the scenes and the mood you want to set in those scenes. During action scenes I describe a lot less and focus on the emotional. It all leans on what I'm trying to accomplish in any given place in the story. Suppose when it comes to things like this I don't really think consciously of it...I just do it. Just write, like Skip said. It's during editing that things get smoothed out. I just don't think about any of this when I'm working else it slows  me down.


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## FifthView (Aug 22, 2018)

Laurence said:


> I say this because the issue I had (not explaining half the bits of worldbuilding I dropped in to the first chapter) stemmed partly from other conversations (such as in the Life Day Writing Excuses podcast) where they suggest you drop info in without explanations to get across that it's ingrained, unquestionably, in society.



An established author with a large following is going to be treated more leniently than a new writer. Her fan base will already have some trust in the author and will know that all will become clear in time. Perhaps even her reputation will smoothe the rough waters for new readers.

Plus, as Princess Irulan might say, "A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct." (_Dune_)  The goal of an opening chapter is to draw the readers in, not hold them at a distance from what is being shown. So a delicate touch, a balance between telling and showing, describing and leaving mysterious, might be required.

Speaking of Dune...The first chapter uses various passages to slowly introduce the reader to the sort of power that a Bene Gesserit has. After Paul wakes and realizes the Reverend Mother and his mother are watching him, he falls back to sleep. He has a dream, and when he wakes again he realizes he is tense, so

_Paul sensed his own tensions, decided to practice one of the mind-body lessons his mother had taught him. Three quick breaths triggered the responses: he fell into the floating awareness . . . focusing the consciousness . . . aortal dilation . . . 
_
The meditation goes on like that for a long paragraph. So we are introduced to this idea of the sort of thing a Bene Gesserit does. Mind-body stuff, heh.

After the meditation, a handful of short paragraphs, then his mother enters the room:

_He studied the tallness of her, saw the hint of tension in her shoulders as she chose clothing for him from the closet racks. Another might have missed the tension, but she had trained him in the Bene Gesserit Way—in the minutiae of observation....
_
So this adds another detail and ties this to the Bene Gesserit (not just to a mother's particular lessons.)

Eventually, not too long after, we are given a section that is more from the Reverend Mother's POV. She's using this same observation method on Paul. Then, back to Paul's POV, and after some interaction, this:

_A smile flicked the corners of the wrinkled old mouth. "The Lady Jessica  _was_ my serving wench, lad, for fourteen years at school." She nodded. "And a good one, too. Now, _you_ come here!"

The command whipped out at him. Paul found himself obeying before he could think about it.  _Using the Voice on me_, he thought._

So now we have a further understanding of what it means to be Bene Gesserit. It's drip by drip; also, showing rather than telling. Or telling then showing, as in the case of the meditation earlier.

Eventually, much later in the book, we are introduced to the _Weirding Way_, which is how a Bene Gesserit may alter her perception of reality and thus gain the ability to move at lightning-fast speed against a foe. By this time, the mind-body stuff, the ability to notice the minutest details, and the Voice capability, have built up a framework for accepting the further ability to alter perceptions (mind) to allow super fast movement of the body, the way personal control via mental focus can have effects on control over not only another person's body but one's own.

Another thing. Just because a person is rather familiar with something doesn't mean that person won't think about it. To some degree, this will depend on the character. An intellectual sort, or one prone to observe and ponder, as Paul is, may well have thoughts about things familiar to him. Another type of character might not unless in a stressful, unusual situation, when he's trying to piece together what is happening with the knowledge he already has. A third sort of character—the kind I like least of all characters—might go about in the world, in the story, constantly befuddled and reacting instinctively, emotionally, to everything that occurs, without ruminating much on those familiar things.


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## Svrtnsse (Aug 22, 2018)

Laurence said:


> On the topic of advancing the story, how do you guys know when it's right to stop beating the reader over the head with description / explanation and move on? Do you target a very specific reading ability of user or do you err on the side of caution and go simple?
> 
> I say this because the issue I had (not explaining half the bits of worldbuilding I dropped in to the first chapter) stemmed partly from other conversations (such as in the Life Day Writing Excuses podcast) where they suggest you drop info in without explanations to get across that it's ingrained, unquestionably, in society.



This depends on what the description is meant to do.
If I just need the description as a visual aid I try to make it short and snappy - a paragraph or two.
If the description is meant to do more than just show how something looks, I let it go on for as long as it needs to be.

For me it ties back to the concept of first impressions.
When you meet a person it takes you only a very brief moment to form your first impression of them, and once you've done that it's really hard to change it. I think the same applies to writing. The issue is that in writing you don't see the entire person at once, but you get their appearance fed to you through a sequence of words - one word at a time. Even then, I still think that forming a first impression in reading is really quick. 
As long as you keep taking in the sequence of words, your mind is still open to creating the image, but as soon as the words stop, your impression is formed. In the context of descriptions, I'm thinking the words stop at the end of the paragraph. That's usually when the context changes and the reader's attention is drawn to something else.

For longer descriptions, there's more than just looks to account for. There's moods and depths and connections to characters and readers and the world at large to account for. 

Examples:
In Lost Dogs #1 chapter three, the description of the location within which the scene takes place takes up one paragraph and a total of 38 words.


Spoiler



Burj Fareena. Fifty-sixth floor luxury conference room. High-backed leather chairs. Polished oak table. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bay, and a small tray holding four cups and a steaming pot of tea that smelled faintly of mint.


It's enough for what it is. None of the characters in the scene has any kind of connection to it, and it's just a backdrop for what's to come.

In chapter 7 there's a description of Fylktown that's more than ten times as long (560 words).


Spoiler



Eventually the wide streets of Malardal gave way to the winding alleys and tunnels of Fylktown – one of the older parts of the city, on the slopes south of the bay. Originally the entire area had been just cliffs too steep to build on, but anfylk settlers had taken it over, or so the story went, and with the help of dwarves they'd carved out their burrows in the rock itself.

Supposedly there had been gardens and terraces too, but the city had grown and more fylkin had come to live here. In their haphazard fashion, they'd built new houses on the terraces and moved the gardens up to their roofs, and then built on top of that again.

Nowadays, what had once been a nearly sheer cliff had turned into a maze of alleys and stairways and tunnels, and you could never quite tell whether you walked on a path carved into the bedrock, or someone's roof – or both.

Not much sunlight reached down to the street level, even in the alleys which hadn't been covered by new buildings on top the ones that lined them. Here and there, torches and jellybobs lit the way. Fylktown wasn't a proper anetacht, but many fylkin still kept to their old ways and didn't hold with electricity and other such newfangled inventions.

Roy suspected there were people living out their entire lives in here, never crossing the boundaries of Fylktown. A small underground kingdom within the city. They kept their own justice and their own peace, and as anfylk were by nature a quiet folk, the city officials left them to it.

He liked it here. There was something comforting about the narrow alleys and the round doors and the silence. You hardly ever heard any noise – perhaps someone singing to themselves up on a rooftop, or through an open window. No one yelled or caused a disturbance. Fewer people were out and about here than in Malardal, and almost no humans. The locals smiled up at him, even though he stood nearly twice as tall as most of them and had to duck his head in many of the tunnels.

Perhaps there was something to learn here. He'd always had a good eye for the anfylk. Mossy Barn back home had been one of his favourite places when he was young, back before things started going wrong.

Anfylk were safe. Sure, they were short and not particularly strong, but they had this sense of confidence and safety about them that he almost never saw in humans. They made good food and the best cider.

Even here you could get great cider in the autumn. He knew a little place not far from here where they'd serve humans – as long as you promised to sit on the floor and not break any more of their chairs.

A big grin found its way onto his face. That had been a good night. Him and Jen out on the town looking for a place they'd heard about down in the harbour. They'd gotten lost, ended up in Fylktown, and somehow found their way into a tiny underground cider house bar. Both of their chairs had broken when they sat on them, but they'd paid for the damages on the spot and then bought a round for everyone in the place.


The place is one that matters to Roy, and to which he has emotional connections. By showing off a little of the backstory, the readers gets an impression of the place, and by showing off Roy's memories, the reader gets to know Roy a little better.

Also, the word counts aren't included as guidelines, but as a way of showing how much the length of a description can vary depending on what it's needed for.


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## Heliotrope (Aug 22, 2018)

skip.knox said:


> I absolutely agree about advancing the story ... but ... this is fantasy, and fantasy has its own reasons and seasons. One of which is a sense of wonder. Our readers--not all of them, to be sure--love to see special effects, to walk through a magical forest, to stand in awe before the awesome, or even just to be told about something quaint or exotic (cozy fantasy?).



Gah, I know. This get's tricky for me, though. I only have personal experience to go by, and it is anecdotal, but the example I have about why I lean more toward vagueness than too much detail is this:

So when I was a kid my dad let me watch Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Arc, but I had to close my eyes during the opening of the arc. He didn't want me to see the horrors of what happened.

So, with my eyes closed, I heard the screams and imagined the worst that my little seven year old mind could imagine. It was pretty gruesome, for a seven year old. In fact, so gruesome that years later, when I finally did watch the scene, I was shocked by how tame it was compared to what I had imagined.

I always think about this when I'm writing... how much do I want to leave to the reader's imagination? How much detail will actually _ruin _the wonder of the magical forest? It's like Gandolf's powers... what is great about Gandolf, to me, is that his magic is not explained in any detail. Gandolf has the power to do stuff. I don't know what the limitations are... leaving it up to me gives it _more _wonder than explaining everything away.

I think the is often why people say "The book was better than the movie." Usually you imagined a scene or setting looking a certain way, and in your mind it is the _one true way _it is supposed to look. So when a director shows us _his _way, it is ruined a bit. It takes the grandiosity and magic out of the way we envisioned it.


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## Demesnedenoir (Aug 22, 2018)

Game of Thrones, the prologue (chapter style) is a good example of description, but not explaining. An example bit, is that one character asks if the wall is weeping, another  answers, but we aren’t told what about the wall would make it weep or not. Many writers would’ve lost to the temptation to world build! and describe the wall and why its weeping really matters, etc etc. My goodness, the history that could’ve been dropped in here... but no, Martin steers clear, while later in the book he goes into more world build detail. Oddly enough, the prologue is one of my favorite bits of writng from Martin, because he doesn’t take a deep breath and blow and blow and blow and blow, heh heh.


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## FifthView (Aug 22, 2018)

Demesnedenoir said:


> Game of Thrones, the prologue (chapter style) is a good example of description, but not explaining. An example bit, is that one character asks if the wall is weeping, another  answers, but we aren’t told what about the wall would make it weep or not. Many writers would’ve lost to the temptation to world build! and describe the wall and why its weeping really matters, etc etc. My goodness, the history that could’ve been dropped in here... but no, Martin steers clear, while later in the book he goes into more world build detail. Oddly enough, the prologue is one of my favorite bits of writng from Martin, because he doesn’t take a deep breath and blow and blow and blow and blow, heh heh.



Off-hand, I don't recall much odd terminology (like Weirding Way) being thrown around in GRRM's books. I suppose there are things like the Unsullied, Khaleesi and Valonqar. They're usually explained quickly or are understood in context. A lot of the other terms are simple combinations of familiar things or derived from familiar things: Milk of the Poppy, Turncloak, Sellsword. As for concepts in general, I'm not sure there are a great number of new concepts.


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## Heliotrope (Aug 22, 2018)

Demesnedenoir said:


> Game of Thrones, the prologue (chapter style) is a good example of description, but not explaining. An example bit, is that one character asks if the wall is weeping, another  answers, but we aren’t told what about the wall would make it weep or not. Many writers would’ve lost to the temptation to world build! and describe the wall and why its weeping really matters, etc etc. My goodness, the history that could’ve been dropped in here... but no, Martin steers clear, while later in the book he goes into more world build detail. Oddly enough, the prologue is one of my favorite bits of writng from Martin, because he doesn’t take a deep breath and blow and blow and blow and blow, heh heh.



This reminds me, in the book Bird by Bird by Ann Lemmott, she says that readers should have the feeling they are being privy to something secret when reading... like they are eavesdropping. We all know that feeling of "ohhhhh, I'm not supposed to be listening to this!" but it is so juicy that you just can't help but keeping listening because the words or emotions are so private and so raw and so dramatic that it is like a train wreck. Like listening to your parents fight, or being 10 and spying on your sister and her boyfriend. Or stumbling upon co-workers being inappropriate in the break room. 

Martin captures that because everything feels so real. Of course he isn't going to go into a long discussion about the wall because the characters already know all about it. The reader is like an invisible time traveller, transported to place and eavesdropping on these people. They have to "wait and see" and work out stuff on their own.


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## Heliotrope (Aug 22, 2018)

FifthView said:


> Off-hand, I don't recall much odd terminology (like Weirding Way) being thrown around in GRRM's books. I suppose there are things like the Unsullied, Khaleesi and Valonqar. They're usually explained quickly or are understood in context. A lot of the other terms are simple combinations of familiar things or derived from familiar things: Milk of the Poppy, Turncloak, Sellsword. As for concepts in general, I'm not sure there are a great number of new concepts.



Ahhhhh, the is also true, and probably why it works. You don't want to be too opaque when introducing new concepts.


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## Chessie2 (Aug 22, 2018)

Nimue said:


> I feel like honestly, knowing what you need to describe and what you’re trying to say by describing it will get you most of the way there.  It’s almost easier to focus on the how, the prose, because that’s all there on the surface.  But you can always polish words later—it’s more difficult during revising to cut through a flowery tangle of words to figure out what you do or don’t need to say.
> 
> Oooh... While we’re on the subject of “what the character would see”, can we talk about describing your POV character’s appearance?  I am a giant sucker for character description, I totally need to know what characters look like, and I’ll forgive any number of omniscient intrusions or glances in the mirror to get that information early—but I know many readers find blatantly inserted self-description obnoxious.
> 
> ...


Oh, man. I loooove describing my characters. This is usually reserved for the beginning chapters. Afterward I'll occasionally remind the readers what someone looks like by bringing in a descriptive phrase or through dialogue. It could be said I even tend to go overboard: 

_The clacking of heels echoing down the stairs caught his attention. Long legs wrapped in a navy blue pencil skirt. A cream blouse tucked into a narrow waist. Soft, feminine curves swaying in rhythm to a series of graceful steps. Red lips. Black eyeliner like an Egyptian. Blonde hair down to her shoulders, curled under and parted to the side. Pearls decorating her slender neck. Features similar to Lauren Bacall.
Lila.


“Not really.” Frankie stood up and went over to the desk, quickly opening the drawer to pull out a doll. She looked so much like Nathan sometimes; the same softness in her eyes and facial expressions, although traces of Chloe were sketched into her cheekbones and nose. Dark hair like both her parents hung down to her shoulders and curled under, pinned to the side with faux-pearl barrettes like the current fashion. Petite. Reminiscent of a wounded baby bird that had fallen out of its nest but placed back in still struggling.


Diamonds dangled and sparkled from her ear lobes, touching her exposed collarbone. Charcoal lined the fine brims of her cat-like eyes, rouge reddened her cheeks and lips, fresh roses and sprigs of lavender added color and pleasant aromas to her long, blonde tresses. The gown, spun from magical silk brought in from the eastern plains, was the color of a peach geranium in full bloom. Its train spread vastly behind her, slowing her down when she walked. Daintily holding her feet was a new pair of sealskin heels from the southern province of Lamar along the ocean. But she did not at all feel special.


This time, however, a petite woman shyly poked her head inside. She was homely, with hair the color of a fiery orange sunset. Her skin was paler than ivory and she bore a strong likeness to Mr. Olson. Small, unsettled eyes darted in every which direction as if she were unsure of what to do next. Upon seeing her father, she ran to him and gave his arm a squeeze.
Julian’s heart took a dive. She had to be his future bride. Not a looker whatsoever, not his type at all. He didn’t mind the loudness of her hair but it was her timid demeanor and simple way of dressing that made him certain she was everything opposite of what he liked in a woman.
_


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## Heliotrope (Aug 22, 2018)

What I like about your descriptions, Chessie, is that they say something about _who _the character is, not just what she looks like. Your descriptions speak to the character's personality. I think I do this too:

_Anna could never be regarded a conventional beauty. She was too sinewy. Too strong. She lacked the voluptious curves and hourglass waist required of women of her time. She was flat. Hard. But with wide grey eyes and eyebrows that turned upward at the ends, giving her the allusion of a child, much younger than herself, or perhaps a pixie who had spent her life in the woods, scrambling over logs and bathing in frozen streams. She had an earthiness to her. Like a root. Even her hair was the color of a pinecone, though it shone more that it should to earn such a comparison._

_I had never seen M. Nadeau look concerned. Stern, perhaps, but never concerned. He stared at me for a long time, scratching his bald spot. He wore a blue Tommy Bahama shirt covered in large palm trees. He wore Birkenstock sandals with wool socks pulled almost to his knees. He had been, in my view, the sort of person who was chronically unconcerned. His now wrinkled brow worried me.

“Bonjour, April.” I wondered if it was possible for a person to be rabid.  She looked like a skunk in a cartoon if the cartoon skunk was a woman who wore shimmery coral lipstick and foamed at the mouth.  Pushing fifty, she was so tanned her skin shriveled up on itself giving her face the puckered look of a cat’s rear end. Her tropicana skin was a stark contrast to her bleached hair, which she wore pinned to the top of her head in a massive pile of frizzy curls. The overall affect was not what one would consider attractive. Unless you were a male cartoon skunk.

_


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## Chessie2 (Aug 22, 2018)

That's what description should do imo, is tell the reader who the character is, what the setting feels like, what a situation is about. Description is where you feed the reader from your imagination and let them digest it to make up their mind about the rest of the events happening in the story.


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## FifthView (Aug 22, 2018)

Chessie2 said:


> That's what description should do imo, is tell the reader who the character is, what the setting feels like, what a situation is about. Description is where you feed the reader from your imagination and let them digest it to make up their mind about the rest of the events happening in the story.



Since the beginning of this thread, I've wanted to make a simply-worded list of the things description can do.

Clarity would fall at the top of that list, most likely, although I'm not going to be so dogmatic as to say it's definitely at the top.


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## Heliotrope (Aug 22, 2018)

FifthView said:


> Since the beginning of this thread, I've wanted to make a simply-worded list of the things description can do.
> 
> Clarity would fall at the top of that list, most likely, although I'm not going to be so dogmatic as to say it's definitely at the top.



Interesting... I'm not sure clarity is something description should _do_... I think it is something it should _be. 
_
I agree with Chessie that it _should_: set the feeling or tone of a scene, establish characterization, establish plot... it is the backbone of narrative. But it should _be _clear. It should be concise. It should help move things forward. It should not confuse the reader. It should not distract from the story.... I'm sure there are a billion other things.


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## FifthView (Aug 22, 2018)

I think it's _do_ because not having a white room is important for letting a reader know what's going on.

_But_, I've also had a bit of mental congestion in trying to keep _description_ from fading into _showing_, when they are probably distinct methods, whatever the overlap.


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## Chessie2 (Aug 22, 2018)

All prose/narrative should be clear. That's what a writer works towards from the beginning. Doesn't matter if the passage is descriptive or dialogue, etc.


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## FifthView (Aug 22, 2018)

Chessie2 said:


> All prose/narrative should be clear. That's what a writer works towards from the beginning. Doesn't matter if the passage is descriptive or dialogue, etc.



I was thinking along the lines of an action scene in a room. Sometimes the advice is given, make sure you've described what is in the room if those objects will be important to the fight. You might avoid the situation where a character is _just_ able to grab a vase and hit the opponent over the head with it but the reader is like, Vase? Where did that come from?

The same sort of thing can happen in lots of situations. I'd mentioned in another comment a city guard being lenient with an MC because her blond hair reminds him of his sister. Blond hair? I've been picturing her as a brunette? I suppose there's not an either/or, or only two extremes to clarity, totally clear and totally confusing, heh. I could get over the blond hair thing by forgetting it a few moments after, because I get the idea and can understand how that MC got by the guard without being hauled off to jail.

I do agree that clarity is an issue in other aspects and that description should _be_ clear.

*Edit: *Also, this is where my conundrum of description vs showing, as different things, comes in to play. During the action scene in that room, before the fight breaks out, you could say that his opponent runs his finger lightly along the painted lines of the vase. This, while they are having a tense conversation. So you can introduce the vase's presence without taking the time to describe the whole room first. Is this a case of showing rather than describing? Or are you _describing_ that character's action (tracing the design), and it's still description? Using description in two ways, but still getting the vase there anyway before the fight breaks out?


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## Chessie2 (Aug 22, 2018)

Well, that's why I describe characters upon entry into the story. That way I'm not bogged down with needing to give description again as something is happening or about to happen. There are also places throughout the story where you can fit a line or two in of description:

_Chloe came out of the bathroom. He greeted her.
“What are you doing up here?” she asked, eyes wide. “You know that—”
“I’ve been waiting for nearly twenty minutes. What’s going on?”
She stomped over to him and pulled him into her room. It was exactly how he envisioned it— comfortable, soft and seductive just like her.
Unfortunately, she also looked none the ready to go out into public.
“I can’t go,” said Chloe as she adjusted the bandana on her head. “There’s simply too much to do and getting away is impossible before we need to leave for the theater.”_


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## FifthView (Aug 22, 2018)

Chessie2 said:


> She stomped over to him and pulled him into her room. It was exactly how he envisioned it— comfortable, soft and seductive just like her.



Well and this is great, because we are getting his impressions of her. Probably, there's a bit of rose-colored glasses, heh. Another person, breaking into the room after they've gone out, might have an entirely different impression of the room.

But maybe he has a thing against bandanas? Else, why does she look none the ready to go out?


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## Chessie2 (Aug 22, 2018)

You're missing context. The reader by this point already knows that she was doing chores upstairs while he was downstairs waiting for her to take her to lunch (they are in the middle of a fight but he doesn't know it yet, lol).


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## FifthView (Aug 22, 2018)

I'm still a little hooked on this idea of showing v describing, hacking away, trying to split them.

We have info that we want, or need, to get into the story. Maybe it's just needed for this one scene, or this moment in the scene.

Focus seems to be an issue. I'd relate it to that earlier issue of "info-dumping" or long, drawn out descriptions, and steal from an earlier example (but paraphrasing):


_The sun bore down on him, baking the sand under his feet, bending his back and stealing his energy; it forced him to shuffle along while images of fountain sodas and milkshakes danced around his toes—always out of reach._
_He shuffled along under the desert sun, drawn by the dancing fountain sodas and milkshakes that teased his toes._
Ok,  perhaps these aren't great, but I was inspired by my description of trying to get a vase in a room, heh. An author begins a tale and he wants the reader to know this is taking place in a desert and we have a character being affected by long exposure to the sun. How to introduce desert, sun, and the effects of that situation?

"Affected by the sun" makes me think of passive voice. Affected by zombies. In passive voice, the actor or thing causing a situation is often left unmentioned. Unmentioned by whom? (Heh, the zombie author.) But the author doesn't want the location and sun to be unmentioned; that info is *important to the setting.* So he mentions it, makes the sun active, focuses on the sun, in the first example. Makes explicit.

In the second example "desert sun" pretty much tells what's needed, but the character is the active agent in the first half. Often, whatever is the active agent in a sentence grabs the focus of the reader. In the first, we are looking at the sun first. Even if our attention is turned somewhat to "him," "sand," "feet," up to "back," back to sun in "it," then to "him" until we finally get to the dancing things -- and back to "toes" --wait, what was the focus? This situation.

Neither approach is necessarily better than the other; depends, I think, on what the author wants to accomplish.  But sometimes our focus on setting, a thing we know is very important, can draw our attention and we can go on and on and on and end up with a pace-killing paragraph.

In the second example, more is implied than made explicit. Do we need to know that effect of "bending his back and stealing his energy?"   Hmmmm. But we are explicit about his location in the second example, even if we don't make the setting the focus. It's a desert because there's a "desert sun." Surely a reader will understand what that means. Then the mention of those dancing fountain sodas and milkshakes will make sense to the reader. Ah, hallucinations. Guy's been there for awhile.

 What if instead we did this in our opening line:

_He shuffled along, drawn by the dancing fountain sodas and milkshakes that teased his toes._

Perhaps this will confuse. Perhaps we haven't communicated to our reader the setting. Or maybe some readers will have a good suspicion of the setting. Or not. Maybe this character is simply insane, drunk, or very high and is stumbling along a street. I'm going to switch to present tense:

_He shuffles along, drawn by the dancing fountain sodas and milkshakes that tease his toes. He catches one, a milkshake, chocolate. It is gritty, too gritty, and tastes like shit. He tosses it to the ground and turns to berate the soda jerk. Damn kid  put something in it.  Where's that  Joey? Was it Jimmy? He spins too fast and falls. He's on the beach and the sun is shimmering on the water. He crawls toward  the water, claws the sand. He wants to get that grit out of his mouth...
_
Okay, I could go on. I'm not sure this is very good anyway, so best I stop. How to solidify that this is a desert and not merely a beach, after that last bit? Do I need to? I'm likely to break the hallucination at some point, even if momentarily. Or maybe I'll have a camel appear. He won't know it's a camel at first; but hopefully my description clues the reader in...

TL;DR: If information is important, we can focus on it, describe it, or we can make it a _part_ of the description, and either way get it out there. Also, that last example is the sort of thing that would have me going on and on and on in a rough draft, not knowing exactly how to get the info out finally in a non-confusing way, heh. I mean, I don't know the ideal length of such a thing and would wonder if I'm being far too squishy in trying to avoid saying

_It was a desert, and he'd been there too long already.

_


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## Chessie2 (Aug 22, 2018)

That last line would suffice.


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## FifthView (Aug 22, 2018)

Chessie2 said:


> That last line would suffice.



There you go again. Being succinct, to the point, and not at all confusing.


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## Chessie2 (Aug 22, 2018)

FifthView said:


> There you go again. Being succinct, to the point, and not at all confusing.


? Were you wanting a longer response? Sorry, I just don't know what more to say. :/


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## FifthView (Aug 22, 2018)

No, I liked it!


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## Heliotrope (Aug 22, 2018)

FifthView said:


> He shuffles along, drawn by the dancing fountain sodas and milkshakes that tease his toes. He catches one, a milkshake, chocolate. It is gritty, too gritty, and tastes like shit. He tosses it to the ground and turns to berate the soda jerk. Damn kid put something in it. Where's that Joey? Was it Jimmy? He spins too fast and falls. He's on the beach and the sun is shimmering on the water. He crawls toward the water, claws the sand. He wants to get that grit out of his mouth...



This is the kind of shit I love. I thought this was magic. 

I'm reading Slaughter House- Five right now, and this passage stuck out to me. 

*Context: The MC, Billy Pilgrim believes he has been abducted by aliens. These aliens can see in four dimensions, and so see all points of time as happening at the same time. They see every moment in time the same we we would see the Rocky Mountains. People, to the aliens, are long centipedal creatures with a thousand sets of legs, starting with fat baby legs at one end and ending with skinny old person legs at the end. Billy Pilgrim gets a book of theirs, and finds they don't read it chronologically (and, in fact, the entire novel itself is not written chronologically). The alien explains to Billy:

_Each clump of symbols is a brief, urgent message - _*describing*_ a situation. A scene. We Tralfamadorians read them all at once, not one after the other. There isn't any particular relationship between all the messages, except that the author has *chosen them carefully *so that when seen all at once they produce an image of life that is beautiful and surprising and deep. There is no beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no causes, no effects. What we love in our books are the depths of many marvellous moments seen all at one time. _

I think, the point of description, like the beautiful desert one above, is to *describe a situation. *It is the writer's job to chose each description carefully, so that when they are all put together, they paint a picture. They create something that feels 'real' or 'authentic'. 

To me, a good description will be a combo of telling/showing. But the combo pulls the pieces together into one clump of information that creates an _image of life that is beautiful, and surprising, and deep. _


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## Heliotrope (Aug 22, 2018)

What I'm loving about Vonnegut is how every single description he gives cuts like a knife. You start a paragraph and it is all describ-y and you wonder where he is going with this and why it is important, and then he will end the paragraph with the punch line and it does exactly what he set out to do. It sets a scene. It creates a 'feeling'.

Billy Pilgrim has just arrived at a German POW camp in WW2. The other Americans are being greeted by the English, who have been in the camp for four years.

_There were long tables set for a banquet. At each place was a bowl made from a can that had once contained powdered milk. A smaller can was a cup. A taller, more slender can was a tumbler. Each tumbler was filled with warm milk. 

At each place was a safety razor, a washcloth, a package of razor blades, a chocolate bar, two cigars, a bar of soap, ten cigarettes, a book of matches, a pencil and a candle. 

Only the candle and the soap were of German origin. They had a ghostly, opalescent similarity. The British had no way of knowing it, but the candles and the soap were made from the fat of rendered Jews and Gypsies and fairies and communists, and other enemies of the state. 

And so it goes. 
_
OMG! You read the whole thing thinking OH yay! Finally poor old Billy might get a break! At least some warm milk and a shave! But he cuts it at the end with the horrible, biting truth that no one is safe. Ever. They are using soap created by the fat of the dead, and they are next. The whole description works together, in a little package, to create a whole picture. A whole 'feeling' for the reader.


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## skip.knox (Aug 23, 2018)

>how do you guys know when it's right to stop...

We don't. I often get the feeling that the sum total of writing advice consists of this: do just enough and no more. What constitutes just enough varies not only by author, not only by story, not only by scene--it varies by reader as well. So you're pretty well doomed to fail, in someone's eyes.

I've said it before, but it bears repeated: to thine own self be true. I may not have made that up on my own. 

Write. Please yourself first. The best, first place for improvement is when you fail yourself, when you know something isn't working and it's failing so badly even you, the author, can see it. That's where all the advice proved helpful for me. I could ask myself, does this really advance the story? Does it make me care about the character(s)? If I took it out, what would suffer? What if I shifted the POV here? Are there adverbs running around adverbially? Has the passive voice been used?

Und so weiter.

If, otoh, the passage works for you, then happy dance! That one belongs in the current draft, the one destined to be read by beta readers, crit groups, editors. If they come back telling you there's too much description, or too little, then you can reassess. But there is no way to be sure going in. Even experienced writers miss the mark, at least in the eyes of some readers, and that's no worry either. It's unavoidable.


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## FifthView (Aug 23, 2018)

Heliotrope said:


> I thought this was magic.



Why thanks! I enjoyed writing it. It was a little stream of consciousness play for me. I'd stubbornly included the sodas and milkshakes in my first two examples, felt they were a little weird and wondered whether someone would comment on their weirdness, so when I removed "desert sun" and decided to leap into an extended sort of attempt to describe the place, I had to feel my way through how this character would be reacting to those things. _Make them important_, in other words. At least important to the character. Give them a place. It's not the sort of writing I'd normally do; perhaps I ought to do it more often.

I'm a little troubled by the idea of consistency in style. I've been thinking that beginning in a style that uses vivid images (or vivid imagery) and using them consistently throughout a story will mean that readers who come to the story and stick with it will be more likely to stick with the story  to the end through all that. Lengthy passages of vivid description, if this is normal for the novel (the style of the novel) might mean being able to get away with that, not throwing readers out of the reading. But if a style uses those things not at all or in a very limited way, suddenly throwing something intricate into the story could be a wrong move.

Obviously, this is a simplification. Surely there's some sort of continuum, thus stylistic approaches that can combine simplicity and complexity of description depending on what is happening.


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## Svrtnsse (Aug 23, 2018)

Nothing's ever easy.


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## Chessie2 (Aug 23, 2018)

Svrtnsse said:


> Nothing's ever easy.


Sometimes there's a better way to say what we mean. Other times our gut is correct. But you're right. Writing is not easy, far from it. I do believe some parts of it become more second nature over time. We all have our weak and strong points. Description is a strong point for me. Plot is not. Not sure if it ever will be honestly. 

I agree with Skip: just write. Like, it's good to have discussions and think about these parts of the craft but ultimately the only way to grow is to practice, practice, practice. I'm a firm believer that our subconscious tends to know what it's doing whereas our rational, conscious mind is more critical. If we let the love of writing and that passion for words take over we can produce some pretty amazing stuff.


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## FifthView (Aug 23, 2018)

I disagree with the "just write," because of how _just_ can be interpreted.

I do agree with Skip. If we come to a discussion like this believing it can give us or help us discover The Ideal Method of Description (tm), a fail-proof method, then the discussion might not help much. _"So you're pretty well doomed to fail, in someone's eyes."_ —Skip.  So it's good to write for yourself; then seek readers who can help you see what you haven't been able to see in your own writing.

But if _just_ means _only_—i.e. _only write_, don't come to these discussions or bother to discuss these things at all—then I disagree with that phrase. For me, these discussions are a way to help us see into our own writing _and_ the POVs of others, so it's like writing and seeking input from readers. Like, but not identical, to that process. These discussions can help us shorten the journey a bit, but not complete the journey. _That_ requires practice.

*Edit:* Also, reading. Not _just_ writing. We've had examples, from established writers, in this thread, and some home-brewed examples. Seeing the good and the bad in those examples, or simply seeing the variety of approaches, is good whether you are reading novels or reading excerpts. Excerpts aren't including context, heh, so there's that caveat. But still.


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## FifthView (Aug 23, 2018)

Chessie2 said:


> That last line would suffice.



I may not have been very clear. I do like the sort of succinct, to the point method of description in something like _It was a desert, and he'd been there too long already. _For some reason, to me that feels like something I'd read in one of those hard-boiled detective stories, or if the character is hard-boiled, jaded, in any type of story. I like it.

As you've seen, my comments here can go on at length as I work my way through a thought. My tendency is toward _more_, not being succinct and to the point. But I do like fiction that gets to the point. I've thought perhaps I need to work on doing that in my own writing. So when you made your succinct, to-the-point, clear comment, that comment exemplified for me the sort of thing I might try working on.


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## Chessie2 (Aug 23, 2018)

Being succinct and to the point is something I've worked hard on. It's not easy by any stretch to be more efficient with words. Writing shorts has helped a ton with this. I don't like to go on and on. I prefer that my words mean something in a story and that way I have space for more scenes as well.

EDIT: regarding "just write". If I'm joining in on these discussions it's because I believe that I have something valuable to say. They do tend to carry on more than I can join in on sometimes, but then I don't give a lot of these parts of the craft serious thought _anymore_. There are other aspects of writing and publishing that take precedent for me; so when I say "just write" I mean it. Just get the work done. STUDY. Yes! I still read and still study the craft, too. But we're all in different places so if focusing on descriptions to a detail is what you need to do, then by no means do I mean any disrespect by saying "just write". Writing is the only way we grow and put these things to practice. I don't really see what's wrong with that comment unless it's being dragged out for minutiae.


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## pmmg (Aug 27, 2018)

Lot of reading to get through this thread and a lot of good stuff.



Svrtnsse said:


> Can we write in a way that encourages the reader to create their own image of what we're telling them? Should we? How?



I will go one further than this, and say, if you don't, I'll skip it.

I don't know. I am not really a reader. I feel often that much of the descriptive passages are kind of wasting my time. If all it is mountains and trees, I don't need four paragraphs on it. Its got to matter, or my brain just kind of goes, mountain, trees...got it, and moves on. So, unless there is something extremely attention catching about it, and sometimes there is, I would rather just get back to what does matter, what is happening in the story below.

The only comment I think I find useful to make, is that this seems like an attempt to capture art with science. There just isn't a way to put this all in a formula and spit out reliable results. At some point the art and the artist has to take over and know just by their own feel and their own senses that this is what is needed, and give it what it needs. If its wrong, the audience will let you know.

I can say, I have some tricks I employ, but they are not magic. I often employ what I call the rule of three. Three details seem to resonate best to my reader-ish mind. More and I start looking for the skip button, less and it does not ring as vibrantly. Another might be don't waste time on things that waste the readers time. Perhaps I am more cognizant of that than others, just due to the fact that I don't really fancy myself a reader. I sometimes think of myself as a minimalist, but that is not really true, I just don't add stuff that does not seem to matter. And another might be make it vivid and try to include something more than just how it looks. Add sensation, or taste, or smell...something a little trickier to get in. For most of my own work, I don't include stuff the POV would not notice, care about, or know. That is sometimes hard, because stuff does have a history and the POV does not know it, and so it does not come out. But I don't force it. I have another story to tell, and I am telling that one. Maybe a last one, and this goes along with art, is paint the scene enough, let the reader infer the rest, and start to the action.

One trick I was told and see the merits off, but don't always follow, is try to always have more than one character in a scene. That way they interact and there is stage business. A solitary character tends to lead to long slogging blocks of text that just look dense and scare a reader off.

Anyway...Lot of good stuff in this one.


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## skip.knox (Aug 27, 2018)

I have found these kind of discussions, no matter how much they squirrel around and leap from topic to topic, to be useful because every once in a while there's a gem. It might be something I sort of already knew but this time when I read it, it clicks. Or it might be something quite new to me. And because we are all not just at different points on the road, but are on entirely different roads, chances are just about everything said will resonate with someone.

Rule of three
Invoke more than one sense
Show what the character sees (hears, smells, etc)
Put more than one character in the scene

All good ones. Thanks, pmmg!


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## pmmg (Aug 27, 2018)

skip.knox said:


> I have found these kind of discussions, no matter how much they squirrel around and leap from topic to topic, to be useful because every once in a while there's a gem. It might be something I sort of already knew but this time when I read it, it clicks. Or it might be something quite new to me. And because we are all not just at different points on the road, but are on entirely different roads, chances are just about everything said will resonate with someone.



I find just the same. I read them cause I am looking for something nugget like to file away. I've been unfair though. I should list out the nuggets I found, but I would have to go read the whole thread again...


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## Svrtnsse (Sep 6, 2018)

I'm just bringing this one back to life for a little bit as something came nagging at me. 

This ties back to using sensory input as mentioned earlier in a way, but it's not necessarily the same. I'm talking about instead of focusing on how something looks we can describe how it _feels_ - emotionally. Rather than trying to show how something looks or sounds, we can try to trigger an emotional respons and give the reader an impression through that. 

We can see this used in various kinds of advertising, where we're showed something that's largely unrelated to the product advertised (happy people dancing on the beach to sell laundry detergents (somehow they're all wearing very clean white shirts too - unbuttoned)). The images try to create a positive vibe to associate with the product. I think similar techniques can be used to great effect in writing too.


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## FifthView (Sep 6, 2018)

Svrtnsse said:


> I'm just bringing this one back to life for a little bit as something came nagging at me.
> 
> This ties back to using sensory input as mentioned earlier in a way, but it's not necessarily the same. I'm talking about instead of focusing on how something looks we can describe how it _feels_ - emotionally. Rather than trying to show how something looks or sounds, we can try to trigger an emotional respons and give the reader an impression through that.
> 
> We can see this used in various kinds of advertising, where we're showed something that's largely unrelated to the product advertised (happy people dancing on the beach to sell laundry detergents (somehow they're all wearing very clean white shirts too - unbuttoned)). The images try to create a positive vibe to associate with the product. I think similar techniques can be used to great effect in writing too.



Do you have an example?

The laundry detergent ad is still showing/describing something, people dancing on a beach, even if it's not showing the detergent. This, I think, might be related to the use of metaphor in prose. For instance, describing a long underground, man-made chamber in terms of a crypt built for giants.

So I wonder if any description founded on how the item or environment feels to a character would still revolve around sensory things. The nondescript face of the coroner gazing at her leaves her feeling as if spiders are crawling over her skin, tunneling through her skin, seeking her vital organs.

On the other hand, perhaps a memory from childhood would work. The nondescript face of the coroner evokes the feeling she felt every night as a child after going to bed while her parents argued in the next room. Such a description might forsake vivid nouns, adjectives, and description but instead turn on an ineffable feeling. ("Parents" is general, vague, "next room" is plain and non-specific, etc.) Even so, there are sensory impressions, insofar as any of us can remember and visualize similar experiences—the darkness of bedtime, the sound of activity in another room, etc.

Edit: As an afterthought, I've wondered if conceptual, i.e. non-visual things could be used to describe or at least imply a character's reaction. For instance, "a sad, forlorn place" might imply the character's impression and so something about the character as well as the environment. My mind's just trying to go over how it might be done.


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## Svrtnsse (Sep 8, 2018)

FifthView said:


> Do you have an example?


I do, but this is from my own writing again, so bear with me. 


FifthView said:


> Edit: As an afterthought, I've wondered if conceptual, i.e. non-visual things could be used to describe or at least imply a character's reaction. For instance, "a sad, forlorn place" might imply the character's impression and so something about the character as well as the environment. My mind's just trying to go over how it might be done.


This is probably a bit closer to what I originally wanted to say, and it's pretty close to the example as well. This is from Emma's Story when she finally gets a cup of hot whiskey after having been out in the snow and cold all day:


> Emma picked up the little cup and cradled it in her hands. It barely fit a mouthful – perhaps two. The rough surface warmed her palms, and the faint smoke rising from within hinted at evenings free from work and chores long completed.
> […]
> She moved the cup to her nose, closed her eyes, and let the fumes find their way into her. A campfire by a forest lake. Morning mists rising from the valleys. Pipe smoke and sheep and walking over ground covered by fallen pine needles on a warm summer night.
> […]
> Touching the cup to her lips she tilted it ever so slightly and sipped the warm liquid. Gold and brown and moss covered rocks. Fire in the hearth, stew in the pot, and a good friend with no need to talk.


It's not so much the taste of the whiskey itself, as her emotions and associations to it that's shown. I think you can probably do similar things with other descriptions too, but it's probably most suitable for moods and vibes.

I'll try and come up with a different example over the next few days.


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## FifthView (Sep 8, 2018)

Thanks for that example. I know exactly what you mean, have encountered this sort of thing lots of times, but I'm having a difficulty coming up with the right words to describe the approach—perhaps this is ironic. 

Usually there seems to be some sort of transference, so that as a reader when I encounter that, it's as if the whiskey or whatever _is_ being described. If it hints at evenings, smells like campfires, morning mist, pipe smoke, etc,, then the taste/smell is precisely like some indescribable combination of these things. Even if I know, intellectually, that the actual taste & smell can't be that.

This is using actual imagery however, and the question might be asked whether this is a description of the whiskey or a description of those other experiences merely triggered by the un-described whiskey.



Svrtnsse said:


> I do, but this is from my own writing again, so bear with me.
> 
> This is probably a bit closer to what I originally wanted to say, and it's pretty close to the example as well. This is from Emma's Story when she finally gets a cup of hot whiskey after having been out in the snow and cold all day:
> 
> ...


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## FifthView (Sep 9, 2018)

Not long after leaving my last comment, I realized I'd offered an example recently in a different thread, from Samuel R. Delany's _Stars in My Pocket Like Grains of Sand, _when the main character begins to describe how the massive sun he's viewing from an observation deck strikes him:
_


FifthView said:



			"To me," I said, "it seems at once both bitter and sweet; it speaks to me of concatenations of taste as eccentric as mace, vinegared lichen, and powdered alum served three hours after sunset at the very moment when the musicians cease to play—it casts me out of myself, then hurls me back like a suddenly encountered odor from childhood that, as I name it, I only then realize I have mistaken for some other, and I am forced to contemplate all the possibilities that, in their shadings and subtleties, must be as varied as the red and black variegations on that star itself, and thus I am struck with the notion of something so large it might as well be infinite, so old it might as well be eternal."
		
Click to expand...

_
I think this is different from your example in the way it's placed in direct speech rather than free indirect speech? Also, Delany's description is using a speaker who is more consciously musing on his ... musing, hah, over thoughts and feelings triggered by the sun. But it's still the same sort of thing, just applied differently.

I've become certain there must be a particular term for this literary device, but I haven't been able to find it yet. It's similar to _ekphrasis_, similar to _synaethesia, _seems to be related to stream-of-consciousness in some way, relates to metaphor and simile, heh, and might even have a bit of _juxtaposition_ going on. But there might be a specific term for using this in a work of fiction; I don't know.



Svrtnsse said:


> I do, but this is from my own writing again, so bear with me.
> 
> This is probably a bit closer to what I originally wanted to say, and it's pretty close to the example as well. This is from Emma's Story when she finally gets a cup of hot whiskey after having been out in the snow and cold all day:
> 
> ...


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