Britva415
"Alabaster," my ass
- Joined
- Nov 19, 2022
- Posts
- 8,624
Maybe you can't, but it's a matter of taste, so this can't be a rule.you can never have too much atmosphere
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Maybe you can't, but it's a matter of taste, so this can't be a rule.you can never have too much atmosphere
Hills, not dunes, but with atmosphere. Written by someone.The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there was the warm shadow of the building and a curtain, made of strings of bamboo beads, hung across the open door into the bar, to keep out flies.
The girl was looking off at the line of hills. They were white in the sun and the country was brown and dry.
“They look like white elephants,” she said.
Yes, but you don't need to tell me what hills are, and the description of them being white is necessary because normally, when presented with the word 'hill', a reader would think 'green and grassy'. These hills are not green and grassy, so extra description is warranted. If the sand on my dunes wasn't a yellowy-white colour (the colour we usually think of when we say the word 'sand'), but was instead black, volcanic sand, an extra description would be a good thing and would set the scene in the reader's mind. But if the dunes were simply ordinary coloured, would 'John walked over the white sandy dunes lost in thought' add anything more than 'John walked over the dunes lost in thought'? Some would say yes, and I wouldn't want to suggest that simply adding a couple of words would be too much.Hills, not dunes, but with atmosphere. Written by someone.
Beautifully put.I'm not anti-atmosphere, but excessively much description cannot succeed at creating a feeling of atmosphere if the reader rolls their eyes and skips over it.
One failing is putting something in and drawing enough attention to it that it *looks* like a Chekov's gun, and the clever audience wait for it to be used - only it never is.I'm not a Chekhov fetishist, but his advice does have the effect of at least making one thoughtful about how much is excessive. Mindfully disregarding the Chekhov's Gun concept yields way better results than not thinking about it at all.
Please try not to get carried away with the excerpts. The mods have been tolerant, but I get the sense they prefer us to self-police the length of the snippets we post here.I have had dozens of readers comment that this scene, as written, made them feel not only immersed in the story from the beginning, but invested in whoever this character was:
This thread made me think about how Mick Herron begins many (all??) of his Sough House books with a rapt description of the physical building that the Slow Horses inhabit, or sometimes the neighborhood that the house inhabits. He makes these things almost characters in the story.Another important trick, I find, is to provide key information early on. I suspect that readers form a picture in their mind within the first few sentences, or even words.
I came to the thread to create the post above. On the way I bumped into the Bleak House quote. I wouldn't be surprised if Herron got his idea from this very opening of Bleak House.Here's the opening paragraph of Charles Dickens's Bleak House:
Like - what is the MC’s gd gender, even.Another important trick, I find, is to provide key information early on
At least stuff is happening, in that example. “Mere” description, where stuff is being described but nothing is f’n happening, sucks royally when stretched out to that kind of length.I have had dozens of readers comment that this scene, as written, made them feel not only immersed in the story from the beginning, but invested in whoever this character was:
She noticed him immediately. She had been taught.
His appearance made her pause in her stroll back to the mall. She remained approximately three feet inside the hallway that led to the restrooms near the food court at Shoreline Mall. She could watch him, but he would have a difficult time seeing her. She had been taught.
Other patrons of the mall lingered at tables in the food court or stood in lines at one of the food vendors’ counters. If anyone else had noticed the man wearing a Kevlar vest and carrying the duffel bag they hadn’t reacted as she had. She had been taught.
She continued watching from the hallway as the man stopped just inside the doors leading to the west parking lot of the mall. He wasn’t leaving as she had hoped. He was positioning himself between the people in the food court and their quickest exit. This could all be staged. Some sort of drill or test of security response to an active shooter, but her instincts told her otherwise. Her right hand reached inside her purse as the man slowly lowered the duffel bag to the tile floor, squatted with his back to the food court, and began to unzip it. She kept the man in her peripheral vision as she glanced over to the food court and looked up, taking in the whole environment. She had been taught.
Through the glass half-wall that provided a barrier for the Mezzanine level of the mall, she could see more than a dozen shoppers strolling across her field of vision, most distracted by their cell phones or focused on their next purchasing objective. She returned her attention to the man and saw him just rising after retrieving several items from the bag. While she had hoped that the intentions of the man were not as she had suspected, she saw that he had donned a balaclava over his face before standing. This, coupled with the sight of the automatic rifle with a thirty-round magazine and the pump-action shotgun dispelled any doubts. She used her left hand to lower her sunglasses from the top of her head and put them on. She then removed her right hand from her purse and held it at her side. Patience. She had been taught.
This was real. It took only seconds, but her instincts were verified as the half-wall barrier to the Mezzanine level exploded into thousands of pea-sized particles of tempered glass when the gunshot round struck it. As glass particles rained down on startled customers in the food court, several people on the Mezzanine level screamed in pain and fell to the floor, struck either by shotgun pellets or flying glass. When the man lowered the shotgun, leaving it dangling from the strap over his shoulder, and prepared to fire the automatic rifle into the stunned crowd in the food court, she reacted. She had been taught.
Bracing her left shoulder against the wall at the opening of the hallway to the food court, she took aim from twenty feet away and fired three perfectly grouped shots below his body armor, into the man’s groin area. She heard the bullet casings clinking on the tile floor after each shot but ignored them as she watched the shooter fall immediately to his knees, dropping the assault rifle to the floor. As he bent over in agonizing pain, the strap of the shotgun slid down his arm, but he ignored it. She strolled quickly over to the man and kicked the automatic rifle out of his reach. She had been taught.
Keeping her back to the food court and the security camera that she knew was there, she pulled on the strap of the shotgun until the man’s arm moved enough for her to extract it completely. She slid it out of his reach as well before finally gazing into the man’s eyes. She knew that all he would be able to see in the reflection of her sunglasses would be his own eyes and the pool of blood that was spreading out beneath him. While the bullets from a P380 automatic were not as large as those from a nine-millimeter, three hollow points in the area where she had aimed would almost certainly hit the Femoral artery. Her aim had been true, and the results were evident. She had been taught.
His eyes were losing focus as the life drained out of his body. She stepped away from the spreading pool of blood, placed her pistol back into her purse, and walked quickly through the glass exit doors to the parking lot. Without hesitating at the sound of rapidly approaching sirens, she located her car, slid into the driver’s seat, backed out of her spot, and headed for the mall exit. She would be clear of the scene before anyone could get a description of her. She had been taught.
Details and descriptions are one of the things that inspire me to write - to research and provide information that draws the readers into the scenes. That's what I like to read and what my readers claim to enjoy. The acceptability is often tied to how the information is delivered throughout the story. I attempt to weave it in with characters describing each other rather than some narrative providing an simple info dump on how someone looks.
My sex scenes are typically my least descriptive, because I believe the average person has a clear enough understanding of what different sexual acts are to not need it explained to them. Their knowledge of the setting and characters is where descriptions hold more weight for me.
AgreeDetails and descriptions are one of the things that inspire me to write - to research and provide information that draws the readers into the scenes. That's what I like to read and what my readers claim to enjoy. The acceptability is often tied to how the information is delivered throughout the story. I attempt to weave it in with characters describing each other rather than some narrative providing an simple info dump on how someone looks.
Weaving descriptive elements into the action just seems to make everything flow better, IMO.At least stuff is happening, in that example. “Mere” description, where stuff is being described but nothing is f’n happening, sucks royally when stretched out to that kind of length.
Depends on the type of action.Weaving descriptive elements into the action just seems to make everything flow better, IMO.
"The images of the gallery quality prints on the walls, which seemed so sharp and vibrant moments ago, were becoming cloudy and blurred as all the blood in his body sought the warmth of her mouth on his cock. Even the lustrous shine of her hair seemed to fade as his typically perfect vision failed him."
Is that supposed to be an example of something that flows?Weaving descriptive elements into the action just seems to make everything flow better, IMO.
"The images of the gallery quality prints on the walls, which seemed so sharp and vibrant moments ago, were becoming cloudy and blurred as all the blood in his body sought the warmth of her mouth on his cock. Even the lustrous shine of her hair seemed to fade as his typically perfect vision failed him."
I dunno if I'd go that far. The internal flow is decent, if perhaps somewhat flowery and could be tightened a bit, but whether it "impedes" the flow is context dependent on the rest of the section. My suspicion is that this is simply Bobby's style, so it probably flows well within the larger context.Is that supposed to be an example of something that flows?
Eugh. It impedes flow.
Worse, it isn't even evocative of anything.
IMO.
This is often my strategy these days. I write a lot in first person, and refuse to contrive ways to have a character describe themself in the first paragraphs.I think it was a noir detective fiction writer who once said, "Set the scene and get to the dialog." That pretty well sums it up for a lot of what I write.
It's a matter of opinion. I stated mine, and mine is that flow was impeded. That one sentence told a very short story, but badly and with difficulty.whether it "impedes" the flow is context dependent on the rest of the section
Sure, it could've been. I probably would've written the way you describe, but, again, that's a stylistic choice.I couldn't even read that one sentence without having to stop and parse all the several various things it was trying to say. More context wouldn't help. If 90% of that sentence was context within which an eye-watering blowjob was happening, it could have been multiple sentences that told a story, instead of an excessively-descriptive single sentence.
I don't get why you keep writing as if I'm factually wrong and didn't experience this. It did impede flow, for me. That was my experience.it would absolutely impede flow if
I'm very sorry; I very much misread your posts as a factual statement that it impeded flow in general principles, not necessarily just for you. I'm used to discussing with people who make blanket statements about "this is always the case," who very rarely couch things as individual experience, but instead as hard rules. My apologies, my brain's not fully plugged in today, and reading back, it's incredibly obvious you were framing it from a personal experience perspective, and I'm really not sure how I missed that. Very much my bad.I don't get why you keep writing as if I'm factually wrong and didn't experience this. It did impede flow, for me. That was my experience.
I respect and appreciate your points, but not the way you frame and 'splain them. Especially after I already prominently framed my statements as my experience and my opinions. Hearing "nuh uh" is infuriating.
Since you seem to need another voice of support…It did impede flow, for me.