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by Moira Allen
The devil, it's said, is in the details. So, too, is much of the work of a writer. Too little
detail leaves your characters wandering through the narrative equivalent of an empty
stage. Too much, and you end up with great blocks of description that tempt the reader to
skip and skim, looking for the action.
To set your stage, it's important to choose the most appropriate, vivid details possible. It's
equally important to present those details in a way that will engage the reader. The
following four techniques can help.
Imagine, for example, that you're describing a stretch of windswept coastline from the
perspective of a local fisherman's son. What would he notice? From the color of the sky
or changes in the wind, he might make deductions about tomorrow's weather and sailing
conditions. When he notices seabirds wheeling against the clouds, he doesn't just see
"gulls," but terns and gannets and petrels -- easily identified by the shape of their wings
or patterns of their flight.
Equally important are the things he might not notice. Being so familiar with the area, he
might pay little attention to the fantastic shapes of the rocks, or the gnarled driftwood
littering the sand. He hardly notices the bite of the wind through his cable-knit sweater,
and he's oblivious to the stink of rotting kelp-mats that have washed ashore.
Now suppose a rich kid from the big city is trudging along that same beach. Bundled to
the teeth in the latest Northwest Outfitters jacket, he's still shivering -- and can't imagine
why the lad beside him isn't freezing to death. He keeps stumbling over half-buried
pieces of driftwood, and fears that the sand is ruining his Doc Martens. From the way the
waves pound against the beach, he thinks a major storm is brewing. The very thought of
bad weather makes him nauseous, as does the stench of rotting seaweed (he doesn't think
of it as "kelp") and dead fish.
Each of these characters' perceptions of the beach will be profoundly influenced by his
experience. "Familiar," however, needn't imply a positive outlook, while "unfamiliar"
needn't mean "negative." Your city kid might, in fact, regard the beach as an idyllic
vacation spot -- rugged, romantic, isolated, just the place to make him feel he's really
getting in touch with nature. The fisherman's son, on the other hand, may loathe the
ocean, feeling trapped by the whims of wind and weather. Which brings us to the next
point:
Finally, there is taste, which is closely related to smell in its ability to evoke memories.
Taste, however, is perhaps the most difficult to incorporate into a setting; often, it simply
doesn't belong there. Your heroine isn't going to start licking the castle stones, and it isn't
time for lunch. As in real life, "taste" images should be used sparingly and appropriately.
The goal of description is to create a well-designed set that provides the perfect
background for your characters -- and that stays in the background, without
overwhelming the scene or interrupting the story. In real life, we explore our
surroundings through our actions, experience them through our senses, understand (or fail
to understand) them through our knowledge and experience, and respond to them through
our emotions. When your characters do the same, you'll keep your readers turning pages
-- and not just because they're waiting for something interesting to happen!
Copyright 1999 Moira Allen
This article originally appeared in The Writer