The Minimalist Approach To Writing Descriptions

 

I am not one for lyrical prose. In the past I tried to describe everything with loving detail and failed miserably. I would write, delete, write, delete and write some more, then delete again in sheer frustration. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get it right. Then I decided to say “The hell with it!” only to discover that my style did not need it. Instead, I zero in on a few morsels that will feed the reader’s appetite for color, sound, taste and feel (pay attention class, you will see those words later in the program). Just enough to give you a sense that whatever or whomever is on the page merits the gentle reader’s attention, whether in passing or in detail. The one thing that snared the sense and made writer and reader say “Wait a minute! What’s going on here?”

I call it the “minimalist” approach to descriptions. It avoids the laundry list of things that turn interesting characters into cardboard cutouts.

Ask yourself, what was the first thing you notice when you walked into the store?

Why did that girl stand out on the busy sidewalk?

What was the one thing that set apart that character from the rest?

When using this method the writer concentrates on what is odd or interesting about the subject. By presenting that which makes the character, place or object described unique you allow the reader to build an image on their own. Remember than when you describe something two things happen: you narrow the focus and therefore the narrative pace slows down.

An overview of how people experience the world might help in choosing those key words necessary to bring the situation to life:

1. Sight: We perceive the world mostly through our eyes. Colors, shapes, shadows and distance define what we see it. Most first impressions are visual by nature, a strange color, a shadow at a weird angle, a bright light. Under the minimalist approach you might focus on what is not there instead of what is, such as a handy man without a tool belt or a clip pad. This alerts the reader that this handyman is no ordinary handyman.
2. Sound: Reserved for when we can’t see something. Music, distant noises in the dark, and so on. Since sight dominates our other senses, writers tend to forget to exploit sound as a descriptor. But sounds can set the mood in ways that sight can not. What is the first thing you remember about any classic movie? The soundtrack. It’s kind of hard to translate sounds into the page, but saying that the MC’s best friend is a “motormouth” is a great way to establish the character through the use of sound.
3. Smell: Strong and/or peculiar odors can trigger powerful emotional responses. The smell of food, the stench of death, the scent of perfume. Smells cling to things, enhance the palette of flavors (most of what we “taste” in fact comes through our noses), and trigger long repressed memories. A character entering a department store might catch a whiff of a perfume or shampoo and remember a former lover. Also smells tend to linger even after the objects that created them are long  gone.
4. Tastes and Touch: This can be a tough one since we associate taste with our mouth, although our mouths can only register extremes of sweetness or bitterness (most of our taste comes from our noses) and our skins tend to register only those things that are in direct contact with it. Still, a gentle touch, a bitter sweet apple might be a important detail that should not be ignored. The fact that someone feels warm when they should be cold might signal he is sick. Pain can be skin deep or cut right to the bone.

I hope that this helps you navigate the thorny thickets of narrative descriptions. And help you avoid hopeless metaphors ;).

 

 

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