Please welcome guest blogger Madeleine Drake Let's
start with the obvious: description is boring because it stops the
action of the story in order to give readers a look around. And
yet, if we don't give our readers a chance to look around, they'll
never see the worlds we've lovingly crafted for them, and our settings
will seem weak. Yes,
we could keep description to a minimum, breaking setting details into
small chunks and sprinkling them throughout the scene. But even the
smallest chunk of description, no matter how vivid, stops the action. Is
there a way to make setting descriptions a part of the action? Is it
possible to describe things as needed without boring the reader? Yes. But in order to do it, you have to understand how your point-of-view character's consciousness moves through the scene. We humans experience the world as a stream of stimuli, interrupted by our responses to those stimuli. You accidentally stub your toe (stimulus), you involuntarily pull your foot back and curl the injured toe (response). A co-worker says something critical (stimulus), and you come back with a snarky retort (response). You remember on your way home that today was your nephew's birthday (stimulus), and you feel guilty because you forgot to get him a present (response). Stimulus-response, stimulus-response, stimulus-response: that's the rhythm of life. If
you want to create the illusion of life, you need to reproduce that
rhythm on the page. A scene is a series of stimulus-response units
chained together to give the illusion that we're seeing the storyworld
through the eyes of a living, breathing, responding-to-stimuli person. Description
is boring when it's written as a series of stimuli without responses:
the car was blue, sunlight glinted off the vintage chrome bumper, the
tires grabbed dust from the road and threw it up in a red-brown cloud.
When you give the reader a laundry list of details, it doesn't matter
how vivid those details are, the reader's going to get impatient,
because she wants to see something happen. When description is presented as part of a stimulus-response chain, those vivid setting details become part of the action. Consider this passage:
My
repeller dangled between my breasts on a cord, sending out a bone-deep
whine that drove the mosquitoes off and parted the pale clouds of
miniscule gnats swarming along the bayou path. The asphalt beneath my
feet radiated heat. The water treatment plant upstream tainted the
breeze with the scents of sewage and cloying sweetness.
At what point in this paragraph did you start skimming? Compare with this:
My
repeller dangled between my breasts on a cord, sending out a bone-deep
whine that wasn't supposed to make my teeth buzz. But it drove the
mosquitoes off and parted the pale clouds of miniscule gnats swarming
along the bayou path, so I left it on. Heat radiating from the asphalt
aggravated the ache in my sore, swollen feet. A whiff of sewage mixed
with cloying sweetness clung to the back of my throat, making me gag. I
could hardly wait to get upwind of the water treatment plant.
Better, right? Doesn't this passage have a sense of movement that the first one lacked? Let's break this down into stimuli and responses:
Stimulus: My repeller dangled between my breasts on a cord, sending out a bone-deep whine
Response: that wasn't supposed to make my teeth buzz.
Notice
that the response is both a sensory detail and a veiled complaint that
lets us know the repeller is annoying the POV character.
Stimulus: But it drove the mosquitoes off and parted the pale clouds of miniscule gnats swarming along the bayou path,
Response: so I left it on.
In
this case, the stimulus is the POV character's observation of the
repeller's effectiveness, and the response is her decision not to turn
it off.
Stimulus: Heat radiating from the asphalt
Response: aggravated the ache in my sore, swollen feet.
The
stimulus is another sensory detail, and the response not only tells you
how the character is feeling, but also implies that she's been walking
for a while.
Stimulus: A whiff of sewage mixed with cloying sweetness clung to the back of my throat,
Response: making me gag. I could hardly wait to get upwind of the water treatment plant.
The
stimulus is yet another sensory detail, and the response includes the
character's reflexive reaction to that detail as well as her thought
identifying the source of the smell. In
this version, you don't just get the stimuli, you also get the POV
character's reaction to each one: she's torn between putting up with
the buzz in her teeth or being swarmed by bugs, she keeps walking even
though her feet ache, she's gagging on the smells from the water
treatment plant. Her
responses also do double duty as characterization: we learn that she's
someone who keeps going until she gets where she needs to go,
regardless of what discomfort she suffers along the way. I
encourage you to choose a description-heavy scene from your
work-in-progress and revise it so that each passage of description has
this stimulus-response structure. I'd also like to invite you to join me next month as I teach Edit the Life Back Into Your Story: Hands-on Techniques for Creating Emotional Impact here at FF&P. This workshop will include lessons on:
Using stimulus-response chains for maximum dramatic effect
Fine-tuning the emotional progression of a scene
Exposition techniques that keep your infodumps from putting the reader to sleep
Recognizing and eliminating author intrusion
Methods to ensure that your characters' emotions and personalities come through strongly on the page
A simple process for turning "telling" into "showing"
See you there! Madeleine
Drake writes feisty, fast-paced paranormal romance and erotica that
spans the space-time continuum. Her homeworld is located out past the
constellation Orion, but she currently resides in Texas. You can find
her online at http://www.madeleinedrake.com When
she's not writing fiction, Madeleine blogs under the name Lynn Johnston
about how to take control of your life ten minutes at a time using the
kaizen approach: http://www.smallstepstobigchange.com Her books include The Kaizen Plan for Organized Authors: Take Control of Your Writing Career 10 Minutes at a Time (www.smallstepsforwriters.com).