I've been struggling in my editing work on my first 13 recently in trying to get a physical description of my main character and the characters around her in a timely fashion I feel that you should be able to picture these people in your mind's eye as you read about them but I'm not entirely positive I have the right idea on when much less how or if it's a good idea to do a physical description of characters. It seems to provoke a lot of commentary regarding info dumps, overwrought sentences, and mime descriptions at the most recent. So when would be a good time and place to physically describe a main character or side characters especially when you're not in a first-person setting. It also seems that narration is considered a negative thing. And wouldn't narration of some variety be better for describing someone or is that only in in situations that are not internal monologue type narration. First person internal monologuing doesn't seem like a viable time or place to describe a main character and I can't figure out if it's a good or bad thing to do so in middle and third person perspectives( though I'm given the impression that third person perspective is always a negative and should never be used)
Posted by Meredith (Member # 8368) on :
Tough one.
First, narration is not a negative thing. It's necessary. Of course, anything can be done badly, but that's another issue.
My off-the-cuff answer is:
1) When it's convenient. Easy enough, for example, to have a character brush his dark hair out of his eyes and just slip that one-word description in.
2) When another POV character (if you have multiple POV's) first encounters this character. It's perfectly natural for them to notice a few characteristics. The ones that would seem important to that POV character.
3) Lastly, when it becomes important in some way.
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
Physical descriptions best practice entail dramatic criteria: antagonism, causation, and tension. So what, why should readers care if a persona has red hair? What is antagonal (want-problem motivation), causal (cause-effect stakes risked), tensional (emotional-moral suspense) about red hair? for example. Because the hair color matters to the drama of the moment, to the viewpoint persona who observes the hair color, through whom readers care, and whom wears the hair color, and is more than a plain, lackluster observation, that is, means something of dramatic note.
The description scenario occasions subjective commentary or benefit of extant cultural-social-emotional-moral representation. Red hair entails both occasion for commentary and extant representation. Whatever commentary is wanted, proponent, contrary, or, best dramatic practice, both pro and con, the commentary is the true substance of a prose description; the physical description itself is incidental trivia to the dramatic emphasis import. Whether emotional, moral, psychological, spiritual, paranormal, inspirational, intellectual, or similar other commentary, the commentary matters more than a plain description, because the matter matters to a viewpoint persona.
Irrespective of a narrative's length, every word, every punctuation mark, every format cue matters, or ought should matter, and not be mere throw-aways. Throw-aways waste and spoil word count and reader engagement.
Grammatical person and narrative point of view variants come in many forms. Damon Knight, Creating Short Fiction, pg 133, charts forty-two narrative points of view based part on grammatical person. Knight refuses a dozen of the lot. Grammatical person comes in first, second, and third, plus zero and fourth persons, which Knight doesn't include, for particular types of expression.
First person, plural, for example, entails a general blah-blandness for other than prose, a particular conspiratorial "we" commentary for prose, or the narcissist's "royal we." William Faulkner's "A Rose for Emily" is a model first person, plural narrative; the "we," the town grapevine gossip (occasion and source for dramatic commentary). Faulkner's deft narrator identity establishment through commentary and, therefrom, narrative authentication for the story are sublime.
Otherwise, first person, singular is of a subjective platform for commentary about all and sundry that is apt to the occasion, for dramatic prose.
Zero person uses nonperson pronouns and absents subjects otherwise. "One" is the most common zero person pronoun. One does as one would do anyway, regardless of what one is told to do.
Second person comes in four species: implied and actual direct address to readers, spectators, hearers, etc., non-numbered plural, singular construction "you", plural constructions you-all, y'all, youse-guys, and yinz; implied or actual imperative, orders, commands, polite and insistent requests and demands, directions, manuals, recipes, rules, laws, etc.; reflexive, addresses to the self, metaphoric substitute auxiliary for first person; and reflective, metaphoric substitute for zero-person conventional pronoun "one."
Second person always implies or expresses a true first-person subject doer. I tell you, add cinnamon to pastry glazes (recipe). I tell you, lefty-loosey, righty-tighty, for screw threads (manuals, directions). I ask you, James, bring me firewater (order, command, demand). Reflexive: You (I) narrate your (my) life like you (I) live a motion picture voice-over existence. Zero person, second person, reflective: You (one) take(s) the lotion and rub(s) it on your (one's) skin. (Paraphrased, "you(r)" and "one('s)" substituted for "it, its" from Thomas Harris, Silence of the Lambs.
Fourth person, more or less, was a ritual part of neolithic languages, more or less absent from present-day languages. The person remains somewhat in passive voice constructs' implied subjects. Or for animacy hierarchy, for example, from John Smith's interpretation of a command Wahunsonacoke ordered. (By Okeus' wrath, I, you, Smith, tell) when come again the Anglo ships?
Animacy is a linguistics topic of semantics and semiotics pertained to register: superior to subordinate, peer to peer, subordinate to superior, etc. Passive voice demotes a sentence subject to subordinate sentence object or absents a subject altogether. Mary got rained on by the heavens. Larry has been a victim of terrible cruelties. Munche was shot dead.
Third person's range is the far broader and more flexible narrative point of view than the others, plus the additional appeals of greater objectivity senses than first or second person; those latter, by default, are greater subjectivity appeals of one persona's included subjective opinion commentary and single observation viewpoint situation or location. Third allows for a gamut of objective-subjective, insider-outsider, internal-external, and detached to remote to middle distance to closer to danger close and personal narrative distances.
Detached third person entertains the more deprecation of use than other types, as it is neutral and lacks commentary and filters out viewpoint persona received reflections and commentary. Instead of, say, Cotton-ball clouds spilled across yellowy dusk sunbeams, rather, Cumulus clouds gathered at sunset. One, commentary; one, detached and neutral-bland trivia.
Detached's strengths suit especially violent or gratuitous content and outrageous topics, when the content itself expresses strong emotions and moral aptitudes. Truman Capote's In Cold Blood narrator is the detached narrative point of view of impersonal and bland, by design, objective police reports, due to the otherwise strong content.
Third person, remote occasions strongest attitude commentary expressed by an otherwise invisible bystander narrator observer. For that narrative point of view, readers align rapport most with the narrator, rather than a given viewpoint agonist. Plus, the type reveals as much or more about the narrator's personality as about the agonist personae personalities, hence, establishes narrator identity through profound and sublime, nontrivial incidentals, rather than a want for a narrator's invested presence and participation and, therefore, bland and trivial, unnecessary, problematic physical descriptions of a narrator's self. [Checkmark]
Middle distance is the most flexible narrative point of view. Middle may at times be detached, at times be a remote and invisible nearby bystander, at times be from upon a viewpoint persona's shoulder, at times be squarely from inside a viewpoint persona's farthest back mind, and varies according to a dramatic situation's wants and intents. Many or most novels are the third person, middle distance narrative point of view. That, and less often though more common of late, first person, singular, which is creative nonfiction's dominant forte. Middle distance also allows at times narrator commentary, at times filters viewpoint personas sensory perceptions and responses thereto, and thoughts and commentaries, though filters for greater dramatic effect appeals.
Third person, close narrative distance, psychic access (selective omniscience and omnipresence), limited to one viewpoint persona's interior looks outward and inward, is a metaphoric substitute for first person that enjoys the objectivity and flexibility appeals of third person and subjectivity appeals of first person combined. Third person, close, limited narrators are altogether absent, or at least the semblance of absence, who do not filter any sensations, responses, commentary, or thoughts, rather, are pass-throughs of viewpoint persona received reflections, of external and internal sensations and responses, of commentaries and thoughts, plus allows for auxiliary agonist personas' viewpoint depictions.
Damon Knight charts six distinct third-person types per type of psychic access, axis of subjectivity-objectivity, whether about multiple or single viewpoint agonists, and relationship to other agonist roles. The chart is a basic, intermediate prose topic.
For advanced narrative point of view study, analysis, and application, several other facets come into play, grammatical tense (past, present, future, and progressive and perfect auxiliaries thereof), grammatical mood (indicative, imperative, subjunctive, and emphatic constructions therefrom), individual and overall topical attitude toward emotional and moral subjects and personae representative of those subjects (tone), and complication-conflict of a whole, that is, the motivations-stakes on point, personal-private and public.
Those narrative point of view additions expand Knight's chart to a three-dimensional graph of near infinite possibles. Zero and fourth persons add multiples. Tense alone multiplies the forty-two by a dozen; mood, another three-plus multiplier; attitudes and complication-conflicts are all but infinite.
A deft practice, though, is early outset establishment of a main narrative point of view predicated on basic, simple person, tense, mood, attitude, and complication-conflict scenarios, and then develops auxiliaries and complexities as wanted by given dramatic situations, mindful of consistency and apt transitions per situation, consistency even for inconsistencies.
[ March 04, 2019, 05:59 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
The thing about describing anything, whether it's the weather or the way a character looks, is that it has to belong in the text.
I remember hearing Orson Scott Card talk one time about how readers tend to visualize point-of-view characters: if the reader is female and the character is female and they are about the same age, readers will perceive the character as looking like themselves. The same goes for male readers and male point-of-view characters. As for opposite sex readers to characters, I don't think he said, but I would think it would either still be similar to how the readers perceive themselves or someone of the opposite sex that they like.
The major thing to worry about is allowing the reader to come up with his or her own imagined appearance for the character and then being jolted out of that when the writer tosses in some piece of description that messes everything up - like a wooden leg, or a missing hand, or something else striking and un-ignorable.
What you need to remember about description is that you only include what the point-of-view character notices and cares about. If the color of another character's skin doesn't matter, the point-of-view character isn't going to notice it, and the writer isn't going to describe it.
Does your point-of-view character think about the color of her hair when she tucks it behind her ear? Probably not.
Does your point-of-view character think about the color of her uncle's mustache when he smiles at her through it? Probably not.
All that should matter (and be included in your text) is that she tucks her hair behind her ear (then we know it's long enough to do that and that it gets in the way sometimes). And all that should matter about her uncle's mustache is that it's long and bushy so that his smile is seen through it and not under it.
Okay?
Posted by Demetri Grim (Member # 11111) on :
Well the hair and color is something of a used reference, the family appearance, her hair matches her father and uncle and not her mother, that leads to characters not associating the two of them together all together on, in addition the girl has a nervous habit of tucking her hair behind her ear when caught off guard, also a good time to give notice I thought that the girl is not fully human, as that is also important latter on. Her uncles mustache is something that conveys his mood, twitching or bristling despite his words or actions like a tell in a poker game, so I was figuring an early reference would be useful, its color is also key to an even that changes it part the way through so knowing it was red I thought was important, as well to tie her looks in with her uncle as clearly family.
Sometimes in many cases you can have an Uncle who is an in law or family friend acting as more of a title of familiarity than family that is not blood related, I wanted it to be clear their was blood ties here.
I often have reasons for everything I do, be them referenced latter or to use as juxtaposition down the road, so that someone might compare the before and after of a character, as the story progresses and the character grows. Its just not clear at the start it will be used latter, possibly all that not needed I guess but does it hurt to do so.
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
Symbolism, motifs, imagery, "telling details," and objective correlatives are somewhat alike and for distinct functions related to expression of intangibles through tangibles' depictions.
"Telling detail," from Webster's, intransitive verb to tell, detail, that is, 3 : "to have a marked effect".
"Objective correlative: the tangible manifestation of an intangible, created and used by the author to help the reader grasp the intangible concept. Most literature is about emotions or ideals — things that you cannot see or touch. So the objective correlative becomes a focus, a tangible surrogate. In The Picture of Dorian Gray, the painting becomes the objective correlative of Dorian Gray’s soul — it shows the invisible rot. In The Scarlet Letter, Hester’s child is the objective correlative of her sinful passions.
"An important characteristic of objective correlatives is that they are usually vested with attributes which tilt the reader toward the emotion the author wants him to feel in relation to the intangible being staged. (T. S. Eliot) ['Hamlet and His Problems'; original coin from: Arthur Schopenhauer, 'On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason', 1813: 'Matter is therefore only the objective correlative of the pure understanding'.]" ("Being a Glossary of Terms Useful in Critiquing Science Fiction," edited by Clarion workshops' David Smith, SFWA hosted. Bold emphasis added.)
Red hair is a tangible material -- of what intangible(s), therefore, the physical matter manifestation of what objective correlative "pure understanding"? Again, fiery temperament is commonly associated with red hair. British label "ginger hair" for reddish hair coloration also alludes to the spice's pungency and tender sensibilities, that is, moody temperament.
If a red-haired person is not of a greater than average fiery temperament, others do impose that label anyway, at least to inflame a red-haired person's temper or to riff the redhead's sensibilities.
Another common association is references to a red-headed stepchild, not per se an actual stepchild, allusion to a single redhead among a sept of black, brunette, or blond offspring. Uh oh, Mom must have jumped the fence with a redheaded stranger or Dad's kin other than her betrothed spouse. Or some cultures believe a redhead is a fey-folk child substituted for a natural child soon after birth.
Likewise for a left-hand dominant child. A left-handed, redheaded stepchild is double and more cursed and taunted, and itself a pejorative term for exclusion of a kin person. Never mind redheadedness is due to recessive genes from Neanderthal ancestors, and may spontaneously appear for about one in twenty Caucasians, one in fifty Africans, and one in several hundreds East Asians. Purples irises is one of a few variant complexion appearance recessives for the Americas' Native Nations peoples, about one in several thousands.
One, any, or all of the above, or similar different appearance motifs applied for dramatic situations' correlative objectives portray a wanted emotional cluster texture: negative and positive emotional charges. If Beka does not have a more than average temperament, would her uncle tease her about being a fiery redhead? Good naturedly, of course, though such passive-aggressive humor always veils true sentiments. If not Uncle, who would? Why? When? Where? How? About what? Being a redhead stepchild? Fiery temper? Other similar, etc., dramatic import?
One instance of an objective correlative motif is a coincidence, twice is a lambada, thrice is a riot. "What I tell you three times is true." Lewis Carroll, "The Hunting of the Snark."
In such case, if the motif repeats without alteration or influence, the motif is an emblem. If the motif repeats and alters and influences lives differently, the motif is a symbol. A sequence of similar motifs is symbolism, imagery, or other tangible sensory correlative objective motifs, sound, touch, smell, taste, persona, event, or setting or milieu feature. J.R.R. Tolkien's One Ring cycle, for example, uses Nature motifs for epic simile: akin to allegory's extended metaphor, though extended simile instead. Tolkien refused allegory; epic simile substituted.
The portrait of Dorian Gray transforms throughout the narrative, is a symbol of Dorian Gray's moral decay and ultimate cause-effect of his demise. The mighty oak Ayn Rand depicts in Atlas Shrugged transforms from acorn to sapling to great oak to lightning-struck, broken, and fallen tree, an objective correlative symbol for Rand's perceptions of U.S. capitalism at the mercies of FDR's New Deal socialism. Likewise, for Upton Sinclair's The Jungle, livestock food animals are the objective correlative symbols of capitalism's abuses of workers and their families. Said of hogs, meat-packer corporations use everything from the swine except the squeals. Oh my! Sublime.
The Captain Marvel and similar comic book U.S. patriotic motifs, the stars and bars of the flag, for example, are often emblems rather than symbols, do not per se transform or influence throughout the form. Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind, Scarlet O'Hara's antebellum and Dixiecrat ideals do not transform and are emblemized by Confederate veterans in various states of activity, Rebel uniforms, Confederate battle flag emblems, and war wounds, that, and papist Irish Americans' emblems.
Other correlative objective motifs, symbols, and emblems abound for the literary opus and within genre canons, within most any worthwhile narrative, for that matter. Chekhov's gun is an objective correlative motif, sometimes a symbol, sometimes an emblem, and as well influences dramatic setup, movement, and transformation.
Such as the above is how red hair becomes dramatic, portentous, necessary, natural, and matters when brought to a fore. Otherwise, red hair is superfluous and superficial trivia.
[ March 04, 2019, 11:18 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
As a general proposition (rule, whatever) I never describe a viewpoint character, but they may notice odd ticks, mannerisms or physical characteristics in others they meet. This is part of the discipline of writing; choosing the appropriate viewpoint character for what the scene requires. For example: if it is necessary to give a partial description of your female character at the outset then you should write the scene from ‘Uncle’s’ POV. This was my one piece of advice I was going to add to your version 5 re-write.
In one of my stories one of the main characters is a shape-shifter. Another character is the viewpoint character for ‘her’ first transition because I wanted to describe in detail the process. It isn’t simply ‘poof’, first one thing then another. When she does change into human form her description is sparse—Long, straight dark hair, and thin; almost emaciated. All knobbly knees and sharp elbows. The rest I leave to the reader to imagine. Any subsequent forays into character description form a part of the natural flow of the narrative and are usually confined to ticks and mannerisms.
Hope this helps.
Phil.
Posted by Jay Greenstein (Member # 10615) on :
quote:trying to get a physical description of my main character and the characters around her in a timely fashion
You're thinking visually in a medium that reproduces neither sound nor vision.
Why do I need to know a character has brown hair, for example. I can't see them moving. I can't see their body language or the vast majority of what I would get were I able to see the scene.
Remember the old saying that a picture is worth a thousand words? Well the inverse applies, too. You have to provide 1000 words, or four standard manuscript page to make the reader "see" the scene. And that would be a static scene. Film shows twenty-four of them per second. No way in hell can you match that. No way a reader is going to plow through five minutes or more of reading in order to learn what's viewable in a scene, most of which is irrelevant to what's happening.
Our medium's strength lies in that we can take the reader into the protagonist's head. And via their perceptions we know what the character believes is going on in the other character's heads. That matters, because our protagonist is going to make a great deal of their decisions based on that, not what can be seen.
A simpler version? Try Jack Bickham's: “To describe something in detail, you have to stop the action. But without the action, the description has no meaning.”
Think about your protagonist. Your reader has them as their avatar. Given that, isn't it best that the character looks just like the reader? So, unless some characteristic must be specific, why mention it? And if you do, given that readers have short memories, why mention it before it's necessary? Foreshadowing counts as being necessary, of course, but still, it should be either really memorable, or appear close to where it's needed.
Bottom line: You are not telling the reader a story, you're making them feel as if they're living it. As Sol Stein put it, “In sum, if you want to improve your chances of publication, keep your story visible on stage and yourself mum.” And to that let me add one more quote,this one from E. L. Doctorow, that sums it up nicely: “Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader, not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.”
So...if something matters to the protagonist in the moment they call now, the reader needs it as part of learning the protagonist's viewpoint. If the protagonist doesn't care, why would the reader?
Make sense?
Posted by EmmaSohan (Member # 10917) on :
quote:Originally posted by Jay Greenstein: [QUOTE] So...if something matters to the protagonist in the moment they call now, the reader needs it as part of learning the protagonist's viewpoint. If the protagonist doesn't care, why would the reader?
Make sense?
Jay, I agree with you 90%. We are not telling a story, we are creating a reader experience. Keep the scene-clock moving.
Until I get to my scene that only works like a movie, third person watching all of the characters. And there are uses for description, like for plot and mood.
Posted by Reziac (Member # 9345) on :
Two basic criteria can guide you as to what needs describing, and to what degree:
-- what does the POV character notice? [Note that an omni narrator can be the 'POV character'.]
-- and why is that relevant? [Because descriptions tell the reader to pay attention.]
There is no fixed-and-correct degree of description; rather, whatever is appropriate to your story, plot, mood, voice, and pace. As a general rule, the more you describe, the slower it'll move. And generally if you point out a detail, it should matter.
Posted by EmmaSohan (Member # 10917) on :
quote:Originally posted by Reziac: ... And generally if you point out a detail, it should matter.
I write with only detail that matters, and maybe my most common criticism is that I don't have enough detail.
The issue, I think, is whether there should be detail just to help the reader visualize the scene. Actually, the recommendation is to engage all of the senses.
I just skip over details that aren't relevant when I read. But I'm guessing some readers want them.
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
All details matter at least if the attitude holder who describes details expresses an emotional-moral attitude about a detail. More than visualization, or imagery, any sensory detail, an attitude expresses as much about the attitude holder's true nature as about the commented upon specimen's detail: event, setting and milieu, and persona details.
Our host Orson Scott Card explicates attitude, also known as tone, Characters and Viewpoint, pages 140 to 144, "believable characters"; 107, "sympathetic characters"; 117, "villains"; 166, "voice and." Though attitude extends beyond characters and narrators' attitudes toward characters, includes any detail worth an economy of word count lavished attention emphasis. Also, an attitude might simultaneously, contemporaneously, or sequentially express tensional stimuli, tension relief delay, and partial tension relief response.
An attitude example worth critical analysis is Jonathan Kellerman's Gone, Chapter three first-person narrator-agonist description of Michaela.
Tone's distinction from attitude, per se, is tone is a narrative's overall attitude toward a human condition subject or topic. Attitude spans pieces, parts, parcels, and wholes. A viewpoint persona's attitude may differ from a narrative's overall tone or align therewith.
An individual persona's attitude is subject to transformation due to a narrative's change influence forces -- movement there, too. An overall tone might be ambivalent, ambiguous, or undeveloped at first, though ought timely soon become clear and strong, as like any narrative essential, especially complication and conflict. Those three essentials, complication, conflict, and tone, are predominant dramatic priorities, and tone and attitude are too often short shrifted.
Posted by EmmaSohan (Member # 10917) on :
Right, but what about detail for detail's sake?
quote: The officer led me down a cramped corridor and gestured for me to enter a room on the right. I knocked on the door twice, took a deep breath, and turned the knob. "Excuse me," I said. A middle-aged man sat behind a desk piled high with folders. His hair was thinning, and he wore a faded black suit over a crumpled white shirt. For a police officer, the man dressed sloppily. The room we were in was windowless and smaller than I'd expected. Perhaps it was designed to make visitors feel claustrophobic. The desk ran from wall to wall, dividing the office in two.
Rainbirds, Goenawan, pages 3-4
I probably stopped paying attention to detail by the fourth sentence of the book. The policeman asks ordinary questions, so if that's mood, it seems to be discarded.
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
Detail, for the sake of detail alone is an impediment to narrative flow and pace. That said, there is a writing concept called ‘particularity', where everything that sets a particular thing apart from any other similar thing is used for dramatic effect. Example: a terrorist watching his wrist watch in order to time the detonation of a device. Describing the watch in detail with all it’s defects etc. can, and I do qualify the ‘can’, heighten both reader interest and anticipation for the tragic event to come.
I have edited a number of manuscripts where the writer has included ‘detail’ in excessive amounts. Trying to get them to stop doing it is a tedious task; they seem wedded to the idea that their inclusion of such detail increases reader involvement and enjoyment. Trying to tell them it bores readers to tears is a pointless task. Until the rejection slips start pouring in. But, by then, it’s too late.
Phil.
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
As well as attitude-less, that sample is a "Here-to-there mistake":
"Over-describing interim stages because of a mistaken belief that the reader will not infer them. A writer whose character’s eyes are closed, for example, wants to describe something visually and feels compelled to say, ‘he opened his eyes’. Omitting this phrase usually works better — the reader can infer the eye-opening from the visual description. Similarly, ‘he got into the car, put the key in the ignition, started the engine and backed out of the driveway’ is too much description: ‘he got into the car and backed out of the driveway.'" ("Being a Glossary of Terms Useful in Critiquing Science Fiction," edited by Clarion workshops' David Smith, SFWA hosted.)
Even the above suggested adjustment is trivial -- attitudeless, too. If a detail cannot be expressed with an attitude, such that it matters, skip the situation, ideally, an occasion for a step or jump transition, though the setup, transition, and follow-through steps or abrupt jump best practice express or imply attitude.
The opposite of a banal Here-to-there is an overwrought attitude: "Chewing the furniture. Characters who are over-emoting for their situations. The term is adapted from the theater, where it is used to describe poor actors who ham it up. (CSFW: David Smith)"
The Clarissa Goenawan, Rainbirds sample occasions stronger attitude than what's given, and less of the attitude detail told in summary summation fashion: more robust verbs, more emotional and moral reaction and judgment, thoughts about sensations at least, and probably a clear indication of ambivalent reactions to a law enforcement interview-interrogation situation.
The closest the excerpt approaches an attitude are "cramped," "sloppily," "smaller than expected," and "claustrophobic," all told: no emotion.
Crime mystery need not be full-blown noir's jaded and hard-boiled cynicism; some other emotional cluster effect for ambivalence is wanted, and an intimate-private attitude at that.
The walk through the corridor, for example, could be described as a death row to execution walk, or into court for final verdict, or to a solitary cell, etc., conditional responses to a descent into the dungeons of the criminal justice system, not otherwise as an everyday routine and a sprinkle of conditional "expectation" of generic others' responses. Mime sensation, action, response, and thought, that is, fraught with unrealized portents no one knows except the writer, whose imagined dramatic import missed the page.
The banal description also challenges willing suspension of belief, so generic the sense is unrealistic, invented, contrived, wants "telling details": symbolism, imagery, sensory symbol or emblem, objective correlative; emotionally and morally charged stimuli and response details for believeableness' sake.
Attitudinal reality imitation details authenticate a narrative's "trueness." Wire-caged wane lightbulbs flicker overhead, even what few small glass windows are wire-caged and barred, cement block walls painted so many times they're smooth to ease the assembly-line journey into the dungeon, the floor gritty egg shells from lazy maintenance, paper dust piled thick in corners; the once-upon-a-time drunk tank cell now a police-hack flunky's interview office, several red accordion files overflow paper sheafs like blades of yucca, a test proctor's tiny schoolhouse wooden desk, yada, of attitude details that imitate reality.
If too much word count consumed and went nowhere, conflate details to ones which express more with less and encapsulate the objective correlative emotional essence of the situation, or skip altogether and transition-jump past the journey to and into the cop shop. Jump past the entry corridor. Given apt setup, readers will infer nothing of substance happened in the between time. Show the detective as an impotent functionary relegated to dismissal duty of pesky concerned citizens, or whatever his true role is -- proprietor of tea and saki services, geisha escorts, embezzled crime proceeds, and bribes!?
[ March 10, 2019, 07:55 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
Posted by EmmaSohan (Member # 10917) on :
quote:Originally posted by extrinsic: ...An attitude example worth critical analysis is Jonathan Kellerman's Gone, Chapter three first-person narrator-agonist description of Michaela....
Probably. But the backdrop is extensive descriptions of many characters. A one-scene character (chapter 9):
quote:The live-in manager was a woman in her seventies named Ertha Stadlbraum. Tall, thin, angular, with skin the color of bittersweet chocolate and marcelled gray hair..... Ertha Stadlbraum had come to the door wearing a housecoat. Excusing herself she disappeared into a bedroom and came back wearing a blue shift patterned with clocks, matching pumps withe chunky heels. Her cologne evoked the cosmetics counter at some midsized department store from my Midwest childhood.
So that's a famous author with descriptions I assume you don't approve of. I certainly skipped over it. And the ellipses span an equally long description of the room.
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
Haphazard, inconsistent, intermittent, and low signal strength more so indicate a reach for sky beyond fingertip range and convenient habit than apt description skills and attention to detail.
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
Famous authors have what might be considered reader "street cred" so they can get away with things a new writer can't.
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
The several physical descriptions given in Gone range from strong and apt attitude to little, if any, attitude expressed. Each someway anticipates motion picture interpretation, a true rationale for their general design. Early physical descriptions therein emphasize attitude more than later ones.
Several factors arise; one, that later descriptions entail less attitude and more summary "tell" aspects and are an increment removed from the dread "exposition dump" type of "tell"; two, that they are interleavened among more dramatic parcels for the rationale basis that readers are already fully engaged and will tolerate brief, judicious, timely "tell" stalls for the sake of physical reality imitation appeals, a common strategy for physical detail expressions; three, the promise of judicious dramatic movement toward a satisfactory outcome destination, despite the physical detail description stalls, again, a common strategy.
Yet a stronger grasp of prose craft would realize physical details all want dramatic import, at the least express a strong and clear attitude. Gone, in particular, due to a first-person narrator and by default of closest, natural narrative distance wants strongest and clearest attitude expression. Likewise, any narrative point of view, as especially to who is the strongest attitude holder, a "dramatis persona," viewpoint agonist, narrator, or both, and auxiliaries thereof, as a circumstance may want.
Thought and speech discourse are the -- The occasions for attitude expression. Artful and strong attitude dialogue (conversation) and thought (introspection) come in a gamut of types. One of the more apparent types is soliloquy for thought: ostensibly, talking to oneself and unspoken dramatic monologue reflections, though as well facets of stream of consciousness and emulations of dialogue types: echo, non sequitur, squabble, colloquy, question and answer, emphatic, indicative, imperative, and subjunctive grammar moods, and blends thereof, plus the all important ambivalence attitude facets, especially of present sense emotional-moral impressions, evaluations, and judgments of personas' personalities.
And dialogue -- it is a fact widely believed people do not say what they mean nor mean what they say. "Actions speak louder than words," includes physical appearances' "actions," that is, what a persona's appearance expresses about the persona's true nature and what a description thereof expresses about an observer's true nature. Appearances are performances, brief and lifelong, therefore, are actions, as an observer's responses to those performance actions are performance actions as well.
Posted by Reziac (Member # 9345) on :
How you describe also allows inference about the POV character -- what they see, interpret, or regard as important, etc. Frex, I invent two different people observing the same skinny preteen girl:
-- thin and hard as a fence post.
-- skinny as a newborn colt, all knees and elbows.
One is a bit disparaging; the other is mildly sympathetic -- each produces a different reader impression about the observer.