Will You Hold Your Breath With Me?
An examination of a writing weakness
Dialogue is my forte. It’s simple. It’s straightforward. It holds its own.
Stream of consciousness writing is another great choice for me. I can type away, get what needs to be said down, and go back to polish.
Description, on the other hand…well, description is messy. Take into account the 5 senses. Think about colors. Use metaphors, similes, and contrast. Don’t forget hyperbole. Immerse your readers in your scene. Description should add to the overall atmosphere, mood, and/or character building in apiece. Description serves a purpose. It should not be used as a filler.
I aim to use descriptions like the backgrounds in the kids’ show, Kipper.
When my children were little, I was a big fan of the preschool cartoon, Kipper. The cool thing about Kipper was the backgrounds were used very minimally. If Kipper was walking down the stairs in his house, the background scene was just the stairs. The rest of the screen was a lovely shade of white. If Kipper and his friends showed up at the park, the only part of the park that was colored in was the specific piece of playground equipment they were using — usually the slide.
Now that I feel the need to stretch my description muscles, what kind of description should I use? How much is too much? Is it possible to under-describe? Because my fingers will type whatever, but my brain will be screaming “Too wordy! Too wordy! Cut back!” That’s when I freak out at seeing all of the extra words on the page and delete them all. I have to find that perfect Kipper sweet spot.
A descriptive emotional fragment
This evening, we are all holding our collective breath.
The fresh concrete in the basement bathroom is curing.
Tomorrow the pristine pedestal sink will be put back over the fresh concrete and into its original place.
Then the water drainage will be tested
…in the sink
…in the shower
…in the washing machine.
The toilet will be flushed.
If all goes well, for the first time in YEARS I will have my entire downstairs water facilities back.
I am crouched in a corner in my own head, curled into a tight tiny ball of tension protecting the brightest but smallest spark of kaleidoscope hope waiting to see if something actually goes right in this house.
My kids and I are holding our breath. And our fingers are crossed.
We are waiting.
Tomorrow.
Thoughts?
Do you need more? Is that enough of a description to have you sitting by my side with your fingers crossed as well? Does this scene find you rooting for the plumbing in the basement to work? Or do you care? Or are you just laughing because I practiced my emotional descriptive writing on plumbing? I’m curious what you think.
