Writing Physical Action

Writing physical action in stories—how do we do this? When you’re writing, you write multiple kinds of sentences—narrative, dialogue, description (when it comes to the setting and the environment), but also physical action. How much of this action should you include? When and how often should you include it? Why should you even include it?

Let’s address the ‘why’ first. Our characters are physical beings—they may not be human, and sometimes they may be supernatural, but they still possess the ability to move and interact with their environment and others around them. This interaction then moves the story onward, but it also reveals something about each character. Their mere action can add immediate depth to their personality.

When should this action be insert into a story? Well, my question to you would be: when does the character move? I’m not saying you need to record every little physical movement they make, but there are subtle ones which speak volumes of an individual in any situation. For instance, let’s say you have a character who reluctantly committed a crime, and the police as questioning him—not quite realizing he is the criminal—and they ask a specific question that makes him uncomfortable, so he reaching up and rubs the back of his neck as he shrugs and offers an answer. That mere movement says tells us he’s uncomfortable—that there’s something more beneath the surface. Any eagle-eyed detective would zero in on this and try to slowly corner the man into revealing what makes him so uneasy. Further body language such as nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing indicate to anger while increased blinking hints at something they’re trying to keep hidden. Shifting eyes are uneasiness with the situation while sudden stillness in their bodies and eyes deliberately locking with the detectives and calmly answering each question could be an indication of lying. All of these little physical actions build character. You need to determine who your character is and what he’s feeling at that moment. Is he frightened? Angry? Upset? Nonchalant? All of these will have different body language, and when you use these actions in a scene, the reader will pick up on it, probably not completely understand the exact meaning behind the movement, but they know something is up and can come to conclusions.

So, one good place to put these small physical movements is during a conversation. As an experiment, remove the dialogue tag (said, answered, asked, replied, etc) and insert body language because dialogue tags are redundant as I explained in a previous posts (here and here), but the body language captures the personality of the character, and this is vital for a story.

Now just how much of these physical movements should you include? As much as is important to the story. There is a delicate balance—much like any description in a story. I can’t tell you exactly how much or how little to use because you will have to determine that for yourself. There is no magic formula. However, a few things to keep in mind when trying to determine what physical movements you should include:

  1. the main character: their personality, their mood in that moment of the story, their connection to others in the current scene, and anything they may not want revealed.
  2. the other characters in the scene and their connection to one another
  3. the environment (physical setting)
  4. the atmosphere (mood of the setting/characters)

If you think too hard about this, it will seem daunting. Rather, try to imagine it like a scene in a movie. You can visualize it clearly in your head. Everyone moves at all times even if it’s simply narrowing eyes or taking a deep breath or clenching the jaw. Does this mean you should show every movement of all the characters? No. The ‘camera’ (the character through whom we’re viewing the scene) doesn’t focus on all the characters at once. Whomever we’re looking at is whose body language and physical action you should be concerned with. Now, say you’re focusing on one character but there’s another character behind the one you’re focusing on, so you can see both, but you’re not really focusing on the second character. However, that character in the background could wave his arms or silently start mocking behind the back of the first character. This would draw your attention, and you can show it, but it’s up to you whether or not you let the first character become aware of what’s happening behind his back. If you don’t let him know, that’s all right. It’s just a funny instance that reveals to your reader what that other character really thinks of that first character.

Basic things to think of when trying to determine what physical action to use:

  1. Does it reveal something about the character’s personality? (do they experience a flash of anger when they should be unaffected?)
  2. Do the actions arrange the characters in the room in a manner important for the following actions and scenes? (a character may enter a room and begin a conversation with the other character in the room but walk around to the window to look out. Several things could happen. a) the character at the window could be shot by a sniper, b) someone comes dashing into the room announcing there’s an emergency, so both character race out of the room, but the one furtherest from the door is a little further behind. An ambush could befall them, but because that one character a further behind than expected, he might be able to turn the situation on its head…or maybe he’s the one behind the ambush).
  3. Do the actions add and show necessary tension? (two characters agree to meet for a talk, but they don’t trust each other. They enter the room but then walk around each other—orbiting one another. Sometimes this may be obvious, but other times it may be more subtle as in one character going to the bookshelf in the middle of the conversation and pretend to skim over the book titles while engaging in conversation. The other character goes to the bar on the other side of the room and pours himself a drink. The character at the bookshelf then goes to the window, so the character at the bar moves toward the door.)
  4. Does the action add to the flow of the story or slow it down? (adding every single TINY detail will bog down the story whereas adding only the details important to show what the character is feeling in that moment leading up to the next big action pushing it forward.)

Of course there are many other things to keep in mind when writing this, but I can’t think of everything. However, throughout all this, one important fact to remember: this take practice to master. Don’t think about it too much. Don’t over-worry about it. Be aware of it and try to apply what I’ve said. The more you do it, the easier it’ll become for you, so be patient and don’t stress out. You will do well.


Worldbuilding: Research, Common Sense, and Imagination

Worldbuilding. This is popular topic that I’ve been asked to write about, but to be honest, I’ve been wary of doing so. You see, I create whole worlds for fantasy stories or science fiction stories. I easily create entire means of transportation, technology, civilizations, and cultures, but I do not sit down and say, “Okay, so, if this planet is that far from the sun, the temperature of that planet will be this many degrees, and its days and nights will be this long while its seasons are that long.” Nor do I map out every single detail of everything in this new world. I’ve observed many such discussions in writing groups, and I’m always overwhelmed by all the detail (I totally applaud those of you who can go to such great depths of your story because I would get lost, but each person is different). There are a lot of great sites and blog posts that go more that direction. Here are a few examples:

Fantasy Worldbuilding Questions

Building Fantasy Worlds

Storywonk: Worldbuilding

Again, there are many more posts and sites dedicated to this subject. You’ll simply have to look them up.

Now, my own approach worldbuilding a little more simple. However, allow me to explain a few things. First of all, scientists in this world don’t know everything. Yes, they know a lot (more than me!), but they don’t know everything. There are minerals out there we’ve never encountered, occurrences on other planets or even moons we can’t explain. Yes, we do our best to apply what knowledge we have and make logical explanations, and this is good, but we will never really know unless samples are brought back to us for further studying or we go there to study. We don’t know what other worlds (even outside our solar system) are really like. We can do calculations, make careful observations, and explain things in a logical way, but we won’t know for certain if we’re absolutely right until we go there (I’m not really talking about Mars or the moon really but rather someplace further).

Now, having said all this, when creating worlds, I don’t stick to merely what I know. Yes, there are essential elements every planet should have like gravity, but I’m not going to go and determine just how big the planet it, how close it is to the sun in order to determine what the gravity is like on that planet. Why? Because it’s not important. Not to my stories at least. If my characters are traveling from planet to planet, they have a task to do and something to accomplish, and it’s not studying a new planet (unless that is their job). If gravity is important to the storyline (since it could have an affect on fight scenes or such if necessary), then yes, I’d do some brief calculations, bounce some ideas off more scientific-minded individuals, and figure out what I need to know about the planet’s gravity hold. However, if the character is going to that planet to meet with someone, get information, and then get off, there is no need to spend all that time developing a world where your character will only be for at least a day or so.

Basically, if it’s not important to the story, I won’t worry about it. I’m not going to spend pages and pages describing every detail of the planet. My characters are moving from point A to point B, and what they see along the way is what you get to see too. If a character happens to tell a story about the planet’s past, then the reader gets to hear that too. Otherwise, I keep moving.

What about civilizations and cultures? Well, what do you want your character to encounter? You can look around at the different civilizations of the day (both modern, extinct, and mythical) and come up with something unique. This would shape their buildings, social habits, and even politics. Let’s say you want your characters to run into some Viking-like society, so do some research to understand their habits. However, because these aren’t the Vikings, you have the liberty to use your imagination, get creative, and make up stuff. Mix and match cultures to come up with a wild blend of your own.

It all boils down to a single point: what do you want your character to encounter and how is it different from everything else in all other books out there?

Now, it may sound like I’m completely dismissing thorough research in worldbuilding, but I’m not. You can’t just slap together some details and hope your readers understand the world you’ve created. No, if you want to create a strong image for them, a world they will remember, you need to take a moment and imagine what the world looks like—imagine it clearly, so you can explain it clearly.

For instance, I have this one country in a world that has unusual meteorologic occurrences. It is a desert climate, but during the day there is a thick cloud cover of angry clouds. It always looks like it is going to rain and be a terrible storm. However, as the sun is setting, the clouds begin to pull back, and there is a break in the clouds where the sun can shine upon the land briefly before it sets. And then at night the skies are clear—the stars are bright. However, the next morning, the clouds are back. It is the only place in that world that this occurs. I cannot explain it scientifically, but this is what the story wants, and I do not argue with the story. If I do that, it will fight back by giving me Writer’s Block. I can see it clearly in my mind, and I write it.

One thing I’d recommend everyone to do a bit more research in is the structure of the government (any government in any age). See how the lower class is treated by the middle class and higher class. Observe who creates the laws, who enforces the laws and how, and who might be the exceptions to the law. Note punishments and how justice is served. Look at the educational system—see how the children are raised to think or not think. I say you should study these because these are fundamentals in how a culture is run. You may study multiple cultures and take a little here and something else from over there and create your own system, and that is fine. However, it is important to have a good handle on these elements because your characters will likely run into people involved in these branches (they may get in trouble with the law of that world), and instead of freaking out and then spending hours on Google before you finally toss the question to your writers group of how things should proceed, you will already know and can move on.

Use common sense (for instance, what goes up must come down—if you’re someplace with gravity), but also use your imagination. Don’t worry about all the logistics and if the critics or experts will say, “That’s not even possible!” Because you know what? They may be right. It might not be possible, but your story is fictional, and you can make it however you want it. Go ahead and create mushroom trees and purple skies, but remember, you don’t want to bog your readers down with description after description. It’s best to show the world as your character is passing through it. You can find all my different posts on description here: Cinemagraphic Writing: Description

Now, the only exception to this entire idea is if you have a character who is a scientist—someone who can scientifically explain just about anything. If you have her in your crew, you will probably want to know as much as you can about anything because she will talk, and you want her to sound intelligent and accurate.

If you’re the kind of writer who must have ever detail of the atmosphere of your world figured out, that is fine. There is nothing wrong with that. I highly admire your determination to get all the facts absolutely right. However, if you’re the kind of writer who is overwhelmed by having to know ALL these facts, and you’re about to panic, take a deep breath. I’m giving you permission right now to not worry about all those details. Right now, focus on the immediate environment your characters are in (is it desert or mountain? Medieval or futuristic?), do your best to describe that, and move on with the story. Focus on the story. You can always go back and add more detail during the revision process.

Set the Scene Without Slowing the Story

I was going to move on to another topic this week, but I touched upon something in last week’s post, and I think it’s important to focus on it briefly. Last week we discussed mainly narrative description and use of body language and whether those two slow down a story, but there is another kind of description. This is the description which sets the scene or introduces a character. I’m not going to go into introduction of a character because I’ve already posted about that, which you can find here: Character Introduction.

I’ve also already discussed description in great detail in previous blog posts. You can find them in the following:

Painting Pictures With Words

Movement in Description 

However, in this post I want to focus on the question, “Does scene-setting description slow down the story?” It has the potential to do this especially if it isn’t done right or if the placement of the description is wrong. Otherwise, it adds to the story rather than taking from it. There are some things to keep in mind as you’re coming to a scene where you need to set the setting.

You don’t need to show EVERY detail of the room—only the important details. Does it matter if the walls are red, blue, or beige? If it’s not fundamentally vital to the scene or the story, then no. However, DO add little details that show more of the character, but do so in a passing way. Let’s say you have a very sentimental character that’s gone missing, and a detective steps into her room to find out more about her. It could go something like this:

Nodding to the weepy-eyed mother, Detective Blackwell stepped into the victim’s room. His gaze immediately went to all the school achievements hanging on the far wall—Best Student of the Year, Most Likely To Succeed, her high school and university graduation diplomas, and certifications in yoga, tai chi, and karate.

This Elise girl was one smart and resourceful person, and this only added more to the mystery of her disappearance, but Blackwell glanced to the other side of her room. Hanging on the wall above her desk, he noted pictures of Elise with friends while some of the pictures were of a German Shepherd.

That’s Elise’s dog Legend. He disappeared over a year ago. It was really heartbreaking for Elise,” her mother informed Blackwell when he stared at one picture of the dog and girl for too long.

And so the scene can continue. Are her walls pink? Does it really matter? Does she have teddy bears from her childhood on her bed? I don’t care. What I wanted to show was that she was accomplished but also knew how to take care of herself while at the same time she liked to have her accomplishments on display in the privacy of her room.

Now, if you’re trying to introduce a much larger scene such sa a city, a kingdom, or a world, you will need to employ other elements to show the scene without slowing it down. The key to this is, the means by which you describe the setting should be in motion. This will give the illusion of movement rather than static description. One way you can do this is by using things that move easily and without too much hinderance such as light, shadows, water, or animals. A very good example of this is actually the bird in the Assassin’s Creed trailers. They always introduce the setting by means of a hawk or an eagle or some other kind of bird. This is awesome because the flight of the bird allows you to get an overview of the situation below. Check out the first minute or so of this trailer to see what I mean:

Can you use people instead of animals to show the description? Yes, but when you’re just trying to introduce the setting in which the story takes place, I suggest not naming the character immediately because who the character is at this point isn’t important. What is important is what they see and how they interact with their environment. At the end of it, then yes, introduce the character. Again, Assassin’s Creed Unity has a good visual example of this:

Now, seeing it done in film is one thing, but translating that into writing is tricky. How do you do it? Set your mind to it, imagine the scene unfold in your mind, and just do it. Now, I will warn you, it can be a bit tedious and overbearing because you can get lost in all the beautiful description and the story won’t start until Page 20, and you don’t want that. Always know where you’re going, how you’re going to get there, and stay focused. Try to keep it short—no more than a few paragraphs, and don’t get distracted with unnecessary detail. Here’s an example inspired a bit from the Assassin’s Creed trailer:

The hawk flew over the wide-spread plains, over the dirt road which snaked through the fields toward the city. People traveled the road at this noon hour, running for the city with guns, knives, and pitchforks in hand. They ran with an angry shout and pure determination, but the hawk flew on.

Coming to the mighty gates of the fortress, the bird glided over the wall and over the fighting thereon. Man strove with man on the walls, at the gates, and in the streets. Shouts and gun powder filled the air,

The hawk swept down into a corridor between two buildings. Below, peasants armed with farming tools charged straight for the organized line of royal guards. The guards stood their ground with their guns aimed at the approaching mob.

Then they fired.

The hawk swooped up, away from the gunshots, away from the fighting and bloodshed. It soared up the lofty clock tower then perched itself on the outstretched arm of a hooded man who observed the fighting below but turned his eyes to the pouch attached to the hawk’s leg. Opening the pouch, he removed a rolled up piece of paper. As he turned his back on the fighting to read the message in his room behind the face of the clock, he lowered the bird onto its perch and gave it some leftover raw flesh to eat.

As you can see, using this method is a way to inform the reader of a few things:

  1. It’s set in more medieval time but with gunpowder
  2. There is unrest in the country
  3. Somebody is watching and has outside communication

So, is this the way you should always do intros to every location in your story? No. Variety is always best for your story. Switch it up, or it will become predictable, and people will skip over the paragraphs. This is merely one way to show without slowing the story, and it’s a good little trick to have up your sleeve. It takes practice to master though—as do all things in life.

If you think your description is slowing down your story, it probably is, but you’ll need to ask yourself a few questions. At that point in the story, is it okay to slow down the pace? Or does it disrupt the story? Do you, as the author, naturally skip over those descriptions? If you skip them, it’s likely your readers will too.

Writing description is tricky, but it’s a skill worth mastering. Once you discover how you write description, that is something you will never lose.

Description Slows Down the Story…or Does It?

The common argument is, “Dialogue is quick while description can slow down a story.” Is this true in regards to description? Yes and no. It depends on the type of description. If the description is body language, this can actually give the story a good, steady pace without interrupting the flow. If the description is narrative, there is potential of slowing the story. Let’s break each of these down, but keep in mind that at this time we are not discussing description that sets the scene or describes a character.

Body language is important to add immediate depth to a character, but some writers hesitate employing it. Yes, too much body language has the ability to slow down a scene, but if you use the proper expressions, it can actually add to the action. Take a look at the following examples:

Dialogue tag without body language:

Are you sure they’re not following us?” Jason asked.

Why do you have to question everything I say?” William said. “Of course I’m sure. Now this way!”

Dialogue tag with body language:

Are you sure they’re not following us?” Jason asked as they ran through the darkened corridors.

Why do you have to question everything I say?” William said glaring at his friend. “Of course I’m sure. Now this way!”

Body language without dialogue tags:

Are you sure they’re not following us?” Jason darted a quick look over his shoulder once more time as he raced through the darkened corridors with William.

Why do you have to question everything I say?” William glared at him but then jutted his chin ahead as he kept running. “Of course I’m sure.” He took a sharp right and gestured for Jason to follow. “Now this way!”

Now, all three of these methods are valid ways to write. The first one is the bare minimum. You see what’s said and who’s saying it, but that’s it. It’s pretty fast-paced. The second one has a bit more. You also see what’s said, who said it, and a bit of what they’re doing. In the third one, you see what’s said, and you know who said it based on whose body language is attached to the dialogue. In addition, you get more action because there’s more shown between “Of course I’m sure,” and “Now this way.” Yes, there’s more to read, but did it slow down the action or add to the scene?

You see, the way body language can slow the pace is if you try to show every tiny expression of a character and draw out emotion. For instance, the sentence with Jason could have read like this:

“Are you sure they’re not following us?” Jason panted as he darted a quick look over his shoulder while he ran with William. His lungs hurt from running, but his heart pounded in his ears telling not to stop, not to give up. He had to keep going even though he had no idea where William was leading him. Did William really know where they were going? Or was he leading him into a trap? Jason shook his head as these doubts came to mind. William was his friend. He wouldn’t betray him like that.

All right, all that description slowed down the pace. Why? Imagine it unfold like a movie, and these two guys are running down the hall full of fright, and then Jason looks over his shoulder. Suddenly everything is in super-slow motion as all these thoughts and doubts creep into his mind. That’s how it feels to me because in my mind I know in this situation it won’t take William that long to reply to Jason. This happens because narrative description was added to the scene. This is when the character’s thoughts are shown to the reader, and this has the potential to slow down the scene because it takes time to process thoughts.

Should the writing in that paragraph I showed above be avoided? No, not always. It entirely depends on the moment in the story. If it’s a slower scene with a lot of time to contemplate without concern of conversation, then have the character get lost in thought by using narrative description. However, if a character does in the middle of a conversation, the reader may forget what was said before all the thoughts bombarded them, so when the conversation continues, the reader have to backtrack again to refresh their memory. Something like this:

So how do you know Silas?” Chandler raised his brows as he lowered himself into the seat across from Demetrius.

The mention of his old friend caused Demetrius to frown a little. Their history was a long one. Both of them had been orphans and ended up in the same foster family home with several other children. Lots of the children enjoyed teasing and taunting Silas because he wasn’t a big kid but rather scrawny. One day Demetrius made it his personal mission to be Silas’ body guard. The two became fast friends and remained friends even after both of them were adopted into separate families. They ended up going to the same college, but their interests were vastly different. Demetrius enjoyed sports and girls while Silas thrived on intellectual talk and politics.

When the war came, the two friends found themselves on opposite sides—Demetrius siding with the Free Worlds while Silas took the side of the Galactic Government. For the longest time, Demetrius wanted nothing more than to track down his own friend and hammer some sense into him, but somehow throughout the entire war, the two of them never crossed paths. Now that was about to change. “I grew up with him.” Demetrius nodded to Chandler.

Now, I don’t know about you, but reading all that description of his past friendship with Silas, I get lost in the past and memories that I forget there was a conversation occurring at this point in the story or what was said to prompt this flashback from Demetrius. I have to pause for half a second to remember the question before moving on. Sometimes I can’t remember, so I have to go back a few paragraphs to find the last piece of dialogue then skip all the description and tie it in with the response to see the flow of the conversation.

Is there a better way to do this? There are two ways you could smooth out the transition. First, you can have the first character yank the second character out of his thoughts and repeat the question. It would look something like this:

When the war came, the two friends found themselves on opposite sides—Demetrius siding with the Free Worlds while Silas took the side of the Galactic Government. For the longest time, Demetrius wanted nothing more than to track down his own friend and hammer some sense into him, but somehow throughout the entire war, the two of them never crossed paths. Now that was about to change.

Demetrius?” Chandler snapped his fingers in front of Demetrius’ face, jerking him out of his thoughts. Seeing he had his attention once more, Chandler frowned. “I ask you how you knew Silas, and you go all zoned-out. You all right, man?”

Yeah.” Demetrius nodded. “I’m fine. Sorry, was thinking.”

So how do you know Silas?”

Demetrius shrugged as he reached for his beer. “I grew up with him.”

It’s okay to have your characters get lost in thought and brought back abruptly. That’s realistic and makes them more human, but be careful how often you use this method. It can get tiresome after a few times.

However, another way could be having the character recall the question at the end and then answer it:

When the war came, the two friends found themselves on opposite sides—Demetrius siding with the Free Worlds while Silas took the side of the Galactic Government. For the longest time, Demetrius wanted nothing more than to track down his own friend and hammer some sense into him, but somehow throughout the entire war, the two of them never crossed paths. Now that was about to change.

But why was he thinking about Silas now? Demetrius furrowed his brows then looked up at Chandler and recalled how Chandler had asked him how he knew Silas. Nodding, Demetrius reached for his beer on the table. “I grew up with him.”

The key to remember with any description is: Is the placement logical in the sense of timing? Then you need to make sure the transition is smooth. If you, the author, need a reminder as to where the conversation or scene was going before the description detour, your readers might need a similar reminder, and you’d want to weave one in without being too obvious.

So yes, narrative description can slow down a scene, but you can use this to your advantage. At the same time body language can add to the action, but too much body language that includes every little micro-expression might slow down the story. It’s a fine balance and something to keep in the forefront of your mind as you write. However, don’t obsess over it. Trust the story and your own writing ability. Remember, you can always go back and revise.

Elements of Poetry

Go ahead—groan. As soon as I say the word ‘poetry’, almost everyone closes up because they’re thinking of the common,

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Sugar is sweet

And so are you!”

And that is not what I’m talking about.

What I’m talking about is rhyme and rhythm—subtlety done. Putting poetic skills into play with poise. For some people, this comes naturally. For others, it will take practice.

Poetry offers a very important and ancient element to writing. In the days of old when stories were told orally, poetry was the most common form because it was easier to remember, and who doesn’t like a good story?

When you’re sitting around a camp fire at night and someone is telling a story, would you rather listen to a monotone story of how a group of people once went into these woods only to disappear, or would you rather hear the rise and fall of the voice, the suspenseful pauses, the use of the environment (such as throwing a firecracker into the fire the moment a gunshot goes off in the story), and the speed, then slowness of the voice? Which would you prefer to hear? Which one would you remember for the rest of your life?

Poetry is the only key to ancient storytelling that translates into modern day writing. Sure it gets complicated—look at Shakespeare if you want a reminder, but it doesn’t have to be. The primary use of poetics in prose is to paint a picture.

Here is something I had written, but we’re going to dissect it, so you can identify the poetic elements:

Wind raked across the darkened barren winterscape as he trudged through the knee deep snow through the mountain terrain. A wolf’s howl caused him to halt and look around, then up at the sky at the full moon’s pale face; wisps of clouds passed swiftly across the bright night sun.

Knowing the wolves were of no threat to him, he tugged the edges of his hood closer to his face and hugged his cloak around him as he ducked his head and pressed on through the skin-biting wind, step by step through the snow, ice, and rock. Even in these night hours, he knew this path well―having worn it well during the years of his childhood. If he lifted his head, he knew he would see the impressive sight of Nirrorm’s castle jutting out of the mountain at the end of the valley―its sharp towers a contrast in the night and an imposing, frightening sight to the unfamiliar, but he kept walking―one step at a time.

At last he came to the castle walls, and the honorable watchmen saw him before he saw them. “Halt! Who goes there?”

He stood at the foot of the wall staring at the structured stone. His journey had drained him, and he did not wish to speak above a whisper, for he had little strength. He knew he could conjure a magical orb that would answer the watchmen’s question, but he was familiar with the laws of Nirrorm.

Magic was forbidden here.

Sighing, he lifted his chin and looked up, up, up to the top of the wall where the watchman leaned over to see him―and aim their arrows at him. As if that would harm him. A small smirk touched the corner of his pale lips, but he swallowed and forced his voice to be heard. “I am Prince Lorrek of Cuskelom, and I seek sanctuary.”

All right, so on the surface it looks like a normal intro to a story, but let me take it apart for you, so you can see the elements of poetry at work here. Let’s draw out the sounds of just the first paragraph:

‘A’: Wind raked across the darkened barren winterscape as he trudged through the knee deep snow through the mountain terrain. A wolf’s howl caused him to halt and look around then up at the sky at the full moon’s pale face; wisps of clouds passed swiftly across the bright night sun.

‘A_E’: Wind raked across the darkened barren winterscape as he trudged through the knee deep snow through the mountain terrain. A wolf’s howl caused him to halt and look around then up at the sky at the full moon’s pale face

‘AIN’: he trudged through the knee deep snow through the mountain terrain.

‘D’: Wind raked across the darkened barren winterscape as he trudged through the knee deep snow through the mountain terrain.

EE’: he trudged through the knee deep snow through the mountain terrain.

‘H’: A wolf’s howl caused him to halt and look around then up at the sky at the full moon’s pale face…

‘IGHT’: wisps of clouds passed swiftly across the bright night sun.

‘K’: Wind raked across the darkened barren winterscape…

‘L’: A wolf’s howl caused him to halt and look around and then up at the sky at the full moon’s pale face; wisps of clouds passed swiftly across the bright night sun.

‘O’: Wind raked across the darkened barren winterscape as he trudged through the knee deep snow through the mountain terrain. A wolf’s howl caused him to halt and look around and then up at the sky at the full moon’s pale face; wisps of clouds passed swiftly across the bright night sun.

‘R’: Wind raked across the darkened barren winterscape as he trudged through the knee deep snow through the mountain terrain…

‘S’: Wind raked across the darkened barren winterscape as he trudged through the knee deep snow through the mountain terrain. A wolf‘s howl caused him to halt and look around then up at the sky at the full moon’s pale face; wisps of clouds passed swiftly across the bright night sun.

‘T’ & ‘TH’: Wind raked across the darkened barren winterscape as he trudged through the knee deep snow through the mountain terrain. A wolf’s howl caused him to halt and look around and then up at the sky at the full moon’s pale face; wisps of clouds passed swiftly across the bright night sun.

This is the poetic element in its basic form. We use alliteration to make the first letters of the words to rhyme such as the ‘T’ and ‘TH’ here: ‘he trudged through the knee deep snow through the mountain terrain’. Rhyming occurs at the end of the word such as ‘ bright night‘. Assonance also comes into play, and this makes the middle of the words to rhyme, as it did here: ‘…the full moon’s pale face.’

The use of sounds via letters is important, but the use of sounds via repetition is also a tool.

At last he came to the castle walls, and the honorable watchmen saw him before he saw them. “Halt! Who goes there?”

Now, I could have said “the honorable watchmen noticed him before he saw them” or the other way around, and my editors and proofreaders would recommend I change it, but it just sounds right. For an example of one that doesn’t sound right, here:

Even in these night hours, he knew this path well―having worn it well during the years of his childhood.

The use of ‘well’ doesn’t flow easily, and it doesn’t sound right to my ears. I would probably rephrase one or the other so I don’t repeat that word. It can work the way it is, but I don’t like the sound of it.

Here’s another example of the use of repetition to stress a point:

Sighing, he lifted his chin and looked up, up, up to the top of the wall where the watchman leaned over to see him―and aim their arrows at him.

Sure, he lifted his chin, so we automatically know he’s looking up, but I wanted to stress just how close to the wall he was and how high the wall was, so I repeated the word three times. Very rarely do I use a word more than three times when doing this, but it’s not unheard of.

Using repetition creates a sound—a rhythm. Another example of repetition this way is with the use of the word ‘and’. In the text above I don’t have an example, but it’s something like this:

He went up the stairs and down the hall and through the chambers and into the last place her saw her—the hanging gardens.

The use of ‘and’ here is deliberate. It sets a rhythm, stresses a point, and draws out the systematic way he searched for her.

Repeating little words to form a rhythm or set a pace to a story is often frowned upon by editors. In their mind you’re supposed to use the word once in a sentence/paragraph because it’s more professional that way—more proper. However, if you deliberately used those words, don’t back down just because someone disagrees with you. Show them why you did what you did. This is why it is very important to know why you must choose every word that you write with care.

So check your own style. Does it use any elements of poetry that I’ve explained? Does it use sound as I demonstrated? Sure, it might not be your style, but it’s worth experimenting with. Applying these tools properly takes practice. That is why it is important to read and write poetry even though you may never publish it or allow anyone to read it. Study the sounds, observe the structure, and it will slip into your writing, adding an extra depth to your words, sharpening those images, and strengthening those sentences.

Notice What You Notice

In my previous post, we discussed the introduction of a character and how to describe them without the writing becoming boring. Now, we can come across the same problem when it comes to describing setting and a scene. I’ve discussed some of this in earlier posts, which I will link at the bottom of this one, but I wanted to touch upon another aspect and basically give you homework (which you don’t have to actually share unless you want to).

I mentioned the term ‘deductive writing’. What is that? Let’s bring Sherlock Holmes back into this. He uses deductive reasoning to come to his conclusions and solve the mysteries. Now, how do we apply this to writing?

Sherlock Holmes is very observant. That is what makes him good at what he does. Not every character will be as observant as he. If your MC is a boy-crazy girl who has only spent all her free time on the internet or watching chick flicks, she’s not going to be observant. In other words, you can’t rely on her to show the reader the setting of a scene when she walks into the room. Her eyes won’t notice the color of the walls, how many doors or windows there are, or all the food and drinks, or how everything is carefully decorated in this impressive mansion. No, her eyes will scan the people—quickly overlooking anyone who is plain, maybe noting her rivals, but absolutely pinpointing all the hot guys in the room. She’ll then get sucked into conversations, and the rest of the scene unfolds.

However, if your character has any training an Martial Arts, they will have a completely different approach the same situation. These characters are more reliable when you want to show a scene through their eyes. Now, you can have a character who has never taken any form of Martial Arts but is still observant by nature, and this character is also reliable when setting a scene, but it is only because of that character’s personality that makes him or her reliable like that.

So what am I talking about, and how does it apply to writing? Here’s the exercise I want you to do, and I’m going to show you how it’s done.

Notice how you enter a room or unfamiliar setting and the first things you look for when entering the room–

Because I am prone to terrible headaches, as I approach an unfamiliar room, my senses are already spread out looking for four things: loud noise, flashing or dizzying lights, crowded environment, and potent smell. Any one of these can trigger a headache, and I avoid such places to the best of my ability. If it cannot be avoided, I at least limit my time there to the bare minimum.

When I step into the room, due to my training in martial arts, I note every exit, windows, stairways, and balconies and whatever might be blocking me from them. Yes, I’m not necessarily counting them but making a mental note as to where they are in case they’re needed. Also, if I can’t see down the corridor at the end of the room, I make a mental projection of what might be down there in case it is important to know. I then begin to assess the crowd for any threats or unusual behavior as well as their dress—whether it be practical or not in any given circumstance.

Being a writer, I automatically read people’s faces and body language determining their possible thoughts, feelings, and motives.

As naturally introvert, I scan all the faces for someone familiar and feel the greatest relief when I recognize someone.

All this takes a few seconds while I pass through the room. Can I recount all this information to you in that moment? Unlikely. I note it immediately, but it takes time to process in my mind. It is merely instinct.

If the room has any of the elements for a headache—especially noise or crazy lights—I forgo most of my usual assessments simply because I can’t see doors or windows in the flashing lights. Instead, if I am there to meet someone, I will zero in on that person and prompt them to go outside, so we can have a conversation without shouting. Otherwise, if I’m alone—well, I’d never go to such a environment on my own, so I would just leave.

This is an example of how to measure your own assessment of a new location. Once you know how you take in new surroundings, it’s easier to introduce a new setting for your characters.

The same tactic can be applied to when you meet someone new. What is the first thing you notice about them? Is it their appearance? Their face? Eye color? Clothes? Posture? My sister has a superb memory of people. When I ask her what someone looked like, she’ll say, “He’s a bit taller than I am, has brown hair, blue eyes, square jaw, lean.” She usually links their appearance to an actor. But personally, when I look at someone, I see none of that. Instead, I notice how they carry themselves, how they present themselves. I might note their hair color and height and if they’re lean or muscular, but other than that when I meet someone, I make note of their personality and who they are rather than simply how they’d like the world to see them. Once you understand how you handle introductions with real life people, you can apply this idea to your writing.

Of course, your characters are not you, and they will notice things you probably wouldn’t notice, but it’s your job to make sure they notice what they would see such as Marcus, the ex-Marine, taking note of the guards at the ballroom; Patrick, the hacker, noticing all the technology; and Olivia, the thief, identifying the valuable pieces throughout the room.

So, how do you enter a room? And when you meet someone, what do you first notice about them?

Now, step back, communicate with your characters, and figure out what they notice when they walk into a room or when they meet someone. And they won’t notice everything, and that’s okay. Not one person can notice everything (unless you have a superhero character), but that is why we have multiple characters, and we can get a bigger picture of the scene—if necessary—through the eyes of other characters.

As promised, here are the links to the previous posts I posted discussing scene setting and description:

Paint Pictures With Words

Movement With Description

Shifting Points of View (POV)

If you want to include in the comments a brief description of what you notice when you first walk into a room or when meeting someone for the first time, feel free to do so. It would be great to read!

Describing Your Characters upon Introduction

In a sense, there is a ‘camera’ in your story which sets the pace of how the scene unfolds. Description immediately slows down the pace, and too much description makes it almost slow motion. It’s not important to record every detail in order for the readers to get a clear image of the character in their head. Let them imagine whom they will—just as long as the character’s personality doesn’t change. The personality is what shines through and what should remain consistent regardless of how others imagine their appearance.

Once I let someone read a chapter of a story of mine, and she gave me this feedback:

Character development – I very much enjoyed how you are developing your characters. Nothing annoys me more when a writer says here is my character, this is what they look like, this is their temperament within the first couple of paragraphs without giving their character a chance to develop and grow. I dislike this “in your face” approach and prefer to learn about the character as the book develops, so I like your approach to your characters.

Then she sent me a sample of her story. What amazed me was how this writer was acutely aware of terrible introductions of characters yet could not write without falling into the same problem. After exchanging a few emails, I came to learn that she knew she had been writing the kind of writing she didn’t like to read, but she didn’t know what else to do. So I gave her some advice.

The characters’ looks are not important. It is their personality and behavior that are fundamental to the story. Once I wrote an entire book, and I imagined the actors who would play the characters if it became a movie. However, I didn’t try to describe the actors’ looks. I just went along with the story, developing the character as I went. The most remarkable feedback I got from a reader was, “Have you ever watched the TV series Merlin? Your character reminds me of Morgana.” I had to laugh because that was exactly whom I imagined when I wrote that character though there were some differences.

The problem is that the brain is much quicker than the eye, but when reading our eyes must first read the words in order for our brains to comprehend them. If the pace has slowed down, then our brain doesn’t see the story unfold as quickly. The only way to prevent this is to use motion description, which I’ve already discussed in a previous post, here: Movement in Description. 

This is an example of what dragged-out description feels like to a reader. Once I was in the kitchen baking when my mom came in and started reading to me a section out of a Sherlock Holmes story. In it, Sherlock and Watson walk down a corridor at a brisk pace, and suddenly they turn a corner, and someone is standing in the middle of the hall waiting for them. The whole story stops to describe the character entirely! To me, I imagined it as a movie. They’re walking down a hallway at a swift pace, turn the corner, and then S-L-O-W motion as they take in the sight of this new character from head to toe. It was like a L’Oreal commercial where the women have their hair flying in the wind in slow motion…except, this new character was a guy—a tough, hardened man. As you can imagine, because the pace slowed down to take the time to describe him, my mental image of him was completely ruined. I had to laugh because I couldn’t get the Sherlock Holmes L’Oreal commercial I envisioned out of my head. This is one example of how films and television have influenced our imagination.

There are a lot of Sherlock films and TV shows, and we know Sherlock doesn’t take THAT much time to observe a character. He’s very quick about it. Just as Sherlock used deductive reasoning, we must use deductive writing in our stories when introducing characters and setting. Always keep the story moving.

“So if we’re not supposed to give a described snapshot of our character upon introduction, what are we supposed to do? How are we supposed to show our characters?” Imagine your character and the first thing you’d notice about them in person. Is this character tall? Perhaps he has striking eye color  you’ve never seen before. Or perhaps it has nothing to do with the character’s look, but rather the aura he presents is regal and noble or flamboyant and careless. Whichever way he is will be evident in the way he carries himself, and this has a lot to do with body language and can be shown over a course of time instead of a pause in the story to describe the character. Here are examples of both styles of writing:

Example 1: Standing at 6’2, Skelton wore a black trench coat, black clothes, and black boots. His hair was a shocking blonde, and his eyes were stunning blue while he smiled with mischief. High cheek bones, sharp nose, and square jaw made him all the more striking to look at, but there was something fun and roguish about him.

Example 2: Skelton flung the doors open and smirked when everyone flinched at the sound of the door slamming against the wall, but he sauntered in with confidence. “Well, well, well! Looks like you’re having a party! And no one thought to invite me?” He pressed a hand to his chest as he pursed his lips into a pout then clicked his tongue and wagged his head–dropping his hand and the pout as he smirked again. “Not to worry! I’ll just make myself at home!” Marching around the length of the table, he came to the head of it and plopped himself down in the chair then kicked his boots up onto the table as he leaned back in the chair and intertwined his hands over his chest. “So, peoples, where are we? What’s on the agenda?” Everyone glared at him.

In one version, we are merely told what he looks like and hinted at how he behaves. In the second version, we don’t need to be told anything. We get his personality right away. Yes, we don’t know the color of his hair or his eye color or the exact shape of his face, but is more important? Always keep in mind what is most important to your story.

“Are there ever any exceptions?” Of course, there are always exceptions to every rule. It merely takes an exceptionally good writer to know when and how and why exactly to break the rules.

Shifting Points of View (POV)

In writing there is an unspoken abomination. A writer may do this without realizing it. However, when he shows some of his work to his peers or editors, and they tear it to pieces. “Never switch point of view in the middle of a chapter! Whichever character you start with in a chapter, stay with that character throughout that chapter. Otherwise you confuse the reader.”

How many films have you watched where the shot doesn’t cut from one character’s face to another in the same scene—sometimes even in the same piece of dialogue? Each cut in the shot is a POV shift, and films have influenced the way the reader population imagines, so such shifts are not confusing. They simply have to be done right.

All right, all right—if you must shift POV, at least put an extra space between the different points of view.” In some instances this may work, but in most cases such extra white space disrupts the flow of the story and serves to confuse the reader. Extra white space indicates the shift in scene–not a shift in POV.

I bring this up now because when writing description as I have suggested, using the eyes of multiple characters gives a bigger picture of the setting. Again this is cinemagraphic writing. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I’m going to show you how it’s done. This is an example I wrote for this post specifically. It is not an ongoing story I’ve written previously.


When they passed through security to enter the hotel ball, Marcus noted five men on duty―basic training and hired to look intimidating. He doubted they knew how to hold their guns properly, so he wasn’t worried about them but nodded to them and gestured for Olivia and Patrick to step ahead of him.

Trailing behind, he entered the grand ballroom. His eyes went straight to the ceiling where three huge crystal chandeliers lit the room and awed the guests. He noted the balcony a level up, and his eyes zeroed in on the swooping stairs at the opposite side of the room where wealthy guests ascended to or descended from the upper level. Calculating the distance, he determined the length of the room to be half a football field long, and he pocketed that thought away in case he needed to sprint to the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs on either side stood two guards dressed in tuxedos and standing attentive but casual. Marcus frowned. Elite agents―recruited from all branches of the U.S. Army and trained as assassins to protect. Nothing missed their eye, and Marcus figured they already took mental note of him and labeled him as a potential danger. Sweeping his gaze around the edges of the circular room where pillars upheld the balcony and shadows congregated, Marcus numbered five on one side of the room and another five on the other.

He looked to Patrick beside him, who took in the room with a smile. “This isn’t going to be as easy as we thought.”

Patrick frowned when Marcus said this and watched him walk off. He opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but Marcus was already out of hearing range, and a guest bumped into Patrick’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he told the elderly man, but in passing Patrick noted the high tech digital watch on the man’s wrist―small and sophisticated, but it would serve Patrick’s purpose when he needed it, and he smiled at the man then continued his survey of the room.

When he first passed through the metal detectors at the door, he identified their security system as the two-year-old version of the latest Rockston TKX system. Wireless cameras with digital feed, controlled wirelessly, and an automatic lockdown system when anything foreign taps into the main feed.

“They just couldn’t have given me a challenge.” Patrick shook his head as he dug his hand into his tux’s pocket and meandered through the mingling crowd to the refreshments. He had already mastered hacking this style of system, so he didn’t understand why Marcus was so negative. Whatever went wrong, it would not be on his part.

As he passed through the crowd, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and noted the growing list of IP addresses locating and already hacking into every cell phone in the room. Soon he would have the keys to the perfect distraction for this heist.

“Are you sure I can’t just take one painting?” Olivia fell into step with him.

Without looking up from his cell phone, Patrick shook his head. “Cameras everywhere. They’ll get your face and track you through every database available.”

“But I’m not in any databases.” This time Patrick did look up and saw Olivia pouting. Then she darted her gaze around the room and leaned in. “We’re so close! I mean, look at that beauty.” She nodded to a woman in a low-cut, curve-hugging dress, and then Olivia whacked Patrick’s arm. “The necklace, Patrick―the necklace. That’s the original Raden Diamond…and I want it.”

Draping an arm around her bare shoulders, Patrick steered Olivia away from the guests toward the refreshment table. “Yes, yes, I know you want to add more to your collection, but we’re here on a job.” He handed her a cube of cheese on a toothpick. “Stay focused.”

With a sigh, Olivia took the cheese from him and snatched wine from the tray of a passing waitress. When she caught Patrick’s disapproving look, she smirked at him. “Hey, if I can’t have fun until the job’s done, I’m at least going to relax.”

“As long as you can do your part of the job.”

Olivia made no comeback. She already located the rarest paintings on display on the walls beyond the pillars beneath the balcony―seven altogether. Each one within reach, but she knew the slightest fingerprint would trigger the security system and lockdown the ballroom. She had to wait until the system was knocked offline before daring to touch those, so in the meanwhile she did what she did best―pick people’s pockets although she had no intention to tell Patrick or Marcus that. What neither one of them knew was that she lifted their own wallets off them when they went through security, and she smiled knowing this. They would thank her later.


In this snapshot from a scene, the POV shifts three times–from Marcus to Patrick to Olivia. Not only do you get a clearer image of the setting, but you also get a glimpse into the inner workings of each character.

Now you tell me, were the shifts choppy? Did they yank you out of the story? Or did you not even notice them because they went with the flow of the writing?

Most people will say, “Don’t switch the POV in the middle of a scene,” but keep in mind the POV is the camera of your story. If the camera swifts view, then shift POV. Always know why the switch is necessary and understand the purpose of it. If there is no purpose, and if it isn’t necessary, then no need to shift.

Are POV shifts limited to describing the setting?” No. Let’s say you’ve opened a scene through the eyes of a character who just walked on scene into a conversation. As this character is listening to the conversation unfold, he possesses secret knowledge none of the other characters know, and you don’t want your readers to know it either! If you remain in his POV, his mere thoughts can give away the secret and ruin it ahead of time. However, as an author you should be knowledgeable of who knows what, so when the crucial moment comes, you can switch to one of the other characters’ POV to keep that secret unknown to the readers. In other words, POV shifting allows you to deceive your readers.

What if I write in First Person? I can’t switch POV at will.” You’re right—you can’t, so you would have to word everything precisely. Later in this blog I’ll discuss first narrative, but first let’s continue to cover the basics of writing. 

Movement in Description

In my previous post, the very last sentence might have caught your attention and puzzled you, ‘movement description—not static.’ What did I mean by this? Let me show you a scene written two different ways. The movement should be clear:

Example 1:

Rex pushed open the door to his hotel room. His eyes went straight to the open blinds at the opposite end of the room, and he frowned. The roof of the parking garage was a good place for a sniper to set up and wait for a shot. Rex marched to the window and yanked the blinds closed then turned back to the room. Approaching the bed, he skimmed his finger across the Bible on the nightstand leaving a trail in the thin layer of dust that had settled on the book in his absence.

He sat on the edge of the bed with shoulders hunched, exhausted. He looked at the Bible then looked up at the closed window before shifting his gaze to the right at the flat TV screen and the fridge underneath it. His eyes settled on the remote on top of the fridge, but he shook his head and laid down on the bed. He didn’t care to get up and turn on the news. The car chase he barely escaped was bound to be on every channel, and Rex didn’t care to relive how close the CIA had almost caught him. He only had enough time to close his eyes, catch a nap, and then head out again―hopefully leaving town for good.

Example 2:

Rex stepped into the hotel room. Dust covered everything. Against the wall on the left-hand side of the room was an untouched bed, and beside it was a small nightstand with a Bible on it and a lamp. On the right-hand side of the room stood a small fridge beneath the flat screen TV hanging on the wall. Rex stepped in and closed the door behind him.


Can you tell the difference? The second one is flat, very boring though informative. It’s like an invisible reporter is with Rex and reporting everything.

The first example has movement. Using Rex’s eyes, we realize the window is open (and what’s outside the window). This detail wasn’t mentioned in the second example. Through his action of running his hand over the Bible, we realize there is a Bible on a nightstand in the room. Not only that, but we also see that it’s dusty. When he lies down, he sees the TV screen and then the remote on top of the fridge (again another detail that wasn’t included in the second example).

By the end of the first example, we see the room—not perfectly because we don’t know what color the walls are or the color of the comforter on the bed or how many pillows there are or anything like that. But we see the room—the important details.

Not only that, but we also get a glimpse into Rex’s habits (not having the blinds open) and a sense of exhaustion and urgency from being chased. We can relate to him and therefore start to care about him. When the reader cares about the character, he will invest time to finish the book to see how the story ends.

In the second example, we have static description. Like I said, it’s like we have a reporter describing the scene—the bare facts. It’s shallow, hollow, dry, and very, very boring. It offers no depth into the character and no insight into the conflict of the story. For all I know, according to the second example, Rex could be a jock from high school on spring break enjoying a vacation in Mexico.

What if the character doesn’t move when entering the scene? Then what?” Unless the character is blind, he will still notice details with his eyes. What he notices depends on what kind of person he is–such as the ex-Marine, hacker, or thief. If the character is blind, she will still notice details of the room but different than the visual cues the sighted see. Only an individual completely familiar with the room would walk into it without noticing anything. Have you ever walked into your own bedroom and not notice little details such pictures hanging on the wall of your buddies back in high school or how dusty your bookshelf is getting and that you should dust it soon?

Part of being a writer is being observant. If you don’t notice details around you, then start seeing them, and it will be easier to work them into your writing in a fluid manner.

Paint Pictures With Words

Show–don’t tell. That has been my motto for this blog. “But how do I know what to show? There’s so much! How am I supposed to describe every little detail?!” The good news is, no, you don’t have to describe every small detail. “But I want everyone to see it exactly like I do in my mind!” That is a noble undertaking but altogether impossible. When I was a younger writer struggling with my craft, I argued with a wiser author on this very point, and he put it simply, “No matter how hard you write, if you show your work to seven different people, they will all see it seven different ways. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

When I stepped back and calmed down, this was liberating.

In junior college, an English professor demanded every detail. He used an example of a piece describing a feast. Every food, drink, crumb, color, texture, sound, person, and action was described. He wanted our essay papers to be just as detailed. What do I remember of that picture painted? Nothing. I only recall long lists of jumbled words, but it wasn’t alive, and it wasn’t a picture.

When I discovered I didn’t have to write all that, I could breath, relax, and have fun.

When should you describe something?” Use description if only it is important to the story. I don’t care if Princess Agnes’ ball gown is made of silk, satin, or velvet with sparkles. I don’t care if it’s floor length with a train, ankle length, or even at her knees. I don’t care if it’s a pencil skirt hugging her curves, an A-skirt, or a big puffy skirt. Did she wear high heels or flats? I don’t care. All I care about is the color because that gives insight into her personality as well as sets a tone for the rest of the scene. All the other details can sneak in throughout the scene.

Is there ever a time to include such detail?” Of course—if only it’s important. For instance, say the ball isn’t going to have a happy ending because everyone is going to be taken hostage, so no one can leave the building. Now, let’s add the element that Princess Agnes is trained in martial arts, so she is not defenseless in this situation and chose her dress accordingly just in case of disaster. She wouldn’t wear a tight dress but would wear something that would free her movements as well as hide any knives she might have. It wouldn’t be too short or too long. And her shoes depends on her balance and confidence. If she can sprint and do a sidekick in heels, I applaud her, but it’s doubtful she would wear 5-inch stilettos. Again, all these details can slip in throughout the scene. There is no need to write her intro into the scene and take up two pages describing every detail of her dress and shoes.

Imagine when you’re writing a scene, it is shown like a movie. The more details you add, the slower the scene passes. For example, two men are walking down a hall with purpose, and when they turn a corner, they run into a new character. Now, you have the option of describing this new character from head to toe in the most profound details. However, when you do that, the ‘camera’ suddenly slows. If your other two characters are rushing through the corridor when they run into this character, how much sense does it make for them to halt and take note of everything about this new person? Most people wouldn’t notice much about him other than the fact that he is present, blocking the way, and whether he’s a threat or not. If he’s perceived not to be a threat, then there is no reason why the other two characters would linger long but rather nod in greeting and pass him by.

Just keep in mind, the more details you add, the slower the scene will pass, and it’s likely the reader will skip these block paragraphs.

I’m not worried about describing my character. I’m trying to describe the room—the setting.” It is vital to establish the setting of each scene before investing too much time in the scene, but there is a delicate balance. How much is too much, and how much is just enough?

Before you begin writing the scene, you must put yourself into it. Leave out the characters, the distractions, and the action. Imagine you’re a playwright, whose play is going to be performed for the first time on stage the following day. You can’t sleep, so you go to the theatre. It’s empty and dark, but the stage is set up for the morning rehearsals and later the actual performance. You wander through the props and gaze around at the wonder the world will see later.

This is where you need to be before you write the scene. Walk through the scenes, down those corridors, through the doors. What catches your eye? Does the rope fastened to the wall catch your attention and draw your gaze up, up, up to the crystal chandelier? Hmm, that gives you an idea, so you make note of that detail. Ignore how many steps the wide-sweeping stairs have where your protagonist, Princess Agnes, will walk down. Ignore the number of pillars lining the room—but note the way the shadows gather under the balcony. Note how the ceiling vaults but ignore how it is a dome style and not a cathedral ceiling. The windows too, they’re important, but don’t count every one of them.

These are the details Princess Agnes will notice when she enters the room, and through her eyes the picture will be painted.

But what if there’s one small detail that the character wouldn’t notice but is important for another scene?” Details significant to the story should be mentioned but without disturbing the flow of the scene or seeming out character. For instance, after Princess Agnes descends the stairs, she might walk past a table just as a random individual sets down a sealed letter then slips away. It will strike the reader as odd, but they will go along with it just as long as the letter is explained either later in the scene or later in the story.

If you want a very detailed description of a room, don’t create an ‘all-observant’ character that notes every little detail! In reality, that is impossible, and stories are supposed to be a reflection of reality. Not one person will be able to notice everything in a room. However, what you can do is have several different characters enter the ballroom. Let’s say you have an ex-Marine, a hacker, and a thief enter the ballroom together (yes, this scene suddenly became modern instead of medieval). The ex-Marine will notice the number and location of each bodyguard as well as their body build. By their stance, he might be able to identify their fighting style and if they have any military training. The hacker will notice the technological security as well as the models of the computer systems in the room. He’ll notice the different phones and even the fancy digital watches. The thief will make note of the jewelry and identify any rare pieces of art. She’ll see the original paintings on the walls, ancient statues around the room, and unusual artifacts. Alone, each character would see the room differently, but when we see the room through their eyes, we get a clearer and broader picture.

So that’s all? That’s it?” Well, I could go on a long rant about what makes good description easy to read, but that’s not my place. As a writer, you must discover your own style of writing description. Keep in mind what I said, apply it to what you already do, and see how it all unfolds. The only other piece of advice I can say is, keep it simple but poetic if possible. Movement description—not static.