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Writing thread!
I don& #39;t usually do writing threads, but going off a post from @SharadeeReads about info-dumping a character& #39;s appearance all at once, let& #39;s talk about delivering details within the happenings of the story, instead of throwing them at the reader like a cannonball.
I don& #39;t usually do writing threads, but going off a post from @SharadeeReads about info-dumping a character& #39;s appearance all at once, let& #39;s talk about delivering details within the happenings of the story, instead of throwing them at the reader like a cannonball.
We& #39;ll try it like this: Your character goes into a room. (I& #39;ve read so many books that describe the entire room in a long introductory paragraph.) They open the door and... let& #39;s say the door creaks. That tells us it& #39;s probably an older room. Maybe unused with the creaking door.
They want something in the room. Something on a table. They take a step forward. The floor is gritty beneath their feet. So we know it& #39;s a bare floor. It& #39;s dirty. They continue on, their footsteps loud in the quiet space. So the room is empty. Maybe the entire building.
They arrive at the table, they reach to pick up what they want, the wood of the table scraping beneath their fingernails. So now we know it& #39;s a bare wooden table, no tablecloth. They pick up the object. Knife. Poison. VHS of Sweatin& #39; the Oldies. Etc.
But let& #39;s say it& #39;s a knife (because knives are fun.) The handle is cold, hard, shaped to their grip. The off-white of bone. But we don& #39;t dwell too long on that, just enough to give us the feel of the knife in our hand for a moment. And then they turn, and light hits the blade.
So where does the light come from? A lamp? Fire? A window? If a window, it could be sunlight. Then we know there are no curtains, or they& #39;re open. If fire, then we know there& #39;s heat, there& #39;s someone around to build a fire. They pause. Hear the breath of another person.
They turn. Someone is standing in the doorway. Their hair/coloring can stand out against or merge with the shadows behind them. They can be tall, filling up the narrow doorway. Or short, and the room around them suddenly seems imposing.
The main character approaches them, still holding the knife. A heavy knife, so now we know it& #39;s large, or we can use this opportunity to show that the main character is tired, or weak, or small, or none of those things and the weight of it feels like the weight of fear.
They walk up to this newcomer, and they& #39;re close enough to see more details. Maybe a stain on the other person& #39;s clothing. A ragged edge, showing that they& #39;re poor, that they& #39;ve been in a fight, that they don& #39;t care about their appearance. Or everything about them is impeccable.
They raise the knife. Palms slick with sweat. With fear? With excitement? Because the room is hot? Because of the fire? Because the character has a fever? Because because because.
I try to remember that every small action has the potential to open up a dozen avenues to both the writer and the reader, giving out details of appearance and character like a trail of bread crumbs in the woods. I may not always manage it, but it& #39;s a good thing to keep in mind.
