Description for the Minimalist Writer (1)

The minimalist writer is one with a tendency for brevity, who likes to get to the point and drive past it, pushing through to the exciting bits. I recently ran into just such a writer in one of my workshops, and she reminded me a little of me when I was a bit newer to the game. I have learned to slow down and capture the moment, but it took years of pratice.

First of all, close your eyes. Now, describe what your senses tell you about your environment. I’ll go first:

From off to the left, I hear the constant, never-ceasing whir of the server’s fan as it attempts to cool machinery that is too old and stored in a rather unfortunate location — a closet near the top of the house. It is often hot up here, though this morning is cool and the top of the house feels pleasant. Summer is coming, however; and I will need to spend less time up here in the afternoons. The chair beneath me is made of a rough, somewhat cheap leather that clings to my skin where it touches, but it is a vast improvement over the chair I had a month ago, which had completely lost its padding. The air up here is comforting and filled with a scent so familiar I cannot identify it. I only know logically that it is not scentless.

With my eyes closed, I can hear, feel, taste, smell, and remember. Even when my eyes are closed, my mind knows my familiar surroudnings. If I weren’t in familiar surroundings, if I were, say, blindfolded and forced into an unknown location, I would still make those mental connections.

The first thing a minimalist writer needs to understand is that description need not be mechanical or boring. You can set the stage, put us (the reader) in a room full of personality and memories. The color of the walls, the location of the windows, whether or not there are drapes or blinds…none of this is nearly as important as how your character observes and interacts with the world around her.

One of the biggest struggles I had as a writer were those creative writing exercises where they made me write a thousand words about the ceiling (or something). Can I be honest? I can barely see the ceiling (visual impairment). It’s white and has a popcorn finish. Staring up at the ceiling reminds me more of me and my limitations than anything else, much like staring at the stars in the sky. I think most humans are a bit egocentric like that.

Does that mean it’s a mistake to describe a room in painstaking detail, bringing a location to life more vividly than the character even imagines it? No! But I’m talking to the minimalist writer right now, which probably means you have a tendency to skim those paragraphs when you’re reading. (Come on, let’s be honest.) If that’s you, then my first general piece of advice is this:

Make it about the character.

This strategy makes each word you write more relevant, more meaningful, and as a result, more interesting. Instead of skipping to the good parts, you’re making every part good, and every part useful. You’re stepping beyond plot, and beginning to tell a story, one that comes to life when you populate it.

This is too complex a topic for a single blog post, so I’m going to make it a series. Keep an eye out over the next few weeks for more suggestions and more writing exercises. Next week…stepping through action: the play by play.