When I beta read for people, one of the most common pitfalls I see is the tendency to describe EVERYTHING. And I do mean EVERYTHING. Of course, in school, when we're learning to write, our English teachers drill the "more details, more details, more details" mantra into our fragile, pliable little brains. We're taught to describe everything down to its most minute detail, while being directed to various classics as examples of "See? This is how it's done."
And for some, yes, that's how it's done. In the eras in which those classics were written, authors were paid by the word. Naturally, you're going to spend a few paragraphs verbally whittling a tree down to its last pine cone if it means a few more cents to buy bread. That does not, however, mean that today's writer should follow suit. I've especially noticed some fantasy writers - probably trying to imitate the endlessly verbose JRR Tolkien - will spend pages describing things that really aren't important. Or, more to the point, aren't relevant.
Description and details aren't bad things of course, but there's a little thing called moderation, and it can be a tricky thing to learn. The fact is, when it comes to details, less is often more. Don't describe everything in the room. Make your descriptions count. So how do you decide which details to include?
Here, I'm specifically focusing on setting, but the principles apply to describing characters too.
Let's say we have a scene that takes place on a movie set. Now, as soon as you read that, you had an instant picture in your mind. Maybe you pictured an outdoor set. Maybe a soundstage set up like someone's living room. Whatever the case, "movie set" immediately brings an image to mind.
Now, there's two ways a writer can go into a scene. I can describe every detail: the upholstry on the couch, the color of the director's chair, the cameras, the boom mics, the bright lights, etc. Or, I can simply leave it at "movie set". Maybe mention that it's a soundstage. Now you know we're indoors. You and I may have the cameras arranged a little differently, or the furniture on the set might be different colors, but we're both on the same page. Unless there is a reason for you to know how many cameras are there, what kind of lights are on, what kinds of food are laid out on the table off to the side, and whether or not the eccentric director's dog is lying at his feet, it really doesn't matter if we see things exactly the same way.
So, instead of going on about the movie set, my personal preference is to go right into answering the question that should be on the reader's mind: "Okay, I'm here. Now what's going to happen?" Throw in some mention of noise if there is any, the smell of coffee if it's there, something to that effect, but I'm going to get you on the movie set and roll right into the story, because that's why you're with me in the first place. You're here for the drama, not the wallpaper.
Let's move on to another scene. Now we're in the living room of another character who has been recently introduced. With regard to the room, we are again faced with choices, in this case, four of them:
1. Describe everything down to the last coaster on the coffee table, making absolutely sure the reader knows exactly what the room looks like, where everything is, and how the DVDs are organized.
2. Pick out a few details to give a basic idea of what the room looks like. (Black leather furniture, a few pictures on the wall, etc., and leave it at that)
3. Describe nothing. Let "cabin" and "living room" cue the reader's mind to fill in the blanks. (I mean, really, does the reader need to know exactly what the room looks like? If not, just walk into the living room and leave it at that. Move on to the relevant information)
4. Pick out a few details from the room to describe the recently introduced character. Simple but elegant taste. Tables cluttered with papers and such. Immaculately clean or beer cans and chip bags all over the coffee table. All of those give us an idea of what the room looks like, but tell us even more about the character who lives there AND the character who's perceiving it.
Personally, I don't think you can go wrong with 2-4 depending on what you're trying to accomplish with the scene. Option 1 is often boring and tedious unless masterfully done, and even then, will leave me as the reader thinking, "Is there a reason I need to know this?" And therein lies the key: Give every detail a reason to be there.
Of course environmental and sensory details are important. I'm not saying they aren't. Quite the contrary, actually: They're so important that they should be used sparingly and judiciously so that each one registers in the reader's mind. If I spend three pages describing an office, then another three pages describing the kitchen, then another three describing the bathroom, when I get to the living room and mention the half-empty bottle of Smirnoff sitting next to a wrinkled stack of tabloid magazines, you might easily go right past the bottle and the magazines. If the descriptions are kept to a minimum, then I zoom in on the vodka and tabloids, you're going to raise an eyebrow and think, "Hmm, there's a reason for those. I will remember them."
Less is more. Much more.
As another example, I beta read a friend's novel not long ago. It's an historical set in ancient Egypt, and like me, that author tends to be more spartan with description, highlighting just enough to trip your synapses and let your brain fill in the rest. Very effective, in my not-so-humble and somewhat-biased-because-I-do-the-same-thing opinion.
After a few chapters, there comes a scene in which she shifts gears...she describes a setting in great detail, with some very unique and odd imagery. Had she been describing everything all along, the details of this setting might have escaped my notice -- I might have even started skimming -- but because she'd rationed details from the beginning, it made me pause. "There's a reason she's telling me this," I said to myself. It made me sit up and take notice, because her writing had conditioned me to understand that everything she tells me is relevant, important, and significant. When the scene unfolded, it was very powerful, and the images leading up to it only served to make it more so.
As for using descriptions to tell more about characters than setting, this is an example from one of my own books of how I do it:
Though I was still getting to know him, every inch of this place just screamed “Andrew.” Neatly arranged books filled the cases that covered one wall of his office. Opposite the bookcases, the walls were adorned with a few framed photos and awards highlighting his career on the force.
Unembellished, black-lacquered furniture in both the living room and bedroom. Photos of, judging by the striking resemblance, family members all along the hallway and on the occasional shelf or table.
It was all undeniably Andrew. It was possible, though, that it was neither the simple furniture nor sparse décor that kept his name at the forefront of my mind. It could have been the look I caught his reflection giving me in the glass of a picture frame. It might have been related to the way he casually rested his hand on the small of my back when we moved from one room to the next.
Or maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the way both conversation and respiration dwindled to almost nothing when we were in his bedroom. The one room in the house I wanted to be in more than any other. If his expression was any indication, he was on the same page.
The precise details of the house are unimportant. What's important is what those details say about Andrew, and what the perception of them say about the POV character.
Bottom line:
Give your readers some credit. Don't spoonfeed them every last detail of the mundane and irrelevant, or you will completely desensitize them so that by the time an important detail comes out, it won't be as dramatic.
Make every detail count. If you're describing someone's living room, give me a reason to care how the furniture is arranged, whether or not it matches, and what knicknacks are on the mantle. For the love of God, if you're going to spend a page and a half telling me about a chair, you'd better be subtly telling me about something besides the damned chair.
Less is more. Subtlety has more impact. Don't insult your reader's intelligence.
