Description

Howdy...

Loved your post about your son playing with his balls... but I want to know... who made that statement?

So... I'm wrapping up the final edits on the novel before sending it off, and I've got a monster set of assignments coming up next week, so I'm doing lots of writing work, but not draft writing in the mornings, and I miss it. Even if I didn't have so much other stuff on my plate, I know I'm still not ready to jump into another novel project... Even if I were, my first phase would be brainstorming, prewriting, building characters, etc. (everything I want that software for...)

In the meantime, I wanted to come up with something to work on that allows me to tap the vein... so I don't miss out on that daily bloodletting... I don't want to lose that routine and get stuck in revision/edit world...

While I think I do a good job with story and dialogue and character (finally... that was a long battle, but I think I'm winning...) my biggest personal concern about my writing is that I don't slow down and take the time to really describe (and show) what's around the protagonist, from his/her point of view. I feel like this may be the last bit of the puzzle that I need to tweak... like working that six iron with a bucket of balls, hitting it over and over again until I can feel that sweet spot deep in my knuckles...

So... I'm thinking about spending a little time each morning working on description.

What I really need is to hire a little assistant (don't know why I'm thinking little... but an Oompah Loompah comes to mind... maybe because I don't think they can kick my ass) anyway... I need this little assistant to sit quietly in a corner and then get up and look over my shoulder when I start drafting a story, and randomly scream in my ear, "slow the fuck down, will ya!!" ...let your reader breathe a little bit... let him look around, smell things, touch things, feel things... experience the beauty or the chaos or the wonder or whatever it is about the setting that can and will affect the character's mood and therefore the theme, tone of the scene, etc...

Every once in a while I'm able to pull this off, but I think it may be the Rosetta Stone for me at this point... I feel like I have all of the other pieces of the puzzle under my belt... at least to some degree of mastery... maybe not quite that whole "unconcious mastery" thing... but close. If I can pick up the "slow down and help readers understand where they are, visualize things better, etc." merit badge, then I may just be able to write a real novel some day.

I've got to get cracking on the final edit... I'm tryin to get the manuscript to the post office by noon... but I want to take a little shot at maple trees in the fall.

As a kid, and as an adult living up there before we moved to Florida, I remember stopping on the side of the road to stare... Late fall, established maple trees that stand in ranks along wet roads. Maple trees about my age, giant swollen leaves hungover from their summer indulgence in the sun. They've lost their red and green, but not their physical presence. They are strong, bursting with energy. Ripe and heavy.

And then there's that brilliant yellow. God... that golden yellow against the tree's dark wet trunk, golden yellow swaying softly against the blue sky. I see some that haven't achieved their total golden formation... yellow at the peaks but still a hint of green in the center, rusty brown next to the veins

Looking up I see the shafts of morning sunlight pierce the yellow leaves, electrifying the gold, leaves that have had an out-of-body experience, dropping their green, the hard fall colors, survived the cold winter, ready to become electroplated with the sun's brilliance and become part of all that is gold in the sky... just for a moment before it becomes so much part of the light that it loses its life liquid and its strength and it holds on until a breeze helps it to the earth, to rest with its brothers and sisters and eventually be scooped up by some redneck in the woods who's out of toilet paper...