Writing Scenic Details Is A Delicate Balance

As I crafted the opening of a difficult scene, my instructor encouraged me to add more detail to the narration.  Instead of simply writing about a trip to the school supply aisle at a local superstore, I inserted facts like” #2 pencils, Bic blue ballpoints, and graph paper.  I even added the store’s name. When I was finished with revision, those additions and others raised the level of the opening narrative from flat to pulsing.

Satisfied, I submitted the piece to be work shopped by a writing group I had joined. Work shopping your writing is not for the faint of heart.  You need to check your ego at the door, be open-minded, and listen patiently while fellow wordsmiths carve up your baby. I’ve survived this process in other writing classes without hiring a therapist.  Although I admit that sometimes I stop writing for a few days, take a lot of really long walks, and call my mother (she loves the extra attention).

As expected, my new writing group offered feedback for revision and restructuring.  I exited class with a file bulging with their written comments. I resolved to address the alterations in the morning.  Beyond the line edits, adjusting dialogue tags, and varying word choice, the piece seemed to be moving in the right direction. I felt satisfied until I discovered an astonishing comment.

One of my colleagues had taken issue with some of my scenic details. In the margins of several pages was written the word, ‘bragging’.  This comment appeared next to the text: “on the historic street where I lived”; “the gold damask sofa”; “three-car garage that used to be a barn”; “my skinny, wobbly legs”; and the name of the restaurant where an important dinner transpired.  Bragging, as it related to adding juice to my writing, was a criticism I’d never encountered before. I considered again the adjectives I’d inserted. While they may have sounded to the reader as bragging, my intent had been to provide accurate information while injecting zest into the piece.  I concede that I could remove “gold” or “damask” from the sofa mention, “historic” as it describes the street, and “skinny” from describing my legs, but I hadn’t considered them distracting much less a brag. The restaurant mention I deemed vital, as it designated the place as being special, not just a lunch at Corner Bakery. Furthermore, I would argue that a converted barn almost always ends up as more than a one-car garage. Although, I could cut that entirely and not lose any sleep.  

The point is that my descriptions rattled a reader and took him out of my story. That admission impelled me to seriously consider the writing.  As I reviewed the other critiques, it became clear that the entire class did not share the ‘bragging’ objection. Which is the second point. Every reader has a unique perspective that they infer onto whatever they read.  I’d only lost one reader. Such is the delicate balance that writers face in revising their work with readers in mind. Ultimately, the writer makes the choice to add or delete. I cut the barn phrase, took out skinny and wobbly and left everything else.

As writers, we must remind ourselves that not all readers will appreciate our craft.  Different techniques may distract a reader. That risk is always there. As we consider criticism about our work, it is the writer’s choice as to when and where to make changes.  In the end, we have to just keep writing, and remember that not every reader is our target audience.

“As writers, we must remind ourselves that not all readers will appreciate our craft.”