Oh, WOW, I have *never* heard anyone talk about the difference between a visual person who writes, and an auditory person who writes, and explain it so well.
nods Yes, that "thinking you've covered your descriptive bases when you really only have it in your mind" isn't limited to beginning writers. It's a steep problem for visual writers, too.
I find that reassuring. I'm a very non-visual writer (kinesthetic), and unless I do it consciously, my stories happily take place in empty spaces, with a few evocative descriptors - the hunters' camp, limestone valleys, renaissance town house, library - thrown in. I know what it feels like to be in any of those places. What do you mean, that's not enough?
What I find so eternally frustrating is that while I do sometimes write something that I think is fantastic, I never know whether the next thing will suck or not. Because honestly, sometimes it does suck, and sometimes it's just okay. And sometimes it's fantastic. But the non-repeatability keeps me from writing long smug happy posts on what a great writer I am.
Luckily, I tend to enjoy re-reading my own work. Not because it's great, just because if it hits even a level of reasonable competence, I'll enjoy it. Because basically, I write what I want to read.
Yeah--matociquala talked about that, too. kateelliott also did, some weeks back. I wonder if some of that is that the goals for specific projects can change so much, leaving us feeling like we're reinventing the beginnings yet again. I dunno.
Yeah, if I don't read in "can this be saved?" mode, I too enjoy my own stuff, but I don't read it, I skim to reset the images.
Writing, like iaido or any other goal I can think worthy of pursuit, is not a closed-ended question. One's focus changes with one's understanding. This is growth.
We, as writers, often reject our earlier efforts. I think these should be embraced as part of the process, and evidence of work accomplished.
Yes--the script thing I think is common to many writers.
I've also found, as a reader, that description can become labored. The notion of swift evocation of the "right" detail that instantly builds a scene might be a willo-the-wisp but it's worth chasing anyway.
Telling detail is something I'm still trying to master. Part of the problem is that it needs to resonate with the readers, so you're trying to use familiar clichees without making them _seem_ clicheed and without destroying the sense of 'not in Kansas'. It's a thin line to tread.
What has helped me is to borrow from photography and think of a scene as dynamic. If you describe something as 'there is this and there is that and there is something else' you're comitting the equivalent of a perfectly adequate, but perfectly boring photograph. Good images draw the eye - it falls on one item and gets directed to another, and from there might move to a third, until you have traversed the whole of the image. Try and grasp everything in one go, and you're likely to fail. In order for this to work, you need to emphasize some elements; and they need to be connected somehow. In writing, that connection can be language - a parallel construction, for instance.
I'm like that - dialogue, stage directions, internalisation for me. (I'm a kinesthetic writer). And congratulations on knowing that you need to put more description etc *in* - for years, I tried to take the too-much dialogue and internalisation _out_, which was, of course, doomed, since everything I had in there contributed to the story. I mostly ended up putting the description in, and _then_ taking the internalisation and in-speech-infodumping out. And I'm getting better at it, honest, guv.
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nods Yes, that "thinking you've covered your descriptive bases when you really only have it in your mind" isn't limited to beginning writers. It's a steep problem for visual writers, too.
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Luckily, I tend to enjoy re-reading my own work. Not because it's great, just because if it hits even a level of reasonable competence, I'll enjoy it. Because basically, I write what I want to read.
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Yeah, if I don't read in "can this be saved?" mode, I too enjoy my own stuff, but I don't read it, I skim to reset the images.
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We, as writers, often reject our earlier efforts. I think these should be embraced as part of the process, and evidence of work accomplished.
Reply
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I've also found, as a reader, that description can become labored. The notion of swift evocation of the "right" detail that instantly builds a scene might be a willo-the-wisp but it's worth chasing anyway.
Reply
What has helped me is to borrow from photography and think of a scene as dynamic. If you describe something as 'there is this and there is that and there is something else' you're comitting the equivalent of a perfectly adequate, but perfectly boring photograph. Good images draw the eye - it falls on one item and gets directed to another, and from there might move to a third, until you have traversed the whole of the image. Try and grasp everything in one go, and you're likely to fail. In order for this to work, you need to emphasize some elements; and they need to be connected somehow. In writing, that connection can be language - a parallel construction, for instance.
Reply
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