Descriptive Writing: The Truth is in the Zoned-In Detail

The truth is in the Zoned-in Details

In her marvellous book Reading Like a Writer, Francine Prose says this; 

Details are what persuade us that someone is telling the truth––a fact that every liar knows instinctively and too well...what a relief it is when a detail reassures us that a writer is in control…

Fiction writers need to be excellent liars. Their entire story is made up – of course it is. And it's in the descriptive details that those stories look the most convincing. It's not the Devil that's in the detail, it's where fiction appears to be its most true. 

One of the first things I learnt about describing as a writer of fiction was this, from my own tutor… although we are using words, we are stimulating pictures in a reader’s mind. 

Students of Creative Writing often find this one of the hardest things. I can’t blame them; they want to be able to jump in, feet first, and start creating something whole; making stories, working on plot, writing about action, developing their characters, saying important things to the reading world. 

They may be impatient when told that the first thing they should work on is how to describe. But have you ever read writing so vivid that you felt as if you were actually there? This is description that appeals to the senses — eyes, nose, ears, tongue or skin. The clue is in being specific. I call this ‘zoned-in detail’.

Think back to the last thing you wanted to describe in your writing. A landscape, a neighbourhood, or something smaller; a room, a piece of furniture or an artefact. How did you describe this? Did you use any detail at all? Did you use too much? 

Better to use the right details, of course, but knowing what the right details are is not an easy skill to acquire.

Chekhov was a master of description, in both his drama and in his wonderful short stories. Here's his take on what I call 'zoned-in detail'.

In my opinion a true description of nature should be very brief and have the

character of relevance. Commonplaces such as "the setting sun bathed the waves of the darkening sea, poured its purple gold, etc" – "The sealers flying over the surface of the water tittered merrily" – such commonplaces one ought to abandon. In descriptions of nature, one ought to sieze upon the little particulars, grouping them in such a way that, in reading, when you shut your eyes you get the picture.

I think Chekhov has put it so well. When you describe, take your time and, rather than concentrating on an overall picture, zone-in and look at some small detail that can exemplify the whole. 

Recently, I needed to describe the two oak trees that are a legend in the county of Somerset. Locally called Mog and Magog, they can be found on a country path inside a small enclosure. I tried describing them directly, but it felt flat, so I skirted around, zoned-in and tried to find the right symbolic gestures to allow the reader to 'see the oaks in their mind':

The oaks were almost leafless and white with age, and he was leaning into the further of them, his arms hugging the trunk, which was so broad it would have taken several of us to surround it completely. I rested my hand on the gnarled and weathered bark of the other tree. The day was warm, bees already buzzing in the foxgloves. A woodpecker rapped with furious persistence in the distance.
“Oh, listen,” I whispered.
         Beneath the Tor by Nina Milton, 

I went for the sense of sight, but also touch and hearing, and conveying the image through a person’s actions. What I was trying to avoid was information overload. Readers cannot hold an infinite number of details in their mind at the same time. If I described everything about the trees, my readers would end up sensing none of it.

The strange truth is, the more detail you chose to include, the less boring the writing becomes…moving into close-up is absorbing. On the other hand, skimming over description loses the reader and results in a lacklustre narrative line. What readers want, and love the most, are the details of life as they know it and can recognise it. A writer who can recreate the ‘commonalities’ of life so that they appear fresh and new on the page will engage and entrance their writer. Samuel Johnson said, “The two most engaging powers of an author are to make new things familiar and familiar things new.”

Zoned-in detail gives you the opportunity to use your descriptions to achieve other parts of the Craft of Writing. Good description will often also:

• 
  Reveal and differentiate places and characters
• Enhance mood and atmosphere
• Heighten the reader’s identification with character
• Hint at clues to theme or outcome
• Suggest a larger picture or background information
• Deepen symbolism
• Add jokes and/or moments of depth
• Express the emotions of the narrator
• Add extra zing to the writing by bringing the five senses onto the page.

Looking back at the six lines of description I wrote about Mog and Magog, I wonder myself if I managed any of the above. I certainly didn’t attempt much description of the trees, although later, I do a little more, using dialogue. But, was there atmosphere? Did the narrator’s own feelings come across? Could you guess a little about the man hugging the tree? Were there hints of what might come later in the story? Was there any ‘zing’?

One thing is clear; avoiding description because you don’t think you’ll do it well is not an option – it is one of the building blocks of creative writing.

So, don’t be afraid of zoned-in detail – it makes all the difference – it is the complete opposite of writing huge swathes of description that skim over detail and bore the reader to sleep. By bearing in mind that you don’t have to describe the whole thing, and looking closely at the most interesting parts of the whole, the description is enhanced. The reader won’t want to see it all – that’s like being too close to the screen in the cinema.

Next time you need to describe, remember; in you want to convince your reader of the absolute truth of your story, that truth is in the zoned-in detail.

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