Amateur writers and hyper describing scenarios?

Why do some amateur writers tend to hyper scribe the smallest and faintest of details in their settings when it does nothing but hurt the flow. It just becomes tiresome to read.

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Because they have no plot or underlying theme in their stories

harsh but it does make sense, how much are you really spending on plot of you describe everything

Amateur writers are trying to show you how great they are. Proficient writers are trying to show you the way.

learning on the page instead of regulating the shit sentences to character studies and form/content/style play here or in a journal. It's like they don't even bother editing everything down to verbs and nouns and connectorthingys.

>the way
read more poetry!

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but do they actually set out to do this because they want to learn character development tho or is it just something the use to over describe scenarios setting etc for the sake of being remembered? or maybe another similar reason?

most poetry sucks tho

I do it for practice. The goal is to become gradually less dependent on physical description and, for characters, to use only a few words to get at their aura. The rest should be done by actions and manners. The supreme example of this, imo, is Conrad's description of the General manager in Heart of Darkness. He's a basically useless character, but the description is perfectly balanced with little reference to physicality or quality.

Fair enough

>less dependand on physical description

what replaces your physical description exposition? plot?

well are you going to tell us how you liked LotR?

what if every book was written like that tho

That's because most people are mediocre.

It's not that physical description should be avoided at all costs, but it's just infinitely more satisfying and natural to progressively display an object/place through its use. Think about Chekov's gun: don't describe a thing if it doesn't have a use, whether physically, emotionally, tonally. So for example in Raymond Carver's "Cathedral", which is a pretty bare text in terms of detail, we know that the blind man has a beard because he has a habit of tugging on it, and we know the sizing and layout of the room not because he takes up a block of text to describe it but instead shows us its space through the placement of characters as they move around, sit down, lounge, etc. The urge to immediately "define your terms" is something I myself still have a big problem with, and it seems like it's a habit that a lot of starting writers do. There's no rush, and if you're able to just pin-point a couple of relevant things about the space: maybe we know a room has blinds on the windows because of the way its shadows fall on the character/thing/etc of focus, maybe we learn that a table has coffee stains on it because a character is placing something right next to it, or that these coffee stains are evidence to the character's coffee addiction, or something.

It gets really difficult, and this I'm fucking horrible at, when you actually want to follow a sort of ornate/decadent style. So if you read pic related from Invisible Cities, you see that it's pretty object-heavy in its description, but it somehow gets constructed in such a way that each individual objects doesn't distract from the greater image. For one, Calvino here is playing with description itself, and immediately brings our attention to "describing" as a concept. The two sorts of descriptions here can be crudely divided into "information" vs a sort of "emotive/personal" relation. The former works so well because it has movement to it: each item brings you closer to the city (towers -> walls -> gates -> bridges -> canals -> houses -> chimneys -> inhabitants -> their families/jobs). In both, the description of each thing is, in a way, very basic ("aluminum towers", "green canals", "fine teeth", "colored banners", etc.) because their qualities are really shown in their relations and actions. You see the fine teeth of the women because they're looking in your eyes, presumably smiling. And because he's trying to paint a city in all of its relations, he doesn't need to dwell on every individual item. In other words, each descriptor keeps in mind the previous, and in their construction of adjective-noun keeps a light structure. Every item has a purpose in the greater picture.

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Because they came to think of this as a major part of the artistry, having been bred on long winded novels or cliches thereof, where the writer's expected to be oh-so perceptive about everythign and give you the little details every shitty trivial scenarios, since he writes and publishes them in monthly installments or something...
The solution is drilling all new writers in epic, drama, and earlier novels (14-17th cent.), where narrative and characterization take first place and description a subordinate role. Description can be very helpful, but should be ancillary to plot and character. We should all reread Lessing's Laocoon, too.

>having being bred on long winded novels
I think they're bred on the *idea* of these novels. They think because Proust can rabble on about beds, chairs, and cookies anyone can do it, when precisely Proust's gift is being able to make these descriptions meaningful and not just excessive similies. Same goes for the major decadence writers

thanks for typing all this to explain your views

I understand the need of being descriptive within the context of a story, faulting a writer being descriptive about something when it fits the narrative is just dumb

Chekovs gun is what I thought of when I made the op as well, one must ask if every amateur writer will grow out of writing hyper descriptive content which is descriptive for the sake of being descriptive or if it being regulated is something that would hurt the creativity of a writer

anyway good luck with your writing

lol. My favorite hyper-description is "Joe said, tilting his head down as if to look sad."

Thanks for writing that up. I like building things in terms of scope, as well. When describing things—be it an object, place, or event—I tend to use a scope similar to that of OSASCOMP1. When I'm struggling I tend to visualize myself as an ignorant person being introduced to that thing ("X") for the first time. What are my immediate opinions of X? How big is X? How long has X been a thing? What is the particular makeup of X, and where did X come from? Now that my familiarity is established, how can I engage with X? How are these other people engaging with X?

When describing actions, I tend to use something similar to a temporal Fibonacci. So, say you're describing someone leaving a party, yeah? He says goodbye to his friends, he grabs his jacket, he makes sure he has everything, he opens the door and walks out, he makes sure the door shuts safely behind him, etc. If you adopt some heuristic for inclusion of detail, however, you might end up with something like this:

(1) Jon decides to leave the party.
(1) Jon slips on his jacket.
(2) Jon waves goodbye to his friend.
(3) Jon makes his way awkwardly toward the door.
(5) Jon pulls the door shut behind him.
(8) Jon gropes his inside pocket for his car keys.
(13) Jon feels a pang of regret as he turns the engine over.
(21) Jon pulls out of the driveway and onto the main drag.

Since time grows increasingly distant with each of Jon's actions, the narrative effect is an illusion of temporal progress. You can couple this consciously with scope, as well:

Jon glances at Grace, an ex-girlfriend of his, as she's getting it on with Chad McShad.
Jon slips on his sweatshirt jacket, his demeanor embodying the socially awkward shoegaze grunge playing over the host's sound system.
Jon gestures with two figures toward the host, locks eyes briefly, then exchanges a curt nod.
Jon fumbles around the other partygoers on his way to the door, occasionally apologizing under his breath as people bump drunkenly into him.
Jon pulls the door shut, slamming it just enough to let those inside know that someone has left prematurely.
Jon gropes his inside pocket for the keys to his 1996 Camry, white-knuckling them on his way to the car.
Jon curses at himself as he slides the key into the ignition. His eyes are welling up and making it a little hard to see make out the dash lights.
Jon pulls out into traffic, his engine sputtering as he accidentally shifts from fourth to sixth.

Now we see a narrowing scope of his social setting (big party alone in his car) and emotional state (generally awkward upset depressed) in addition to a temporal progression.

1 OSASCOMP is a mnemonic for remembering adjective order: opinion, size, age, shape, color, origin, material, purpose. These can, of course, be changed depending on the application, but it's useful to illustrate narrative scope.

>or if it being regulated is something that would hurt the creativity of a writer
Yeah. I think Chekov's gun is just a rule-of-thumb that shows how more generally good description works. I think a counterpoint to all of this would be Nabakov, whose descriptors are sometimes just for pure self-indulgent aesthetic pleasure: but they work, because he's a masterful fuckin writer, and as you've said young writers tend to be too focused on wanting to look smart. This might be another difference: Nabakov doesn't give a damn how smart you think he is, he just thoroughly enjoys how his words fit together, and because of that pleasure spends a long time making sure each word flows correctly to make an image, regardless of how well they fit into the "plots" of his stories.

Also, these narrative developments can play on each other. You can get some interesting effects when, say, reversing his emotional state vector (suggesting he's an erratic or impulsive person) or allowing the temporality to progress linearly (conveying a sense of immediacy, as though the reader joins the protagonist in an awkward situation they can't escape from).

Apparently I can't footnote. Sorry.

>qualities are shown through relations and actions

nice articulation of something I felt for a long time but could not express

that's week one in any creative writing course, kiddo

Remember when in school your shitty teacher told you that "the curtains were blue" meant this deep fucking melancholy, depression, sadness, etc?

That's what amateur writers do with over-describing shit. They have underlying ideas and meanings in their heads behind those descriptions and assume they're fucking deep for doing it too. Some will even get defensive, thinking the reader is a brainlet for not picking up on whatever he had in mind with it's over-done description.

what's week two

is adjective order a new convention? is this something you learn in undergraduate or graduate writing programs? I've never heard of this.

Thanks, OP. Best thread this side of the cambrian tablet etching company.
I'm challenged by trying to write about chemical reactions in cooking and I'm wondering if I'm destined to create something too difficult to read and not rewarding. I try to build some sense of suspense by explaining how things could easily fail if the cook is not careful and a bit fortunate, but i'm largely describing different chemistries. And I cannot say there's anything as stirring and painterly as your example. I wish I had refined these skills in school, because skillfully described action is probably something you can only improve and better after much feedback. The writer's tool set is really laid bare by this type of thing. Thank you for giving me a great deal to think about, even if its mainly a great deal of doubt.

Thanks, although in retrospect I kindof wish I didint just take the first image that happened to seem fitting.

If your book is about a set of facts you shouldnt be reluctant to put it in. What I meant in the op was writers that were overly descriptive without it fitting the narrative. Something which doesnt add anything to the quality or storytelling of the book. But if you are writing something with more of a scientific basis describing things isint considered a bad thing? Just a thought.

I offer two screenshots from Donald Barthelme's "The Balloon" that wows me with how quickly it creates in your head a pretty strange story.

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Yeah it is pretty gripping but this fever dream esque fascination with something we would all consider mundane not only fits the narrative but almost borders on the fringe of surrealism, it fits the narrative perfectly imo and dare I say, makes the story interesting

But what if it was a conversation between 2 people in the street which were talking about a plot related item with the purpose of furthering the plot and every small detailed was being explained between sentences which has nothing really to do with anything (ie doesnt fit in narrative wise), and doesnt adhere to chekovs gun or the dialog at hand. There would be no need for it and come across as filler much like a teen looking to reach a word count

anyway im going to bed

Never read it :)