Without description, we wouldn't know what our favorite characters look like. Without description, we would be confused about what was happening in the book. Without description, writing would be bland and choppy.
It's obvious that books need adjectives and adverbs as much as the human body needs oxygen.
I decided to practice description today, obviously. So here is a description of the locker room in a school my basketball team was at recently.
The locker room was even worse. You went down this narrow, creaky little staircase with old-fashioned iron rails right next to radiator pipes. If you happen to grab the wrong one, you get scorched-- I should know. I did. You turned right, and there, with no door on its hinge, was the dungeon-- pardon me, I mean the locker room.
The place smelled like something had died-- and probably someone had, the place is so old. In fact, the graffiti “I was shot here” was scrawled on the wall in shaky pencil. Even though it was probably just a joke, it freaked us all out.
The walls were brick and uneven and painted a sickly yellow. There was a hole in one of the them covered by a yellow board. (We opened it our of curiosity, and heard scurrying noises inside, so slammed it back down.) The floor, also that putrid shade of yellow, was covered in old gum. There was one toilet with a curtain that was too short to close all the way. There was this little pit about a foot deep with dirt for a floor, which I learned had once been a shower. The cracked and dirty mirror was the size of a laptop screen. The two benches were so wobbly, they almost fell over when we put our bags down.
The last detail was a large metal door in the corner. We opened it to find pitch-black darkness, an even stronger smell, and horrible deafening noises. I spent most of the time I was dressing watching that door out of the corner of my eye because I was half afraid some creature would come out of it.
But we were all in good spirits, so we tried to ignore all the unpleasantness and stay cheerful. But no one mentioned the cloud of bitterness towards the ________ School that was hanging around us. We couldn’t help it-- ________ hates us, too. They always treat us like we’re just a bunch of rednecks from down in that hollow we call ______. We’re rivals with them almost as strongly as with __________.
It didn't matter. We were here to win. We'd knock those smirks off their haughty faces soon enough.
It's obvious that books need adjectives and adverbs as much as the human body needs oxygen.
I decided to practice description today, obviously. So here is a description of the locker room in a school my basketball team was at recently.
The locker room was even worse. You went down this narrow, creaky little staircase with old-fashioned iron rails right next to radiator pipes. If you happen to grab the wrong one, you get scorched-- I should know. I did. You turned right, and there, with no door on its hinge, was the dungeon-- pardon me, I mean the locker room.
The place smelled like something had died-- and probably someone had, the place is so old. In fact, the graffiti “I was shot here” was scrawled on the wall in shaky pencil. Even though it was probably just a joke, it freaked us all out.
The walls were brick and uneven and painted a sickly yellow. There was a hole in one of the them covered by a yellow board. (We opened it our of curiosity, and heard scurrying noises inside, so slammed it back down.) The floor, also that putrid shade of yellow, was covered in old gum. There was one toilet with a curtain that was too short to close all the way. There was this little pit about a foot deep with dirt for a floor, which I learned had once been a shower. The cracked and dirty mirror was the size of a laptop screen. The two benches were so wobbly, they almost fell over when we put our bags down.
The last detail was a large metal door in the corner. We opened it to find pitch-black darkness, an even stronger smell, and horrible deafening noises. I spent most of the time I was dressing watching that door out of the corner of my eye because I was half afraid some creature would come out of it.
But we were all in good spirits, so we tried to ignore all the unpleasantness and stay cheerful. But no one mentioned the cloud of bitterness towards the ________ School that was hanging around us. We couldn’t help it-- ________ hates us, too. They always treat us like we’re just a bunch of rednecks from down in that hollow we call ______. We’re rivals with them almost as strongly as with __________.
It didn't matter. We were here to win. We'd knock those smirks off their haughty faces soon enough.
Dear Rebecca,
ReplyDeleteYou are very observant about details. That is a good thing. For a diary or for your blog such a lengthy, detailed description if fine. If you want to use this in a story, it will need to be shortened to a few pertinent and strong details. Too much description is a story slows down the plot and readers lose interest.
Adelaide
Dear Adelaide,
DeleteThank you for taking the time to read. I appreciate the feedback. :)
I've always been obsessed with description, so cutting it down is a bit of a challenge for me. But I'll give it a try!
--Rebecca