Details, Details, Details—and No, I Did Not Stutter

There was an interesting blog post in QueryTracker.com about drawing people in with character emotion. To be specific, it was not so much about saying a character was frustrated, but showing through conversation and actions that they are frustrated. It references a guide called The Emotion Thesaurus that lists the sorts of body movements and behaviors that are easily associated with specific types of behaviors.   

I got into a Facebook conversation with a fellow writer about this a month ago or so. I think it was Carol Wills (correct me if I am wrong).

Between the two of this, we came up with a good example:

Jane was mad at Dick

As opposed to

Jane kicked Dick in the balls

The second one is much more interesting.

Something I learned from fellow critique group member Drew Turner was never miss a chance to give the reader a sense of place in the story, especially if it is interesting. I took this into consideration when I was editing my novel Rules for Giving. Early in the story the protagonist, unable to sleep during a particularly vicious heat wave, and because he had a lot on his mind, ends up driving to a nearby homeless encampment and befriends a resident. Even though it was the middle of the night, I included a few details to give a sense of place:

Our conversation drifts into a lull, but it is far from silent. In the middle of the night Tent City still has sounds—a low hum—muffled voices, a seesaw of different people snoring, the rustle of fabric as someone shifts inside their shelter, the sound of coughing fit that comes with years of cigarette smoking. On the other side of the camp someone yells something I can’t make out, followed by a woman laughing.  

One of the hooded sweatshirts walks in our direction. John shifts his feet and puts down his soda. When the sweatshirt has closed the distance by almost half, John, still seated, calls out. “No action here tonight, Tony.” Sweatshirt turns and walks back towards the others milling about.

John relaxes and picks up his drink. “He was hoping you came down here looking for drugs. He’s selling. You have to be careful down here. This place turns on you in a minute.”

Then a few pages later, as the protagonist is preparing to depart:

                Inside the clutter of tents and lean-tos another smoker goes into a coughing fit. The coughing gets louder and I realize the hacker has left their shelter and is outside. The coughing goes on for several minutes before subsiding. Thirty seconds later it is replaced by another noise—the sound of a man urinating with the enthusiasm of a young horse. 

                John clucks his tongue and mutters. “People are supposed to use the outhouses.”

Adding this kind of detail is always a battle for me because it means adding words, but it makes the story much richer.

See ya’ later.

WhatIfYouCouldNotFail.com by Tim Sunderland is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Comments

[Rosanne Dingli]

I loved this book, and am totally glad you showed it to me here. Very timely, too, as I'm at the editing point in my novel where every glance, every look, every nuanced gesture has to mean something. Gratitude, Tim.