How’s that title for blatant hyperbole? It raises a question worth discussing, however; exactly what role does description play in fiction? This morning, I read a post on Writer Unboxed that discusses descriptive passages and their use in genre fiction. As I read, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Before I could even get to the end of the article, I was sputtering with outrage. (Note to self: cut back on the caffeine.) “Of course description is important!” I yelled to the dog. But is it?

Absolutely. And to be fair to the Writer Unboxed author Kathleen Bolton, she clearly thinks so, too. The question is, when is it too much? I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve got a little problem with description—in fact, I’m hooked on the stuff. I come from a visual arts background, and I see my world in colors and shapes first and foremost. As I hone my fiction skills, I find that descriptive passages are by far the easiest to write, and the easiest to abuse.

My acid test for any descriptive passage is this simple question: does the description serve the story? It’s no use blathering on for a page about how the sunlight looks in the late afternoon as it pierces the high dusty windows if the reader just wants to know where Jeeves went, and why that blood-stained cheese grater is under the buffet. For me, illustrating with word-pictures is all about setting the emotional tone of a scene. Consider this, from my work-in-progress mystery, Last Thursday:

At its zenith, this was a working-class enclave of bright little bungalows, but the passage of time sits heavily. Formerly proud façades have been replaced with cheap siding, once generous porches have been walled in to make drafty front bedrooms. Chain link fences sprout along property lines, lending the neighborhood the charm of a prison camp.

On its face, this paragraph simply describes a neighborhood. The reason I used it where I did, however, is for its subtext. My main character is moving from a cheerful, vibrant arts district to the neighborhood beyond. He’s on foot, giving him time to take in the details. I’d write this very differently if he were cruising through on a motorcycle. One of the themes that pervade the novel is the antagonist relationship of art to commerce. My character lives on the boundary between the two, constantly ping-ponging from one side to the other. My hope is that passages like the one above will underscore that in a subtle way without forcing the reader to skip ahead. Oh, did I mention that I’m also working harder at keeping these descriptions short? It’s not easy, let me tell ya.

One trick I’ve found helpful when stuck for description is to bring it back to the body—that is, explain how the scene affects the narrator physically. If I’m having problems seeing the scene, I switch senses to describe how it sounds, how it smells, even how it feels. Before I know it, I’m off and running again.

I could go on writing for days, but I think I’ll spread this topic out to more posts. Keep an eye out for the next installment!