“When I'm writing, I am concentrating almost wholly on concrete detail…the colour a room is painted, the way a drop of water rolls off a wet leaf after a rain.”
- Donna Tartt
Whenever I am trying to explain what it’s like to redraft a scene, I always fall back on the same metaphor. I explain that to me at least, writing fiction is like doing a massive painting.
First, I sketch out rough shapes: “that’s kind of what a woman looks like,” I say to myself, squinting at my blob. Then I add some blotches of colour: swipe “there’s some dress”, splat “I guess that's the hair…?”. When I redraft, I’m trying to paint in the details on top of the vague shape and the puddles of colour. “Come on, Olive,” I think, “we’ve really got to give this woman some eyelashes… or even just some eyes!”.
It’s the process of layering on very specific detail. It’s true that overwriting can become dull, but the right kind of detail can turn, for example, a hackneyed setting into an authentic space in the reader’s mind. A place in which they feel they can move about and pick things up.
Donna Tartt is the master of precise, lyrical description. Here is her description of the twin’s home in The Secret History:
“Stepping inside, one found oneself in a small living room with slanted walls and dormer windows. The armchairs and the lumpy sofa were upholstered in dusty brocades, threadbare at the arms: rose patterns on tan, acorns and oak leaves on mossy green.
[…]
In Charles’s room, clothes were scattered on the rug and a rich confusion of ties hung from the door of the wardrobe; Camilla’s night table was littered with empty teacups, leaky pens, dead marigolds in a water glass”
Here she shows us not just some armchairs in a living room but the detail of the roses, acorns and oak leaves that decorate those chairs. She gives us not just flowers in Camilla’s room, but specifically marigolds in a glass. Dead ones.
Creative Writing Task:
For this exercise, think of a place that you know very well. I recommend somewhere you have not been in a long time but know intimately. For example, your primary school classroom, your grandmother’s home, the café or pub you used to work in.
1. Write out a list of specific objects that you remember from that place.
For example:
The tent I slept in in Naxos:
Sleeping bag
Sleeping mat
Small pillow
Straw mat
2. Now go back to each item and try to write as much detail about it as possible.
For example:
Sleeping bag - dark blue on the outside, the kind that isn’t really waterproof but just a little shiny, the inside is soft, smells like hay, the zip always unclips so that it hangs open.
Sleeping mat - thin, green on one side, black on the other, inch layer of air between you and the floor, toggle on one end to breath into. I always thought the toggle looked like a piece of liquorice.
Small pillow - I hate this pillow. It is just about bigger than a hardback book. It’s got cotton wool on the inside and somehow has room for lumps too.
Straw mat - we always scavenge the mats from other campers. I loved them as a child. They are always covered in tiny pebbles and dry sand by the end of the third day, but I never mind.
If you want you can repeat this for any of your senses - not just what you can see but smells, textures, sounds perhaps taste.
3. Once you have assembled your lists, try your hand at recreating that space on the page.
4. Once you have completed your description, put it aside and maybe have a cup of tea or a snack. When you come back, go over what you’ve just written and cut it down by about a third.
What you have left should be a well-crafted setting that your reader can really envision.
And if this process worked for you, perhaps try it out the next time you feel like a character or setting needs a little something extra… like eyelashes!