Grammaropolis
The Writing Company · with the Mayor

Write to Describe

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Write to Describe

When your purpose is to describe, you are not telling the reader about a place. You are handing them somewhere to stand.

Every description hands your reader a place to stand. Here is what a good one carries, and what each part does for the reader.

  1. A place the reader can enter
    Your scene, named in one sentence. The reader should know where they are standing before anything else happens.
  2. One path through it
    A description moves in one direction: top to bottom, near to far, or left to right. Pick one path and keep to it, because a reader who gets marched back and forth stops seeing the place.
  3. Things that act
    The things in the scene do the acting. "The screen door bangs in the wind" puts the reader on the porch. "There is a screen door" only points at one.
  4. More senses than sight
    Give the reader something to hear, smell, or touch. Eyes alone make a photograph. The other senses make a place.
  5. A final detail that lands
    End where your path ends, on the one detail you want the reader to keep. A description does not trail off. It arrives.

Spend your tools

The craft moves you already know still do the work, pointed at a description.

Jake portrait

Jake · Show, do not tell

Could we be more specific? Do not tell me you were nervous. Show me the hands wiped on the jeans, and I will feel it for myself.

I was nervous. I checked the recipe three times and wiped my hands on my jeans.

Nelson portrait

Nelson · Specific nouns

A noun names a person, a place, a thing, or an idea, so name it precisely. "Food" files under vague. "Fried eggs and mashed potatoes" files under done.

We made food. We fried eggs and mashed potatoes.

Vinny portrait

Vinny · Strong verbs

A weak verb just stands there. A strong verb charges in and rescues the whole sentence. The smoke did not go everywhere. It filled the kitchen.

The smoke went everywhere. Smoke filled the kitchen.

Connie portrait

Connie · Sentence variety

A short sentence lands hard. A longer one, joined with a conjunction, gives your reader room to breathe. Try both, and let them take turns.

The butter burned and the kitchen filled with smoke and we opened a window. The butter burned. Smoke filled the kitchen, so we threw open a window and kept going.

The Describe Plan

Same three moves as always, new trip. When your purpose is to describe, the Plan it move is the Path.

The Mayor's Power Plan

  • Pick it. Choose the place worth seeing, and the reader you are putting there.
  • Plan it. Pick your path before you go.
  • Pour it on. Write, and keep pouring: more acting things, more senses, more of what only this place has.

The Path

Pick one way through the scene, and the reader will follow you anywhere.

  1. Name the place: your scene, in one sentence.
  2. Pick one path: top to bottom, near to far, or left to right.
  3. Let the things act: at each stop, something does something.
  4. Feed more than the eyes: at least two other senses.
  5. Land the last detail: end on the one thing the reader should keep.
Watch the Mayor plan it

Watch me run the plan on a place you already know: Garvin's kitchen, halfway through that anniversary dinner.

Pick it. Garvin's kitchen, mid-disaster. My reader has never stood in it. When I am done, they will swear they were there.

Plan it.

  • The place Garvin's bright little kitchen is losing its fight with dinner.
  • One path Near to far. The counter first, then the stove, then the window across the room. No doubling back.
  • What acts Egg white streaks across the counter. Butter smokes in the pan. The window sticks, then gives.
  • More than eyes The butter spits. The smoke goes bitter. The counter's edge is cold under the mess.
  • The last detail The window finally swings open, and the smoke rolls out into the evening.

Pour it on. When I write it out, I hold my path exactly, and I pour on what the notes left out: the hum of the refrigerator, the dish towel hanging crooked on its hook. And notice what I never do. I never walk into the scene. No "I saw," no "there is." The kitchen does all the acting, so the reader forgets a writer was ever there. That is the quiet trick of description.