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Writer's Read

Wynelda-Ann Deaver

Last night the moon hung low in the sky, pregnant with possibility. I wondered what one of my characters would think if they saw that moon. Would it be full of possibility? Since I write fantasy, would it be a way of marking the seasons? Or an omen? If it had been a harvest moon, it definitely would be an omen.

One of my greatest failures in writing is my ability to create rich details. I tend to focus on character and action when writing. And yet I yearn to become better, to learn to make the setting a vibrant part of my writing. I’ve read books where the setting was almost as much a character as the hero. For example:

“A yellow full moon hung over the city, painting a rippling gold path across the face of the harbor below. The air was dead still, as if the whole city was holding its breath. No sea breeze cut the fetid summer smell of the streets. Ki’s torch hardly flickered as they rode slowly along. The tall stone buildings that lined the high street gave back the clatter of hooves and the mournful throbbing of the drums.” (Hidden Warrior, by Lynn Flewelling, pg. 249)

I want to be able to write like that. Where a few sentences pull the reader not only into the world, but also into the mood of the scene. In five sentences, Flewelling invoked sight, sound, smell. The description of the “fetid summer smell” almost qualifies as taste and touch too. Can you feel the oppression of the heat, the smell? I can.

Authors like Flewelling make me want to become a better writer. I want my readers to feel the same way that they make me feel. I want to be able to take my readers into a whole new world, help them forget the cares of the world. I’m reaching for that next level because of the books I read.

Good talk. Now how does a writer make that goal attainable? How do you even begin to reach for something that seems so far away from where you’re at now? Baby steps, my dear readers, baby steps.

A goal has to be attainable in order for it to mean anything. I’ve chosen things that will help me reach my goal. The first step was to start marking the world around me in my journal. I went out to the park, sat down in the shade provided by the sentry trees, and started writing. I caught bits of dialogue, sights, and sounds. One pine tree looked exactly like a crooked witch’s hat. On top of that tree was a raven. While I sat out there on a lazy Sunday, that raven chased a hawk away. Yes. A raven chased a hawk, protecting its young.

I filled pages and pages in my journal that day. I’ve done it in stolen moments since then, catching the way a sunset looks like an oil painting painted just for me. Or how the two trees where I work change into their fall colors: one is a symphony of red and gold, the other a cacophony of carnival colors.

The second thing I’ve done is to realize that I need to put exactly what I need for feedback in my study group in Writers' Village University. I’ve spoken to some of the members of my group, and they’ve agreed to help me. It helps that almost, if not all, of the members of the group are writers that I admire and trust. If anyone can help me with my goals, it is them.

The next step is to start putting my money where my mouth is. So I’m off, to re-write the first chapter of a novel that I started a while back ago. The characters are wonderful, the story line good. I stopped working on it because I knew that my short-story style of setting would not work in a novel. But I now have the tools to begin to change that style, and an attainable goal.