So, if three years ago a geologist told you a dinosaur bone was 100,000,000 years old, does that now make the bone 100,000,003 years old? I pose this question because, when I write, I’m constantly fiddling with the details and calculating their effects, such as conveying a crisp visual image while, simultaneously, keeping a brisk narrative pace. Imagery vs. Pace. I want the story to move forward at a certain speed, yet provide the details that permit you, the reader, to easily visualize the scene. For example, yesterday I fiddled with this sentence: “He’d gained her trust, then smothered her with the blue pillow while she slept.” But I had just mentioned “the blue pillow” a few sentences before, so I ended up (for now, at least) deleting that phrase: “He gained her trust, then smothered her while she slept.” This deletion exemplifies my lean, relatively minimal style. In other words, in most cases I trust the reader’s imagination to fill in the blanks with remembered details. But wait! How about, “He gained her trust, then smothered her”?
Quote of the Day: “Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” William Wordsworth