DESCRIPTION in MIDDLE-GRADE NOVELS

 

Those who write picture book texts know that descriptive passages are best left out for the art. But what about novels for middle grade readers? They are (usually) not illustrated. Surely, there’s room for descriptive passages telling of landscapes, indoor settings and physical details of characters.

Time was, there were ample spaces in the narration for such. Something happened to change this. Middle Grade books written today are better served keeping descriptions to a minimum.

In fact, the how-to mavens insist that these passages are too “telly," an anathema to the show-don’t-tell principle of strong writing.

Descriptions also slow the action, and if there’s anything more verboten, it’s slow-moving  plot.

Then, there’s the matter of descriptions tending to quiet the tone, and “too quiet” is another no-no.

 

But-but-but you say. How is a setting to come alive? How would a character be more than their dialogue words? Does the young reader ever gets to smell the roses?

It isn’t that novels for young readers are to be devoid of all description, say the mavens. Just be economical. Have setting or physical characteristics be inferred by actions of dialogue. By all means, insert a sentence here and there pertaining to a descriptive detail. What a writer should avoid is long, languid, lulling descriptions we all read if we read the classic books of yore. La-di-da and all that.

It’s a reminder that we’re competing for shorter attention spans conditioned by video games and motion pictures.

 

I know this is solid advice, but it makes me sad. Some of the best writing I’ve encountered in my life bore the vestments of detailed descriptions that went on for pages. But the world of literary commerce has moved on.

 

Some months back, I served as a beta reader to a talented writing friend’s middle grade story, whose descriptive paragraphs were beautifully done. In my humble opinion, her strongest writing lay in those paragraphs. It hurt to suggest she might consider cutting them out or changing the way the settings materialized on the page. But nineteenth-century writing does not work well in the twenty-first century.

 

A new era requires new skills. No use fuming or crying about it.

Do You Have a Favorite Room?

 

There are beautiful coffee-table books about rooms. Rooms where famous people live, rooms where important events took place, rooms that matter.

Then there are decorators' pride rooms. Rooms that exemplify styles, show off design know-how, or used to teach Feng Shui = notions of balance and flow.

 

In the end, beyond all abstractions, are the rooms we live in. They are both neat and messy (depending on the moment), cozy and annoying (when things just don’t feel right), and most of all they are ours.

 

When my kids were little, their room was my favorite. It had the most design integrity and remarkable functionality, carefully put together for their respective arrivals. Now that the room is a guest room and a storage room for the belongings they chose to leave with us, it holds little charm for me.

 

My current favorite is my bedroom. Its corner is my office, i.e. where I write. It is the favorite hangout for three felines who confirm the room’s supremacy.

If you love to cook, perhaps your most-loved room is your kitchen. If you garden, maybe you managed a sunroom. If you are fond of bathing, maybe your bathroom is the one you favor.

 

As comments on Blogger don’t accommodate photos, sharing your favorite here will have to rely on descriptive abilities. This brings me to the writerly side of this post. Describing rooms in a way that makes them come alive and doesn’t cause reader’s tedium is an art all its own, and it belongs in good books.