Description

After reading Professor Quinlan's post on the art of blogging and description, I have decided to write a post on my thoughts of the ladder.

I believe that description is a huge part of the art of creative writing. To be able to get lost in your imagination and then produce those imaginings on paper for others to see and experience is truly phenomenal. To be honest, that is one of my favorite aspects of writing--writing down what I see in my mind. Ironically, it gives me the most challenge as it is sometimes difficult to formulate the right words for what I am experiencing. Nevertheless, when I close my mind and allow my vivid imagination to take over, I am sometimes shocked at what is generated and accomplished--a lot of the times from just mere nothingness.

Alternately, when I read an authors writing that has depth and passion, I feel that I am being taken on a journey into that authors psyche--partaking anything and everything that is written descriptively. Through his/hers sensory detail, I am able to see, hear, smell, taste, and feel what the author is conveying for his/her reader. That is the beauty--that is the art of description.

Therefore, for those two reasons, I feel that description is needed and required for clarity and realism. I have attached the beginning of a short story that is soon to be finished. I feel that this short story beginning illustrates my thoughts on description.

Fields of Green

They laid in fields of soft deep green, surrounded by assorted countless shades of yellows, pinks, purples, blues, reds, and oranges that protruded from the upper most depths of the earth reaching toward heaven for nourishment. Enchanting insects like that of the ladybug, red winged with black spots that bared resemblance to a Dalmatian, flew radiantly from color to color in tranquility while in the distance sounds of fantastic music sang from small beautiful winged creatures of the sky.

Lying on their backs, they steered up at puffballs of white that streamed across the light turquoise atmosphere altering its form with every intricate movement. The sun luminously shone degrees of light onto the earth that reflected off the river nearby whose clear waters flowed calmly across smooth yet hard broken particles of earth. Indeed, it was the beginning of spring and the smell in the air was of roses and tulips, fresh grass and lavender—truly, it was nature awakening from the deep slumber of a cold scentless winter.