Description

I am a very dialogue-heavy writer. Always have been. I prefer my stories to be character-driven instead of plot-driven (though I can make an exception for some epic fantasies), and, as such, I write that way. Of course, this occasionally means that I skimp on the description. It's something I've been working on for a while now. I always feel that a few sentences of description is enough and anything more will fall into the realm of "info dumping," which drastically slows the flow of the story. Once or twice is fine, especially at when creating a fantastical world, but any more than that makes me want to skip ahead a few pages and get back to the characters' problem.

In light of this rather unfortunate quirk of mine, one of my professors has challenged me to write a series of vignettes that are purely descriptive. This is much harder than it sounds. Initially, she asked that I simply set a scene, create an atmosphere, and leave it at that. No characters, no conflict. I had absolutely no idea what to do. When I went to ask for clarification, she suggested writing a type of riddle, where something occurred just before the scene I'm setting, or something will happen right afterwards. This makes a lot more sense, doesn't it? I still get to put characters in, I just don't have the time to develop personalities or conflict. But at least I have something to focus the story on, instead of purely writing setting. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who have no problem churning out page after page of description (I've read a few, haven't you?), but I'm certainly not one of them. So far, I have two and a half pieces, at about a hundred words, and I'm pleased with. This, after almost a week of working on them!

So to wrap this little ramble up, here's the first successful flash fiction-y, descriptive piece. Any thoughts from whoever happens to be reading this?

Golden light filtered through the large, half-circle window, gilding the planes of his face with a warm, beatific glow. Tiny specs of dust floated lazily through the sunbeams, dancing gently back and forth. The remainder of last night’s rain clung to the windowpane; the water very slowly evaporating in the morning’s warmth.

His stomach gently rose and fell with his soft breaths. The purring cat on his chest carefully kneaded at the thin blanket between them, her claws catching on the coarse cloth. Serenity painted the apartment a soft shade of sunglow yellow.

A soft, sleepy sigh escaped his lips and he stirred.