[SPOILER ALERT]: Please don't read this column until you've read the rest of the h2g2 Post this week. There's a reason.

In this issue, some of our really good writers are describing things. FWR is describing the change made in a townscape over time:

Instead of the posh houses bordering the park – so posh there was a teacher and a doctor no less living there now – there was a flat black expanse of Tarmac gaudily lit by huge white street lights. Henry had never seen an area so big, so empty, not even the docks boasted such space.
'Another Ha'penny's Worth, Not So Dreadful'

Notice something about this brief description: you can see it in your mind. But FWR didn't describe it in a factual, photographic way. He didn't say, 'Once, there was an x-acre park with green trees and benches. Next to it was a row of elegant two-storey houses with wrought-iron fencing and elaborate gates, etc.' That would be boring. It would also be totally inappropriate, because we're seeing the whole thing from the POV of the character. We're inside his head, such as it is, and we're puzzling out the landscape change along with him. That's part of the fun of this clever story.

Instead of photographic description, FWR's given us all the clues we need to make the picture in our heads. There used to be 'posh' houses. The houses bordered the park. Now there is 'a flat black expanse of Tarmac'. The Tarmac is 'gaudily lit'. We can see that.

The description does more than help us see the picture, though. It tells us about two things: the character's attitude, and the passage of time. The character – his name is Henry – thinks of a teacher and a doctor as upscale people. He calls their houses 'posh'. That's a clue about him. And 'he'd never seen an area so big, so empty' as the Tarmac expanse with the huge lights. This is the change. That's a clue about time passing. It helps us guess our way through this ingenious short story.

Aren't we clever around here?

Here's another example of description. It makes pictures in our heads. But there's a difference in these pictures. I'm sure you've all seen a mall parking lot at night – except maybe for Bluebottle, although the Isle of Wight has got a new Asda. But you may never have been anywhere before that quite fits this description:

Ah yes, I'm ringing the changes, each note a lit-up drop of sonic essence, flowing to the next note and the next, to form a sequence so perfect in its peculiar prayerfulness, it has become a vertiginous angel, arcing and swooping through the dimensions of sound.
'Ringing the Changes'

Cactuscafé is describing a musical experience in terms of space. She's great with these examples of synaesthesia – the crossover between sensory perceptions. The 'sonic essence' comes in 'lit-up drops'. They flow – which makes them waves and particles, like light, cool. Now the sequence of drops builds an angel. The angel arcs and swoops.

I'd like to point out two things about that description. One, it's all about movement. The writer wants to show us the movement of music, and succeeds: it's a transformation from light to notes to sequence to a flying spirit. Wow. And you can see it in your head. That's the second thing I wanted you to notice. When you read the words, you can see something in your head that is not only out of your range of previous experience, but is really imaginary, not a physical place at all. Not only is that a clever trick by a writer, but it's also a clever trick of the human brain. We have magic in our heads, you knew that, right? Of course you did. That's why you don't only read the technical manuals.

So why am I pointing out these descriptions? To make the authors blush? No, indeed. To give you a writing tool. You see, your brain is so efficient at working out these reading strategies that you don't really notice what the writer's doing. You just hurry along to playing your part of the reading game by making the thought pictures. You, the reader, are like the discerning audience watching an accomplished ballet troupe. You know quality when you see it. This is a good thing: why spoil the enjoyment of the moment by muttering a comment about jeté execution?

As an audience or reader, it's a good thing to be able to turn off the critical apparatus and just enjoy. But if you'd like to be able to do the same thing yourself, it's a good idea to go back over the experience afterward, and notice what worked particularly well. Then you can use it yourself, or work on your own technique. That's why you always go out for drinks after the concert or show, you know: so you and your friends can talk over the experience and fix the details in your mind. That way, you take away some lasting good from a few hours' pleasure.

One last word about that memory business, from our friend William Wordsworth:

These beauteous forms,

Through a long absence, have not been to me

As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:

But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din

Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,

Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;

And passing even into my purer mind

With tranquil restoration. . .

'Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798'

I love that title, it makes me giggle. I used to torment university students with this poem. I'd make them close their eyes and visualise beaches and mountains and such. . . it did them a world of good. Their essays got better. Wordsworth has a point underneath that old-fashioned verbiage. He went on a walk up in 'deepest, darkest Cumbria', FWR. He memorised all that beauty. Then he went home, but whenever he needed to, he could close his eyes and see the beauty of the Lake District. Just like you can. And because you've described things to us, we can see them, too. Just like we see Wordsworth's daffodils, every time we read that poem.

In a world of electronic beeps and dancing animation, we need this quality of ours more than ever. The mind can't live by Twitter quips and snark and politicians' sound bites alone. We need the holistic beauty of the landscape and the mindscape. Let us practice our craft and share our techniques. Thank you for sharing yours with us.

Keep imagining, keep seeing, keep writing.

Writing Right with Dmitri Archive

Dmitri Gheorgheni

25.09.17 Front Page

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