As I’ve put off the most tedious jobs for The Hushing Days’ final edits, I have found myself eye-deep in descriptors of setting… or what would be descriptors of setting if they ever made the grand leap from head to paper.
While my mind is chocked full of farmhouses, boardinghouses, taverns and prison ships, these places apparently all exist without words.
Set a picture of a house in front of me and ask me to describe it and I’ve got it covered from sunup to sundown and back again. I will go all Dickens on the place and the reader will come out the other side of the paragraph dragging sawdust on their shoes.
Really. I’m quite good.
I’m quite bad, however, at setting imaginary locales to print. I go dumb at the prospect. Worse yet, I go all cliché if forced to put something on the page.
It’s frankly rather ugly… ugly to the point that the $1.03 royalty check I’ll be getting next month seems rather justified.
Bottom line: Every writer is bad at something. Don’t be discouraged when you run into your own ugly. Cringe and carry on, my friends.