For some unknown reason, new writers avoid concise writing practices. Paragraphs become wordy, long drawn out sequences of adjectives, adverbs, and clichés as the aspiring author attempts to impress readers with their skill in literary arts.
I am terribly guilty of this, even now, after twenty years in writing... but that's what rewrites are for.
The dilemma I see, though, is that new authors stake their claim in a first draft as though they found the mother lode, and their work is pure gold. Even if a story is platinum, if the scenes are obsequious, the reader will lose interest. I'm sorry, but it is a fact.
New authors get the idea that a concise message will dilute their work, and all those pretty words are wasted, but realistically, a concise paragraph that tells a story effectively is fiction on steroids.
If an author can describe blue in seven sentences or less, then this individual has out written the author who cannot. I realize how arrogant, how opinionated, how ridiculous, and selfish this may sound, but take it into consideration. When you read instructions, would you prefer longer instructions, or accurate short instructions?
When you watch a movie, would you prefer to watch a fast paced action sequence, or a sequence too busy to focus on the action at hand?
This is described in one word: chaos. For example:
The rain fell harshly, falling hard, like marbles, pelting the dry, and cracked desert soil. There had not been rain in the valley for a long, long time. Within minutes, the soil yielded helplessly to the rain, turning to mud, and then puddles, and then gradually, into a pond. The rain seasons had begun. It was during this time of the year that the most torrential storms shook the valley, and by the end of spring it would create an oasis that would last until the end of the first month of summer. Then the harsh relentless sun would destroy everything that had struggled to be when the desert became a wetland.
I almost fell asleep writing it, but we see it all too often. I felt almost like I was watching an episode of National Geographic. A description like this may even belong there, but it doesn't belong in a book. Cutting the description paragraph does not mean cutting the power of its effective description. There's a hellish desert. There's a storm that is alien to the desert but once a season, once a year, and there's the reclamation of that hell. It's a cycle. I was good friends with a famous artist by the name of
Oleg Zhivetin
(I was actually engaged to his daughter at the time). He read a manuscript of mine, tossed it back on my lap, and said (with his thick Russian accent): "A story, written good, a reader should pick up the book, open it to any page, read a line, and be instantly able to read from that point forward."
Translation: Every sentence should be interesting; every line should be a hook. At no point should a book ever have "filler" or "dead air". I am as guilty of this writing sin as anyone.
