The oak tree keeps its dead leaves through winter, dropping them in spring. Its dark trunk slides through the bronze leaves, gilded by the sunset over the frozen snow-covered lake.
The healing burn on my hand looks horrific now, but at its most painful it simply looked like a large blister.
When I look through the glass of the patio door at this angle, it is so wavy from age that objects beyond it, trees, mostly, seem to move as I adjust position in my office chair.
There’s almost no difference between the ATV tracks in the snow and those you’d see in sand.
As the sun sets, shining slightly in my eyes, the house looks darker by contrast, when in fact it is lighter than at any other time of day.
The knots holding the dining room chair cushions in place are never even; one always off to the side or listing somewhat to port.
Many readers claim they don’t like too much description in the books they read.
Writers comment that they don’t like writing it.
On both sides, the challenge is that it is so difficult to state explicitly what we go through life experiencing so casually, without thought.
The right level of description gives your writing a setting. Like the setting of a precious gem, it’s not the focus, but without it, the gem floats without context.
Learn to write good description.
You cannot write good description if your eyes aren’t open.
What do you see right now?