Tag Archives: details

“I Thought He Was Taller”

I’ve been blown away by the spread of, and positive response to, my last post.  It freaked me out a little at first, seeing the views here and at BMB keep rising.  My hope is the folks who read it will find not only something interesting, but reason to look ahead with positive hope.

As much as we (using “we” in the most general sense) like to believe we are empathetic creatures at heart, even the best of us have blind spots. It’s difficult to understand how one person’s experience feels on a visceral level unless we have a similar experience to which we can compare it.

By coincidence, researchers at UCLA recently released the results of their studies, “Bound to Lose: Physical Incapacitation Increases the Conceptualized Size of an Antagonist in Men.”  Researchers found men tied to a chair or standing on an unsteady surface (a balance board) overestimated the antagonist’s size and underestimated their own size.

The results are utterly unsurprising, though I’m sure it’s abstractly a good thing that science has now confirmed the experiences of anyone who has been on the lower end of a power disparity.

If nothing else, it’s something to point as a means to explain why a person will read “threat” into a situation that, to an outsider, doesn’t look threatening.  Where an observer might think, “That nice guy was just talking to her over there,” the woman in question might be thinking, “I can’t get out of this corner because the Huge Man is blocking me.”

Considering how balance affected perception, I’d be interested to see what would result from participants wearing stilettoes.

Inside the Silly Writer’s Head

The conversation that took place in my head during revisions:

Dang it.  I’ve established it’s cold in that stronghold corridor, but Syrina is just standing there.  Yeah, she’s thinking, but she doesn’t even notice the cold.

Maybe she’s distracted from the cold by the talk she’s about to give.

No.  I’ve been cold.  Really cold.  If anything, the cold would distract her from the talk.  And she’s been cold in this place before.  Cold enough to want to avoid it.

Okay, let’s give her a blanket.

That works!  She hugged the blanket over her shoulders…

No, wait a minute.  She can’t walk into this talk wrapped up in an old blanket!  Wouldn’t happen.  Just about any other character in exile could pull it off, but not Syrina.  And she might not care about the looking-silly-in-a-blanket part in another seven or eight chapters, but that isn’t the person she is now.  No blanket.

So maybe she drops it in the corridor before she walks into the dining hall.

Yes!  Wait–  No.  Blankets are too valuable in this quasi-prison.  No one, not even Syrina, would just drop it.

Maybe she could hand it to someone.

No.  That’s a silly bit of business.  I’d have to put a character there and write an exchange just because of a blanket.

Maybe she could—

Okay, Blair, stop right there.  You’re creating a massive problem over a stupid blanket.  Do you really want to waste the reader’s time explaining this whole cold-so-need-blanket thing?

No!  But now that I’ve thought about the cold, I just can’t let it pass.  I wish…


Wait, don’t say anything.  I’m thinking.

Okay, I think I’ve solved with less than ten words.

Syrina wished she’d brought down a blanket, but…

Because I’m Just Crazy Enough To Do One More Thing

At this particular moment, doing a 30-day blog challenge sounds enjoyable.  I figured I’d better mention it in public before that sense of enjoyment slipped away.

So: Beginning Monday, June 3, I’ll start on the questions below.  Any and all are free to play along!

But… There is a wee catch for those playing along.  If you’re a writer, relate one of every five answers to one of your characters or worldbuilding aspects in a past, present or future story.  If you’re a reader, relate one of every five answers to some aspect of a story you’ve read.  Since many of us are both, feel free to choose either one or both as the fancy strikes you.  Note that it doesn’t have to be every fifth answer.  It just needs to be at least one of every five answers.  If you want to do it for all thirty, you will have thirty most impressive entries!

Here’s the list:

Continue reading Because I’m Just Crazy Enough To Do One More Thing

Country Light and Sound

In books, film, and general media, some aspects of country living are presented as “true” when those aspects are really “true when viewed through the experience of city dwellers.”  This does make me sigh, particularly when plot points turn on those aspects.

I was born and raised in Southern California, but lived in a more rural community during high school.  Then, after many more years of city living in two different states, I moved to rural Indiana.  The nearest streetlights of town (population 1,000) were over five miles away.  The nearest true city (population around 10,000) was ten miles away.  I lived in a very small house that was nearing 100 years old, but had been wired for electricity only two years before I moved in, on a riverside farm of about 130 acres that I shared with the landowners.  My closest neighbors were Amish.

I was far enough from town that now, living three miles from the city outskirts, I hardly consider myself living in the country.

Moving from city to country prompts folks to choose one of two paths–adapt to the experience, or adapt the experience itself.  The first step of the latter involves the instillation of outdoor lighting systems to banish the night.

I can’t tell you often I hear country nights, or nights before artificial lighting, described as pitch black.  As someone who used to walk around on 130 acres at night, I can assure you night walks are not akin to a blindfolded stroll.  Nights are not terrifyingly dark by default.  Darkness depends, of course, on available moonlight, but also atmospheric conditions and vegetation.  On a clear night, less than a half-moon provided light enough for comfort.  A full moon’s brightness made hikes up and down the ravines safely possible.

But the moment you look at anything brighter than the moonlight–in fact, in you look directly at a bright moon–everything else will look pitch black.  The rods in your eyes use certain pigments to see in low light, and those pigments break down in bright light to prevent the light from overloading sight.  It can take over half an hour for those pigments to build back up.  So if you’re turning a flashlight on and off, looking at a campfire, going in and out of the house, or–as in the case of reporters–spending most of the time staring into good lighting–the night will indeed look pitch black all the time.

Patience reveals another aspect.

Nighttime sound in the country can also be described very poorly by those who live with constant background sounds.  Such sounds become so pervasive, they cease to be noticed.  Air circulation fans and traffic are two common sources.  That noise covers smaller sounds of footsteps, conversations, breezes through leaves, and the passage of small animals.  You won’t hear the murmuring of a casual conversation taking place on a porch a quarter mile away.

In the country, sources of ambient noise might be moving water and/or wind.  That’s about it.  Being still reveals low sounds of small nocturnal creatures–their movements, their calls, their feeding.  The yip of a coyote carries a long, long distance, as does the whoo of an owl.  From my front porch on the farm, I could hear the clopping of hooves for long minutes before the buggy came into sight.  (Amish neighbors, remember? 🙂  From my back porch at my current home, I can hear most cars on a back country road when they’re still two miles away.  When I see a character be caught off-guard by the sudden appearance of a vehicle on a country road, I know the writer hasn’t spent much time outside his city limits.

All that quiet stillness will make one very aware of how much noise a clothed human body makes when it moves.  While it’s true feet cause noise on the ground, the sound of moving fabric can give away one’s position as well.  These days, humans would make easy prey for any stalking animal.

There are times that I deeply miss living on the farm.  Even the days, the ones filled with hard work in the July heat, were wonderful.  An interlude.  The in-between.  The time I needed to leave behind an old self and find the new.  But it’s the night–usually in spring and fall, usually when the moon is near full–that I miss most of all.




Details Matter

A friend of mine recently shared a “Top 10 Tips” for dealing with a writer.  One of them was “Don’t call the police if you happen to see a writer’s browsing history.”  I admit, my searches for information have included topics such as preserving a severed head in honey, methods of “brainwashing,” tactics of guerilla warfare, and how much pressure is needed to crush a human skull.

Writers look up more mundane information as well.  I once spent a great deal of time calculating the weight and volume of different water quantities–a subject that would only cross the minds of folks hiking long distances.  But if writing about traveling between wells in an expansive desert, that information is critical.  The reader might not know how much a day’s worth of water weighs, but will certainly roll his eyes if a character trudges across the sand for five days with only a little canteen.

Sometimes, though, research reveals details that run counter to “prevailing wisdom.”  Most people have heard two things about water and survival: you need a gallon of water per day, and will die in three days without water.  Aside from the fact the two contradict each other, the basic information is far too general to be of any use in specific situations.  Yet I predict someone, somewhere, will one day write me a letter saying my worldbuilding was wrong because one character took mere hours to die without water, and another survived on less than a gallon of water a day for a week.  I could either adjust the details to fit what “everyone knows,” expend words in the story explaining what the real details are, or accept the fact that someone, somewhere, won’t like the way I use water regardless of the realism.

I’ll take Door Number 3.

For more detail-chat, here L. Blankenship discusses her research behind heavy-gee corsets.  The coolness of researching corsets rates far and above the mass of water, does it not?  (Note to self: reconsider character costume choices.)  Check out her other worldbuilding posts for neat stuff.

Research matters.  Details aren’t little things.  They are instead the most important pieces of a story’s living, breathing world.  Handled well and properly, the reader need never “appreciate” the writer’s research.  She will instead love and embrace the story.

And the writer will now purge her search history. 🙂