Unintentional Bulwer-Lyttonism
Aug. 26th, 2009 08:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mollyringleHey writers, does this ever happen to you? You're trying to describe a moment or scene, in your head, mentally groping for the proper, unique words, and your description goes off the rails until you have a contender for the Bulwer-Lytton Awards on your hands. Then, if you're like me, you actually try to turn it into such a sentence and make it as dumb as possible. A couple of examples that have spun out of my brain lately:
- Dale "Gruff" MacCleod knew a storm was coming, not only from the red hue of the clouds in the sunrise over the bay, or his sixty years of sailing experience, but because he had checked the weather report on his iPhone this morning before leaving the cabin.
- The sun's rays spilled over the windowsill, illuminating the bed and the sleeping couple, who lay still and peaceful, Rachel's arm outstretched and her knuckles resting upon Jacob's cheek, as if she had been frozen at the precise moment of punching him in the face.
(Neither of these are real story moments I planned to use. I don't know where exactly they originated, but that's where they ended up. I conclude that you shouldn't start a story with sunrises.)
- Dale "Gruff" MacCleod knew a storm was coming, not only from the red hue of the clouds in the sunrise over the bay, or his sixty years of sailing experience, but because he had checked the weather report on his iPhone this morning before leaving the cabin.
- The sun's rays spilled over the windowsill, illuminating the bed and the sleeping couple, who lay still and peaceful, Rachel's arm outstretched and her knuckles resting upon Jacob's cheek, as if she had been frozen at the precise moment of punching him in the face.
(Neither of these are real story moments I planned to use. I don't know where exactly they originated, but that's where they ended up. I conclude that you shouldn't start a story with sunrises.)
