All of your scene stories were good. Yet some were more vivid than others because they used specific rather than summary descriptive language. Consider these examples:
Summary
(shopping mall)
The mall is packed on Saturday afternoons. It’s filled with families, high-school dropouts, middle school prima-donnas, foreigners selling fakes, college students trying to make a buck, and randoms all melding together to stimulate the economy
Specific
(boat show)
All of a sudden, a man appears next to the autograph line. Two small green canaries pop their heads out of his tattered sweatshirt...He catches the children’s attention, which is hard to do considering there is a skiing squirrel behind them. He takes one of the small birds out and it lies lifeless in his left hand.
“Is he dead?” one boy asks.
“No, he’s playing dead for you,” the man reassures him.
One chubby little boy puts the bird on his shoulder. The bird feels threatened and relieves himself down the back of the boy’s lumpy back. The boy cries, and the bird man chuckles.
Summary
(casino)
The twenty-something-year-olds, typically holding a drink, are dressed up and usually play with friends gathered near them, talking away, barely paying attention to the screen. But there are those who are older, typically dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, who gamble with an intensity as if they were making a life-changing decision with each press of the button or each laying down of chips. Some intently gaze at a screen, taking each press of the button as seriously as picking out a new car. Finally, there are people who slowly walk around, observing people play, ready to steal their machine in an instant like a vulture swooping down and catching a fish from above.
Specific
(hair salon)
She turned to her coworker, a man she called Chisholm, and began telling an anecdote about her children. Chisholm was slender, dressed to the nines and seemed to be the sort of man who might create a hair styling stage name. He was also meticulously careful, which stood out in sharp contrast to the quickly expert trimmings of his nest haired coworker. The woman in his chair seemed nervous. She held her lips tight, and watched Chisholm with the intensity of a sniper, evidently apprehensive as her thick brown hair piled softly around her chair.
Across the room a young man looked bored as his trendy young stylist gave him a crew cut he could have received at Super Cuts. A good-looking, all-American student, he chatted idly with the stylist, in almost an informal manner, implying a past relationship or a history of regular visits. Neither quick nor slow, she carefully polished his classic cut with a whirring electric razor. He smiled the smile of a confident, invincible man, handed her a stack of cash, reassured himself that he was still beautiful in her mirror, and left the salon.
Summary
(Wal-Mart at night)
It’s relatively quiet, the hum and clatter of heavy stock dollies providing most of the notable sound. Absent are the usual contributors to the din: PA announcements; tired, bratty children screaming in protest of God knows what; chit-chatty conversations between acquaintances who’ve discovered a mutual preference for reduced-fat peanut butter. The rattling dollies, the steel cans clinking accompaniment to the tedious restocking process, and the occasional passing comments between workers set a different kind of tone.
Like the daytime shoppers and staff, this group is efficient, but in a more methodical, less hectic way. With fewer customers to command and distract their attention, the stockers can focus on a more finite task: moving tons of product from the stockroom to the floor, then from crates and boxes to shelves and center displays. And with fewer fellow customers around, the shoppers are more goal-oriented, as well. Most of the dozen or so bleary-eyed sustenance seekers on this particular night seem to have clear agendas in mind. It’s hard to tell who’s been up all night and whose day is just beginning. It’s that strange twilight time when the world of the night owl overlaps with that of the early riser.
Specific
(school play)
“Oh, I have to go to the bathroom!” one nervous little rat says.
“You’re going to have to hold it!” one of the council members tells her, glaring at her as he puts on his floppy, multi-colored hat.
The guidance counselor is still talking, but no one is listening now. Everyone is standing up and brushing off the dust.
“Where’s my bowl!” a chef cries. “I have to find my bowl!”
The queen rat, her crown tilted over her ears brings the bright red colander over from where it was resting behind the mayor’s kids.
“Try not to lose it again!’ she says handing the disgruntled chef the bowl.
The mayor shoots an evil look over her protruding stomach, effectively quieting the masses.
Everyone stands in their lines, a small blonde townsperson doing a little dance while he waits. The excitement mounts.
“Now,” the guidance counselor concludes her speech, “join me in welcoming our very talented loved ones. We’ve been waiting for this.”
Applause thunders, a few catcalls joining into the melee.
And the curtain rises.
Comments (0)
You don't have permission to comment on this page.