My creative gap

I always write shorter things than I’m supposed to. It’s true for my short stories, it’s true for my screenplays, it’s true for my academic papers.

I think this is because of my creative gap.

I’m trying to make myself read Mindstar Rising by Peter F. Hamilton, and I keep running into really long, elaborate passages where he spends two paragraphs describing the grounds behind a mansion, including, but not limited to, the number of occupants, what they are wearing, what shape the pool is, how much water is in it, and what the hedges are sculpted to look like.

To me this is all unnecessary. In fact, I usually skip over long chunks of description in books, because I prefer to let my imagination fill in what “a mansion” looks like in this universe. Millions of my favorite characters consist of, say, a pair of spectacles and a hat that frame a decidedly undefined body.

I don’t know why I do this, it’s just the way I read.

So when I write, I think I skip all the useless crap that I skim over anyway, assuming that other readers’ imaginations will fill in the gaps with their own private projections. To me, that’s what makes reading a book unique. I get a different picture in my mind than Ted does, or Roger, or Bob, or even Atilla the Hun.

I have a hard time describing locations because I prefer to think in moods. To me, this is a complete description:

The thin rattle of water falling down a drainpipe echoed in the brick alleyway. Shadows flared against the walls.

I get a mood from that. My scene is set. And I don’t have to dictate every little detail. Apparently everybody wins but the reader.