Writing is a complex discipline. Of the countless details available to communicate a thought, which should we choose to carry the weight of our meaning? We can’t write about every single thing related to the idea we want to convey. Instead, we have to choose our details. Not enough detail, and the reader gets confused. Too much, and the reader is bored. The wrong details distract and misdirect.
A big part of my job as an editor is dealing with detail problems. Writers get carried away in the grand sweep of their arguments and don’t notice that their supporting points are unconvincing. Novelists focus all their drafting efforts on climactic scenes that fall flat because the main characters are vaguely drawn. The nitty-gritty matters.
Think about writing as a matter of detail selection. This is easy to understand when we consider setting. Suppose I want to write about a car accident on a street corner. Is the street corner in the middle of a big city, a small town, or farmland? Does it have a stop sign or a traffic light? How much traffic normally travels on it and what kind? Is the road paved or gravel? What is the weather on the day in question? What time of day does the accident happen? What vehicles are involved? Unless I specify enough detail to enable the reader to envision the setting properly, each reader will bring their own preexisting ideas about street corners or accidents to the scene. If I’m writing a local news article, just specifying the cross streets will likely be all that’s needed, since my readers can visualize the area. If I’m writing science fiction that takes place in a human colony on Mars, I will need to provide far more detail.
To master the art of detail selection, place yourself firmly in the reader’s position by asking the following questions.
What does the reader already know?
This question applies in two ways. What does the reader know before they begin to read your piece—what prior knowledge do they have that informs their understanding of what you’ve written? If your article on fracking is written for an audience of scientists, you’ll include different details than for an audience of laypeople. What does the reader already know? also applies at various points in your piece—what information have you already given your readers? If in chapter three your forty-year-old main character successfully purchases a child’s movie ticket because she is four foot eleven, but you don’t mention her height, you have left out a necessary detail. On the other hand, if you listed her height in chapter one, don’t repeat the detail here.
What does the reader need to know?
Authors can really struggle with this question because the ideas they write about are often so clear in their own minds that they assume their readers are thinking the same things. I said earlier that detail selection is easy to understand when it comes to setting, but that doesn’t mean it is easy to apply! I read many scenes in which authors don’t mention things like the size of a room, how many people are in it, and where those people are standing—details that turn out to be necessary for readers to picture the action. In the heat of drafting, it doesn’t dawn on writers that readers can’t “see” the same details they can.
You know that sliding glass door that everyone bumps into because it doesn’t have a single smudge on it? Once you’ve discovered the door is there, it’s almost impossible to remember that other people don’t see it. When writing, remember to tell your readers about the sliding glass doors.
What do you want readers to figure out for themselves?
Some details are important for readers to know, but the emotional impact is greater if they figure out those details themselves. Leaving things unsaid is a powerful writing technique that requires the author to provide certain details in such a way that readers naturally put the pieces together.
One of my favorite examples of this is Edith Wharton’s short story “Roman Fever.” Two women are talking about their past rivalry for the same man’s affection. At the end of the story, we realize that one of the women secretly had a child by him. Instead of stating this explicitly, Wharton provides subtle clues throughout the story that build to an implicit and satisfying reveal in the last line.
What details don’t matter?
Details that aren’t necessary often reveal themselves during revision, especially if you’re trying to cut words. The pressure of the situation can force deletions that feel drastic and risky—and they turn out to be exactly right.
Is there a way to identify extraneous details before you even get to revising? One thing to look out for is passages that you’re having a great deal of trouble drafting. This can mean that you’re not sure what the reader needs to know, and this lack of direction is resulting in false starts, circuitous expression, and feeling like you’re lost. Maybe the writing feels boring when you read over it. When this happens, take a step back and make sure you know exactly what it is you’re trying to say. Once you’ve clarified your content, review the questions above about what your reader knows, needs to know, and needs to figure out. This will filter the details you choose to include and may help you draft more productively.
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