Focusing on a large landscape gives a different impression than describing a small part of this landscape. A larger view or bird’s view helps map the area and give a sense of distances.
- Compare: An island three-mile long with sand banks around it (visual/sky view).
- Compare to: A clear water peninsula with coconut trees on the coast (vague/earth’s view).
Landmarks are reassuring and give the reader a sense of being in control and knowing where the scene is happening. It grounds the reader. Many writers forget that distances between objects, if wrongly perceived, can be very confusing. Whenever possible, use careful descriptions of objects in a scene.
- Compare: A one yard wide path between two boulders (easier to picture).
- Compare to: A path following a cliff (there are many ways to imagine this and could lead to a lot of confusion).
- Compare: It stood at a spear’s throw (no one is sure how far a spear can actually land and it depends on the thrower).
- Compare to: The object stood across the living room (much less confusing, especially of we know what kind of house we’re standing in)
The state of a space can also add important details to a description. Landscapes can have moods and tell stories. Whenever possible, include them.
- Examples: Glass water can turn murky and agitated before a storm. Debris carried by the ocean can hint at the presence of sharp rocks under the water surface. Twirled dunes can foreshadow the presence of sandstorms in the area. Round mountains will tell a different story than sharp ridges.
A focus on parts of the landscape can give an effect of peacefulness. It can also give an impression of secrecy and intimacy. However, it can also give an impression that things are popping out of nowhere when you describe one part of a whole followed by another part of the whole.
The latter technique can be used when you want to create a disturbing scene. It usually doesn’t work to create a sense of mystery unless you want it to be disturbing and show the state of confusion the main character is in.
- Compare: An ocean’s wave flapped the rock around her. The stairs stretched below, under her feet. She just had to climb down and face the freezing waters. (The scene is intimate). She fell from the ledge more than she swam. The stairs reached for her more than she reached for them. The castle’s door appeared at the top of the stairs. (That sounds weird, coming out of nowhere).
- Compare to: A castle had been carved out into the cheer rock of the cliff. It followed the sandy white shoreline to a point. A stairway led to it, starting somewhere under her, at the bottom of the sea. As the tide grew higher, the small ledge on which she had spent the afternoon slowly disappeared under water, drenching her dress. The door wasn’t very far, maybe ten feet away. She could reach it easily if only the water wasn’t so cold.
This technique can be used for a landscape of for a scene.
- Compare: The man’s fetid breath reached the Geisha’s cheek. She grimaced. His hand reached into her kimono. A gun lay in there, in the creases of the fabric, hard and cold. (So far, the intimacy of the scene makes a point and can be useful). Her index finger trembled on the detonator, ready to fire. Her foot slid behind her. He rotated his toes, ready to flip around. His elbow moved, prepared to strike her in the rib. (The focus on details is too much, and now it feels weird.)
- Compare to: The ninja stood just a few inches from her, ready to embrace the Geisha. She reached into her kimono for something. He intercepted her movement and grabbed her wrist. A gun lay in her hands. If he swiveled now, he could avoid the bullet and hit her in the back. The man stood ready for her to fire.
Artists often paint large areas of their paintings first, such as the sky and water. Then they add smaller details. Details give an artwork a finished touch. Try to follow this rule when describing landscapes. In a previous example, I described the sea and the cliff, and then I added details.
In the Japanese scene, I described the people and the distance between them, and then I described lines along their bodies or details. Starting with details is just wrong.
Some touches in the landscape allow to give more details about what a picture of the scene couldn’t do by itself. Billowing flags and sails give an idea of how strongly the wind blows in a seascape. Lowered sails hanging loosely tell a story. If some parts of the sails fall into the water and bullet holes in the sails are described next, we can tell the battle has been fierce.
The use or absence of the senses can also tell a lot about the nature of the scene. The amount of details in a scene can either give a dramatic, emotional, vivid effect or give an impression of mystery, distance, and peacefulness.
- Compare: The white sails of the boats mixed with the cloudy mist. They passed silently like ghosts.
- Compare to: The billowing white sails danced in the cresting sea. Dark stains spotted them. The fog weighted the flag at the top of the main mast, flapping and clapping rhythmically against the steel pole.
Artists thought out seascapes of the 1800s using shapes, light, reflections, colors, and details. These paintings told stories and created moods. Do the dame with your scenes. Add other senses such as auditory details, scents, or touch/textures and maybe hint at the temperature. Stories might try to depict reality honestly, but they fail. Novels differ from reality the same way paintings differ from photographs. Painters used to travel to the Civil War battlefields. Their pictures didn’t look like the ones photographers took. Novelists do the same. They give an impression of the war rather than a precise depiction of it. They can romanticize it, or make some parts of it funny and exciting, or add little anecdotes that are full of emotional meanings. The reality would be too grim to depict faithfully. Think in term of patterns, reflections (foreshadowing), symbolism, and light shades. Think like a painter.