Do Your Job

Today we’ve got more from our occasional series containing writing advice from Professor, and author of The Chronicles of Narnia, C. S. Lewis. He often corresponded with students and others who sought his advice on writing, so we have a wealth of advice from him on the topic.

This week’s advice from Professor Lewis:

In writing don’t use adjectives which merely tell us how you want us to feel about the thing you are describing. I mean, instead of telling us a thing was “terrible,“ describe it so that we’ll be terrified. Don’t say it was “delightful”: make us say “delightful” when we’ve read the description. You see, all those words (horrifying, wonderful, hideous) are only like saying to your readers, “Please, will you do my job for me?”

Today Professor Lewis wants to remind you to do your job as a writer. It is not the job of the reader to fill in the details of your scene when you won’t. The writer must spend the time to paint the picture—in sound, in visuals, in smells, and more—before the reader needs to fill in the blank spots.

Let’s consider an example. Read the following quote from Leif Enger’s Peace Like a River. The narrator describes a storm he and his sister, Swede, are observing from her room:

In the Dakotas it needn’t snow to be a blizzard. The wind came low and fast, peeling the drifts. From her window upstairs Swede and I watched a cavalry charge minus the horses; wide chunks of snow tore themselves off the ground and flung forward, tumbling to white sand that coiled and rushed like Huns. It was a ground wind, a ground blizzard. Picture a storm to match any in wildness but only eight feet high. From Swede’s window it was like looking down on a violent cloud.

Look back at what our friend Mr. Enger has included for us. We know what we’re seeing is like a blizzard, but it’s not snowing from the sky. We know it’s like a cavalry of horses. We know it’s not very high considering the strength of the storm.

Then look at his specific word choices. First, the verbs: “peeling,” “charge,” “tore,” “flung,” “tumbling,” “coiled,” and “rushed.” Then we have a variety of images: a snowless blizzard; a horseless cavalry charge; a sand-like army of Huns; a violent cloud seen from above.

In the end, we, the readers, are pulled along, safe in the descriptive hands of the author. He is filling in the scene for us, and we get to enjoy it. We don’t have to do very much hard work to imagine what is happening.

Now imagine if Mr. Enger wanted us to do the work ourselves. Here’s my best guess:

Swede and I looked out the window to see a strong wind blowing the snow off the ground. We were amazed at how powerful it was.

Blah! Hopefully you see the difference! This is not to say that longer is always better; it’s just a reminder that it’s better service to the reader to let them react instead of you telling them how to react (“we were amazed”).

Professor Lewis wants to remind you: do your job as a writer! Serve the reader. Fill in the scene for your reader, so they can see what you see in your mind’s eye. It will always take longer, but it will always be worth it.