How to write clear physical description

Movies and TV shows thoroughly dominate our modern conception of storytelling, and I often worry that clear physical description in novels has become a bit of a lost and underappreciated art. Aspiring writers often rush past scene-setting to get to conversations, which carry disproportionate weight in scenes. Over-reliance on dialogue is one of the most common problems I see when I work with authors.

As I discussed in this interview with Natasa Lekic, when authors neglect physical description they’re not even giving readers the physical cues they get from movies and TV shows, such as the setting, costumes, actors’ physical presences, let alone taking true advantage of the novel as a medium and immersing the reader in a fictional world by appealing to their senses.

In this post I’m going to start off with a clunky bit of physical description (don’t worry, I totally made it up, no authors were harmed in the construction of this post), and then I will gradually smooth it out using my pointers for writing clear physical description.

By the end of the post we will have ourselves a crisp and vivid bit of description.

Nathan ran through the door.

“Finally,” Barney said, shaking his head. “Where have you been?”

Nathan walked up to a table, where Barney was making sugar cookies.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said, hanging from the ceiling.

Barney stood three feet tall and wore bright green suspenders. He snapped them in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the roaring fireplace. Bees still flew angrily around his orange hair. He had disturbed them while collecting honey from a hive near the top of the tree. He moved over to look out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked with a sigh.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

Now let’s start smoothing it out. Here are my pointers.

Establish where the characters are entirely

Sometimes authors will describe what’s in a physical space without giving the reader a sense of where the characters are in the first place. This means that rather than being able to just observe the setting and construct their own mental image, the reader is using half their brain trying to piece together clues about what’s happening entirely. It’s an exhausting way to read.

It doesn’t take much to just quickly establish the setting, and it rarely pays to make this a mystery.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan ran through the door into the secret gnome bakery within the oak tree on Mr. McGillicutty’s farm.

“Finally,” Barney said, shaking his head. “Where have you been?”

Nathan walked up to a table, where Barney was making sugar cookies.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said, hanging from the ceiling.

Barney stood three feet tall and wore bright green suspenders. He snapped them in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the roaring fireplace. Bees still flew angrily around his orange hair. He had disturbed them while collecting honey from a hive near the top of the tree. He moved over to look out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked with a sigh.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

Pause the action, describe the setting, then unpause

Even in the midst of the most intense action, it will still feel natural to the reader if you hit pause when you reach a new physical space, describe it as clearly as possible, then hit unpause and let the action unfold.

You don’t need a separate trigger, such as a character looking at something or interacting with an object before you’re “allowed” to describe it. Just describe what’s in the space. It’s okay.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan ran through the door into the secret gnome bakery within the oak tree on Mr. McGillicutty’s farm.

Barney was making sugar cookies at a large oak table. A fireplace roared. A window looked out on the farm’s rolling green hills.

Bartholomew hung from the ceiling, collecting honey from a hive near the top of the bakery.

“Finally,” Barney said, shaking his head. “Where have you been?”

Nathan walked up to athe table, where Barney was making sugar cookies.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said, hanging from the ceiling.

Barney stood three feet tall and wore bright green suspenders. He snapped them in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the roaring fireplace. Bees still flew angrily around his orange hair. He had disturbed them while collecting honey from a hive near the top of the tree. He moved over to look out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked with a sigh.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

Describe characters when they are first introduced

It’s extremely confusing when characters are only belatedly described. When an author doesn’t provide an initial description the reader will fill in the blanks on their own with a placeholder image, which they then have to update when the author gets around to describing a character. It’s confusing and a little disorienting, particularly when characters have very unique physical characteristics, like gnomes.

Instead, just describe characters precisely the first time they are introduced.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan ran through the door into the secret gnome bakery within the oak tree on Mr. McGillicutty’s farm.

Barney, a three foot tall gnome wearing bright green suspenders, was making sugar cookies at a large oak table. A fireplace roared. A window looked out on the farm’s rolling green hills.

Bartholomew hung from the ceiling, collecting honey from a hive near the top of the bakery. He was the same size as Barney, only his hair was orange and his suspenders were purple.

“Finally,” Barney said, shaking his head. “Where have you been?”

Nathan walked up to the table.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said.

Barney stood three feet tall and wore bright green suspenders. He snapped them his suspenders in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the fireplace. Bees still flew angrily around his orange hair. He moved over to look out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked with a sigh.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

Show where objects are in relation to each other

It’s not enough to simply provide an inventory of the important objects in the room. It’s more helpful if you give a sense of how big the space is and where objects are in relationship to each other. You don’t need to draw a precise diagram or be overly rigid about how far apart objects are from each other, but a bit of context for where things are and how big they are goes a long way.

Also, as you describe the space and what’s in it, try to do it with some logical consistency, such as going from big (the room entirely) to small (honing in on some key details). It can be confusing when small details like specks of dust on the floor are described before we really know what the room looks like entirely.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan ran through the door into the cavernous secret gnome bakery within the massive oak tree on Mr. McGillicutty’s farm.

Barney, a three foot tall gnome wearing bright green suspenders, was making sugar cookies at a large oak table in the center of the room. A fireplace roared behind him. A small window against the far wall looked out on the farm’s rolling green hills.

Bartholomew hung from the twenty foot ceiling, collecting honey from a hive near the top of the bakery. He was the same size as Barney, only his hair was orange and his suspenders were purple.

“Finally,” Barney said, shaking his head. “Where have you been?”

Nathan walked up to the table.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said.

Barney snapped his suspenders in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the fireplace. Bees still flew angrily around his hair. He moved over to look out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked with a sigh.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

Utilize individualized gestures

Writers often rely on a pretty standard set of gestures that can quickly feel like crutches and don’t give us much that’s unique about characters. You know the ones. Sighs, eye rolls, deep breaths, meaningful glances, hearts pounding out of chests, eyes welling with tears, etc.

These are generic gestures, and I highly recommend that you try to avoid using them more than two or three times in an entire novel. Yep. You get two or three sighs for an entire novel. I mean it.

Now, you don’t need to go overboard with overly original gestures and it’s good to avoid gesture explosions in particular, where there are two or three gestures when one would do just fine. But some judicious, precise gestures will help bring characters to life.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan ran through the door into the cavernous secret gnome bakery within the massive oak tree on Mr. McGillicutty’s farm.

Barney, a three foot tall gnome wearing bright green suspenders, was making sugar cookies at a large oak table in the center of the room. A fireplace roared behind him. A small window against the far wall looked out on the farm’s rolling green hills.

Bartholomew hung from the twenty foot ceiling, collecting honey from a hive near the top of the bakery. He was the same size as Barney, only his hair was orange and his suspenders were purple.

“Finally.” Barney said, shaking his head pounded his tiny hand on the table, creating a voluminous cloud of sugar. “Where have you been?”

Nathan walked up to the table.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said.

Barney snapped his suspenders in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the fireplace. Bees still flew angrily around his hair. He moved over to look out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked with a sigh. He pressed his hands together against his nose.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

Use precise verbs

Clear out the clutter around your verbs! Avoid “was VERBing” when “VERBED” would do, and try to swap out generic verbs for precise ones.

It’s not necessary to use a ten dollar verb when a solid nickel verb works just fine, but precise, perfectly-chosen verbs will help make a scene more vivid. In the example below, look how the new verbs make the scene feel more urgent.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan ran scurried through the door into the cavernous secret gnome bakery within the massive oak tree on Mr. McGillicutty’s farm.

Barney, a three foot tall gnome wearing bright green suspenders, was making bent over the sugar cookies he was frosting at a large oak table in the center of the room. A fireplace roared behind him. A small window against the far wall looked out on the provided a majestic vista of the farm’s rolling green hills.

Bartholomew hung from the twenty foot ceiling, collecting honey from a hive near the top of the bakery. He was stood the same size as Barney, only his hair was orange and his suspenders were purple.

“Finally.” Barney pounded his tiny hand on the table, creating a voluminous cloud of sugar. “Where have you been?”

Nathan walked up hurried to the table.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said.

Barney snapped his suspenders in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the fireplace. Bees still buzzed angrily around his hair. He moved scampered over to look peer out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked. He pressed his hands together against his nose.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

Appeal to all the senses

Even when writers provide physical description, they may neglect the weather, the smells, and tastes of their fictional world. When you appeal to all the senses, you can bring the setting to life in a vivid and immersive way.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan scurried through the door into the cavernous secret gnome bakery within the massive oak tree on Mr. McGillicutty’s farm. The scent of freshly baked cookies, cloves, cinnamon, and sweet pixie powder made his mouth water.

Barney, a three foot tall gnome wearing bright green suspenders, bent over the sugar cookies he was frosting at a large oak table in the center of the room. A fireplace roared behind him, providing a welcome warmth from the biting wind outside. A small window against the far wall provided a majestic vista of the farm’s rolling green hills.

Bartholomew hung from the twenty foot ceiling, collecting golden honey from a hive near the top of the bakery. He stood the same size as Barney, only his hair was orange and his suspenders were purple.

“Finally.” Barney pounded his tiny hand on the table, creating a voluminous cloud of sugar. “Where have you been?”

Nathan hurried to the table.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said.

Barney snapped his suspenders in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the fireplace with a thud. Bees still buzzed around his hair. He scampered over to peer out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked. He pressed his hands together against his nose.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

Contextualize who people are from the anchoring perspective

Now we’re getting to some underrated components of good physical description. What really makes a setting come to life is when the reader is able to easily contextualize the setting and characters within the broader story.

In order to utilize this approach, you have to know your perspective and keep it consistent (in this case it’s third person limited tied to Nathan’s perspective, hence we’re reading what he’s smelling in the opening paragraph but we’re not dipping into the gnomes’ heads).

Some crisp, clear exposition about who people are will give the reader what they need to know about who’s who and what’s what.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan scurried through the door into the cavernous secret gnome bakery within the massive oak tree on Mr. McGillicutty’s farm. The scent of freshly baked cookies, cloves, cinnamon, and sweet pixie powder made his mouth water.

Mr. McGillicutty’s head baker Barney, a three foot tall gnome wearing bright green suspenders, bent over the sugar cookies he was frosting at a large oak table in the center of the room. A fireplace roared behind him, providing a welcome warmth from the biting wind outside. A small window against the far wall provided a majestic vista of the farm’s rolling green hills.

Barney’s brother and top assistant Bartholomew hung from the twenty foot ceiling, collecting golden honey from a hive near the top of the bakery. He stood the same size as Barney, only his hair was orange and his suspenders were purple.

“Finally.” Barney pounded his tiny hand on the table, creating a voluminous cloud of sugar. “Where have you been?”

Nathan hurried to the table.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said.

Barney snapped his suspenders in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the fireplace with a thud. Bees still buzzed around his hair. He scampered over to peer out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked. He pressed his hands together against his nose.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

Weave in the protagonist’s mindset and motivation

Lastly, it’s helpful if all scenes flow from a protagonist who has clear motivations, is active, and where we have a clear sense of the stakes.

The protagonist’s motivation and mindset is often the missing component for good physical description in a new space. When we know what the protagonist is trying to do we will contextualize everything else with that north star in mind.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan scurried through the door into the cavernous secret gnome bakery within the massive oak tree on Mr. McGillicutty’s farm. The scent of freshly baked cookies, cloves, cinnamon, and sweet pixie powder made his mouth water.

Nathan had searched every farm within a ten mile radius for butterfly cups, but had come up empty. If the gnomes couldn’t figure out how to make witch cookies without them before the head witch Griselda arrived at noon, she would curse the village with six more months of winter and Nathan could kiss his sunny afternoons drinking iced peppermint at the fairy lagoon goodbye.

Mr. McGillicutty’s head baker Barney, a three foot tall gnome wearing bright green suspenders, bent over the sugar cookies he was frosting at a large oak table in the center of the room. A fireplace roared behind him, providing a welcome warmth from the biting wind outside. A small window against the far wall provided a majestic vista of the farm’s rolling green hills.

Barney’s brother and top assistant Bartholomew hung from the twenty foot ceiling, collecting golden honey from a hive near the top of the bakery. He stood the same size as Barney, only his hair was orange and his suspenders were purple.

“Finally.” Barney pounded his tiny hand on the table, creating a voluminous cloud of sugar. “Where have you been?”

Nathan hurried to the table. He tried to summon the courage to tell the gnomes the bad news. He’d had quite enough of gnomes kicking him in the shins during the past two weeks.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said.

Barney snapped his suspenders in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the fireplace with a thud. Bees still buzzed around his hair. He scampered over to peer out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked. He pressed his hands together against his nose.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

Effective description doesn’t have to go on for pages and pages

Let’s see how far we’ve come. We started with this:

Nathan ran through the door.

“Finally,” Barney said, shaking his head. “Where have you been?”

Nathan walked up to a table, where Barney was making sugar cookies.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said, hanging from the ceiling.

Barney stood three feet tall and wore bright green suspenders. He snapped them in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the roaring fireplace. Bees still flew angrily around his orange hair. He had disturbed them while collecting honey from a hive near the top of the tree. He moved over to look out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked with a sigh.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

And now we have this:

Nathan scurried through the door into the cavernous secret gnome bakery within the massive oak tree on Mr. McGillicutty’s farm. The scent of freshly baked cookies, cloves, cinnamon, and sweet pixie powder made his mouth water.

Nathan had searched every farm within a ten mile radius for butterfly cups, but had come up empty. If the gnomes couldn’t figure out how to make witch cookies without them before the head witch Griselda arrived at noon, she would curse the village with six more months of winter and Nathan could kiss his sunny afternoons drinking iced peppermint at the fairy lagoon goodbye.

Mr. McGillicutty’s head baker Barney, a three foot tall gnome wearing bright green suspenders, bent over the sugar cookies he was frosting at a large oak table in the center of the room. A fireplace roared behind him, providing a welcome warmth from the biting wind outside. A small window against the far wall provided a majestic vista of the farm’s rolling green hills.

Barney’s brother and top assistant Bartholomew hung from the twenty foot ceiling, collecting golden honey from a hive near the top of the bakery. He stood the same size as Barney, only his hair was orange and his suspenders were purple.

“Finally.” Barney pounded his tiny hand on the table, creating a voluminous cloud of sugar. “Where have you been?”

Nathan hurried to the table. He tried to summon the courage to tell the gnomes the bad news. He’d had quite enough of gnomes kicking him in the shins during the past two weeks.

“Barney, I told you we needed to hurry!” Bartholomew said.

Barney snapped his suspenders in frustration.

Bartholomew landed in front of the fireplace with a thud. Bees still buzzed around his hair. He scampered over to peer out the window.

“Did you bring the secret ingredient?” Bartholomew asked. He pressed his hands together against his nose.

“You’re not going to like this,” Nathan said.

Sure, the second excerpt is longer, but it’s not pages and pages longer. You don’t need to go on forever to make a setting and characters come to life. Often it’s a matter of swapping out what’s vague with more precise language and letting things flow in a more cohesive and organized way.

Do you have any favorite tips for making physical description come to life? Take to the comments!

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Art: The Pine, Saint Tropez by Paul Signac