It's raining, it's pouring...

...the old dogs are snoring...since it's nap time, which usually falls about an hour after they get up in the morning.

( Paws )

A little quiet...

( Inside and outside )

Too much to do and not enough day. Started picking at the GIDEON proposal this weekend. The resolution to a sticky issue dropped into the brain this morning, which was quite the good thing. Let's me know that the brain is working, at least.

The day job is busy and will get busier.

Thinking about cons for next year. I have signed up for Wiscon, of course. Tried for Governors' Club, only to find that had already sold out. Asked to be put on the waiting list, but the Concourse reservations agent said that cancelled rooms would not be returned to the convention block, so the price would jump to the standard rate.

Well, I have a room on the Concourse level, at least.

Worldcon in Denver is also in the plan. Not sure about WFC or anything else.

It's raining, it's pouring...

...the old dogs are snoring...since it's nap time, which usually falls about an hour after they get up in the morning.

( Paws )

A little quiet...

( Inside and outside )

Too much to do and not enough day. Started picking at the GIDEON proposal this weekend. The resolution to a sticky issue dropped into the brain this morning, which was quite the good thing. Let's me know that the brain is working, at least.

The day job is busy and will get busier.

Thinking about cons for next year. I have signed up for Wiscon, of course. Tried for Governors' Club, only to find that had already sold out. Asked to be put on the waiting list, but the Concourse reservations agent said that cancelled rooms would not be returned to the convention block, so the price would jump to the standard rate.

Well, I have a room on the Concourse level, at least.

Worldcon in Denver is also in the plan. Not sure about WFC or anything else.

Rules made to be broken, #712

docbrite discusses the dreaded mirror ploy in this post.

By this point, I think most aspiring writers have probably been advised not to describe a character by the hackneyed technique of having him or her look in a mirror.

FWIW, I've used the dreaded mirror technique. In LAW (although by the time that scene rolls around, you already know what Jani looks like), and in INCIDENT. Frankly, if your character is alone in the scene and you want to get their description out there asap so the reader gets an idea of who they're reading about, it's as good a ploy as any.

We'll save the argument as to whether the reader actually needs any description at all for another time, OK. For the record, I am pro-description.

docbrite is not the only writer I know who has condemned the mirror technique, btw. CJ Cherryh has, as well.

Further on down the post:

Here's a new take on that: describing one by having her not notice herself in a mirror, so presumably we're getting the reflective surface's point of view:

(Me--During this non-reflective description, we read the following: )

"She was five seven, with a beguiling heart-shaped face and blond curly hair that flowed past her shoulders. Her trademark black turtleneck and jeans were nicely taut over the curves of her otherwise lean, athletic body. She wore no makeup, but the impetuous sparkle of her blue eyes attracted more men than would the application of any product from Bloomingdale's cosmetic counter."

And that's where I think the problem is. I am not pro-- this sort of description. The tone is off-putting. The style. The individual who would describe herself like this might make for an interesting study in narcissism, but I doubt that's the point of this particular scene. Many women who are fucking gorgeous don't see themselves that way. Some do, and that's a character tic that can be exploited. But in this case, it seems as though this is the protag, and her personality disorder is not a plot point. She's playing this straight, and damn, she looks good. No hint of "if I don't quit with the chocolate cake, I'll need a winch to pull up these jeans...five more pounds to go...damn it, where did that stain come from...meeting with the boss at 3--I shouldn't have worn jeans." None of the underlayers that often come to the surface when a person looks in the mirror. Nothing but flat, self-congratulatory checklisting that brings out the urge to bitchslap.

I'm a proponent of the non-description description. I try to use them sparingly, but I use them. It's like a Philips head screwdriver. Not the only tool in the kit, and not one for every job. But when you need it, you need it.

My Mirror Scene, from INCIDENT. Not patting myself on the back here, but note the difference:

Jani walked to the nearest sink and activated the tap. Savored the spill of warm water over her hands. Activated the soap, lathered, and rinsed. Counted to three, then looked in the mirror.

Her eyes stared back. Green nearly as dark as Delmen's brown, green unto black, the color of the bottom of a well.

She bent closer and examined the shiny white sclera. Still white. No gaps. No splits. Not much of anything, really. No blood vessels. No shadows. Fake white, to match the fake green. Eyes from a bottle. She reached into her pocket, held her breath as she felt for the vial of filmformer, exhaled slowly as her hand closed over it. Her shield. Her security. The one thing that allowed her to maintain a pretense of humanity.

Jani films her eyes. Every so often, she needs to check them. She does so by looking in a mirror. She confirms her normalcy and moves on. She does not describe her height to the fraction of a centimeter, or the taut fit of her clothes. No impetuous sparkle here. Instead, we get what's running through her mind. Her fears. Her reality.

So, I think The Mirror Scene, if used sparingly, has a place. It gives you a chance to get into the character's head and convey a lot about their backstory in a comparatively short time. I will use it in the future. I will do so sparingly, but I will do so if it kicks the story forward. If someone calls me on it, I'll shrug.

Rules made to be broken, #712

docbrite discusses the dreaded mirror ploy in this post.

By this point, I think most aspiring writers have probably been advised not to describe a character by the hackneyed technique of having him or her look in a mirror.

FWIW, I've used the dreaded mirror technique. In LAW (although by the time that scene rolls around, you already know what Jani looks like), and in INCIDENT. Frankly, if your character is alone in the scene and you want to get their description out there asap so the reader gets an idea of who they're reading about, it's as good a ploy as any.

We'll save the argument as to whether the reader actually needs any description at all for another time, OK. For the record, I am pro-description.

docbrite is not the only writer I know who has condemned the mirror technique, btw. CJ Cherryh has, as well.

Further on down the post:

Here's a new take on that: describing one by having her not notice herself in a mirror, so presumably we're getting the reflective surface's point of view:

(Me--During this non-reflective description, we read the following: )

"She was five seven, with a beguiling heart-shaped face and blond curly hair that flowed past her shoulders. Her trademark black turtleneck and jeans were nicely taut over the curves of her otherwise lean, athletic body. She wore no makeup, but the impetuous sparkle of her blue eyes attracted more men than would the application of any product from Bloomingdale's cosmetic counter."

And that's where I think the problem is. I am not pro-- this sort of description. The tone is off-putting. The style. The individual who would describe herself like this might make for an interesting study in narcissism, but I doubt that's the point of this particular scene. Many women who are fucking gorgeous don't see themselves that way. Some do, and that's a character tic that can be exploited. But in this case, it seems as though this is the protag, and her personality disorder is not a plot point. She's playing this straight, and damn, she looks good. No hint of "if I don't quit with the chocolate cake, I'll need a winch to pull up these jeans...five more pounds to go...damn it, where did that stain come from...meeting with the boss at 3--I shouldn't have worn jeans." None of the underlayers that often come to the surface when a person looks in the mirror. Nothing but flat, self-congratulatory checklisting that brings out the urge to bitchslap.

I'm a proponent of the non-description description. I try to use them sparingly, but I use them. It's like a Philips head screwdriver. Not the only tool in the kit, and not one for every job. But when you need it, you need it.

My Mirror Scene, from INCIDENT. Not patting myself on the back here, but note the difference:

Jani walked to the nearest sink and activated the tap. Savored the spill of warm water over her hands. Activated the soap, lathered, and rinsed. Counted to three, then looked in the mirror.

Her eyes stared back. Green nearly as dark as Delmen's brown, green unto black, the color of the bottom of a well.

She bent closer and examined the shiny white sclera. Still white. No gaps. No splits. Not much of anything, really. No blood vessels. No shadows. Fake white, to match the fake green. Eyes from a bottle. She reached into her pocket, held her breath as she felt for the vial of filmformer, exhaled slowly as her hand closed over it. Her shield. Her security. The one thing that allowed her to maintain a pretense of humanity.

Jani films her eyes. Every so often, she needs to check them. She does so by looking in a mirror. She confirms her normalcy and moves on. She does not describe her height to the fraction of a centimeter, or the taut fit of her clothes. No impetuous sparkle here. Instead, we get what's running through her mind. Her fears. Her reality.

So, I think The Mirror Scene, if used sparingly, has a place. It gives you a chance to get into the character's head and convey a lot about their backstory in a comparatively short time. I will use it in the future. I will do so sparingly, but I will do so if it kicks the story forward. If someone calls me on it, I'll shrug.