Monday, April 19th, 2010 | Posted by: Philip Persinger
Premise:
There is entirely too much detail and description in prose; much more than in life. When you walk in and out of a room in life you remember only a very small collection of things. Usually by the time you leave a room you are trying to remember something that happened in the previous room.
Moving on toward a new POV:
When a character is actually in the moment there is no comprehensive point of view.
When you walk into a room you see one or two objects and the people or usually the person who you are focused on.
You do not see the entire space along with the rug, the chandeliers and the sconces.
You do not see the first violinist unless you are sleeping with him.
You do not notice that the samovar has an ivory pull.
On the other hand, you do see that the fancy-wrapped gift with mauve and turquoise ribbons which remains unopened beside all the other gifts, which are not only opened, but strewn about because the party has moved away from the table. You see it because that is your gift.
The comprehensive details of the scene are reconstructed much later in the novelist’s mind. They are not of the moment. They are of the history.
Neo-Rococo Minimalism. Be there or be square.
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