Blog 6: Oct. 6-10 Apparently, Eating Dinner for Breakfast is in Itself Hell
Okay, I’ll admit it proudly: when it comes to food and eating, I’m a sinner, a walking paradox, and unorthodoxical. I make up new foods (and words; I blame Galinda) all the time. I’ll eat fish and arroz con pollo at 6 A.M. as easy as I would eat a doughnut for breakfast— assuming I liked those disgusting things. That’s not my problem. Now what may or may not be my issue is, and I’ll let other writers and critics be the judge because I honestly don’t know, scenery. I hardly ever describe physical settings. And it’s not like I can't write in detail, or that I haven’t described the physical features of a place (“Raising Arms” the printing room), but more that— naturally, unless I describe a rooms for a reason— I just don’t. For “Hellova Story” I kinda sorta neglected to leave out any characterizations of Hell for what I admit is a half-reason. I want to let readers imagine their own Hell, how it looks, and even how it feels (I never once say that any of the characters felt hot or any heat at all, even though I do say there are fires about). I wonder if it’s ever a literary technique not to describe physical settings, or if that makes my story weak.
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