More Editing How-To's--Life Speeding By

Since my blog post of two days ago generated so much discussion (and great tips and word lists for myself--thanks everyone!), I decided to post on another editing pet peeve.

There is nothing mroe satisfying to the secret, lurking English teacher in me than slashing a red line through an entire page. Whip out the pen and voila . . . the page is gone. I do it often when editing authors . . . and I know they cringe. But . . . sometimes I just have to. And one of the biggest things that will get me joyously slicing through a page is scene setting.

Why?

Scene setting has a time and a place. For instance, in THE ROOFER, when Ava went into John's bar, in a scene-setting, she discussed the nicotine-encrusted (and I DO mean encusted) walls, the moosehead above the bar that had turned sooty black from smokers, the Hiroshima cloud of smoke hovering above everyone, the single light bulb in the bathroom, the vague smell of vomit in the air. It was time to set the scene of Hell's Kitchen. Scene setting wasn't appropriate in chapter one--that was an Irish wake. The most important part of that scene was the Irish wake itself--as a writer can't assume everyone has been to one. That wasn't the PLACE to explore Hell's Kitchen. I had to exhibit patience, even though Hell's Kitchen was one of the most improtant features of the book. But the time for that was the "downtime" start of the next chapter when Ava and Tom went for a drink.

In general, the most common time I slice with red pen, especially, in scene-setting is when life is SPEEDING by. What do I mean? If a detective and her partner walk into a crime scene, and the book is written from her POV, and as they enter the building, its walls awash in blood from a serial killer, and a man is fleeing the building, and the cop and her partner give pursuit, I don't care HOW good her power of observation is as a detective, from 100 yards, she is not going to notice the most minute details of her suspect (like eye color if it's dark), and she is not going to take the TIME to notice the chintz chair, the magazines on the coffee table, the knick-knacks on the shelves of the dead person's home. It's just not going to happen because that detective will be out of there in less than five seconds. Her adrenaline will be rushing. It isn't time for scene setting, it isn't time for heavy description--all that will pull a reader out of the scene. It's time to MOVE. Life is speeding by and all the rest of that "stuff" that writers sometimes love to describe can come LATER.

Thoughts? Time and place?