Too Many Notes.

You know what I discovered last week? There really is such thing as too much detail. I'm not talking about adjectives, although using three or four words to describe a man's hair is a bit much.

"His flowing blonde mane tossed and whipped  in the wind."

I'm not even talking about atmosphere. You know...the kind where the writer waxes on and on AND ON AND ON about the beautiful landscape? From the snow-tipped mountains to most delicate foliage.

Nope. I'm not sure what to call it. Information Overkill? I discovered it during edits.

My character was digging a grave. Simple enough, but I'd made it complicated. He started by talking to himself about the depth of the grave, and methods of body disposal. He faxed philosophical about religion and serial killers, and the paranormal. Then it went on to the method of killing and how people like Ted Bundy and John Wayne Gacy got caught and the bad practice of keeping trophies.

I no longer knew what I was even talking about, and the flow suffered so badly, it didn't make sense anymore. I didn't even know what to do with it because I didn't even understand what I was trying to say.

So I sat on my butt with a scraper and pulled Peel and Stick tiles off my kitchen floor. Renovations are good for a writer's frustration. In the end, I ripped out 14 tiles, plus two and a half paragraphs.

Ahhhh...Much better. I think the moral of this story is: "When in doubt, rip stuff out!"