I love this door. I positively ache to unlock the lock, turn the handle and ease it open, so that I can discover all the secrets which must surely be hidden on the far side. I like the fact that the door itself is made of metal, and the metal is rusted, and the paint is flaking -- already there are a number of different textures and surfaces to excite the curious gaze (mine). It is framed by a wall made of stone and brick -- more texture. Add to this the fact that it is half covered, and softened, by some tousled ivy, and that among the lowest tendrils you can glimpse a tiny punctuation of what look like yellow flowers, and you can see all kinds of contrasts at play: colour and drabness, a living creeper and cold hard stone, the rough with the smooth.
Good writing should be like this. Your reader should be able to devour a scene in order to find out what happens next -- the literary equivalent of glancing at this photograph - but then, if they linger over the action and reflect on it, they should be able to appreciate all the different undercurrents and tensions that you have created within it: the dialogue might belie the mood, or contradict the inner thoughts of your characters; the characters themselves might subtly shift in relation to one another, and at a nuts and bolts level (the little yellow flowers of my picture) the language you use should be rich in variety, with sentences of different lengths and an interesting but restrained use of adjectives (no adverbs if you can help it), coupled with the occasional but not excessive use of metaphors and similes.
So now you know...!
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