ORIGINAL DRAFT OF DESCRIPTION:
There lay a little jar of spices, placed in the cabinet under the stove. Alas, what can one do with a tiny jar of spices? “It is the combination of those spices, decadent vegetables, mouth-watering aromas which make up the elixir guaranteed you will love!” Working hands, pots and pans, gripping the spatula, stirring once clockwise, saying “Try this, tell me how it tastes!” Only then one can appreciate, warm food being set on the table, the process of going from one spice to creating a wonderful meal. Only then I understand, the process and love put into my mother’s cooking. Not following any recipes, chopping vegetables, my mother enjoying her time, and remembering that one spice in the cabinet creates the whole masterpiece….
EDITED VERSION:
The mouth-watering aroma of the decadent spices and vegetables proliferated the kitchen as my mom gripped the wooden spatula and stirred the soup once clockwise. Turmeric, salt, red chilis, tomatoes, and onions all scattered across the black, granite, kitchen counter. My mom says, “Here try this soup, your grandma used to make it for me back when I was your age,” while she hands me a spoon of a reddish, steaming stew. The aroma and taste of the steaming spoonful makes me close my eyes and picture my grandma feeding my mom; the same love and passion put into the cooking. I open my eyes and notice in my mom’s beaming brown eyes and tousled apron, the love and process put in her cooking.
POST-SCRIPT:
Amongst the description, there are several aspects which are effective in terms of portraying different pictures the reader could imagine in their mind. In my personal description, I believe the sentences, “The mouth-watering aroma of the decadent spices and vegetables proliferated the kitchen as my mom gripped the wooden spatula and stirred the soup once clockwise. Turmeric, salt, red chilis, tomatoes, and onions all scattered across the black, granite, kitchen counter.” These sentences are effective in setting the scene as to where the description is taking place, what is going on, etc. Some lingering hesitations I pertain to my description are toward to end. I spent the majority of my editing and revising time, editing the end of the description. Where I mention, “… tousled apron, the love and process put in her cooking,” Some hesitation I had was how I could describe the love and process of the cooking, however, I attempted to do it through the imagery depicted above. Overall, I believe compared to my first draft which seemed arbitrary and abstract in several aspects of the language, the second draft contains specific details and allows the reader to picture what is happening in the description.
Note – Areas of Description:
Work on how to describe the love and process of the cooking in a more metaphorical manner and use more sensory details.
Work on better word choice in terms of active verbs and spend time working on what needs improvement in what is written.
As I mention above, Atishay, you are headed in the right direction with this description of your mother cooking. The scene you selected gives you rich material for action, however subtle, and sensory detail. Her character beings to emerge in this short piece and it’s clear she enjoys cooking and feeding others. As your revise, continue to focus on honing each sentence and keeping your description literal. In a sense, you are creating a brief snapshot of time with language; avoid generalizing or commenting on it (that is, telling us what you think or what your mom feels). Suggest meaning through action and relevant detail but give readers room to interpret and conclude. See the examples I’ve included with this next stage of revision and rewatch Ms. Lazure’s videos — all of this should be helpful as you fine tune your description. Have fun — this is the part of writing I like best! ~Ms. Burke
(You will find the revision of the edited version down below Thank you! :)
REVISION OF EDITED VERSION:
The aromatic, spicy scent of the spices and vegetables proliferates the kitchen as she grips the wooden spatula and stirs the soup once clockwise. Turmeric, salt, red chilis, tomatoes, and onions all scattered across the marbled granite filled with scratches from the chopping board. She lifts the spoon, a reddish, steaming stew resting on the curvature of the spatula, and says, “Here try this soup, your grandma used to make it for me back when I was your age.” I lift the spoon to my mouth and gently close my eyes. My mom lifts her hand and runs her soft but calloused fingers through my jet-black hair, her tousled apron brushes against my arm as she reaches in for a soft hug.