Differing Perspectives

"The Box," the movie with Cameron Diaz and James Marsden, came out on DVD Tuesday. One of the perks to working at a video store is that you get to watch the movies a little early, so that you can tell inquiring minds/customers your opinion of the new releases.

So there's this female I work with - for the sake of anonymity, we'll call her Napkin. So Napkin watched "The Box" before many of the other employees, and had a little rant about the movie. "They didn't explain anything!" Napkin cried.

I found this surprising, because, if you've seen the trailer, it's quite clear that "The Box" is one of those thrillers with an intricate plot that is supposed to have at least most of the plot lines tied up before the movie ends. "They didn't explain anything?" I asked.
"They didn't explain anything!" Napkin repeated. "At the end of the movie, it's completely unclear what's going on!"

Not that I don't trust Napkin or anything, but I decided to watch the movie anyway.

I was then perplexed.

You see, dear reader, whom I choose to address in the second person though you're probably nonexistent, I thought that pretty much everything was explained, and that furthermore, much was insinuated. I felt a sense of completion at the end of the movie.

This differing of perspectives got me thinking about explanation in writing.

In the movie which I've been using as an example, I feel that the screenwriter showed us the dots, connected most of the lines, and left the filling in of the picture to the reader's intelligence. Not to say that Napkin isn't intelligent, for she is.

It seems to me, however, that Napkin wants everything explained to her. In detail. Whereas I find too much detail excruciating and boring.

As someone who writes (though not as much as she should be, lately), I'm not going to lie - I mostly write for myself. Don't get me wrong, I want other people to like my writing, too. I want to write something I know I am proud of first, though. Then I get too lazy to revise, so, you know, stuff stays the way I wrote it, and people probably think I'm crazy.

Yet I digress. As a writer, I don't want to confuse my readers. But I also don't want to spell everything out for them, and treat them like idiots.

So how much explanation is TOO MUCH explanation? And how do we know when we're giving too little explanation? I realize the obvious answer is to have someone else read your work. It seems to me, however, that opinions on this question can be too varying. For example, my dear, respected co-worker Napkin and I both like each other, but we're on opposite ends of the spectrum.

Thoughts?

The Question

The idea that "There is no such thing as a stupid question" is well-known, and often said. How much truth there is in the stated idea, however, is another matter.

I, personally, think that it is the sign of an intelligent person to ask questions if you need to gain knowledge. I also, however, contend that there IS such a thing as stupid questions.

I was asked one the other day. One of the stupidest questions I've ever heard, in the most condescending manner.

At the moment, one of my jobs is at Coldstone Creamery. For those who have never been there, let me say that the point in going to Coldstone is to get your ice cream with toppings mixed-in. You can watch us mix the toppings in on this cold slab, and you get toppings in every bite, etc.

So this girl got some ice cream the other day, and one of the toppings in it was whipped cream. Whipped cream is one of those finicky items - so I asked her if she wanted the whipped cream mixed in, or on top. She chose on top.

Then: "Why would anyone want whipped cream inside?"

To begin with, this is a poorly phrased question. Inside what? Inside the store? Inside the universe? Inside your mouth? Presumably, she meant inside of the ice cream. Still, a poorly worded question is a poorly worded question.

I will admit, my response to her was less intelligent than could be desired. "Um...(shrug) some people like it mixed in their ice cream, and some like it on top. (Pause) It's just a matter of preference. (Longer pause) The whipped cream makes the ice cream fluffy."

All factual statements, and I was slightly thrown off by the question, which seemed idiotic to me, but not one of my strongest moments.

I restated something which was obvious. I indicated that the preference might somehow be connected to texture.

Overall, I could not be rude to the girl who asked me this question - but really, the obvious, smart ass replies to her question would be the most correct.

"Why not?"

"Why do YOU like whipped cream on top?"

"Does it matter? Do people always desire things that make sense?"

What thinking over this matter really leads me to think of, however, is dialogue.

In writing, stupid questions can help the story, effectively portray character, etc. And the answers are just as important - and hopefully, better than mine was the other day.

Do YOU have a funny, stupid question? Share it in the comments.

Sentences

Grammatically, I know what a sentence needs to have: subject, verb. Sometimes, a direct object is needed. Yet, in my first drafts, I invariably find myself writing long-winded sentences. Case in point: this sentence is taken from my current writing project:

"Plus, her papers tended to be very depressing, and resulted in Herman’s hoping the school board was putting their prayer to good use, and trying to convince God to grace the school with a miracle by giving Faith a sense of humor."

(Yes, I am still writing the schoolteacher story. But I wrote another story in between posts, so it's kind of okay! I'm really not being super slow. Just slow.)

So I have a question, for those who chance upon this blog - what do YOU think of long sentences? As a writer, and/or as a reader. Are they okay? Are they annoying? Do they make it harder to read? And is that necessarily a bad thing?