That is the question.
At least, it is today for me.
See, i fall into the former, moreso then the latter. For example:
To his right a tall and thin bespectacled woman with coffee coloured skin and long curly hair up in a bun lifted her grey eyes from a paperback to glance at him. Recognizing him, her high cheek bones raised in a smile and she returned her nose towards her book. She sat cocooned behind a desk, cluttered with papers and postcards and old flyers that seemed to have an order in their chaos: the flyers spiraled from one end to the other, their different fonts and colours winking at him from in between postcards of aerial views of cities and natural wonders. The woman herself was sitting in a raised armchair, the arms no longer distinguishable from the piles of hardcover books that were crowded around her, towering up to grace the very bottom edge of an old clock that ticked away the seconds in precise, clipped tocks.
I always or usually fall on the side of waxing eloquent over every single little thing - like Stephen King but so experienced. I can go on and on about the colour of someone's hair and the way another person walks. I can drip over the feel of lace, or really delve into the anatomy of a werewolf. I am, yu see, always lost in the details.
My question is: Is this good?
I like it as a reader. I am a reader who enjoys having a good setting from which I can inject my own imagination - like having the author describe the restauarant and the food then jumping into dialogue and letting me imagine the interpaly of the scene as I read. I love havign that background. But ... am I in the minority?
What do you think?
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