Scene-Setting or Inventory List? An Agent's Take on Excessive Description
A Quick Lesson on Chekhov's Gun
Every week, I read manuscripts that treat description like an inventory list. The intent is to ensure I see everything in vivid detail. Except, I don't need to see everything. I only need to see what matters.
Most of these efforts are an attempt to “set the scene”. I get it. You want me to see the archeologist professor’s office—the piles of papers, the dusty books, a half-eaten sandwich, coffee-stained journals, a paperweight shaped like a sphinx, scattered pens, a photo of his deceased wife, reading glasses and the globe that spins when he walks past. You want me to feel immersed in the room—if not their world.
But if I spend half a page cataloging desk clutter only to learn none of it matters, I don’t feel immersed—I feel misled.
Let’s talk about Chekhov’s Gun, because if you’re doing it wrong, your pacing isn’t the only thing that’s suffering.
You’ve probably heard the phrase: If you show a gun in Act One, it should go off by Act Three. It’s not only about guns. It’s about narrative promise. If you focus the reader’s attention on something—an object, a detail, a line of dialogue—you’re telling them: This will matter.
The Difference Between Setting and Setup
Setting establishes mood and context. Setup plants story elements.
Taking the above as an example, if the description is only “setting the scene," you're probably overdoing it.
However, if there's a cursed Egyptian relic hidden among the items – the one that will later drive the plot – then yes, describe that cluttered desk. Show me the ordinary objects that camouflage the extraordinary one. Make me feel the weight of normalcy that's about to be shattered.
For instance, if you draw my attention to a paperweight shaped like a sphinx, I’m half-expecting it to come alive and continue eating the sandwich.
Movies vs Prose
Many authors write their books with an eye toward the movie they hope it will become; which is all well and good. However, prose isn't cinema.
When a camera shows us a busy street, we're not reading a list of every pedestrian, car, and storefront. We're getting an impression, a feeling.
Whereas with prose, every word carries weight because the reader must process each one individually. That description of the professor's desk isn’t flashing by in two seconds of screen time. The narrative stops while the reader processes dusty books and coffee stains.
Now, let’s turn it the other way. Imagine you’re watching a movie. The main character walks down a busy city street, pulls their hand out of their pocket and a piece of paper falls to the ground. The camera zooms in. The audience leans forward. Clue? Phone number? Map? Will they be looking for that later?
Nope, just littering.
Reader Expectation
When you describe something in detail the reader thinks: This must be important. You're training them to pay attention. You're telling them this information will matter.
When details prove irrelevant—nothing on the desk is extraordinary, that extensive hair and wardrobe rundown was pointless, or the character you spent three pages describing never returns—you’ve not only wasted the reader’s time, but have weakened their trust in the narrative.
How to Fire Your Metaphorical Gun
Description should set the mood and advance the story. If the desk is cluttered, tell me what’s buried among it that reveals something crucial and will matter later.
When establishing setting, be strategic. Pick one or two details that do heavy lifting. The half-eaten sandwich tells us the professor is distracted or hurried. The photo of his deceased wife suggests personal loss that might motivate his actions.
Trust the reader to notice what matters, and don’t waste their focus on what doesn’t.
Not everything needs to be Chekhov’s gun, but everything you focus on or highlight should serve the main scope of the story. Otherwise, there’s a good chance you're just cluttering your narrative and slogging the pace.
Further Reading
You Say Plot Device Like It’s a Bad Thing
🛠️ADDITIONAL HELP & RESOURCES🛠️
🧭 Need help sharpening your submission?
Check out my Query Confident Mini Course—a quick-hit guide to tightening your query, synopsis, and first five pages. No fluff. No filler. All value.
⏰ This limited-time offer ends when the full Query Confident Workshop launches. The mini course is a bite-sized taste of what you’ll get in the deep-dive workshop.
Sign up now to get the bonus workbook—and first dibs on limited VIP spots when the full workshop opens.
📚 If you’re revising your manuscript and want to pressure-test your structure, scenes, and pages, my FREE Launch Kit can help.
📅The Query Confident Workshop is coming soon📅
This only happens 2x per year, so get on the waitlist for early access + limited VIP spots.
Lovely recommendations.
Love how you explained that! I studied film, and it's sometimes really hard (as in right) to get that film out of my head. Especially when everyone tells you that's a good thing. It took me a while to understand the difference between watching a movie and writing prose, but the way you describe the moment the narrative stops really helped. Makes perfect sense! Thank you!