Craft & Notebooks
On Writing Weather Before Dialogue
Why establishing barometric pressure, light, and wet wool in the opening three sentences lets characters say half as much aloud.
Whenever a scene in an early draft feels crowded with explanation, the culprit is almost always missing weather. Two people speaking inside an unplaced white room have to carry the entire weight of the chapter in their verbs.
Letting the Room Speak First
Put damp flagstones underfoot, a draught beneath the threshold, or coal smoke blowing sideways past the pantry window, and half the exposition becomes unnecessary. Readers trust physical detail faster than psychological summary.
In my own notebooks I keep a dedicated left-hand column solely for light, tide state, and temperature before writing a single line of speech.