#6 sharing detail vs. information dumping

6th best vs worst thing about being an aspiring writer: 

sharing character description/history vs information dumping

best
using our exceptional creativity and imagination to come up with full, real-to-life characters, incredible, believable histories and family trees for these characters, building an entire world and community for them to live in with family and neighbors and friends and teachers, knowing their every flaw, dream, preference, taste, etc.


and


worst
not being able to include all of that amazingness in the actual novel
because
           it's
            backstory
                   and/or
                      information dumping

how can you keep from dumping information on your reader?

• show don't tell (use dialogue, less is usually more-meaning fewer words=better writing, say what you really mean to say-don't write around it trying to be all writerly and impressive)
• only "share" information that moves the plot along or is vital to the reader's knowledge and understanding of the story
• visit links that have great advice on this particular downfall (almost) all writers face:
• visit julie musil's blog (our newest follower!) she recently posted on how to avoid information dumps. go here
• Inkspot (authors of crime novels) have a short post on avoiding information dumping here
• nathan bransford has a few posts that apply.  go here and here and here

i bet you all have super advice to share with me, too. don't you?  leave your own suggestions below!

oh, and before you leave, below is an example of my own information dump.  then, after running it by erica and receiving writerly advice, i revised.

paragraph(s) of dumping:

               Jordyn walked in and I got stuck in the doorway. Not physically, but a mental inhibitor goes off and freezes my body on occasion, usually when I’m faced with having to walk into a room full of people.

            When I was three, my parents and I had gone to a church picnic in the parking lot of our church. The lot had been transformed with large white tents, red and blue inflatables, and hundreds of people. I’d had a red balloon in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other. Licking the ice cream fast enough to keep it from dripping onto my bare toes took so much effort that I didn’t notice the ribbon of the balloon slipping out of my fist. The last bit of ribbon slipping from my hand tickled my palm. I chased it until it had flown higher than the branches of the tree I looked up into. My mom found me, huddled up next to its trunk, sticky rivers of ice cream flowing to my armpits and ants covering my legs. I remembered it all. Adults were very tall back then and I’d stood in the forest of them, trying to find my mom’s yellow tank top. The memory remained as bleak for my parents as for me, and we credit that day as the day I became an introvert.
         Other students brushed past me and grumbled so I took one step in and stood off to the side. Many desks were empty. I breathed in through my nose and followed the lines of the floor with my eyes. I slumped into my wooden chair. Pulling my hair out of its band so it could fall over my face tempted me.
           Again, I need to get a grip.
           In all fairness, the brown haired girl and two blonde boys in the corner looked my way and snickered. I had every reason to feel self-conscious.


revised version:

                  Jordyn walked in and I got stuck in the doorway. Not physically, but a mental inhibitor goes off and freezes my body on occasion, usually when I’m faced with having to walk into a room full of people.

                 She stopped and turned around. “Coming?”
                “Uh-huh.” Only I didn’t actually move.
                “Having a crowd moment?” She’d come up next to me and whispered.
                “Uh-huh.” I whispered back.
                 Other students brushed past me and grumbled so I took one step in and stood off to the side.
                “Dawn. Look around. Half the desks are empty. Come on.” She walked in, leaving me alone.
                True, many desks sat empty. She had a valid point. I breathed in through my nose and followed the lines of the floor with my eyes. I slumped into my wooden chair. I felt tempted to pull my hair out of its band so it could fall over my face.
                 I need to get a grip.
                 In all fairness, the brown haired girl and two blonde boys in the corner looked my way and snickered. I had every reason to feel self-conscious.


notes:  even without reading it you can see the information dump was a huge block of text (otherwise known as a paragraph) but may seem daunting to a YA reader.  the revised version read much more quickly, yet got the point across.  the reason behind her fear of crowds (the incident in the church parking lot) will be better told when her future boyfriend gets to know her a little bit better (again, through dialogue).