Emotional Beats: Houses and Scenery

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Emotional Beats, emotions, feelings, Houses, Scenery, Writing

Back in September, I published Emotional Beats: How to Easily Convert your Writing into Palpable Feelings. As promised, I will be posting the book on my blog. So, here is the next installment, continuing Part 3 of the book: Other Beats. This chapter deals with:

Houses and Scenery

Emotional Beats | From the blog of Nicholas C. Rossis, author of science fiction, the Pearseus epic fantasy series and children's books

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The best way to describe a house is to flick through an (online) architectural magazine. The second best is to read on.

The walls were covered in rich, black wallpaper that exhibited a shimmering, barely perceptible pattern in the winking candlelight.
Depression glass candleholders stood on the shelf.
Along the far, short wall was a wide, polished, walnut, rectangular table.
Their footsteps echoed on the travertine floors.
All the paint chips he had been forced to stare at had driven him crazy.
The interior was cuter still, with wooden floors polished to a warm honey-gold and exposed brick walls showcasing vintage travel posters.
The room was perfect for sit-downs that didn’t call for the formality of a conference room.
The room had seamless windows and a breathtaking view of the park.
The polished marble flooring gleamed in the full sun.
Blue plaid curtains accented with a soft beige draped the windows.
He touched the rain-streaked pane.
A smattering of trees met his gaze.
He saw a pretty jut of cliffs upholstered with wild grass.
The tower lorded over the seaside village.
Ladders slid on oiled rollers from one section to the next. Bookcases lined each level, from floor to molding.
The garden was redolent with the scent of gardenias.
The central desk looked like a cresting wave, scooped up from a thick base on one side, its leading edge flattening to form a workspace.
Brocaded chairs topped by soft throws lined the wall.
One section of the gate rolled on a rail to the side and another could be raised and lowered.
Their footsteps echoed on the gold-veined marble flooring.
A wet bar was tucked into an alcove. Another wall was nothing but floor-to-ceiling plate-glass windows with French doors.
Original works of art hung placed on recession-lit walls.
She touched the embroidered fingertip towels.
He gazed at the slow-paddling ceiling fans.
Behind elegant banisters, platform walkways permitted catwalk access on the second and third levels.
It was a grand two-story home, painted a pristine white and fronted by tall shrubs that sheltered most of the columned porch from view.
Shining hardwood floors graced a large open space furnished as a combination living and dining area.
The ceilings were open, the rafters exposed.
The porch was narrow, but the second story of the cottage pitched over it and provided much welcome cover.
The shutters outside were open to the sun’s indifferent reach, and dawn streaked in.
Simple railing emerged from the wraparound veranda without any architectural artifice.
Two enormous English elms flanked the old manor. Their bowing branches arched elegantly over it, bobbing in the gentle breeze.
The furniture is old-world, sumptuous and expensive, like the authentic tufted Chesterfield sofa.
Trees with skeletal limbs, badly in need of a trim, scraped against slate, like oaken nails on the lid of a coffin.
He looked at the fancy balusters, like young girls at their first dance, all curves and waists and giggles.
Paintings in vibrant colors covered walls, like small windows into faraway scenery.
Five interior poles held up the roof of the command tent, a standard issue square block of pale canvas. Scraps of rope tied open the doors to admit morning light and a hint of breeze rustled the maps and missives littering the long table. The chief’s sturdy chair stood in a corner, stacked with slightly crumpled, rolled documents, a clear indication that the man preferred to stand.
The road coughed them out into a clearing set beside standing water.
High trees brooded over the night, keeping back the moon’s shine.
Lilacs scented the warm air; honeybees droned their busy song while picking over those late-summer blooms. Mosquitoes planned attacks from the overgrown grass.