Weather descriptions can create problems in novel writing, apparently. Too many, and the reader may lose  interest.  None, and the reader may find the scene setting lacking. 

Then there’s the Pathetic Fallacy. In some cases, the tone of the weather hints at what is to come.

Here’s a description of a storm taken from my second novel, a psychological thriller.  In this scene, the main character is driving his eight-year-old son home from school.

We barely talk on the way back. Jazz FM plays on the car radio, my favourite station. Those dissonances calming my mood, calming my mind. The journey, though, is rough, and the steadily darkening sky warn of a prairies-like storm  Rain falls down my windscreen, making it difficult to see.

The rain sweeps across the surrounding grass verges in a downpour, splattering on the road ahead. At Rupton village, lightning streaks across the horizon, capturing a frozen shot of The Factory in the valley below: brown, muddy-red brickwork with turret-like windows and a tall chimney to side. Thunder, then more lightning and another glimpse of The Factory with the metal fencing surrounding the car park and the cooling towers and pylon grid further on. Austere.  More thunder and lightning. Torrents of rain and gusts of wind. Snapping branches and soaked leaves strewn along pavements. The steep winding road to the bottom of the valley glazed from the rain, tiny streams of waters trickle down the hill to join the river at the other side.

‘Wow,’ Robert says.

‘You like?’

He nods, but doesn’t smile.

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22 thoughts on “Novel Writing: Description Of A Storm

  1. Hello,

    Must admit I loved your description of that journey, it was as if you were standing in the rain and watching all this happen agreeing with the previous response from Dustus.

  2. is this good!?
    its my version of storm at sea
    To begin with i saw just sitting there scared stiff, didn’t know what to do and all was quiet. However a storm was brewing, rain started peleting down. The sky all misty black.The Wind Was Howling Like A Wild Wolf.
    Then the storm began. I could see the waves starting to craash against the sea, slowly hitting harder and and harder. It spat at me like a savage cat. The drak grey water started to churn and spat at me more viciously
    everytime.
    The Violent water has turned from calm to very aratic sea, as fast as a flash of lightning.The Sea level and waves were rising iratically. As i looked towards me All I could see were huge waves heading for me, much like a tsunarmi .

  3. This is my sisters one:The waves crash against the old wooden huts grabbing them with its monsterous hand.

    Good right follow me on twitter for more stupid poems!

  4. how is this description:
    the murky water churned and swirled angrier and angreir with each shaky breath that i took… the waves mercisly towered over me…. the wind howled and whistled into my aching ear…. the water swept across the slippery deck, taking our only supplies with it…. lightning, and i saw a glimpse of my only beloved child flying throught the air..screaming, “Pappa pappa”….the waves swallowed my only child and seemed to luagh at my weakness….the rain splattered against my bloody face… i screamed in agony…the pain was too much to bear…. i crumpled to my knees and moaned as the hail beat my bare back…i tried to close my eyes…i wanted to forget about this nightmare…but i couldnt…tried..tried harder…the wave hit…………………

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