Canyon Blog: What Words Suggest

One Canyon, Two Drafts

1Before our family’s canyon trip, my brother Dario and I agreed to write a travel blog together. We agreed on the facts much more easily than the descriptions. At the first overlook, we stood behind a railing while the morning light reached the canyon walls. Dario wrote, “A quiet path leads from the parking lot to the overlook.” I changed quiet to lifeless. “That makes it sound unpleasant,” he said. I had only meant that nobody else was there.

2Our room gave us another editing problem. It had two beds, a small table, and just enough space for our bags. I called it cramped in my draft; Dario called it cozy. We had slept in exactly the same room, but his word sounded welcoming and mine sounded uncomfortable. We kept both descriptions and explained who had written each one.

3The next morning, Dad compared two walking routes on a map. He checked the trail signs before choosing the shorter marked route. “Dad is cautious,” Dario wrote. I suggested timid, but Dario pointed out that Dad had not refused to walk. He was checking the information before deciding. I crossed out my suggestion.

4At lunch, we unpacked sandwiches beside the visitor center. Our cousin Safiya had organized the food into reusable containers. She packed only what we needed, leaving no food to throw away. I described her planning as economical. Dario suggested stingy, then paused. “That would make it sound as though she hadn’t brought enough,” he admitted. Everyone had a full lunch.

5On our last evening, we compared photographs and finished the post. Dario wanted a lively description of the overlook, while I preferred a neutral account. Instead of choosing the more dramatic word automatically, we read each sentence aloud. Our photographs showed where we had been. Our descriptions revealed something else: how each of us had felt while we were there.