Details

The bane of my existence.
I'm really good at coming up with a story, and really good at writing it. But then I re-read it and realize that it could be so much better if I just knew how to add detail. And it's not even the big things. It's the little things that I read in other people's books and love, but can't figure out how to utilize in mine.
Take the first few pages of Poison Study. She describes where the main character is and what she's going through so well that you feel like you're there, you feel like you, yourself, are being led to the gallows to die. It's amazing.
I've come to figure out that I'm really bad at "showing" and not "telling". And I know that it's something that comes with practice. Sometimes I feel like I do a really good job, and then I read over it and think "that's not nearly as good as I thought it was".
Does anyone else have this problem?
Does anyone have suggestions on how to fix it?

The Two Little Boys and the Big Bad Mess

Just a random story I wrote one night to get one of the pages for my writing group.

            Once upon a time, there were two little boys. They were brothers, and were both very silly little boys. One day, they were playing at their grandmother’s house. They had strewn Legos and books and train tracks and car tracks all over the floor of the family room. But when it was time to go home, they didn’t want to pick them up!

            “You better clean up,” their dad said, “or something weird might happen.”

            But the two little boys didn’t believe him. Which is silly, when you think about it, since their daddy had never lied to them.

            And so they decided not to clean up.

            So the next day when they came over, the mess was still there, as their grandmother had been too busy to clean it up for them.

            So they played and played and made an even bigger mess than they had before. And again, when it was time to go, they didn’t want to clean up.

            “You’d better clean up,” their dad said again, “or something weird might happen.”

            But nothing weird had happened the day before, so they didn’t think it would happen this time either. So they left without cleaning up.

            The next day, the mess was still there, because their grandma was too busy to clean it up for them. Besides, she hadn’t made the mess.

            So they played and they played and they made an even bigger mess than before. And when it was time to go, they didn’t want to clean up.

            “You’d better clean up,” their dad said, “or something weird might happen.”

            And the boys didn’t believe him. After all, nothing had happened the first day, and nothing had happened the second day. Nothing weird was going to happen.

            But then, something weird did happen. The mess came to life! A hand made out of Legos grabbed the older boy’s leg and started dragging him away from his dad. The trains all forced the younger boy away from his mom.

            “What do we do?” The boys cried.

            “Clean up.” Their dad stated. He had been in this situation before, and he had tried to warn them.

            So the boys started throwing everything into the bins that they belonged to. All of the Legos went into the Lego bucket. All of the train tracks and car tracks went into the Tupperware bin they belonged in. They could move on their own again! They quickly put the books on the bookshelf and ran out to their parents.

            “We’ll never leave things a mess again!” They resolved, clinging to their parents’ legs.

            “We’re sure you won’t.” Their mother said kindly, and then led them out to the car to head home.

Children in the Room

            You could tell there had been children in the room. If the Legos strewn haphazardly across the floor wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the tiny shoes lying on their sides five feet apart would be the next clue. Cardboard books littered the ground, mixed in between the Legos. A doll and a toddler sized rocking chair joined the chaos.

            But the biggest clue was the screaming of the two little boys who were, in fact, still in the room, and the slightly crazed look in their mother’s eyes. The younger boy, nearly one year old, had a slight cold, and was suspected of having yet another ear infection. The older boy, two and a half years old, had been sound asleep when he had first gotten to his grandmother’s house, but the mess that covered the family room only appeared after he awoke.

            The boys’ aunt, who was supposed to be writing, was distracted by how cute, but loud these two were. She carefully disconnected the clingy younger one from his mother’s arms during dinner, so the mother would have a chance to eat in piece. This ended in her arm becoming sore after a while because the only way to keep him happy while away from his mother was to bounce him around and swing him upside down. She couldn’t help but laugh, though, as he became fascinated at one point, with moving her head up and down. He would push up on her chin and then giggle incessantly when she dropped her head back in place, each time pulling a funny face. His giggle was contagious and she soon couldn’t stop herself from laughing in pure joy every time she heard it.

            If the younger one was clingy and giggling, the older one could only be described as difficult. He wanted cookies, but he wanted to go into the pantry to get them himself. He wanted to play with his younger brother, but his idea of playing with him was to hit him in the chest and grab the front of his clothes. The adults all knew that he was just getting out of hand, but that didn’t stop them from getting upset with him.

            At the same time, he was doing such crazy things, and saying such silly things, that they couldn’t be mad at him for too long.

            “Do you want some cookies?”

            “Cookies? Okay.”

            “Are you hungry?”

            “Hungry? Okay.”

            Everything was ‘okay’. That was, apparently, his way of saying yes.

            Perhaps the most hilarious part of the evening, however, was when the younger brother stole a ball that the older brother had.

            “Hey! Give that back!”

            The older brother retrieved his ball back without too much effort, and went back to playing unperturbed. It probably shouldn’t have been as funny as it was, but the older brother stole things from the younger one so often that this particular payback struck us all as amusing.

            Eventually, the aunt was able to get back to writing, although the distractions still made it difficult to truly concentrate. She couldn’t blame her nephews, however. She knew it wasn’t their fault they were just so darn cute!