So, as you know, Bob-a-looees, I'm reading the 2008 Years Best Fantasy and Horror (Datlow, Grant, Link, et al.). Last night I came to one of those stories. The stories that make you want to throw the book at the wall. The wall that mocks you by standing so tall. The tall tale... can you tell I'm doing this for effect, yeah, this is what every other paragraph was like.
And, let's say, the main character gets a cheese sandwich as a late dinner. You don't need to tell me all the three cheeses it was made of, what the provenance of the bread is, and the chief's name. Unless it's important to the story, it wasn't. Really, too much inconsequential detail that adds nothing to the story.
It was one of those stories where you think, "Hell, I'm writing better than this."
And I have to admit. After a few paragraphs I was ready to skip, but I thought maybe all that detail was for a purpose. Maybe the author was driving at something. Halfway through I was ready to toss it. Three-quarters through I jumped to the end to see if all this detail I was hauling up the mountain was going to pay off.
And this was another damn novella length piece.
It could have been at least half the length. I had to stop myself from getting the red pen out.