Her eyes flew across the room.
His eyes dropped to her chest.
These two examples are typical detached body parts I see in written literature, more often than not, from beginners. I don’t know about you, but for me, not only am I jerked out of the reading, but I feel like I’m reading a Frankenstein-like horror tale when reading these phrases in a story.
The word that should be used is gaze, not eyes.
Even then does one’s gaze fly? No. Instead, a gaze moves across the room.
Can his gaze drop to her chest? Yes.
What’s the difference, you ask?
In the latter example, the gaze is moving downward, so drop is appropriate. In the former, flying is reserved for planes, birds, kites, and clouds. While our gazes move, they don’t fly. They move across, forward as in looking farther forward across the room or down the road, down, up, just as our bodies move forward, up, down, etc. Since we can’t fly, having a gaze fly doesn’t really work.
Bottom line: This stylistic issue is a detail, and the little details matter. I’ve heard and read where some say that they’re okay with this usage of eyes, saying that eyes and gazes do the same thing. Eyes do gaze. but eyes cannot fly across the room, not unless you take them out of the body and toss them. Literally.
To me, these awkward, unattached body parts jerk me out of the story and if I’m jerked out of it too many times, especially in quick succession, I’ll stop reading not only the book and probably the author, as well.
Was I ever guilty of this awkward style of writing? In the beginning, yes I was, until someone pointed it out to me. Thus began my exchange of gaze for those disembodied eyes. My goal is to always improve my writing, create my own style.
Are there stylistic moves I make that others might disagree with? Most certainly, but I know why I’m making those moves and I do so with purpose. That’s a topic for another blog.
In this particular case, in my opinion, the eyes don’t have it.
A strong, steady gaze from across the room will capture me every time.