Invisible Writing

Last week, I talked about how great books make a lasting impression on the reader, as well as how seamless and invisible writing contributes to that. This week, I want to talk about what makes writing invisible and seamless.

The definition of invisible is, quite simply, that it’s not visible. It’s not noticeable. It’s not front and center. I think of invisible writing as similar to stagehands during a play. You see them occasionally, when there’s a necessary set change that’s not possible to do behind the curtain, but they’re never seen for long, and the audience hardly gives them a second thought. The focus is always on the actors and the story. The stagehands are absolutely necessary, though, because, without them, the play would fall apart. The audience just can’t see everything they do. Not unless they look for them specifically.

When I write, I strive for ‘stagehand’ writing. Basically, I want my words to bring out the story and only the story. I don’t want my readers to notice the words I used unless they are specifically looking at them. With that in mind, these are the guidelines I follow when I write.

Avoid Repetition
If you convey an idea or concept in one paragraph, don’t do it again three paragraphs later. This makes the reader feel like you are hammering it into their heads, and it generally puts him off. Instead, keep the paragraph that most effectively conveys what you want to say and ditch the other.

You also need to be careful with words that sound similar. If you use the word ‘though’ in one sentence, don’t use ‘although’ in the same paragraph. Or even in the next paragraph. Instead, grab your handy thesaurus and find another word that sounds completely different but conveys the same meaning.

Streamline Your Sentences
Don’t use two words where one will do, especially when one of the words paints a vivid image on its own. One word that does the job of two has more impact on the reader, and gives the impression of clean and sharp prose. For example, we know a skyscraper is tall so there is no need to include that descriptor. Instead, we need to know about its uniqueness, and, most importantly, it’s impact on the story and characters.

Filler words can also clutter up a sentence, and most are not needed. Some examples are very, just, a lot, actually, pretty (as in pretty good or pretty close), really, rather, etc. Unnecessary prepositions fall into the same category. For example, ‘At around’ is a common phrase, but both words are not necessary. They also conflict with each other: ‘at’ implies precision, and ‘around’ implies estimation. Use one or the other, but not both. In general, watch how you use prepositions. Most times, there are better ways to convey your ideas.

Avoid Adverbs and Adjectives
Adverbs are the easiest way to get your ideas across to the reader. They are also weaker and, most often, unnecessary. Instead, use a stronger verb that conveys the same meaning and gives the reader a clear image of what’s happening. For example:
“What are you doing?” she said shrilly.
Vs.
“What are you doing?” she screeched.
The first example uses two words where one will do, which is illustrated in the second example. It can be hard to find the right verb, but, when you do, your words will come alive. The same principle applies to adjectives.

Once you’ve gone through your story over and over and are finally in your last stage of revision, look at each word and assess whether it is necessary, whether it is doing the job it’s supposed to do. All of these things will give you a vivid story.

Full Contact Writing

I have carpal tunnel. It’s a side effect of typing at a computer for most of the day, every day, for the past twenty years. Many people have it and we’ve figured out how to live with it. I also study karate, and that requires impact on my wrists at times. One of my teachers can always tell when I’ve been doing a lot of writing because my wrists are more tender than usual. The last time he noticed, he said to me “Full contact writing again?” I laughed because karate-related injuries can happen in our dojo and we all know how to deal with them, but writing isn’t a contact sport. It’s sitting in a chair all day, and the only things moving are your fingers.

After I went home, though, I thought about what he said.

Full Contact Writing.

Actually, that *is* what I do, or, at least, what I strive to do. I don’t mean this in a physical sense, like chucking a book at someone’s head. I mean mentally, intellectually, and emotionally. When I read a great story, it makes an impact on me. A hard hit in karate can leave bruises, which usually last about a week. In a good book, the characters and situations leave an impression on my mind, sometimes for days after I’ve finished it.

A book that can do this has effectively used all the working parts: relatable and interesting characters, unpredictable plot, vivid and believable world-building, increasing tension, satisfying conclusion, etc. But the thing that really ties all these together is the writing. Good, solid, strong writing.

What makes writing good?

I’ve taken quite a few writing classes over the years. Inevitably, someone picks out a flowery sentence and reads it aloud as an example of amazingly good writing because it sounds so beautiful. But, does that make it good writing? In my opinion, no.

Beautiful sentences and turns of phrases work great in poetry or books in verse. But in a regular story? Nope. For me, it makes it sound like the author is trying too hard to impress the reader, and she comes across as pretentious. These sentences also do a disservice to the story because the reader is no longer absorbed in the story, she’s focusing on the words. The best writing is invisible, seamless, and never distracts from the characters or the story. It’s the stitching that binds the various pieces of the story together, and stitching is best when it’s not the focus of the whole work. Occasionally, some stitching is visible and adds to the overall beauty of the whole, but it’s never the focus, and it’s never what you notice first.

So, how do you write invisible and seamless sentences? That’s the topic for next week.

 

Crafting Powerful Sentences

My oldest son is in fourth grade, and he recently came home with an interesting homework assignment. He had to pick out what his teacher called ‘juicy sentences’ from the book he was currently reading. These juicy sentences (I love that term, btw) are the ones that evoke the most emotion, imagery, tension, etc.

It’s difficult to craft sentences like that. It’s all about choosing the right words for your story, which is easier said than done. Part of it is feeling out the story and using the words that pop into your mind, and you can’t really explain why you choose them. You just do. This skill takes a long time to learn how to do effectively, and can’t really be taught. But there are a few guidelines that can help steer you in the right direction.

1) Avoid repeated words.
When we repeat words or phrases in our stories, it lessens the impact each time that word is used. This includes repeated imagery. If you’ve just referenced a color as a feeling, or a metaphoric smell, or specific kind of texture, then avoid using that same reference again. If possible, don’t use it anywhere else in the story. This keeps it original, and the single use makes it powerful.

2) Avoid common, everyday words.
Words like just, then, anyway, so, though, etc. dilute the sentence because they’re filler words. They don’t add anything to the underlying meaning of the sentence, and can (most often) be deleted. Don’t worry about these words that crop up in your first draft. After you have the big picture working, then you can go through and remove them.

3) Avoid overly used phrases.
The most powerful sentence is one that conveys a familiar meaning/image/feeling/etc while using unfamiliar construct of words. Phrases that have been around for quite some time are more like conversation filler. They don’t really have any meaning except to let the person verbally meander. A powerful sentence doesn’t meander; it gets right the point and hits you hard with its intent. Instead of taking the easy way out and using a phrase that you’re familiar with, find a new way to say it.

Some examples to avoid: of course, I was like, I couldn’t help but wonder, I noticed, in my mind’s eye, only to be met with, sent shock waves of, like a bat out of hell, glimmer of hope, throw in the towel, etc.

To create your powerful sentences, constantly ask yourself if there’s a stronger way of telling your story. Embrace the concept of ‘less is more.’ Look at each word and ask yourself what its purpose is. If you can’t answer, then you either need to delete it or find a different word. Make your sentences as juicy as possible.

This is a lot of work. A lot. But it’s also what separates the good writers from the great ones.

In the Past or Present?

Present tense. It's in many YA books today. Some people have very strong feelings against it, some don’t. Me? I love it. BUT. Yes, there’s a but. :) I only love it if it has been done well, and if it’s necessary to the story. Otherwise, I can't stand it, and this is why.

When we writers sit down to write a first draft, we are discovering the story. Even if it’s been planned out with outlines and whatnot, there is still plenty of discovery happening through the characters, dialog, setting, etc. That adds an element of immediacy, of being in the moment. But the problem is that it’s not coming from the characters; it’s coming from us.

In that first draft, we writers are in a state of complete discovery. We may know some basic facts about the story and the characters, but really we are living from moment to moment, recording the story as we go. In subsequent drafts, though, we are no longer in that moment. We are reflecting back on it, analyzing, perfecting, adding in the details we may have missed the first time around, and trying to show that moment to the reader in the best way possible.

The same is true for our characters. To have a completely effective story told in present tense, the characters must be in the moment, not the author. That means that there should be no reflection or analyzing of what is currently happening. They need to figure things out as they go.

Some good examples of present tense are The Adoration of Jenna Fox, Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac, and The Spectacular Now. In Jenna Fox and Teenage Amnesiac, the main characters have no memory of who they are. They’ve been told some basic facts about themselves, but they are in full discovery mode, trying figure things out. A perfect situation for present tense.

In Jenna Fox, Jenna stays in this self-discovery mode for the entire story because it’s not possible for her to reflect on who she was before her accident. It’s a very powerful story. The reader gets completely sucked into all of her moments and can’t wait for her to discover more, because that means we will discover more. This book is one of the most effective uses of present tense I’ve ever seen.

In Teenage Amnesiac, Naomi is suffering from amnesia due to a nasty bump on the head. So, in the beginning, we are discovering right along with her. It’s just as effective as Jenna Fox, and just as compelling...until Naomi regains her memory, and suddenly knows who she was before she bumped her head. At this moment, Naomi begins to reflect, comparing her old self to her new self. It’s also the moment that the present tense feels awkward. The reader is stuck in discovery mode, i.e. present tense, but Naomi is no longer discovering. She’s reflecting and analyzing.

The Spectacular Now is a different sort of book. Sutter is a party boy alcoholic. He completely lives in the moment, looking for the next fun thing. When that’s over, he’s off looking for the next one, and the next, and so on. His whole life is built upon not reflecting, because that would mean facing the possibility that he has a problem with his drinking. Hence, the title, The Spectacular Now. As Sutter shares his story with us, he presents it as-is, no frills, no I-guess-I-did-that-because rationalizations or reflections. He is completely in the moment, and this book is also one of the most effective uses of present tense I’ve ever seen.

So if you’re writing a story in present tense and you’re not sure if it’s effective, then take a look at both you and your character. Which one is in discovery mode? Which one is completely in the moment? If it’s you, then you might want to rethink using present tense. If it’s your character, then you’re probably on the right track.

Revision: Less Is More

So, you’ve written a book and you’re ready to polish your words until they shine. And then you hear the phrase “Less is more.” But what does that mean? This is one of the mantras all writers have heard, but it’s not always explained.

The short answer is that you don’t write three words where one will do. Okay, but doesn’t that risk making your writing flat and lifeless? Possibly. It all depends on which words you choose, and that’s pretty much the key to all good writing. You choose the words that work hard to convey exactly what you have in mind. This means that you don’t use three sufficient words if you can use one perfect word.

For example:
1) He quietly went up the stairs, so afraid that Dad would kill him if he knew what time it was.
2) He slunk up the stairs. Dad would kill him if he knew what time it was.

The words in the first example don’t work very hard. They convey the same meaning, but not as sharply. The second example does the same job in fewer words, and they bring us closer into the story.

The first sentence also has a filler word: ‘so.’ Words like but, and, just, really, very, like, so, etc. aren’t necessary most of the time. Sometimes they fit the voice of the main character, but should still be used sparingly. A little bit goes a long way.

There are also words that do double duty by describing something that’s already descriptive. Such as: tall skyscraper, whispered quietly, frozen ice, descended down, scribbled messily, etc. In each of these cases, only one word is required. The real difficulty is finding the exact words that work for your scene. In most cases, it’s finding the verb that conveys the action you’re looking for, *plus* the emotion associated with the scene.

Some of you may have noticed that, in the examples above, the first sentence is telling and the second is showing. If you did, good for you! :) It’s what exceptional writing comes down to, actually: words that show you the scene and evoke emotion in the reader. The best way to do this is to use fewer words so that the ones you do use work really hard to convey your meaning. It’s rare that you find these words the first time around, so don’t despair! Instead, embrace another mantra: try, try again. And you’ll get there in the end. :)

You Can't Package Yourself With Your Book

Not too long ago, I had an interesting conversation on Verla Kay’s writer discussion boards about the book The Dust of 100 Dogs. A fellow writer loved the book, but I didn’t, and each of us were presenting our reasons why. It was a great conversation.

Then the other person said something really interesting. He said that the answers to some of my questions were in a Q&A in the newest paperback. I’d already seen that section and it hadn't changed my opinion, but right then something else in me went ‘huh.’ Was there a need for this Q&A section? As in, had these questions been asked so many times that the author and publisher found it beneficial to publish the answers?

If so, what does that say about the book? Does it say that the book was so widely popular that readers were clamoring for more information? Or does it say that the information in the book was incomplete, and this Q&A section was a way to fill in the blanks?

Personally, I think it’s both in this case. The Dust of 100 Dogs is definitely a compelling and popular book, and the readers loved it enough to ask about the missing information rather than toss the book aside. Which is great! I love it when books incite that kind of curiosity.

Of course, that begs the following question. Does this mean you should create a Q&A for your book?

My answer: NO. Absolutely not. Just because it worked for one book doesn’t mean it will work for all books. Especially for writers with no publishing track record. When we write down our stories, we have to make sure that all the necessary information gets into the text. Otherwise, we run the risk of confusing the reader with plot holes, unanswered questions, inconsistent character behavior, etc. Providing the reader with a list of explanations in a Q&A isn’t likely to keep him from putting the book down (because those are always at the end, and the reader may not make it that far), so we need to consider a Q&A, interview, or other appendix-like piece as a bonus. Not necessary, but something fun that will enrich the story.

We, as writers, have to do more than hook a reader. We have to keep him. In most cases, we get one shot. If we blow it, not only will that reader avoid the rest of our books, he will likely tell others to avoid us, too.

So, in addition to hooking an editor or agent, we also have to think about how we are going to hook *and keep* our readers. Here are some ways to do that.

-Any questions raised in the beginning of the story must be answered by the end.
-Established behavior in the characters must remain consistent throughout the story, unless a large enough (and believable) event can explain the changes in that behavior.
-Any definitions introduced in the story must remain consistent and coherent throughout. This includes the rules created in world building, as well as keeping the setting consistent.
-New characters or changes in the setting shouldn’t pop out of nowhere in the end. The reader needs some kind of subtle preparation, at the very least.
-Keep the plot consistent, and make sure your characters have valid reasons for doing what they do. Hint: ‘they need to do this because it gets them from point A to B’ or ‘because that’s how the story goes’ are not valid reasons.

How do we know we are doing the items listed above effectively? The best and easiest way to tell is when your critique partners give you feedback. Do they have questions? Did they find something confusing? Did they misunderstand certain parts of the story, or a character’s actions?

If you find yourself saying ‘that’s because of xyz,’ or feel that you need to 'defend' your story, STOP. Write down what your critique partner is saying and then go through your manuscript to see if you can figure out how she got to where she did. Then figure out a way to fix it and give it back to her to see if it clears things up. If it does, great! If not, try again.
Lather, rinse, repeat. :)

Who said writing a book was easy, anyway? :)

Purple Prose People Eaters

There are many different ways to write, and many different words to choose from. Those words can pack a punch, thrusting a clear visual in the reader’s face. And there are words that sort of whisper by, hardly saying or doing anything.

Then, there is purple prose. When I first heard this phrase twenty-some years ago, I had no idea what it meant. So, for those of you who don’t know, here’s a definition.

Purple prose is a term that describes profligate, overly complex, or flowery word choices that break the flow of the story. Purple prose generally evokes senses beyond what the story requires, which can sometimes make the reader feel manipulated or talked-down-to.

This is how I boil it down. Purple prose is a choice of words that aren’t there for the sake of the story, they’re there for the sake of themselves. The words go beyond packing a punch and leave bruises on the reader.

Let’s examine an example.
Tia stared pensively into the eyes of the heavy yolk of the setting sun, glistening tears flowing down her moist cheeks. The wind gusted in short bursts, howling eerily in her ears and tearing at the shawl draped morosely across her shoulders. She frantically clutched at it, fearful she would lose its memories of blissfully carefree days.

At first glance, what do you notice about this paragraph?

If you said too many adjectives and adverbs, heavy-handed similes, redundancy, and awkward images and emotion, you’d be correct.

In the above example, it sounds like the author is trying too hard to get her message across. This is probably because she doesn’t trust the reader to understand on his own, or she lacks confidence in her own skill to get the story across.

When I started out writing over twenty years ago, I wrote poetry – where you only have a few lines to tell an entire story. You can’t mince words in poetry, and you have to choose the most powerful words possible. When I wrote my first short story, it was filled with purple prose. I had taken my poetry-writing strategy and applied it to story-writing, and it didn’t work. At all. Then, I went to the other extreme and chose zero powerful words. That didn’t work either. It took me years to figure out that powerful words are absolutely necessary to any story, but they are applied in different ways depending on what you’re writing.

When I wrote my first novel, I was just getting used to the idea that I needed to use powerful words. The end result was erratic and awkward images and emotions. As I kept writing, practicing, and working, a balance slowly emerged. It was still a few more years before I could choose appropriate words on purpose, and even longer before I could recognize it in other people's work. But I kept at it, and my understanding of words grew stronger each day. I began to see a place for powerful, beautiful, and lyrical words outside of poetry.

The best example of powerful words I’ve ever seen is THE SPECTACULAR NOW by Tim Tharp. It contains of the perfect balance. That is, it doesn’t put them all together like in the example above. Instead, it spreads them out over paragraphs, strategically added to enhance the story in the best way possible. It takes an amazing amount of skill to do this, and I’m glad Tharp was recognized in the National Book Awards.

The best example of lyrical words I've ever seen is SPEAK by Laurie Halse Anderson. Anderson takes the troubled emotions of a teenager and lays them out for the reader in haunting, beautiful prose, but it never goes too far. Not once did the words distract me from the story. Instead, each word pulled me in closer until I felt I was the main character. That's exactly what words are supposed to do in fiction.

So, when you're writing, don't shy away from powerful, lyrical, or beautiful words. Use them, and put a strong image in your reader's face. Just be careful not to give him a black eye.

The Spectacular Now by Tim Tharp

Plot Summary: Sutter Keely. He’s the guy you want at your party. He’ll get everyone dancing. He’ll get everyone in your parents’ pool. Okay, so he’s not exactly a shining academic star. He has no plans for college and will probably end up folding men’s shirts for a living. But there are plenty of ladies in town, and with the help of Dean Martin and Seagram’s V.O., life’s pretty fabuloso, actually. Until the morning he wakes up on a random front lawn, and he meets Aimee. Aimee’s clueless. Aimee is a social disaster. Aimee needs help, and it’s up to the Sutterman to show Aimee a splendiferous time and then let her go
forth and prosper. But Aimee’s not like other girls, and before long he’s in way over his head. For the first time in his life, he has the power to make a difference in someone else’s life—or ruin it forever.

This book was nominated for the National Book Award, along with the likes of THE DISREPUTABLE HISTORY OF FRANKIE LANDAU-BANKS, WHAT I SAW AND HOW I LIED, and CHAINS. And, let me tell you, it’s worthy.

This story is realistic, with a realistic ending. And it’s so rich with craft and strong in voice that I could not put it down. It’s just as strong as CHAINS in the showing department, but surpasses it in active word choice. This whole story is alive simply because of the words that Mr. Tharp chooses to use. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend picking up a copy. NOW.

As with all my book discussions, there are SPOILERS below.

Even though Sutter Keely would never admit it, he’s obviously an alcoholic. But his story is not about him coming to terms with this, or even wondering if he has a problem. At least, not in the traditional sense.

It takes years to get over alcohol addiction, and I applaud Mr. Tharp for not giving Sutter that zinging moment where he realizes he’s an alcoholic and vows to never drink again. That’s just not realistic. It’s tough to get over any kind of addiction, especially when you don’t believe you have a problem. And Sutter clearly doesn’t believe he has a problem. But acknowledging similarity traits between himself and his father is a clear baby-step toward recovery. It leaves the ending open-ended. Sutter could stay on that path to recovery, or he may not. We have no way of knowing.

On top of all that, Mr. Tharp shows the perils of drinking without preaching. No easy feat.

This is an amazing book. Go get a copy.

Edited to add: I cannot believe I forgot about this!!! This book has the most effective use of present tense that I've ever seen. I only noticed it because I notice all present tense, and then usually adjust accordingly. There was no adjustment here - present tense worked from page one all the way through to the end. Which makes sense, since the book is called THE SPECTACULAR NOW. :) Tim Tharp just keeps making me grin with all this cool stuff he does with craft. :)

And now back to your regularly scheduled blogging... :)

Say Again?

What’s your favorite word? How many times do you actually use it?
On the flip side, what’s your least favorite word? And how many times do you use it?

The answer to both questions is probably “not very often.” But what about the words you don’t have strong feelings for either way? What about the words that come out while you’re trying to think of something to say? Before you address a crowd? When something happens that you don't like? How often do you use those words, and what are they?

Chances are, these words are something mundane, like “okay” or “yeah” or "crap" or something similar. A good friend of my says “I mean” quite often. My husband says “kinda like” all the time. I say “well,” and my oldest son is now picking up that habit. We say these things without thinking about it. Without even realizing it.

But what about when you write? Chances are, you don’t repeat the same kinds of words on paper that you do aloud. Then, what are the words you use over and over again when you write? If you don’t know, how can you find out?

Lucky for us, there’s a great website that creates something called a Wordle. It’s a visual representation of the words most often used in the text. The words largest in size have been used most often. The smallest, least often. So, does it mean that if you've got an enormous word in your Wordle, you're using it too much? Maybe, maybe not. But it’s worth exploring...

I copied in the text of my novels, ROYAL ROSE and BELIEVING IS THE HARDEST PART.

Both stories are in third person, so the word I (obviously) used most was the main character’s name.

In Miranda’s story, “said” is as big as the other characters’ names. But in Rose’s story, it’s much smaller. But in both of them, the word “eyes” is pretty darned big. I examined both manuscripts, and discovered that I use the eyes way too much when describing emotional reactions (with all my characters). It made me take a hard look at other, better ways of getting these emotions across. I also discovered that I use the word "just" too much. That one is definitely a writerly version of "okay." Nine times out of ten, I could delete the word "just" without it affecting my sentence.

This site was probably not intended to be used as a tool for writers, but I've found it invaluable.

What’s in your Wordle?

Packing A Punch

What’s the point of writing a story? Just to write it? Or do we want to create a lasting impression on our readers? Yeah, that sounds right. Then how do we do that? Well, you could create a complicated, eventful plot with breakneck pacing. Or, characters that don’t stop moving from cover to cover.

Even with all that, you could still bore your reader to tears if your story is filled with passive prose.

Active prose pack a bigger punch than passive. By “active,” I mean verbs. By “passive,” I mean the way the verb is used. When prose is passive, the subject gets the action that’s expressed in the verb. In other words, the sentence is structured backwards. I.E., “The sign was hit by the car” should be “The car hit the sign.”

Which brings up the question of “was.” Many writers assume the word “was” is always passive. But it's not. Not always, anyway. It’s simply a way to express verb tense, and sometimes is written passively. Ink Fever has a good post on this, so rather than reinvent the wheel I will just send you there. :)

So, how does a sentence make an impact on the reader? It’s where the focus is. If a sentence focuses on its strength, it has great impact. If it doesn’t, it fizzles. For example, I’ve seen many manuscripts contain “gave a...” phrases. As in, “She gave him a shy smile” or “I gave him a push.” Is the focus on the strongest part of these sentences? Let’s reword them and see what happens:

1) She gave him a shy smile.
She smiled at him, staring at the ground as she tried to cover her scarlet cheeks.

2) I gave him a push.
I pushed him, giggling, and almost fell over.

Which variation draws you in and creates a more vivid picture? The one without “gave,” right? “Gave” isn’t a very strong verb. It doesn’t paint a clear picture, and doesn’t have a big impact on the reader. In fact, it’s restructuring the sentence such that the stronger verbs, smile and push, are turned into nouns. This weakens the sentence, thus reducing the impact it has on the reader.

It’s also classic telling – we discussed how showing is action-oriented in a previous post. There is much cross-over with active prose and showing. It’s all about the characters doing something, where the focus of the sentence is on the verb, or the action that the character is taking. The action in “gave a push” is still pushing, even though the verb is “gave.”

Let’s examine a few more examples:
She gave a strong kick. -> She kicked hard.
There were three dogs running in the park. -> Three dogs ran through the park.
Amy could feel an ant crawling up her arm. -> A tickle crept up Amy’s arm. An ant?
She quickly walked down the hall. -> She strode down the hall.
He hit Mike’s arm hard. -> He punched Mike’s arm.
It made a loud, cracking sound. -> It cracked, the sound echoing off the walls.

As long as your sentences are structured such that the action expressed in the sentence is coming through the verb, you’ve got active prose. And, you’ve got happy readers. :)