Writers need to know all sorts of things. An experienced writer’s trove of wisdom certainly contains more than the five rules I mention here. Getting to that level isn’t a hard road, although it is a long one. Like every journey, you take it step-by-step. Rather than learning everything at once, concentrate on one new discovery a day. Once you have applied a principle a few times, it becomes a habit, and you can move on to the next item. Don’t misunderstand. Most authors struggle with these issues even after years of writing. Take me. I’m a “filter word” expert when I beta read for a friend. Yet when I turn my attention to my own manuscript, the blinkers go up.
I beta occasionally for new writers who have finished their books and are ready to query. Or so they think. Many of them are good writers with an extensive vocabulary, but they stand absolutely, categorically, definitely no chance of getting their books read by an agent until they master the basics. It's the equivalent of a new chef having an exquisite palate, but being in the dark about how to boil an egg.
Please read on if you believe you need to brush up on your writing 101.
Rule 1: Characters do not frown, sigh or smile words. They can do one or the other. Just for laughs, try to smile the word “robot” and you’ll see it doesn’t work. To attribute dialogue to a character, use “he said”/”she said,” beats, or nothing at all. Attributions you may use are actions (“He frowns,” “She runs a hand through her hair”), emotions (“My stomach roiled”), or voice cues (“Her voice was tinged with bitterness”). Mix it up. Beats belong in the same paragraph as the associated dialogue. Do not mix dialogue from one character with the action of another character. Finally, if you use no attribution at all, make sure the reader knows who’s talking.
Impossible: “I love it,” she smiled. “It’s great.”
Better: “I love it,” she said. “It’s great.”
Even better: “I love it.” She grinned like an emoticon. “It’s great.”
Or possibly: “Hotdammit, I love it. It’s fan-tas-tic.” [No attribution needed if it’s clear who’s speaking.]
Confusing: “I love it,” she said. “It’s great.” He shook his head.
Rule 2: Avoid “as," because it will get you into trouble. “As” signals a simultaneous action of equal duration. The word is also often associated with a cause/effect reversal. There are places where “as” works, but it’s simpler to just avoid it. (Please note: this does not apply to "as" when used to mean "because" or to indicate a comparison etc.)
Impossible: He fell as he ran down the stairs. [While he was falling, he also ran down the stairs? And running down the stairs took as long as the falling? Quite some feat. Also, readers feel more comfortable if the character runs before he falls.]
Better: He took two steps at once and didn’t spot the toy soldier until it was too late. With an ear-rattling scream, he crashed down the stairs.
Rule 3: Dangling modifiers are a pain in the butt for everyone, especially for editors. Not all are easy to spot. First things first. What is a modifier? A modifier is a word or a phrase that modifies an object, usually the subject of the sentence. Why “dangling”? This refers to the problem where the modifier and the subject don’t match, i.e. The modifier is left hanging.
Impossible: I ran at full-out speed. Turning the corner, a lamppost came into view. [Implying the lamppost turned the corner].
Better: I zoomed around the corner. A man in a suit leaned against a lamppost, pretending to read the newspaper in his hand.
Rule 4: Your characters experience a wide range of emotions throughout the book. Know when they are important. In many cases, a simple “I froze” will do. The short sentence gives the reader a quick impression, but it won’t trip him or her up. In key situations, you want to milk the emotions. Ram them home.
Not enough:
The man leaped out of the bush. I froze.
“Give me your money.” He jabbed a knife at me.
I fished my wallet out of my pocket. It contained the money I needed to buy my brother’s medicine. The man grabbed it and, without another word, scarpered down the street.
Relieved, I took a deep breath.
Better:
The man leaped out of the bush. My breath froze in my lungs.
“Give me your money.” He jabbed a knife at me.
My hand trembled. It took three tries to pull my wallet out of my pocket. His eyes, cold and devoid of light, screamed at me to hurry up. My hand tightened around the supple leather. I’d worked hard for that money. Without it, my brother would go without medicine, possibly relapse.
“Give it.” The man ripped the wallet from my fist and bulleted down the street. Out of sight.
Oxygen rushed into me, lifting my diaphragm like the pistons of a V-12 engine. What was I going to do? I wiped a tear off my cheek. What the hell was I going to do?
Rule 5: Lose filter words. Filter words “filter” your characters’ experiences before they reach the reader. The most common ones are “see” “watch” “hear” “feel.” Instead of showing what's happening to your character, you’re at best showing your character telling the reader what happened. You are creating an extra layer through which the plot is “filtered.”
Filtered: I sat in the car, watching a couple cross the road. They looked in love. I even heard the man say those words to the woman next to him. I felt a delicate warmth rise in my chest. If only I could be loved like that.
Unfiltered: I pushed back into the seat of my Honda and sipped from my bottle. A man and a woman, both well into their fifties, crossed the road ahead of me. Fingers intertwined, their hands swung between them.
“I love you.” The wind carried the man’s affectionate words through the open window.
The woman laughed, but her twinkling eyes confirmed she felt the same way.
I took another swig. Perhaps the water would drown the ache in my chest. One day, someone would speak those words to me. One day, I would laugh like the woman had laughed, with my head back and love in my eyes.
One day.
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