Mary O'Gara

Today’s guest blog is from Don McNair, multi-published author and now a book editor for the rest of us.   Don’s teaching his workshop on 21 steps to fog-free writing for Writers Online Classes in September.

His lesson on eliminating “ly” words was an eye-opener for me, so I got permission from Don to share it with all of you.   Of course I knew (going back to my own copy editing days) that “ly” words make weak writing–but Don showed me what an important small step this change is.

So here’s Don:

Back in my newbie years I heard someplace that I should eliminate “-ly” words.  I had no idea why, but that was the common advice, so I accepted it.  Later, I realized my writing was sharper.  But why would that be?  Years later, while writing dialogue for a scene, the reason hit me.  It can be explained by two words: author intrusion.

To illustrate, consider this sentence, which is indicative of many writing samples from unpublished writers:  “I’ll advise you to stop doing that,” he said, angrily.

How do we know he said this angrily?  Well, the author told us!  After the character said his line, the author poked his reader’s shoulder and said, “That thing the character said?  It was said in an angry manner.  I just wanted you to know that.”

Here’s a more vivid explanation.  You’ve just taken your seat at a theatre on opening night.  The lights dim and the curtain opens on two actors.  The female actor steps forward and says, “John, I wish you hadn’t done that.”

The theatre lights suddenly go bright and the director bounds onto the stage, waving his arms.  He stares at the audience.  “That thing the character said?  I just wanted you to know it was said in an angry manner.  Do we all understand that?”  Satisfied that we do, he disappears behind the curtain and the actors again take their places.  John says, “Well, it wasn’t my fault,” and that director prances back onto the stage to tell us John was miffed, perhaps even a bit petulant.

Do you think you could settle in and enjoy that play?

What’s the solution?  The way our sample dialogue is now, with those “-ly” words, the author is TELLING us how the lines were said.  Let’s let the characters themselves SHOW us their frames of mind, perhaps like this:

“I’ll advise you to stop doing that.”  His hands formed fists at his sides.

Let’s look at another way to show the character’s feelings.  Consider this dialogue:  “Don’t you think we’d better stop?” she asked, anxiously.

There’s that author again, telling us how the characters think.  What’s another way to show she said her line anxiously?  Well, we can alter what she says so that there’s no question, and no need for the author to butt in.  Perhaps like this:  “My God, shouldn’t we stop?”

Author intrusion is only one problem with using “-ly” words.  Redundancy is another.  The above quote uses an adverb (the -ly word), a frequently seen redundancy.  If someone said “Now, now” to you, wouldn’t you immediately classify it as a mild statement?  Do we really need an outsider—the author—to tell us it was, by using “mildly?”  We are being told twice, and that makes it a redundancy.

This is also an instance of author intrusion.  The adverb adds nothing and in fact detracts from our story involvement.  If a quote seems to need an “-ly” word, change the quote so that it doesn’t.  Edit the above example to:  “Now, now,” he said.

Here’s another example:  “It’s none of your business!” she said hotly.

That exclamation mark says she was hot, doesn’t it?  Change this to:  “It’s none of your business!” she said.

Where possible, leave out the dialogue tag completely.  This is true especially when there’s a rapid-fire exchange between characters, like this:

“It’s none of your business!”

“Now, Betty, I was only asking . . .”

“You men.  You come in here and . . .”

Is there any question about who said what?  Or how they said it?

Adverbs are frequently overused in non-quoted material and often are redundant.  Compare this sentence . . . Amy quickly jumped up.  . . . with this one:  Amy jumped up.  The latter is stronger, don’t you think?  Besides, how could one jump slowly?  Aha!  Another form of redundancy.

One more:  “She quickly jerked the hat off her head.”  Compare that with:  “She jerked the hat off her head.”  Or, better yet:  “She jerked off her hat.”

More action, less fog.

1. Morning pages or timed writing first thing in the morning.  Let your muse start reminding you about the ideas that have been percolating while you were doing other things.
2. Take a 20-minute walk or do other physical rhythmic work.  A walk with a sketchbook or camera or recorder for notes feeds the muse and starts new creative processes.   But if you’re blocked and just need help starting up again, any rhythmic physical activity–even knitting or needlework–will help.
3. Try reading deprivation for three days to a week.   Or for the first week or two back at work, try fiction deprivation.   If  you don’t provide passive stories, your mind will rush to fill the gap.
4. Set a daily quota for yourself, a word count you can easily achieve.   For the first few days back, that’s all you ask of yourself–but you do that quota no matter how much it seems like wastebasket fodder.   If you haven’t been writing for a few days, your critic’s too strong and shouldn’t be allowed to judge.  (Notice I didn’t suggest starting by reading everything you’ve already written.  The last page is one thing–but if you start from scratch, the critic will destroy good work.)
5. Pick up paper and a fast-moving pen and play with words and free association.  Or make lists of titles, colors, jargon words from a character’s region or work history.  You could cluster or mindmap or write haiku.   It’s the word play that starts the creative juices flowing.
6. Give your muse some music that feels like the mood of the writing you want to do.  If music would disturb other family members, try colors or scented candles or a collage of images.  Use your senses to recover the feeling of the story.
7. And if you do need to read the work you wrote before your break, read it aloud.  Listen for the language and rhythms.  The inner critic is easier to keep at bay when you’re not reading silently.   (Visual artists and performers may have to trick their inner critics in other ways.)

My guest today is Sally J. Walker, who is Editorial “Director of The Fiction Works and Script Supervisor of Misty Mountain Productions.  Sally’s own writing include two novels,  a Western, DESERT TIME and a mainstream literary, LETTING GO OF SACRED THINGS.  She is also president of the Nebraska Writers Guild.

Like many other people I treasure, Sally came into my life by serendipity.  A friend said, “There’s this writing workshop…” and I said, “Writing?  Why not?”  There were two workshops, both taught by Sally in a single week end.   I still have the notes twenty years later (and still use them) and now Sally is teaching a for Writers Online .Classes in August.  Her workshop will be on Cross-Genre writing, and here’s a little of what Sally has to say about the power of Cross-Genre work.

“Cross-Genre Knowledge is Empowering”

By Sally J. Walker

Most writers create stories similar to their reading tastes or live up to that adage “Write what you like to read!”  Some writers consciously write to a specific market, as in “Write to your reader expectations.”  But what happens when your style of storytelling COULD pull in more readers from other genres with their own set of expectations?

Well, that requires an understanding of the expectations of the scope of and details of those other genres.  Incorporating those expectation elements can result in “Cross-Genre Appeal” and that is precisely what my up-coming course at Writers Online Classes will be all about.

I have found a particular appeal, even a challenge to deliberately weaving in types of characters and plot structures from various OTHER genres than the main genre I am writing in.  The practice stimulates my creative process, my growth as a writer.  The possibilities are endless.

At this very moment I am writing a Christian western romance.  Each of those three genres dictate conventions, limits and specific elements I must work at everyday so that a reader favoring any one of the three genres will be satisfied.  I don’t want to be predictable nor boring.  I want my characters to be unique and my plot events to be convoluted yet logical to the sequences I create.  It is hard work to maintain a well-crafted literary flow as I do all that . . . but, WOW, is it gratifying when I am “in the zone” and story flows out of my mind and into my fingertips.

My awareness made me think of other stories I have created:  an action-adventure romantic mystery (When Eagles Scream, a screenplay), a contemporary western horror (Eyes of the Cat, another screenplay), a children’s Scottish fantasy (The Legend of the Golden Rose, a read-aloud picture book), an historical romantic suspense (Please Believe in Passion, a novel) then on and on through my portfolio.  As I objectively assessed each of the projects I have completed, I discovered  a subconscious effort to write cross-genre stories all along.

This AWARENESS empowered me as I revised each of my works readying them for marketing.  I identified where I could trim blatant elements to artistic subtlety and where I could enhance thin elements to meet the expectations of readers (and editors) in OTHER genres I could market to.

Subsequently, I encountered writers who did not understand other genre expectations but likewise wanted to write for a broader appeal that would increase their own chances of selling a project.  So, I took my notes of the various genres, studied them in depth to verify my own observations AND researched the dictates of genre experts to create a succinct series of lessons in “how to” do that very thing, deliberately write for cross-genre appeal.  for me, the study and practice has proven that adage “Knowledge is power.”

What a hoot to share with others in a succinct, time-saving manner and empower them!

The Moon’s in Taurus all day today, and I think of Taurus as my personal money moon.

Maybe I should call it the piggy bank Moon.

Before the day is out, I’ll start a new piggy bank for something special I want to buy.   The juicier the better, I think, but Taurus is both sensuale and practical, so you can use Taurus energy for almost anything.

Taurus does rule both banking and personal property, so you could save to invest in a new scanner or to buy extravantly gorgeous lingerie or  to make a down payment on something big like a car or college tuition.

Taurus rules money and banking, but not personal debts; debts come under Scorpio.  So whatever you plan to do with money under a Taurus moon will work better if it’s for a cash purchase.

You can set aside at little as a penny.   And add to your fund every month when the Moon’s in Taurus, even if you can only add another penny or two at that time.   It’s the stability and constancy of Taurus you’re looking for.   Of course, you can and probably will add to the funds between Taurus Moons, but you’ll want to refresh the magic with a new investment whenever the Moon’s in Taurus.

In Mountain Time, the Moon goes void just after midnight Thursday morning, so take action today.

I can’t get to the bank today, so I’ll put a little change in a pretty box on my dresser and dedicate that money to my new car.  The one I haven’t picked out yet, but know I want.

And when I decide on a car, I’ll just slip its picture under the box for luck.

But there’s no luck to saving under a Taurus Moon.  Astrologers have been doing it for centuries, just as farmers have been planting under Taurus moonbeams.  Things grow in Taurus, and what better than money?

Astrology is a symbolic language, coming from the same part of the brain as metaphors.  Because astrology and tarot have rich histories, the metaphors let us play with ideas that bridge the gap between physically available resources and potential development.  Astrology doesn’t provide the goal, but it can clarify both timing and the best approach to a goal.

Tarot is metaphors with images Tarot images, like the visual patterns of an astrology chart, supplement the metaphorical meanings and trigger ideas and options.

While astrologers and psychic readers are expected to provide information and content during a consultation, coaches are often more effective when they simply ask questions.   A creativity coach, for example, has expertise in the creative process but not necessarily in the field in which a client works.   So the astrologer provides metaphors and the coach provides questions .

Coaching has a greater focus on the client’s personal responsibility for whatever the client wants to accomplish.

Coaching is more open-ended.   Astrology and psychic work usually relate to a defined time period and often to a specific question.   Would my work be handled more effectively by a New York agent, a California agent or someone in another state is a great relocation question for an astrologer–but it’s not a coaching question.

What do you need to know before you choose a locaiton? would be a good coaching approach.

So I’m back from my “sabbatical year” of minimal work with astrology while I focused on coaching.   Coaching by the stars is my own metaphor for working with clients with either set of tools.   Of course, astrology clients still have to provide time, place and date of birth.   Coaching clients only have to bring a curious mind or a goal or a vision.

What do astrology and coaching have in common?   At one time, I’d have defined them as wildly different myself.   But consider this:

1.  Both coaching and astrology focus on moving from the present into the future.   Astrology is a tool for looking at the present and future symbolically and making responsible and responsive choices.   Coaching looks at our dreams and visions and develops strategies for resolving internal and external conflicts and building moment.   So they share a future-oriented perspective (as opposed to therapy, for example, which focuses on the past and its impact on the present moment.)

2.  In the hands of an experienced astrologer, astrology opens a conversation that expands rather than restricts a person’s options.   Coaching and astrology both look at present resources, risk factors, and commitment as factors in planning a successful future.

3.  Coaching raises questions–and while you’d think of astrology as answering questions more often than it asks them, astrology actually excels in asking questions, too.   The symbols of astrology are open-ended enough to expose multiple possibilities for each event.   And I often think good coaching begins with asking enough questions to help people find a goal and develop at least three potential ways to reach that goal.

So it’s not surprising that I sometimes reach for a coaching client’s astrology chart when we work on timing questions or shift gears with an astrology client and raise the kinds of questions that coaches ask.   What once seemed like an either/or choice now seems to me to be the best of both.

Today is a fine day for a writing dialogue with someone you loved–or might have loved if he or she had returned from a war, any war–or perhaps for writing a heartfelt prayer for the ones who did come back.

In Red Oak, Iowa, my home town, they still fly the funeral flags of our hometown veterans on Memorial Day.   Among them are two men I loved who came back:  My father and my grandmother’s brother, who was my surrogate grandfather:  Charles Arthur Reese and Philo Douglas Clark.

The stories they told me as a child were wildly exaggerated and made war sound like a great adventure.   Today I might dialogue with Uncle Philo about his real memories of World War One.   Dialogues aren’t limited to living people.

You could also dialogue with the condition of living in a world at war, and you might be surprised at what you discover for your own life and your writing.

Or this may be a chance to say good-bye in dialogue–or hello to someone you never got to meet.

Dialoguing is simple:   Sit quietly and breathe slowly and deeply.   Write a name on the journal page and make a short list of up to a dozen milestones in that person’s life, remembering that you are only one of those milestones.   Then close your eyes and imagine that person or something representing the situationn in front of you.

Close your eyes.

Write:  Hello or some other greeting.

Listen and record what you hear or understand.

Write your next sentence.   Continue until the conversation drops.

Ask if there’s anything else.

Sit in silence a little longer, waiting.

And when it’s really done, jot down a summary sentence for yourself or maybe a reminder about what you want to take into the rest of your life from this moment.

If you’re a writer, writing every day is as important to your creative health as brushing your teeth is to your physical health.   I don’t remember whether it was Heifetz or Menuhin or Casals who said that if he didn’t practice scales for a day, he could tell; if he didn’t do scales for a few days, the audience could tell.  Twyla Tharp writes about the importance of exercise and daily practice for dancers.

Daily work is probably the best-kept secret of the top artists in every creative field.   It’s certainly the secret the wanna-bes overlook.  You can work in a journal and keep your notes or work on napkins and toss them.   Personally, of course, I favor journals, but the essential part is working however you can on a particular day.

And here’s the bottom line.   If you don’t love writing so much that you’re willing to do five minutes a day of work on the craft of writing, you don’t love it enough to sustain the ups and downs of a career.

Why are writers the only creative group that actually seems to take pride in not working?

Why do I teach The Artist’s Way workshop (based on Julia Cameron’s book)?  Because it’s easier to coach writers who do their daily work.   Cameron makes it simple:  three pages of flow writing every morning to let the subconscious mind spill its contents, whether those contents are brilliant plots or threadbare whines, plus an hour a week devoted to filling up the creative well and entertaining your muse.   In later books she recommends a weekly exploratory walk.

Natalie Goldberg recommends timed writing, with a topic or starter sentence.  You still just let the words flow and let the subconscious mind pour out its thoughts.

Recently, I’ve been intrigued by the possibilities of sentences, and I’ve been spending my daily time playing with sentence structure.   But soon I’ll return to morning pages.  Maybe I’ll do morning pages and sentence structure, which feels like a musician’s scales.

For you it might be making lists or vocabulary study or some other skill.

However you do it, that daily five minutes keeps the mind focused on stories and looking for material.

Saturn’s dipping back into Virgo, so the time is right to restructure your plans and goals, revise your manuscripts, and revision your future.   If it needs adjusting, Saturn retrograde in Virgo is the time for easy adjustments.

Saturn is not only structure, but also accountability, so checking each and every plan and plot you have is a good thing right now.   Look for acocuntability–and make changes or eliminate goals and projects for which you’re no longer willing to be accountable.   Revise plots with structure in mine; sure you can keep those crazy characters, but you have to decide when the reader will know what they’re doing.

As for revisioning your future–just weed out those goals you wouldn’t be willing to have manifest right this second.   And take at least one step toward the ones you keep even if that’s a minor step like a phone call, a blog, or a note in your day planner.

Saturn’s retrograde until the end of May.  It hangs around its station degree and minute from May 27 to June 2nd, so get your work done before then.

You won’t be done, of course.   After Saturn goes direct, you can still polish that structure and shine up the dream, reworking them happily until Saturn goes into Libra again on July 23rd.

You goals for Saturn in Libra:  Be ready to recognized great critique partners and other team players to help you reach your goals.   Sadly, you may also need more distance from some of your present colleagues.