Mary O'Gara

Archive for the ‘The Writing Business’ Category

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To illustrate, consider this sentence, which is indicative of many writing samples from unpublished writers:  “I’ll advise you to stop doing that,” he said, angrily.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