Write Lofty and Carry a Big Chisel

Like other construction worker, we creators of word worlds own toolboxes filled with necessary implements. We have hooks to hook the reader, glue to glue their attention, a feather or two to tickle their funny bones.

We find nails to nail our points and hammers to hammer them home. We find nuts and bolts to connect our story elements and trowels with which to lay a concrete foundation. And we find pliers for getting the attention of agents and editors, because we all know that task is as difficult and painful as pulling out our own teeth. (Word of caution: Do not use pliers on said agents/editors. They might take offense and refuse to look at your work.)

We need awls and augers (maybe even augurs) to poke holes in our inflated prose, and we need saws to cut away the deadwood. And we definitely need screwdrivers to screw up our courage and we need screwdrivers to drown our sorrows when agents/editors/critics shoot us down again. (A bulletproof vest would also come in handy, but they are too bulky to fit in the box, and besides, they make our clothes fit funny.)

But the most important and versatile tool of all is the chisel. We can use it to knock the chip off our shoulders. Perhaps you’re right and agents/editors are idiots who can’t recognize good prose. But perhaps they are idiots who can recognize good prose, and you’re not writing it yet. (Notice I say you? I, of course, write excellent prose. Agents/editors just don’t recognize my good prose when they see it.)

Chisels will help keep criticism and compliments at more than arm’s length. Too much criticism can kill creativity; too many compliments may keep us from improving. And we can all improve.

A chisel will help pare away verbiage, those superfluous words and elements that blunt the clear lines of our prose. For example, I chiseled away excess from the phrase excess verbiage, since it’s redundant. Verbiage by definition is excess.

And a chisel will help us shape our story into a world so vital and inviting readers won’t be able to tear themselves away.

So, let’s open our toolboxes and get to work

You first.

What Is Writing Like For You?

For me, writing is like the world’s longest crossword puzzle, one that takes a year to complete. I like playing with words, finding their rhythm, and getting them to behave the way I want. I like being able to take those words and create ideas, characters, and emotions. Amazing when you think about it, how we can juggle twenty-six symbols in different ways to create words, sentences, paragraphs, worlds. And what one person writes, another can read.

For you, writing is like . . .

Writing Is No Laughing Matter

I posted “The First Commandment of Writing” (Thou shalt not bore thy readers) last year, and it engendered a discussion on the importance of conflict. Several days ago, someone left a comment I thought too important to bury in an old post:

Okay guys it depends on the audience a person is appealing to on whether or not she has the right hooks or not but what do i know i am 14 and was looking stuff up about The Old Man and the Sea and this popped up but seriously, does it even matter? who cares about all this? you actually came publically to discuss this? ha! i find that almost Hilarious.

Ignoring the issues of why Google indexed an obscure comment left on my blog seven months ago, and why the commenter tried to find the antagonist of the Old Man and the Sea on the internet instead of in the book, the comment still surprised me.

What’s more important to discuss than writing?

Politics? Without writers, politicians would be speechless.

Celebrities? Without scripts and scripted sound bytes, they’d be as lumber-tongued as the rest of us.

Social ills and climate changes? Without writing, who would be aware of them?

Movies? Without writers, films would be nothing more than demolition derbies.

Music? Without writers, there would be no song.

The Internet, instant messaging, email? Without the ability to write, none of those would be of any use.

And without writers, there would be no novels, and hence no way to delve into what makes us human beings.

Hilarious? Perhaps. But it does matter.

Kamikaze Editing

In giving my manuscripts their yearly tune-up, I discovered that I use and overuse many unnecessary words, such as little, somewhat, rather, quite, very. A little noisy, somewhat noisy, rather noisy, quite noisy, very noisy. In each case, the modifier blurs the word noisy, rendering it almost meaningless. (Almost is another word I use too much.) So I went on a search and destroy mission to sharpen my prose.

I know I overuse only and just, but I hadn’t realized just how often I use them. They should only be used a few times, just to give emphasis, and only when needed. I ended up deleting about a hundred justs and onlys, though I kept almost as many because I couldn’t figure out how to say what I wanted without them.

Another word I overuse is up: he washed up, stood up, raised up. Also down: sat down, crouched down, squatted down. At least those were easy to get rid of, a quick click of the delete key and poof. No ups and downs. Just cleaner prose.

And then there are all those adverbs I really use too often that add practically nothing, particularly when they are basically used to modify verbs that hardly need modifying. Yep: practically, particularly, basically, extremely, hardly, really all have to go. I’m also overfond of barely, but I could barely stand to part with all of them so they still litter my prose. But just barely.

More Rejections

I’ve been sending out queries lately, so I’ve been getting rejections. I think I would be more accepting of the situation if there was a consensus as to why agents and editors are turning down my work. One rejection letter said that my writing was good and the premise intriguing but the book leaned too far toward science fiction to be a good fit. Another letter I received the same day for the same novel said that she was immediately impressed but that there weren’t enough science fiction elements for their list.

Oddly enough, I never considered the book to be science fiction at all — I thought it was more of a thriller, except that it’s not thrilling enough to be classified as a thriller. And if not a thriller, then a mystery, though it doesn’t quite fit into the mystery/suspense category, either.

I can’t imagine what reasons they will give for rejecting my work in progress, assuming I ever get the book finished. (For some reason I can’t write during the summer, so it’s really a work in stagnation.) But the book defies any sort of classification. Well, there’s no point in worrying about that now. I have four completed novels that are racking up the rejections, and that’s about all I can handle for now.

As I was writing this, I received another rejection in the mail. Lucky me! This one said “The concept of the novel is intriguing and the ominous and tense tone of the writing reflects the mood of the protagonist fairly well. Unfortunately, due to the confusing nature of the plot, it’s not right for our current list.” Confusing? I thought that was the point — keep the reader confused until the end when all is made clear and they become unconfused.

I’m used to rejection, of course. It’s all part of the submission process. But oh, how marvelous if just once in my life I had to get used to acceptance!

Coloring Your World

Color is an important part of life, and we should honor that importance in the stories we write. Although we can simply name any color for our characters’ bedrooms or the clothes they wear, by choosing a specific color, we can add layers of meaning to our stories and even to the personalities of our characters. We can add mood, symbolism, theme, even emotion. But first, we need to know what the colors mean.

What Colors Mean:

Black — Evil, falsehood, error, grief, despair, death.
Blue — Chastity, loyalty, fidelity, faith, modesty, eternity, immmortality.
Green — Love, joy, abundance, hope, youth, mirth, gladness, resurrection, spring.
Purple — Temperance, royalty
Red — Magnanimity, fortitude
White — Purity, truth, innocence, hope.
Yellow — Faith, constancy, wisdom, glory, jealousy, inconsistancy.

What Your Favorite Color Reveals About You:

Red — Ambitious, energetic, extroverted
Pink — Affectionate, compassionate, romantic
Maroon — Sensuous, friendly, emotional
Orange — Fun-loving, action-oriented, competent
Peach — Gentle, charitable, enthusiastic
Yellow — Optimistic, expressive, people-oriented
Mint green — Modest, insightful, kind-hearted
Apple green — Innovative, adventuresome, self-motivated
Green — Benevolent, service-oriented, scientific
Teal — Idealistic, faithful, sentimental
Light blue — creative, perceptive, imaginative
Dark Blue — Intelligent, responsible, self-reliant
Mauve — Delicate, reserved, sensitive
Purple — Intuitive, spiritual, insightful
Beige — Practical, well-adjusted, steadfast
Brown — Down to earth, honest, supportive
Black —  Disciplined, strong-willed, opinionated
White —   Individualistic, lonely, low self-esteem
Gray —  Passive, noncommittal, stressed
Silver —  Honorable, chivalrous, romantic
Gold —  Idealistic, noble, successful

More about color:
The Meaning of Your Car Color
Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Green and More

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

De-was-ing My Manuscripts

I don’t seem to be able to write during the summer. The heat fries my creativity, or at least stifles it, so I use the time to send out query letters and edit my novels. For this current edit, I’m going through and de-was-ing my manuscripts. I have no objection to the word “was,” but it seems to be falling out of favor. Too passive, perhaps, and too weak. And I use it a lot; I have found pages that have six or seven wases.

Sometimes it’s easy to remove a was. I just replace it with another verb. He was still handsome becomes He still looked handsome.

Sometimes I find it more difficult, and have to rewrite the entire sentence. It was a nice day becomes The sun shone. The warm air smell of just mowed grass. Not brilliant prose by any means, but at least the was is gone, which satisfies the point of the edit, though I don’t see what was wrong with the first version. It might be bland, but it’s also the character’s opinion. By describing the day, it seems less personal; nevertheless, I made the change.

And then there are all those sentences that I can’t figure out how to rewrite. He was out of the habit of talking might become He’d lost the habit of talking, but it seems too severe for the casual comment I intended. In the end, I left it out. It might change the character’s motivation for not responding to a direct question, but at least I got rid of the was.

I’m having a problem with a few other sentences, too. He was a lawyer can become he worked as a lawyer, but that’s not the same connotation at all. Nor is She was in love the same as She loved him. And what about What was she doing here? Or He was her grandfather. Simple, ordinary sentences that became convoluted any way I try to change them. So I left them as is. If an editor or agent rejects my work because of a few stray wases, then they wouldn’t have been worth dealing with.

Or so I tell myself.

On Writing: More About Character

Creating characters is one of the challenges and satisfactions of writing. We need to devise lifelike personalities for our story people, and we need to figure out why they act the way they do. Characters’ motivations for their actions are more important than their personality type. That WHY takes the character out of the ordinary.

In Practical Tips For Writing Popular Fiction, Robyn Carr states, “Some of the most common failures in motivating characters or plots occur from the following:

1. Foolish and or spontaneous actions.

2. Arbitrary decisions and/or behavior (making the behavior purposeful instead of arbitrary makes the motivation believable.)

3. Actions prompted by passive needs or emotions.”

We learn much about characters from their actions, but what the character does is not the defining element. Like with personality, the defining element is WHY the character does what he does. Characters can do anything, though they must be psychologically true and consistent. A character who is cowardly but does not hesitant to rescue someone from danger without any reference to fear or a believable reason for the action is not a well-written character.

Characters do change, of course, but the motivation for that change must be shown. Some basic personality traits do not change under ordinary conditions, so if a smart character becomes stupid or slow, he has to suffer some sort of trauma, as in Regarding Henry. Nor can a slow character suddenly become smart without intervention. The movie Phenomenon is a good example of how that can happen.

When it comes to storytelling, character is all. The plot and the character should be so intertwined that we never see them as separate. Character motivation, in many instances, is the plot — what the characters do and why.

In Story Robert McKee writes: “The revelation of true character in contradiction to characterization (the sum of all observable qualities) is fundamental to all fine storytelling. What seems is not what is. People are not what they appear to be. A hidden nature waits concealed behind the facade of traits.” And often, in that hidden nature, we find our character’s motivation.

Making a Character Come Alive

Even though I never planned to enter another writing contest, I did. It’s a local one, nothing major, but the concept intrigued me: the first 650 words of a novel. I could have submitted something I’d already started, but I liked the idea of baiting a hook without having to figure out what comes next.

To my surprise, that character in that hook really came alive for me, which is more than the hero in my work-in-progress has done. The character in the contest entry is a bumbler, an artist who barely knows the difference between a brush and a broom, and this disparity between reality and the character’s self-concept has made her real.

According to psychologist Prescott Lecky (1892-1941), people can only be true to themselves. Individuals will behave in a way that is consistent with their self-concept, even if this behavior is unrewarding to them or inconsistent with reality, and people will do anything to preserve this self-concept.

And that is why the hero of my work-in-progress is not coming alive to me: he is not alive to himself. He has no self-concept. A novel is filtered through the senses, emotions, and point of view of a major character. And it is filtered through the character’s concept of himself. For example, a character who sees himself as a loner will not, perhaps, accept a proffered helping hand when needed, where a character who sees himself as part of a community might feel entitled to that same help.

So how does my hero see himself? He identifies more with animals than humans, so he probably sees himself as a lone wolf who is self-sufficient and needs no one. This would fit with his need for freedom, his defining characteristic. It would also explain why, when he meets his mentor, he watches the man leave without any thought of accompanying him, and why, when he meets the crone, he doesn’t recognize the subconscious need for family she raises in him.

I haven’t yet read the finished chapters with this in mind, but there’s a chance I won’t need to make any revisions. It could be that this change — knowing the character’s self-concept — is merely for me, a new way of seeing him, a new way of making him come alive.

And now, because the character in the contest entry is also alive, I have two books that I’m not writing.

Faith and Fiction

Suzanne Francis, author of Heart of Hythea, Ketha’s Daughter, and Dawnmaid, has kindly consented to be my guest today. On the subject of Faith and Fiction, Suzanne writes:

We can all think of a series or two where religion plays a major role in the plot-like the Left Behindbooks by LaHaye and Jenkins or the Mitford Series by Jan Karon. Whether or not you agree with their beliefs, these are authors who have placed their own faith squarely at the center of the books they write.

Should we do the same? I can think of three reasons why we might.

–Spirituality is a deeply personal attribute, part of what makes us individuals. No two people, even two who belong to the same faith, believe in exactly the same things. Our faith, even if it is atheism, is a fundamental part of who we are. That is something we can use to differentiate our writing from all other authors, something that will allow us to claim it as our own.

–Most of us with religious beliefs feel that these tenets make us better people-that is why we follow them, after all. Many authors of fiction-like Ayn Rand or Jack Kerouac-have used the voices of their characters to present their own beliefs to the world. If we have an understanding, something that helps us, should we not also share it with others?

–Every author wants their characters to be multi-dimensional, to come to life for the reader. If we do not give our creations a spiritual dimension, then they are lacking one of the most essential qualities of humanity-the one thing that separates us from all other animals. Even if our character never discusses his or her faith or lack thereof, it must still be in the background affecting everything he or she says and does.

But how do we go about placing our beliefs in the context of our fiction without sounding artificial or preachy?

It pays to spend some time thinking about what you actually believe and how it affects your everyday life. That becomes the starting point. Do you have doubts? Have you suffered for your faith? Do you speak of it with others, or is it private?

Once you have a handle on that, then you can decide how much or how little you wish to include. Maybe you will put a single line in the mouth of a minor character. That might be enough. Alternatively, you can give a main character some of your convictions, and let it emerge little by little through their actions. Or perhaps, like C.S. Lewis, you can write a whole series of allegories around the things you believe. (But I think the Chronicles of Narnia is very preachy!)

In Song of the ArkafinaI gave one character, Arkady Svalbarad, a faith very much like Buddhism. I am not a Buddhist, not really, but I find the some of the philosophy very useful in my day-to-day life. Here is an example from Ketha’s Daughter:

—Nodding, he turned to his pack, and retrieved his tin plate and a small knife. He was hungry, and the rabbit smelled good, though it had been a year since he had last eaten any flesh. That was another thing he learned from his teacher in T’Shang — respect for all living creatures. But Dawa had also impressed upon him the importance of kindness to others, and that meant accepting any gift without complaint or reservation. So he ate the rabbit with pleasure and shared what food he had in return.—

Everything about this character is colored by his faith-both his successes and failures are measured against it. It gives him a genuineness I could never create otherwise.

My own belief system I would loosely describe as Paganism, though probably not the kind you are thinking of. I don’t own any robes, or do any rituals or chanting. But I do believe in the immanence of God in all things, and I hold the Earth to be sacred. I gave my convictions to a group of wanderers called the Firaithi. From Ketha again:

—“Still,” insisted Arkady. “It must be very difficult – always traveling like this. Do your young people not grow tired of your rootless existence?”

“Of course, some do,” admitted Huw. “Perhaps two or three each year decide to leave the Kindreds and make their way in the world of the Gruagán. But we raise our young ones to honor Asparitus, so most come back to us after a few years.”

“Asparitus? What is that?”

Huw stared thoughtfully at his sister Eira’s neatly painted caravan. “I don’t know a word in Maraison that means the same thing. Asparitus is our way of life. It means to tread gently on the Yrth, to use as little as we are able, and put back as much as we can.” He frowned. “We have very little, compared to the Gruagán in their fancy houses. They think of us as impoverished tinkers and thieves, when they think of us at all. But truly, Kadya, few of us would give up our place here amongst the Kindreds for all the gold of the Gruagán. Asparitus is all the treasure we need. Do you understand, my brother?”—

That is very, very close to the heart of my own faith, only lightly cloaked in the language of the Firaithi.

How will you clothe your faith in your fiction?

To find out more about Suzanne, read excerpts, or buy her books, check out her fictionwise book page.