Tag Archive for 'writing'

Five Quick Tips for Writing Better Dialogue

1. Real people speaking in real conversations, especially in one-on-one situations, don’t use the name of the person they’re speaking to very often. They don’t need to. They might use them sparingly for emphasis, but they don’t do it in every sentence — they don’t need to. Be careful not to overuse names in your dialogue. It makes it feel unrealistic.

2. Real people speaking in real conversations use contractions. When modern characters speak more stiffly than modern people would speak, it can come across as stilted and, again, unrealistic. Unless you’re writing period fiction or employing a device to highlight the formality or alienness of a single character, let your characters use contractions. It will help the dialogue flow more realistically for the reader.

3. Think about your placement of commas. I find that commas are often underutilized in dialogue. If a phrase is set apart by a pause when you speak it, it should be set apart by a pause when you write it.

4. People use vocalizations and verbal devices to stall for time. People from different cultures and different native languages use different words: Um, er, eh… These are all a chance to add a little more color and character to your characters.

5.Try to represent a dialect or accent with clever use of patterns of speech instead of with overuse of creative spelling. A lot of heavy dialect spelling or a hefty sprinkling of apostrophes become tiresome to read very quickly. Use your devices wisely and thoughtfully, and don’t let them get in the way of your words.

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The “Said” Trap

What’s the most common ‘mistake’ that you see writers make when attributing dialogue?

The biggest challenge with written dialogue as compared to spoken dialogue is this: When you (as a reader) can’t hear the words for yourself, you have no way to know who’s speaking, or how they’re speaking.

It’s easy (as a writer) to convey both of these things either too heavy-handedly, or too minimally. It’s tricky to get them right. It’s up to the writer to make these two bits of information clear, either explicitly or implicitly, so that the reader can follow along without getting confused or distracted from the story.

Done right, the word “said” becomes invisible to the reader. It gives them the information they need without getting in the way. It doesn’t interrupt a powerful moment or break the flow, it just helps the reader keep track of the speaker. It isn’t needed on every line, but there’s no strict technical rule that says you have to insert it every three lines, or every five lines. There’s no quota per page. Attribution should be as minimal as it can be without creating confusion and as frequent as it needs to be without getting in the way.

Sometimes a beat of action can serve as an attribution and impart the same information more smoothly and just as effectively, but it’s not good to go overboard with actions to identify speakers, either. They’re great to keep things moving during dialogue-heavy scenes, but a person doesn’t nod or smile or do something with his hands with every line, nor should we. If someone’s pouring a drink or putting a letter in an envelope, we don’t need to see every single step of the process, one bit at a time, each time they say a line. We just need the highlights. Overused, that sort of thing becomes just as unpolished and distracting as an overuse of “said.”

As to the word “said” itself, there are two schools of thought. One insists that “said” should be the only verb of utterance you ever use. The other focuses on avoiding it as much as possible and using more expressive words instead. Personally, I prefer a middle ground. I favor using “said” enough that it becomes invisible, but not clinging to it when another word is a better fit. I think “said” looks awkward after a question, or after an emphatic exclamation. I think “whispered” is cleaner than “she said in a whisper.” Said is a good default, but I think it isn’t always appropriate.

This leads to the second challenge of writing dialogue. In addition to telling the reader who’s speaking, it’s important to relate how they’re speaking, and it’s tricky to find that comfortable middle ground between over-telling and not conveying enough.

As a general rule, you shouldn’t need to resort to an adverb to tell the reader how a character feels. The word choice within the dialogue and the actions surrounding it should make it clear.

Look through your writing. If you see any adverbs in your attributions (like “she said anxiously”), circle or highlight them, and then go back about a page and start reading. That should give you enough to get into the moment. When you get to your circled adverb, think about what your character is doing that clues into that emotion. It’s an opportunity to show characterization, and it’s there to be taken advantage of. Does she have trouble keeping her gaze on the person she’s talking to? Does she fidget with her hands or shift her weight from foot to foot? There are plenty of different ways to show anxiety and everyone handles it slightly differently. Every character can, too.

Don’t think you can cheat your way out of adverbs by switching parts of speech. There’s no difference, for our purposes, between “she said anxiously” and “she was anxious”, “she felt anxious”, “I could tell she was anxious”, or “she was obviously anxious.” The root problem is the same: a missed opportunity to create a fuller picture for your reader. The last example is the most guilty of them all — it begs the question: What makes it obvious?

Keeping your verbs honest is just as important as keeping your adverbs honest. Verbs of utterance, also called verbs of attribution, are the verbs that actually convey ways of speaking. You can whisper, yell, groan or hiss a sentence, but you can’t laugh, smile, walk or headshake one. You can do those things before you speak, as you speak, or after you speak, but watch out for a tendency to make those actions interchangeable with “said.” They’re not. They’re a beat of action.

Paying careful attention to your writing and using actions, adverbs and verbs of utterance appropriately will make your writing more polished and will help your attribution flow more naturally.

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Reflections in the Stacks

I’m sitting in a cozy chair in a bookstore down the street from where I live, as I’m writing this. It’s my first attempt to blog from my phone and we’ll see how it goes.

Walking in, I was struck pretty quickly by just how long it’s been since I wandered into a real, physical bookstore with time to kill, just to browse.

I go to bookstores fairly often. Borderlands, here in San Francisco, hosts lots of readings, signings and other events, and it’s become my “local” the way some people have a local pub. But I’m always going there with a purpose. To listen to a reading, see the cats, to meet clients or colleagues, to buy something specific or to escort an out-of-town guest who wants to buy a book for the trip home. But just to browse? Not very often at all.

Walking in, I was struck also by just how many books there are. That seems like a silly sort of epiphany to have in a bookstore, I suppose, especially if you’re in the book making business. Or maybe it might not seem so strange at all.

I’m surrounded by books all the time, in a way. I spend my days (and often my evenings, and my weekends…) with files that are destined to be books, and files that hope to be books. I write to people about books. I advise them and promote them and remind them to send their acknowledgements and dedications and blurbs. I keep up with the whole ebook debacle, and maybe spend more time reading about Agency Models and DRM than I should. I sleep and breathe books. It’s not the same, though, as walking through row after row of the finished product.

There’s a certain energy to it, probably because there’s a certain habit of working so intently with the raw materials that we lose sight of the finished product.

How do you feel when you walk through rows of books? Envious of their authors? Curious about their advances, or what specific obstacles were defeated to get each book where it is? Do you feel a renewed sense of determination and ambition? Do you look for the places on the shelves where your books would be filed? Do bookstores frustrate you, or inspire you?

Immersing yourself in the process and the work it takes to get there is a good thing, but stepping back and looking at the goal is a good thing, too. Books are what we’re all about. Take some time to appreciate them, what goes into them, how many of them there are… and what a fantastic thing it is–or will someday be–to see yours among them.

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Hugo Nominations Now Open

Nominations are now open for the 2010 Hugo Awards, recognizing excellence in the field of science fiction and fantasy.

Members of last year’s Worldcon in Montreal and members who register for this year’s Worldcon in Melbourne are eligible to nominate and vote. You can also make your recommendations to other voters (and get an idea of theirs) at the hugo_recommend livejournal community.

2010 is the first year that I am eligible for a nomination in the Best Editor, Long Form category. The simple fact of being eligible is a thrill.

Being eligible, though, isn’t the same as being worthy.

Lou Anders, Editorial Director at Pyr, said it best in the Editors’ Roundtable interview in which we both participated for Clarkesworld Magazine last summer. He said:

    …discussing the “Best Editor—Long Form” Hugo[, one reader] stated, “Well, I don’t know how much the editing improved or hurt the original manuscript so I don’t know how to vote.” I don’t think that’s the part of an editor’s job that need concern the reader. Rather, it’s the mere fact that they are reading the book in question at all, versus any one of the hundreds of other manuscripts and pitches that crossed the editor’s desk in a specific year. I get pitched maybe two to three times a day now, and out of that, I select/publish under 30 books a year. So it isn’t so much about whether I caught a typo on page 256, or said, “Do you think you need to explain that obscure reference a little clearer?” —it’s the fact that you are reading the book at all that counts.

Winning a Hugo someday is a dream of mine, of course, but doing consistent Hugo-worthy work is my real goal. My work is not Hugo-worthy yet, but I’m on the right path, learning my way one step at a time.

In 2009, Dragon Moon Press published six books in which I was deeply involved. DMP published perhaps a similar number to which I contributed a single proofreading pass, but that I don’t consider “my” books in the same way, and that I don’t count as my credits on my own website or on sites like the SF Editorwatch wiki.

Of those six books, only one was chosen for publication by me. I keep saying that publishing is a slow business? Well, all those contracts were already signed and sealed before I took on my role as Editor-in-Charge.

The “best editor” Hugo isn’t about catching the most typos or bringing about the best transformation from manuscript to final draft. It’s about having the eye to pick out exceptional manuscripts and bring books and authors of consistent and reliable quality to print.

Before I set out as an editor, I worked as a pricing analyst for a large publishing house. It was my job to work on sales forecasts, using past history and like items to determine how many copies a book would sell, so that we would know how many copies to print. I was in the business because I love the books, first and foremost, so I read all the books I could get my hands on.

I read the books that sold well; I read the books that didn’t sell well. I read the books that were fads that quickly faded and the books that were consistent classics. And when I read the books with the sales numbers at my side and my “trend-spotting” reflexes sharply honed, I started to develop an eye for the qualities that make a book a classic — the characteristics that make it great, and enduring.

It was with that behind me that I went into professional editing, and it’s from that experience that I still draw. In 2009, I stepped out from behind the red pencil and into the slush pile. As a result, you’ll be seeing a lot more of “my” picks in 2010, and I’m excited about the books you’ll be seeing from us. We’ve got some excellent fantasy and science fiction lined up.

Starting in 2011, I’ll be able to say “I chose these books for you.” That’ll be another big step closer to that goal, and you can be sure that I’ll be working all year with determination, ambition and integrity to get there and keep going.

This year, it’s a big enough thrill just to be eligible, and to have the opportunity to discover great books and great authors. It’s been an honor and a joy to work with great writers, and to meet and learn from some of the most talented and insightful minds in the industry in 2009, and the future only looks brighter. “Begin as you mean to go on,” they say at each new year — here’s looking ahead to a brilliant 2010.

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Noms and Nods

My post “Words to Watch Out For” has been included in Online University’s 100 Blog Posts Every Grammar Geek Should Bookmark! It’s a great, helpful list. Check me out at #38.

Meanwhile, I’ve been reminded by Kimi over at Tale Chasing that Writers Digest Online is still accepting nominations for their annual 101 Best Websites for Writers. To nominate a site — mine, and the rest of your favorites! — just send email to writersdigest@fwmedia.com with “101 Websites” in the subject line. The deadline is Jan. 1, 2010.

My resolution for next year is to get this blog more interactive. If you like what you see here, or if you’ve got questions you’d like to see answered, or if you’ve got a writing blog and you’d like to trade sidebar links, drop me a comment or a line!

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Stereotype as Filler

The easiest way to make a support character feel like a gratuitous plot-enabler is to make them a stereotype, to fill the same sort of niche we always see them fill.

“A rude waitress has to spill the coffee on her so that she has to go home and change clothes and that’s how she avoids being downtown when the aliens attack.”

I’m tired of the rude waitress, the inept cop, the mean teacher, and the insensitive doctor. On the whole, people with these behaviors don’t tend to stay in these jobs very successfully, or very long. They’re used as exceptions, because there’s humor or drama or something eyecatching in the exception, but the novelty that drives these exceptions and makes them interesting is lost when the exceptions become the norm. Then they just become plot devices, and it shows.

When you use a cliche, ask yourself why you’re using it and if it needs to be there. Chances are that it doesn’t, but if you really want a character to be a stereotype, just find an interesting way to use the device. Give them a reason for it. They could start out okay and have their behavior degrade over time, for some interesting reason. They could realize their trouble and try to grow and change, and let the reader cheer them on. Or there could be some reason for it that we discover, that helps us understand why they behave the way they do, or why they’re in the job they’re in despite not being a great match for it. The police chief hiring his inept son as a cop has been done a million times, but at least it supplies a reason for the cop to be inept.

I’d rather see a bad guy elude a skilled cop — that takes more talent! I’d rather see a well-meaning waitress spill coffee on someone and feel awful about it. That adds more to the story. And I’d like to see the conflict in a sensitive doctor who still has to deliver bad news. That’s where a minor character shines and brings depth to a story, even if they’re only “on screen” for a couple of pages.

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Urban Fantasy, Podcasting, and Rhetorical Questions

…and more!

Kimi Alexandre of the urban fantasy Tale Chasing podcast put up a great interview with Laurie McLean, an agent with Larsen-Pomada Literary Agents.

Kimi asks some great questions, and Laurie shares a wealth of knowledge on a range of topics, including the definitions of urban fantasy and its sub-genres, how the bestseller lists really work, how and why podcasting affects your chances with traditional publishers, and what she does and doesn’t like to see in a submission from a prospective client.

Go here to give it a listen!

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Reality Check

Incorporating real live people or historical figures (real dead people) in your fiction is a decision that should be approached with thought and care.

I wouldn’t say I’m not in favor of it, but I’m wary of it. It’s one of those things that’s very difficult to do well, and often it doesn’t need to be done at all.

If you’re considering using a real historical figure as a character, ask yourself the following questions:

1. Does the character bring anything to the book that an original character would not, aside from the power of his/her name?

    If you’re bringing in a character to fill a “generic bad guy” or “generic love interest” or “generic comic relief” or “generic authority on a subject” kind of role, please create an original character instead. These sorts of characters fail when they’re used to cut corners and warm seats. If you’ve got Elvis in your story, there needs to be a compelling reason why he has to be Elvis and can’t be anyone else. If you’re using Elvis in your story because you’re banking on his reputation and history and the connotations of his name and his song titles to spare yourself the effort of creating that connotation from scratch, it will show.

    If, on the other hand, the central plot of your book is something happening to William Shakespeare which is specifically tied in with the facts of his life, the text of his works, and the characters he created, no generic original-character playwright would be able to fit that role. In that case, an original character would be the choice that felt obviously derivative and untrue to the concept.

    Shakespeare lends himself very well to fiction because there is plenty that has been documented about his life, but there are some very distinct gaps, too, which can be filled in neatly with fantasy and conjecture. Chasing the Bard by Philippa Ballantine is an excellent example.

    Resist the urge to throw real people into your writing “by default”. If politics come up in your present-day novel, make the deliberate decision whether to mention the real heads of government or make up your own. Keep in mind that while mentioning real people grounds your novel in a reality that readers can relate to, it will also date it rather quickly. If those political figures are actual characters instead of plot-enablers and extras, evaluate your choice even more carefully.

2. In what light are you painting this character?

    There are three separate issues here:

    a. Are you painting them in the kind of negative light that their representatives or their estate might object to? Be familiar with fair use and with libel. Make certain that you’re not opening yourself up for legal trouble.

    b. Take care that positive treatment of the character doesn’t push too far, either. If you make them too powerful, wonderful or perfect, your writing will feel like fan fiction instead of literature. All characters have to be three-dimensional, conflicted and flawed to come across as genuine. If you can’t do that with your real person character, then they become a cardboard cutout just lending their reputation and name to your story. See question #1.

    c. Are you treating them in a way that’s true to the image that we hold of them, or in a way that will sexualize them, demonize them, canonize them, or otherwise paint a picture that’s too difficult to reconcile with our existing connotation of them?

    A real person or real historical figure comes prepackaged with a certain context and connotation. That’s why writers use them. Sometimes the opportunity to twist or pervert that pre-existing image is what may guide your choice to use a particular figure as a character, but if you’re going to do that: make sure you’re not doing it accidentally, make sure you’re doing it in a way that still fits the facts, and be aware that sexualizing or darkening the morality of a beloved role model — or turning a villain into a saint — may make the reader uncomfortable. Be careful if a certain amount of reader discomfort is your goal; be even more careful if it’s not.

3. How much is known about this character, and how much of that do you know?

    Another thing that real people bring to your manuscript when you utilize them as characters… is work. Research. Lots of it. For every person about whom facts are known, there will be experts and hobbyists who make it their business to know and uncover those facts. If you’re using a real person in your novel, it’s going to draw those people who have taken a deep interest in that character’s life and work. If you’ve gone to the extra effort to draw them in, don’t alienate them by getting your facts wrong. You will lose credibility with those readers who could have been your most avid fans, likely permanently.

    Using reality in fiction requires a deep and intensive level of research, and you need to be willing commit yourself to doing that work as the price for using those characters. Even if Abraham Lincoln is only showing up for a few minutes of “screen time”, you’d best know what he wore, what he ate, his mannerisms and speech patterns, the sound of his voice, how old he is and what he’s experienced at that point in his life — and what he hasn’t yet — and what colloquialisms, products and technology he’d be familiar with at that point in his life. Anachronisms, at least unintentional ones, are your enemy.

    Remember, too, that you’re not doing all this research so that you can throw in so much detail that it looks painted on. Wedge in too many facts and your writing starts to sound like a book report, not a story. It’s more important that you know them, so that you can write a smooth and believable representation.

After considering these three questions carefully, do you still need that historical figure in your novel? Are you willing to put in the leg work required to make it work? If so, then go for it, and good luck! …And remember to forward your research along to your editor.

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Does Size Matter?

Submissions are going very well so far! I’ve received more than a handful of manuscripts, from authors representing four countries and five genres, and more are trickling in every day.

The question I’m asked the most about Dragon Moon Press’s open submissions is how firm the word-count guidelines are. “My book is shorter than 80,000. Can I still send it to you?” or “My book is longer than 100,000. Can I still send it to you?”

I thought I’d address that here, because I’m not going to make individual judgment calls on a manuscript by manuscript basis.

The first rule of sending out your work — whether it’s to an editor, a publisher, an agent, whatever — is all about picking your market, making sure you’re a good fit and you know what they’re looking for, but it really boils down to “Don’t send people what they say they don’t want.”

In Dragon Moon’s case, “what they don’t want” is non-fiction of any form, children’s fiction, incomplete fiction, short fiction… They publish science fiction and fantasy, and their imprint brings along an expectation that a book with the little dragon and moon on the spine will have elements of the magical or otherworldly. Things that don’t fit that mold, won’t make that cut. Even if they’re good, they’re just not a fit.

Sometimes the guidelines can be a little more fluid. That’s why they’re guidelines and not rules. Word count is one of those fluid ones — that’s why we use a range, in the first place. An article usually has to be a specific length to fit well into a certain allotment of pages in a periodical, and a short-fiction submission often will have the same kinds of restraints to take into account, but a book is different. A book often has more leeway. In general, a book should be as long as it needs to be, to tell the story it needs to tell.

If your word count falls outside the specified range for a particular call for submissions:

Is it close? Being 5% or even 10% off the guidelines isn’t huge. At worst it’ll get rejected, but probably not for word count.

Is it more than 10% off from what the publisher is seeking? More than 20%? That’s not a trivial difference, that’s a significant one. Again, the worst you’ll get is rejected, but if you know it’s not what someone’s looking for then you also know your odds of success are probably rather small.

However, unlike genre and plot and style, word count is something that’s easy to change. If your word count falls outside the posted guidelines, you have three options:

1. Don’t send it. It’s not what they’re looking for.

Certainly a viable option, though you may be interpreting the guidelines too rigidly and denying yourself a potential opportunity.

2. Send it anyway. It’s a fit in all other respects, and if they like it they’ll be willing to overlook the word count, or work with you on it.

There are always exceptions, but it’s never a good idea to go into a situation assuming that exceptions will be made for you. If it’s close to the requested word count, then the chances that word-count will be overlooked are better than if it’s significantly off.

3. If you have time, you may consider doing a revision that brings the manuscript within, or at least near, the requested length. Is there a scene you wanted to write but didn’t? Is there a chapter that the book doesn’t really need?

Consider that an acceptance at the current length might be dependent on doing a little more work to approach the word count guidelines anyway. This school of thought suggests that there’s no harm to seeing if you can get it there, yourself.

I said above that all books should be the length they need to be, I know, but there’s no harm in turning a critical eye to your manuscript and deciding whether it’s at that point yet or not. Don’t just cut or squeeze words in indiscriminately, though. It will show.

There is no single right answer. Ultimately, it’s your judgment call to make. In all cases, from the writer’s point of view, the worst that can happen is a rejection letter.

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Words to Watch Out For

Spellcheck is your fair weather friend. It doesn’t catch everything, and it can’t be relied upon when it counts. You can hang out with it for as far as it goes, but don’t depend on it when your life (or career) depends on proper spelling.

I’ve seen the words and phrases below misused frequently in queries and in manuscripts. I strongly recommend that all writers remain aware of spellcheck’s limitations and do a special check for the following sneaky words (and others like them) when you’re going back over your writing.

  • “bated breath” — “baited” is common but incorrect. It should be bated.
  • bath / bathe — Bath is the noun, bathe is the verb. You take a bath, but you don’t bath in the tub.
  • blond/e — Blond/e is a gendered word, as I’ve mentioned here before, so both are correct and both are incorrect, depending on context.  “Blond” is male, and “blonde” is female.
  • breath / breathe — Breath is the noun. Breathe is the verb.
  • canvas / canvass — The first is the fabric. The second is not.
  • discreet / discrete — If you’re writing about prudence and judicious behavior, you probably want the former.
  • lightning / lightening — I see many writers use the second when they mean the first.
  • loath / loathe — The first is a strong reluctance to do something. The second is a verb that means “to despise”.
  • lose / loose — Nothing will bring a pained cringe to an editor or English teacher the way switching these two words will. Please don’t try it.
  • past / passed — Second only to lose / loose
  • rein/reign, including “free rein”. Like “bated breath”, this phrase has been spelled and justified both ways so many times that it’s left a lot of uncertainty as to its correct use. However, “free rein” is a figurative expression based in equestrian origin, and meaning “to give a person freedom of authority, as one would loosen the reins on a horse”, so “rein” it is.
  • viscous / vicious — An accidental slip between these two words can create sentences that are confusing at worst, unintentially humorous at best… but never impressive in a good way.
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