Here are some reading stoppers related to actions.
Contradictory Actions are those actions that don’t work at the same time. They stop my suspension of disbelief. They’re a bump in the road that slows the flow. Often, it’s two things a character can’t do at the same time.
For example:
drummed fingers and clasped hands
startled and froze
spun and stayed still
The writer may mean them consecutively, but they are so close together they read as happening simultaneously.
The fixes include:
choose one action or the other
change your conjunction to “then”
add more sensory details to separate the actions
Does that mean you can never have contradictory actions? Of course, not. People are contradictory after all. But you want to write them intentionally, not by accident. Here’s a resource: “Paradoxes, Oxymorons, and Contradictory Statements.”
Incorrect Chronology within a sentence or paragraph.
Writers sometimes put the effect before the cause. E.g. He opened his umbrella because it started to rain. The sentence is technically correct, but what happened first? The raindrops. Let the reader see and feel that instead of being told about it. E.g. A cold raindrop hit his nose and he popped his umbrella open. This feels more active than the first version.
Warning signs:
action followed by “after” or “because”
The fixes:
keep actions chronological
think about action and reaction or cause and effect
Do you always have to write linearly? Again, of course not. Especially if you are making a deliberate choice to do so. Here’s an article on nonlinear writing related to the structure of a novel: “Writing ‘Out of Order’: How to Free Yourself from Chronology” by J.P. Rieger.
Duplicate Actions
This is when the character has already done an action and repeats it, but it’s not logical to repeat it. E.g. Jon scooted out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. Usually there’s some dialogue and then it appears the writer has forgotten that Jon already sat down. E.g. Jon plopped down in a chair at the kitchen table. Wait, what? He was already sitting!
The fix:
compare what your character is doing now and what your mc was already doing—this means rereading very carefully
choose more unusual actions since they are more obvious when repeated
Not only have I found these issues in others’ writings, but others have found them in mine. This is one of the reasons I find a critique group so valuable.
Here’s an obviously awkward example, “The lemon blueberry scone was eaten by me.” Active would be “I ate the lemon blueberry scone.” “The horse was chased by the donkey” is also passive though not as odd sounding. Active: “The donkey chased the horse.”
One simple warning of passive voice is verbs preceded by “were” or “was” (past tense) or “am,” “is,” or “are” (present tense). Often the verbs end in “ing.”* Here’s how it looks: “Jon was walking down the street to the school.” If one continued in the vein of passive verbs, it might sound like this: “He was opening the candy bag and was eating the toffees one by one. His long blond hair was blowing in the wind. He was wearing a blue shirt.” The “was”es get old really fast, don’t they?
“Began to,” “started to” can also be passive. Sure, sometimes a character starts to say something or do something, but most of the time he or she simply does the action. “Sally began to cross the room” or “Manuel started to eat his dinner” won’t stop me if they happen infrequently, but multiple ones on the same page probably will.
“There is/are” or “there was/were” are often passive too. E.g. “There were many people in the concert hall.” That’s a fact but what were these people doing? Clapping, cheering? Sucking in a breath of shock? What they are doing will give the reader a more active picture. E.g. “The sold-out crowd in the concert hall rocked with laughter.”
Here’s a hilarious quote on passive versus active: “[The active voice is the] vigorous voice, unashamed to say whodunit. Passive voice is preferred by the weak, the cowardly, ashamed to name the fink who told them what they are evasively telling you.” John Bremner
Distancing the reader
Distancing the reader is sometimes called filtering. Or in other words the action is shown through someone else’s eyes. Yes, your main character is experiencing what is happening, but don’t slow it down by pointing that out to your reader. “Tacy saw the boy pull out a gun” is much less powerful than “The boy whipped out a gun.” Show the person doing the action instead of someone hearing or seeing the person do the action. Warning signs are I/she/he “heard” or “saw.”
One writer explained that no setting was like putting characters in front of a white board. I’d add that they are in a soundproof room, wearing white, and not eating or smelling or experiencing anything. The reader doesn’t have any details to picture where and when the characters are.
Use sensory details to show the setting. Right now I’m sitting in my living room on the couch with a laptop desk over my legs. My bare feet are almost cold. My cat, Luna, sleeps on the back of the couch. A ceiling fan hums in the room next to me. The bright blue sky and Ponderosa pines reflect in my laptop screen. That’s not outstanding writing, but didn’t that give you a picture of where I am? We want to do the same thing for our readers. Author Bruce Hale says, “I tend to slip my descriptions of setting into the beginnings of scenes, to help the reader picture where the action is taking place.”
Conversely, if the description bogs down the scene, I find myself skimming to get to the action.
Description worked in with action works the best. And not everything in a room or setting is described. I like this quote: “Best descriptions tend to be impressionistic, seizing on a few select details…letting the readers…do the rest.” – Peter Selgin
Think about this option: “Imagery is powerful shorthand. It says in four or five words what might otherwise take you sentences to describe – and not as vividly.” – Sid Fleishman
This list of “what stops me reading” is not complete. These are just some that bug me, especially in the opening pages of a novel. Once I get hooked on a character and his/her story, I’m probably more forgiving.
*This is different that gerunds which also end in “ing” but are turning verbs into nouns (subject or object) or adjectives. For example, “Running is my thing.” “Let’s go swimming.” “The barking dog is really annoying.”
When I hear about a book with an interesting premise, or take a book off of a shelf, I like read the opening pages. If they catch my interest, I’ll purchase it, or check it out from the library. However, I decline free books when the opening doesn’t grab me, especially if it isn’t edited well enough.
This is not just about grammar and punctuation, although that’s definitely a stopper. It’s often about less obvious things.
The overuse of “as.”
For example, when reading the opening of a mystery, four of the first eight sentences started with “as.” Another sentence also included an “as.” Not to embarrass another author, I’ve made up my own example. It has the same number of sentences and “as”es and how they could be fixed.
Emma dropped her keys as a noise behind her startled her. She checked over her shoulder. Nothing in the dimly lit hallway. As she bent to pick up the keyring, it came again. As she snatched up the keys, the skin of her back crawled. As she searched for the key to her apartment, her fingers trembled. Click—there it was again. As Sandra shoved they key in the lock, she saw a small flame out of the corner of her eye.
Writing that made me cringe. Let’s talk about why.
Sentence #1 – Emma dropped her keys as a noise behind her startled her. This is a perfect example of trying to show simultaneous actions, but what happened first? The noise. It should be first. Think chronological order. Possible rewrite: A noise behind Emma startled her and she dropped her keys.
Sentence #5 – As she snatched up the keys, the skin of her back crawled. Since sentence #4 started with “As she,” varying sentence structure will make the text more interesting. One way to do so is by using a conjunction. Possible rewrites: The skin of her back crawled, but she ignored it and snatched up the keys. OR She snatched up her keys and tried to ignore the crawling sensation going up her back.
Sentence #6 – As she searched for the key to her apartment, her fingers trembled. As in #5 this is a misplaced modifier. (Read more about them here.) Possible rewrite: With trembling fingers, she searched for the key to her apartment.
Sentence #8 – As Emma shoved they key in the lock, she saw a small flame out of the corner of her eye. Sometimes we need to use other words such as “while” or “when.” One possible rewrite would be: When Emma shoved they key in the lock, she saw a small flame out of the corner of her eye.
So what could this paragraph look like using these ideas?
A noise behind Emma startled her and she dropped her keys. She checked over her shoulder. Nothing in the dimly lit hallway. As she bent to pick up the keyring, it came again. She snatched up her keys and tried to ignore the crawling sensation going up her back. With trembling fingers, she searched for the key to her apartment. Click—there it was again. When Sandra shoved they key in the lock, she saw a small flame out of the corner of her eye.
If I saw this version, I’d keep reading. What about you? Do you think it is stronger? Feel free to comment below.
Writing is a solitary act for most of us. And usually we are too close to what we’ve written to see what is working and what isn’t. This is where a critique can be powerful. My favorite critiques are from other writers. (This is all separate from an editorial letter from an agent or editor, which would be after critiques.)
I’ve been in a number of critique groups as I moved around the country. Critiques of my work have caught typos, pointed out awkward or confusing sentences, asked for more depth, inspired me, taught me, and corrected me. My critique partners have suggested where to tighten, brainstormed when I’m struggling with a particular issue, shared marketing news, cheered successes, discussed possible comp titles, and become faithful friends.
So, what elements make a good critique?
First, encouragement. It can be as simple as “I like this character” or “that was such a lovely phrase.” Or even, “I know you’ll figure this problem out.” I love this quote from Judith Martin aka Miss Manners: “When virtues are pointed out first, flaws seem less insurmountable.”
Second, kindness. A lot depends on how something is said. For example, “I’m not getting this” versus “This doesn’t make sense.” Margaret Chase Smith said, “Every human being is entitled to courtesy and consideration. Constructive criticism is not only to be expected but sought.”
Third, honesty. I’d much rather hear something isn’t working than be told polite lies that will become evident when others see my manuscript. “We need very strong ears to hear ourselves judged frankly, and because there are few who can endure frank criticism without being stung by it, those who venture to criticize us perform a remarkable act of friendship, for to undertake to wound or offend a man for his own good is to have a healthy love for him.” -Michel de Montaigne
Fourth, knowledge. Most of us don’t know everything about grammar and spelling or punctuation, but critiquers need to have some basics to catch others’ mistakes. My group also shares resources on various writing issues with each other.
Fifth, readers. Those who read in the category and genre you write will have a better understanding of what is working in the current market. “The quality of your reading (and the depth of your engagement with what you read) improves the quality of your thinking and subsequently, your writing.” -Lark Morrigan (And I’d add, your critiquing.)
Sixth, questions. Sometimes I learn more from questions than anything else. “Why is your character doing this?” “Where or when is this happening?” “What is your character’s motivation?” It makes me realize I haven’t made those things clear. Or, maybe I never thought their motivation—oops! One of my critiquers often asks, “What’s the heart of the story?” Such a good question. Audrey Chin says, “Critiquing has taught me that the best stories are still the ones that move hearts.”
Seventh, time. One of my critique partners always says she reads a manuscript first as a reader, then secondly as a writer. It takes time and attention to detail to notice a wrong word was used, or to think why a section isn’t working. My partners give me the why which helps me understand how to make changes. And, of course, there’s the time we spend together in person or via Zoom discussing manuscripts.
In conclusion, I’d like to share this thought from Duane Alan Hahn:“You are a glorious, shining sword and criticism is the whetstone. Do not run from the whetstone or you will become dull and useless. Stay sharp.”
A character who never does anything—only talks—is not only boring, but unrealistic. So, how do we show our characters moving within a scene?
First, establish where a character is early on.
It may be obvious, but YOU have to know the specific location.
Here are two examples of locations from two different characters in The Witching Wind by Natalie Lloyd. (middle grade novel)
“Why hasn’t Ms. Betsy, the case worker currently driving this van, said a word to her on this trip? Seriously, not one single word since she picked up Grayson to take her to her new foster family.”
“Dang. Eyes open . . . and I’m still sitting here in the last row of an old school bus. The brakes are squeaky, but the air conditioner is working great. Too great. It’s blowing across my bare arms, which are still covered in goose bumps from the community pool.”
Where are you picturing your scene?
What is the character doing?
Even when characters are mostly stationary, it will look very different from one character or circumstance to the next.
A kid in a classroom will mostly likely be sitting at a desk, but doing math homework might be sprawled on the living room rug. One kid at school has a wooden chair tipped back on two legs. In his bedroom he sits on the edge of a saggy bed. Or she collapses in a bean bag chair in the family room.
In my young adult short story, “Falling Short,” Touch, November 1997, the setting is a keyboarding class. An action for the main character who is sitting in front of a computer reads: “I moved the mouse and double-clicked on the word processor.” If you read on, you’d see the characters exchanging a floppy disk (which was appropriate for the time period).
Don’t keep your character static.
She may be standing leaning against the kitchen counter, but she won’t be frozen in place. It can be a minor movement, such as using one finger to move breadcrumbs into a small pile, or it might be stretching up to get a glass out of the cupboard and filling it with water.
Think about their habits.
A kid doing homework might be tapping a pencil, jiggling a leg, or scratching the mosquito bite on his arm. My artistic girls were always drawing something. One of my sons-in-law whistles a lot. Some people chew on their nails or hair. Others might clean their fingernails or pick fuzz off their sweater. Using these habits can add sensory details to the scene.
With whom or what might the character interact?
A sibling or a parent? A fidget puzzle? A bird or turtle? A television? When young, my three grandsons couldn’t pass each other without running a shoulder into a brother, trying to trip one, flinging a punch or an elbow at another. In the evening my cat nags me for her bedtime treats.
Here’s an example of interacting with items in the room from my YA short story: “Lonna jerked open the microwave and shoved in her plate. Slam. Beep, beep, beep. Whirr.” – “Just a Minute,” Encounter, January 7, 2007
Another way to keep the character active is to put them to work. The siblings have to rake leaves. He has to load or unload the dishwasher. She has to feed the dog and clean up the dog poop in the backyard.
Be wary of looking.
Often, writers try to deal with making a character active by telling where they are looking—up, down, at a specific person or object—but much of that can be inferred by other action. A guy reaching for a pair of pliers or his soccer ball is probably looking at it, so we don’t need to be told he’s looking. For more about this topic, read this.
Change location.
It could be a quick transition from one place to another. These may add a chance to show something about a character’s mood and even age. If she’s happy, a little girl might skip, or hop on one foot out of a room. A little boy might zoom out of the room while making car noises or hold out his arms to “fly.” What would either do when sad or mad?
Putting characters in an entirely new location may provide opportunities for actions and sensory details when they interact with the new setting. Think about a character outside. Where are they walking/running/playing? A smooth even path? A gravel driveway? An icy sidewalk? A leaf-strewn yard? A sandy beach? A weedy alley?
In Kate DiCamillo’s early middle grade novel The Hotel Balzaar the main character practices being unseen, but then she enters the finest room in the hotel. “Marta stepped inside. All the windows were open, and a great cold wind blew the curtains back and forth. In a far corner of the room, the parrot perched atop an enormous pile of luggage.”
Remember where you placed your character. (And what they were doing.)
You don’t want a character standing when they are already standing. A girl sitting on the lawn, can’t run without getting up. It’s not stage directing, but giving clear enough details that the next movement makes sense. (To double check actions, it can be helpful to highlight the verbs in a different color for each character in your scene.)
In conclusion…
Keep your characters doing!
“So many writers are more focused on their characters’ snappy banter than showing characters moving seamlessly through the physical world.” – Nathan Bransford
“When we encounter a character in literature or on screen, our first impression often comes from what they do rather than what they say. By showing us a character’s actions, behavior, and choices, we can understand their values and beliefs without any lengthy exposition.” – Kristen Overman
“A story is based upon action big and small, and your readers’ investment in your story has a lot to do with their ability to imagine the action you describe.” – Harrison Demchick
