Posted in Craft, The Nitty Gritty of Children's Writing

Letting Go of the Words on the Page

I told another writer, “I wonder if the beginning of your scene would be better if it was chronological.” (It had two short flashbacks to a time shortly before the present time.) Then I realized my current chapter opening wasn’t chronological either! As I rewrote I realized my flashback meant I glossed over an important scene with a summary.

My excuse—it was an old piece of writing. Sometimes words on the page are hard to change. I think I would have been better off starting with a blank document. “To fall in love with the first draft to the point where one cannot change it is to greatly enhance the prospects of never publishing,” said Richard North Patterson. I’d add “any draft.” 

I’ve learned a lot since I first wrote that chapter. I’ve even blogged about keeping scenes moment by moment and being on scene for important parts of a story. Obviously, I needed to reread my own posts before tackling this chapter revision.

Amanda Reynolds said, “…compelling scenes in novels are perfectly formed and distinct whilst adhering to the overarching story and theme.” A summary is not compelling. That’s fine, if it’s a simple transition. But in my case it was an argument the main character has with his mother and it affects the whole story! And I’d summarized it! I never would have realized it without critiquing someone else’s writing.

So, how do we let go?

First, be open. Open to change. We have to be prepared to look at our writing with new eyes, even if we’ve been writing for a long time. We have to see what’s actually on the page.

Distance doesn’t always help me with this. So perhaps, I need to examine the purpose of the scene. Why did I write this section? What is it for? What mood do I want to establish? What do I want a reader to garner? In my chapter, it was the inciting incident, not simple backstory where I’d shoved it.

Second, get feedback. A critique of  our writing helps us see our blind spots. That means we have to be ready to listen. Willing to think about it. Whether the suggestions are spot on or not, they usually point out something is not working. How we fix it is up to us.

Third, pay attention to what you say to others. You might teach yourself something as I did. Ask yourself questions. Why is this bothering me? When you figure that out, you might discover you have been doing something similar.

Finally, have other projects. Don’t have all your hopes and dreams tied up in a single manuscript. It may be that this is not the right work-in-progress. At least for now. Having another project to work on may let your subconscious work on the story for you and you might come back to it refreshed by the break. Or you may find the other manuscript moves ahead by leaps and bounds and you no longer care so much about the first one.

Letting go is a painful process, but I want to leave you with this encouraging thought from Kelly Barnhill, “That’s the magic of revisions—every cut is necessary, and every cut hurts, but something new always grows.”

Posted in Craft, The Nitty Gritty of Children's Writing, Tools

Changing from .doc to .docx

If you’re like me, you have old old manuscripts (finished or unfinished), that you want to revise. So old they are .doc files. Saving As a .docx is simple, but I found I had other issues to deal with in my YA novel.

Two spaces after periods. Easy fix, Find and Replace.

Tabs instead of indents. How I fixed it:

  • Use find (drop down on find, let’s you choose tab character) and replace with nothing. Of course, that means I have to go back into my header and add back in tabs that are needed.
  • Next, I Select All, and go to my ruler and change the indent. Yay, now when I add a new paragraph, it will indent automatically.

Ellipses. I used to use the Chicago Manual style with spaces between the periods. Somewhere along the line, I switched to AP style, no spaces…which means . . . looks funny to me. Again, I used Find and Replace to make them consistent.

Those changes made, I saved my file as a .docx.

BUT THEN THE SERIOUS CHANGES COME! (I’ve learned a lot since I wrote the manuscript I recently opened.)

Eliminate distancing. Also known as filtering, the character sees/hears instead of the action just happening. I must edit those instances. If you’re not familiar with this concept, check out this post.

Establish setting better. Am I taking advantage of my setting to help with mood or tension? Can I slip in specific details about the place to help bring it more alive? Does the reader know where we are? Not so much, then I’d better revise some more. “Ground Me,” might be a helpful post for your revisions.

Move the characters. It’s so easy to have characters sitting around talking. But I can do better than that. Here’s a post that might be a helpful reminder for all of us.

Check sensory details.  Am I using a mix or relying on sight? Yes and no, but I can go further. Like deepening emotion or mood with a sense. Or adding what this particular character has a tendency to focus on. This article has some helpful suggestions. I would also add the sense of temperature—it doesn’t quite fit touch, but it’s something I definitely react to and my character can too.

Some writers may wait to fix these after a manuscript draft is done. But for me, it helps the world of my story feel more real and important while I work on it. It makes me want to move forward, instead of sending the whole .doc or .docx into the trash bin.

Getting to “The End.” Basically, I must keep writing, writing, writing. For further thoughts on that  topic (under my writing for adults name) read this: “11 Reasons Why You Can’t Write the End of the Story.”

Posted in Craft, The Nitty Gritty of Children's Writing

Three Commonly Overused Words in Fiction

Overuse of “look” or as Deborah Halverson aka DearEditor says, “Stop Looking!” A character looks up, looks down, looks around, looks another character in the eyes, looks at his watch, looks in her mirror. Some try to replace “look” with “gaze,” “stare,” etc. But the problem is deeper than that.

Looking is not as descriptive as other possible actions. It’s fairly passive. It doesn’t provide sensory details. Sometimes, it is distancing the reader.

Here are a few examples:

  1. John looked out the window.
  2. Leslie glared at her daughter.
  3. I looked at the paper on my desk.

Stronger possibilities:

  1. Out the window the Ponderosa pines were swaying in the wind. If John is the main character, we will assume he sees this.
  2. Leslie’s eyes narrowed emphasizing the hated wrinkle between her eyebrows. If her daughter is present, it will be pretty obvious that Leslie’s not exactly pleased with her.
  3. The paper on my desk said, “Don’t come back.”

I always suggest using Find in Word (Control F for PC, or Command F for Mac) to see how many “look”s there are. Usually it’s a surprisingly high number.

Then start replacing them with more dynamic content. Of course, you don’t have to get rid of all of them, but changing many and getting out of the lazy “looking” habit will definitely power up your writing.

Too many feelings. Using “feel”, “felt,” and “feels” often are telling instead of showing.

Here are a few examples:

  1. His legs shake and he feels an overwhelming blanket of anxiety stifling his mind.
  2. She felt sad. What does that look like?
  3. I felt sweaty and the mosquitoes were biting. Definitely telling!

These could become the stronger:

  1. His legs shake and an overwhelming blanket of anxiety stifles his mind.
  2. Her shoulders drooped to match the shape of her mouth. Now that I can picture.
  3. I licked sweat off my upper lip and smashed a mosquito on my jeans.

The fix. I do a search in Word (Control F for PC, or Command F for Mac) for the correct verb tense of “feel” in my story.

I change them one of two ways:

  • Rearrange the sentence to share the same info without the word “felt.”
  • Make it more active by helping the reader experience what is happening.
  • Show and add sensory details.

You may ignore it in dialogue.

Write seemlessly (pun intended). Avoid “seem,” “seemed,” “seems.” Often used with “to.” You are the writer and creator of the story, so you know whether something happens or not. You should be sharing what happened—not guessing what happened. “Seemed” indicates uncertainty.

Here’s a simple example: It seemed to be raining. It’s either raining or not raining, isn’t it?

Look at these two:
She seems to remember many of the other cousins and there were a lot of them.

The walls seemed to lean toward me.

The fix. Remove “seem” forms in your narration and correct the verb tense. Tighten if necessary. The two above could become:

She remembers many of our numerous cousins.

The walls leaned toward me.

A possible exception. Sometimes a character expresses an opinion in dialogue or even in their thoughts. “You seem unhappy,” Jon said. If that’s how Jon talks, fine. Or perhaps he might say, “You look unhappy” or You sound unhappy.” But if Jon has an attitude and is more concerned about appearances that actual unhappiness, he might say, “Wipe that frown off your face!” It depends on Jon’s personality and the situation.

Of course, there are other commonly overused words and you may have some unique to your own writing. But go on a search and destroy mission with these three and it’ll give you a good start on self-editing.

Posted in The Nitty Gritty of Children's Writing, Writing Life

Work to be Done

Except for writing quotes, this blog has been on hold the last two and a half months. Getting a manufactured home set up—which entails much more than I ever knew—moving out of two storage units, and an apartment, and moving into the house has taken so much time and energy. And there’s still more to do.

I likened our unpacking boxes of items that have been in storage for twenty months to Christmas. Oh, there’s that wonderful ______. Aww, I’d forgotten about ______. Yea, I have my _____ back. Other times I was reminded of a garage sale. Why’d I pack that? Or, some of it’s great stuff, but I don’t have a place for it. The result has been a lot of culling.

Which is similar to revising a piece I haven’t looked at in a while. Wow, did I write that? It’s good. Oh, yeah, I remember this part—it works. Why did I think this was important? Nice, but doesn’t fit here. Cut, cut, cut. Reorganize, rethink, rewrite.

One recent task was sorting boxes of papers from over 20 years ago. Notes and cards from friends and family, newspaper clippings, documents from and to my children in their teen years, travel itineraries, play programs, photographs, etc. What I didn’t expect was how much emotion these would create.

  • Some brought up sweet memories.
  • Others made me laugh or smile.
  • Some brought pain as the dear person is now gone from this life.
  • I was puzzled when I couldn’t remember a person in a note or photograph. Who was this person? I wasn’t even sure of context. From church? A husband’s coworker? A class? A fellow writer?
  • Others made me think fondly of those I’ve lost contact with.
  • Some I shared with those involved. Which was quite fun, by the way.

However, I didn’t expect to be exhausted during and afterward.

Writing can be mentally as well as emotionally exhausting as well. I’m reminded of my critique partner and a scene she recently glossed over—”I just wanted to get it over with,” she said when we all needed more. It was going to take further energy and emotion to get the scene right. But, when she took the time to dive deeper, the chapter was so much stronger. R.R. Martin said, “Fiction is about emotional resonance, about making us feel things on a primal and visceral level.” If we’re not feeling anything but impatience when we write, will our readers also be impatient?

I could moan about how much time I’ve lost during this physical move.  Or I can move on. I’m choosing the latter. By September I plan to be back into a regular writing routine, but I’m starting now with this blog. I love this quote from Eric Maisel in Fearless Creating: “What are any of us to do? Abandon the work or complete it, learn from the experience, cry, forgive ourselves, and move on…Now dry your eyes. There’s work to be done.”

Posted in Craft, It's Not Just Books, The Nitty Gritty of Children's Writing

Short Story Revision

Years ago a magazine editor responded to my initial submission with a letter requesting me to make changes and to resubmit the story on spec. Excited about her interest, I made the changes, cutting the manuscript from over 700 words to less than 500.

The editor wrote again: “You’ve done a great job on this revision! However…” and she went on to say how part of the story wasn’t realistic. I politely wrote back expressing why I thought it was realistic, but also offering to revise it.

The editor’s next letter began: “Sometimes the simplest stories are the trickiest to get right! We like this a lot, but…” She then pointed out a problem that made me say “OUCH!—I should have seen that.” I fixed it and sent the story again. This time my reply was an acceptance!

Of course, the editor could have sent a letter saying, “No, it still doesn’t work for us.” If that had happened, I’d have been disappointed, but still would have sent the improved manuscript off to another market.

Here are ten tips to help you with your next revision:

  1. Refresh. Set your manuscript aside for several weeks.Don’t look at it or even think about it. When you return to the manuscript, your goal is to read it as if you’ve never seen it before.
  2. Reformat. Change the font size or style, before rereading. Even simply changing margins will help you see the manuscript differently.
  3. Have someone else read it aloud. It’s amazing the mistakes I hear in a manuscript despite having silently read it over and over again. I also hear where the reader stumbles or doesn’t give my desired emphasis—both hints that I need to work on those sections. I may even realize I can’t decide who is talking without the visual cues of new paragraphs.
  4. Get your writing reviewed by other writers and listen to their critique with an open mind. Don’t automatically shut out ideas and suggestions. Even if they don’t work for you, looking through another’s eyes can stimulate your mind. However, if several point out a problem, you know you haven’t reached your target yet.
  5. Don’t stifle your own reactions. I don’t know how many times my inner voice responds to someone else’s comment with, “You knew that wasn’t quite right, didn’t you!” I also like asking myself if my story came full circle. If I can’t give myself an honest yes, I have more work to do.
  6. Request help. Sometimes, I know something isn’t working, but don’t know where to go next. Another writer may make a simple suggestion that turns the light on for me.
  7. Re-examine. Ask others what they think the theme or premise is. If you’re writing is working, their answer should be close to what you envision. Tell them what emotion you’re hoping to evoke in a scene and ask if you accomplished it. Ask them to state your story problem. If your reaction is “Wow, they didn’t get it,” it probably means you didn’t give it clearly.
  8. Renovate with viewpoint. Not just from 3rd to 1st person, although that can make a difference, too, but change who is telling the story. Make that boy a girl. Or see it through her best friend’s eyes instead of her own.
  9. Reshape. Changing the form sometimes purges the dross. Try writing poetry instead of prose, diary entries, or a newspaper report of the events. You may discover the story takes off on its own in another format.
  10. Rewrite. All the thought stirring usually motivates me to get to rewriting. Sometimes it’s with excitement; sometimes with frustration at how I’ve fallen short.

Whenever I feel like giving up, I remember how revision took my manuscript to published short story in Highlights for Children (April 2000). That makes it much easier for me to revise.