Quality I – Critiques

Filed under Writing - on Writing, craft & technique, tips & advice by nancy on July 16, 2010 at 4:21 pm {no comments}

Last time, I wrote about the benefits of quantity as a beginning writer. The more you write, the more experience you gain, the more you know, the easier the process becomes. Practice, practice, practice. But, of course, that’s not the whole story.


Improvements in quality come mainly from repeated revisions. That doesn’t mean endless revisions. You must move on at some point whether the story you’re working on is perfect or not. No, it means writing as many stories/novels/poems as you can and then—after reworking each one on your own—finding at least one generous, sensitive, and clever person to help. This is because it’s difficult to see our mistakes at any point, but especially when we’re beginners.


We need our readers to tell us what’s missing, what’s unclear, what should be pushed farther, what gets boring, and whether the pacing and tone is consistent. They can point out whether or not the characters are believable, interesting and if they can be easily distinguished from one another. They can confirm whether or not it all comes together and makes sense. They can suggest ways of fixing the problems. This kind of constructive criticism is invaluable for improving, not only the piece in question, but also our writing skills.


You may be able to get this kind of help from writing classes. You may need to find (or start) a writing group, or join an online forum. You can do an exchange with one other writer. You might be lucky enough to cultivate that one special someone who is always willing to take on another one of your works. But however you go about finding readers who can give appropriate criticism, having them is a necessary component of nurturing quality in your work.


Please note, I said, “appropriate criticism.” The ability to give helpful critiques is a skill and so, the right kind of feedback may be difficult to find. Empty accolades (“I love it!”) are like candy. You may get a quick rush but it doesn’t last long. Comparisons—either good or bad—to other works/authors don’t help you improve this story. Vague feedback such as “It was interesting” leaves you with no idea how to make it better, or even if it needs more. Harsh feedback can be debilitating (though writers must develop a thick skin against this kind of criticism).


To improve your chances of getting the help you need, here are a few suggestions.

  • Do not give out your first drafts. Do at least one complete revision before submitting it to someone else.
  • Use family members with caution. Because they know you well, relatives may have difficulty critiquing what is on the page, but may instead bring irrelevant knowledge about you into the feedback. They may be too close to be honest or overly critical without realizing it. This is not a hard and fast rule, as some husbands and wives or mothers and sons critique each other effectively. It’s just a caution.
  • Give your reader some idea of what will be most helpful. That depends on whether the story is in an early stage (needs overall comments about plot, characters, issues with pacing, tone, believability) or an an almost-finished stage (needs line editing – grammar, typos, spelling, suggestions for tightening and improving awkward sentence structure).



    • Once you get your critique back, then the real work of building quality begins.
    Coming next: Quality II – Honest Work

Quantity

Filed under Writing - on Writing, craft & technique, processing, tips & advice by nancy on June 29, 2010 at 8:23 pm {3 comments}

quantity

Some people don’t want you to know this, but writing is like most things*: the more you do it, the easier it gets.


Way back in the 90′s when, for the first time in my life, I decided to take writing seriously, I signed-up for classes. One of my teachers, an assistant professor of literature at a prestigious university in the northeast US, told us, “When you start a new story, it’s always as a beginner—no matter how many stories you’ve written.”


O-kay. A bit of a downer, I thought. Don’t you learn from experience as a writer? I didn’t assume she was right but I did remember it and now realize that this unpleasant idea has been the back of my mind all this time. It’s been bothering me. I won’t blame this teacher for my slow progress; there are a few [jillion] other factors that go into that. But now that I am completely sure she was wrong, I do wonder how many stories she had written. Maybe that was her experience simply because she hadn’t yet written enough words.


There’s an oft-quoted phrase from Ray Bradbury where he suggests, that if you want to be a writer, “write a million words,” with the idea being that in writing, as in everything else, practice really does matter.


I am in the middle of the best writing year I’ve ever had. It feels as if I crossed an invisible line. I’m in new territory where I find it easier to start, easier to finish, easier to revise, easier to polish, easier to find my way when I’m in the vast wasteland of the middle of a story, easier to send my work out, and out again, and adding to all of the above, easier to trust myself as a writer.


I know that this is, at least partially, due to the number of words I’ve written over the last ten years. Maybe not a million words, but after nine years of NaNoWriMo, dozens of short stories and poems, a hundred or so online articles and blog posts and numerous revisions of all of the above, I’m in the neighbourhood. Hi Ray! I made it!


I’m not a successful writer—yet, but I am a working writer and even that feels pretty darned good.


It doesn’t mean that if someone’s been writing for years, it’s always an easy jog to the finish line with every story. Anyone at anytime can have a difficult project that gives them trouble. But, it does mean that they have experience which informs their writing process.


I have, in fact, learned from experience. The more writing I do, the more I push through all of the great reasons not to write, and get the words out and down, the easier it becomes to do it the next time. My teacher was simply wrong.


I just Googled her name. She’s listed in various professional positions and articles, but I can’t find any publications for her. I take no pleasure in this. I wish her well. I just hope she’s been working hard, writing a lot of words, and is feeling, as I am, that practice really does help us to be experienced—and therefore, better—writers.


*things that don’t get easier the more you do them: moving. Anyone else want to add to this list?

Next time I’ll write about that other part of being a good writer: Quality.

Trusting the Glimmers

Filed under Writing - on Writing, craft & technique, tips & advice by nancy on June 2, 2010 at 6:10 pm {one comment}

view 2 Where do story ideas come from?


The short answer is: anywhere. Neil Gaiman, on this oft-asked question, writes that he tells people, “I make them up…Out of my head.” But neither of these answers are immediately helpful if your inspiration has dried up or you are a beginning writer who just doesn’t know yet what to write about.


The problem is that when you’re inexperienced (or discouraged) at writing fiction, you may not trust that a glimmer of an image, the sound of a phrase, or the smell that wooshes you back in time, are enough to begin to build a story.


view 1


At some point, usually after you’ve written a huge number of words, you discover that the simplest thing can start you on the path. I wrote a children’s novel based on two words– “the stretch.” These words settled into my mind one night before falling asleep, and…I liked them. Along with the words came an image of a lonely rural road and two ramshackle houses separated by a tall stand of trees. I kept them in my head for months before doing the writing. It was enough.


Recently, I had a lead on a market with a fast-approaching deadline, but I didn’t have a story that fit or even one in process. I needed a story idea immediately, but knew that trying hard to think up an idea usually doesn’t work. Instead of forcing it, I kept the intention of a story idea in my consciousness while letting my mind roam over possibilities. Everything I heard, talked about, smelled, ate, read, envisioned went into a thick, simmering, mental stew. I rejected nothing at this stage. Within 24 hours, one thing bobbed to the surface: a flickering image of a woman. I felt some connection to her so I attempted to broaden the view in order to see where she was. Soon I could picture her–a confident but bored woman stuck in a futuristic transport hub.


Because it was the most vivid of all the possibilities and because this process has worked for me in the past, I trusted it. (To be honest, it was probably the deadline more than anything else. Deadlines are the best!) It may not seem like much to go on, but I not only had a protagonist but also a setting. That’s a lot for a beginning.


view 4Sometimes it’s a main character who arrives first but it can be even less than that. Last week, a character name showed up in my head. Now I have an image of him, know some of his traits, have a possible setting and the beginning of a plot. An idea can be a question, a situation, a thought that twists the mundane or a feeling that persists, a headline that gives you a headache or a convergence of perceptions (smell and touch, sight and sound).


But here are the important things about story ideas. First you have to trust them. If you don’t, ideas wither. Second, you have to write the story. This, as you know, is the hard part. An idea is a tiny beginning followed by hundreds of decisions. It’s like deciding to walk across Canada starting in PEI. Okay, starting in PEI is a great idea but then you have to decide whether you want to leave the island on a ferry or stroll across the Confederation Bridge. Once on the mainland of Nova Scotia (or New Brunswick) you have to decide whether you want to go through Cape Breton (yes, yes, go this way!) and on to Newfoundland or if you want to go through Quebec first. Each step of the way involves decision-making.


Trust your ideas. Then as you write, trust your decisions. Do this until your story is finished. Then, pay attention, because the more you write, the faster the ideas will come.

S.P.O.T. List

Filed under Publishing, Third Person Press, Writing - fiction, Writing - on Writing, craft & technique, tips & advice by nancy on May 29, 2010 at 4:50 pm {3 comments}

working draft

working draft

When I became an editor for Third Person Press, I had no idea what a vast improvement being this role would make to my own writing. Poring over dozens of stories in the last few years has honed my ability to spot errors in my work as well as others. If I had one piece of advice to writers who submit work to us, it would be to revise more ruthlessly before submitting.


However, if you can’t spot the problems and errors in your own work, you can’t improve it. To this end, I offer my SPOT list. Just for fun, let’s say S.P.O.T. is an acronym standing for: Solving Problems On Time. “On time,” in this case means before sending it to a publisher and therefore before you receive that first rejection letter.


Remember, when you do get a rejection letter, 90+% of the time, it won’t tell you what’s wrong with your story. Do the work on the front end. You’ll still get rejections, but you’ll have much more faith that your story really is good enough and that will sustain you until you find the right spot for it.


This list assumes that you have already written a story that has well-drawn characters who have understandable motivations and actions and a interesting plot that has a beginning, middle and end. If your story doesn’t have these things going for it, the rest won’t make much difference in its acceptability.


The best way to spot most of these is to read your work out loud. Once you get to the nitty-gritty line edits, read it backwards, one page at a time. You’ll see typos and errors that your brain won’t notice if you read it normally.

    S.P.O.T. list

  • Verbs:
      Make sure your verb tenses are consistent and make sense. Check every one. Rout out passive voice whenever possible (had, would, could) as well as excessive use of forms of “to be” (mainly, is and was).
  • Telling:
      Occasionally you have to move the story forward with small bits of telling, but if it’s more than two or three sentences, find a way for your character to demonstrate. SHOW IT.
  • Info Dumps:
      This is usually back story. Often it’s what the writer needed to know in order to write the story not what the reader needs to know to visualize and enjoy the plot. Cut out non-essential information, intersperse the rest throughout the story (see also: Telling).
  • Flat Writing:
      Areas you ‘phoned in.’ (In the first draft of my novels, it’s always Chapter Seven. :-) ) This happens to all of us and is tricky to spot. Best advice: Read your story out loud.
  • Transitions:
      Be sure your characters aren’t dropped into places or situations that haven’t been set up. Provide your reader with breadcrumbs so they don’t lose their way. Put in a scene break if you’re starting a whole new situation.
  • Plot Holes & Logical Inconsistencies:
      Sometimes we can’t see these but the best way is to be honest with yourself. If you feel slightly unsure about a plot point or if there’s some part of the writing that causes you to stop or stumble, deal with it now. If you think someone else isn’t going to notice, you’re wrong.
  • Phony Dialogue and Over-writing:
      These go together because there’s an attempt by the writer to give too much information in the wrong way (see also: Telling). Dialogue has to sound natural (though in order to sound natural in writing, it generally has to be more succinct than the way people actually talk). Cut information and dialogue that keeps the story from flowing. This is also a good time to point out that any dialogue tag other than “says/said” or “asks/asked” is risky. This is because those words are almost invisible to the reader. Other tags like “interjected” or “peppered” may seem descriptive but they distract and take the reader out of the story.
  • Tell-tale Adverbs:
      If you often end a dialogue tag with an adverb, you are telling the reader what the emotions are, not showing (see also: Telling) (is there a pattern here?). This is a matter of degree. Adverbs are allowed, but use sparingly. Try to show what the character is feeling. Examples – “…she said, morosely,” becomes “…she said. Her mouth drooped, echoing the downward curve of the umbrella she held over her head. “…he responded, suspiciously,” becomes, “he responded, his eye darting like erratic ping-pong balls.”
  • Narrator Intrusion:
      This is tricky. Does your narrator speak like one of the characters? Even in first person narration, you need to be aware of and make a distinction between what is narrative and what are the character’s thoughts. Also, in first person, reduce the number of “I’s” used. Find another way to say the same thing.
  • Floating Characters & the Smell Test:
      Floating characters do a lot of talking to each other without being grounded in their world. Intersperse bits of information that tells us where they are, what the environment around them is like and what their senses are picking up. This brings us to “The Smell Test” which is more than smell, it’s about incorporating all the senses into your writing. “The breeze, while refreshing in its warmth, repeatedly whipped hair into her eyes and mouth.” “He idly played with the peas left on his plate.” “She caught a whiff of cilantro as she walked past the restaurant. The smell zapped her back to the day she met….”
  • Repeated words:
      This seems nit-picky but is important because using the same word too often in the same vicinity causes a careful reader to notice. This pulls them from the flow of your story and that is the last thing you want. Also, be careful about using an unusual word too often in the same work. It’s noticeable and causes the same reaction.
  • Spelling and correct usage, of course:
      Spell-check your work, but be aware that it won’t catch your confusion over “there, their and they’re” or lie/lay or past/passed or other usage errors. If you’ve had these problems corrected by other people in the past, make a list of your common errors, pin it on your bulletin board, and make sure you always check your work for them before sending it out.



    • It’s a lot, but don’t let yourself be overwhelmed. The more you write, the more you pay attention to these things, the more automatic some of them will become. It doesn’t mean you’ll be able to spot all your mistakes. It’s always easier to see them in someone else’s work, so trusted first readers are a vital part of the revision stage. However, your first drafts will improve and you won’t have as much work to do afterwards. And here’s the most important part: if you do your best to look for and solve the problems associated with these issues, your work will have a better chance of being published. End of story. ;-)


    Happy writing and good luck!

    Feel free to copy this graphic as your reminder:

    the S.P.O.T. list

Shiny and New

Filed under Writing - on Writing, craft & technique, processing, product, tips & advice by nancy on May 28, 2010 at 3:26 pm {no comments}

pages-thru-glass Getting a writing project to the completed draft stage is delightful, but there’s a downside.


If we were visual artists or dancers or actors, we could show off all our hard work. There would be an audience or viewers or, at the very least, we could hang it on the wall or look at ourselves in the mirror and gaze at our work’s glory in the privacy of our homes. When we writers have a precious project that we’ve sweated over and brought to a finished stage, we can’t readily enjoy it. It’s in our computer, or maybe it’s printed in manuscript form, but it’s not pretty, it’s not published. We can’t pull it out of our wallet and show it off to passers-by or stand on a crate in the railway station and read it out loud to an appreciative crowd.


We have to pass through the initial stage of euphoria with nothing more than our own feeling of having accomplished something wonderful. And what we have to learn is that just because it’s shiny and new, doesn’t mean it’s ready to show off.


Going from a completed first draft to a published piece of fiction takes a lot of skills, but patience is at the top of the list. After the butt-in-chair time of writing and rewriting, there’s a lot of waiting time. Waiting time interspersed with sharp peaks of euphoria, plateaus of more hard work, and yes, sometimes even valleys of devastation. Ultimately, if we’re relentless, we finally achieve a published work of which we can be proud.


Proud, but not euphoric.


So here’s the tip to novice writers: remember the waiting time. A completed first draft is something to be happy about but isn’t something to show to everyone you know and it certainly isn’t something to send to a publisher. Put it away for a few days, then get it out, read it out loud, do a thorough revision. Put it away again and do it again. Then, if you’re calmly pleased with it (note: this is different than euphoric!), give it to at least one trusted reader. Don’t be surprised if, when you get it back, it still hasn’t reached perfection. At that point, you call up your reserves of patience and get busy on, yet one more round of, revising and polishing.


Once that goal of getting published is finally achieved, your work may not be new anymore, but it will be blindingly shiny.

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