When in Doubt, Shout It Out

A well-known, multi-book published author finished her latest manuscript and presented it to her editor.

“Would you like to read on paper, on computer, on Kindle, on iPad?” the author asked.

The editor shook her head. “I would not like to read on paper, on computer, on Kindle, on iPad.”

“But—” the author began.

The editor held up her hand. “Nor will I read in a box, on a boat, with a fox, or with a goat.”

The author closed her laptop, thinking the relationship had finally come to an end. “I am sorry you have no interest in this book,” the author said.

“That is not what I said.”

“But you refused to read. Not even in a box, on a boat, with a fox, or with a goat.”

“I did.”

The author was confused.

The editor continued, “I would not like to read on paper, on computer, on Kindle, on iPad. I will not read in a box, on a boat, with a fox, or with a goat.” She smirked. “I want you to.”

The editor then sat in a tufted chair, snacking on eggs and ham, while the author stood in the middle of the office and read her latest manuscript — her entire manuscript — out loud. For ten hours. From start to finish.

While the above dialogue is imagined, the story is real. The editor believed the best way to decide if a book was working was to hear it.

And you should too.

Advice about reading your dialogue aloud has become common. Dialogue is spoken. To ensure it sounds natural, like a real-life conversation, it makes perfect sense to give actual voice to the lines. Whether you add the accent, pitch, or inflections you heard in your head while writing is optional (and dependent on your flair for dramatics). But I think we can all agree that reading your dialogue out loud can improve your writing.

But what about the rest? Description, narration, interior monologue, what comes of reading your entire book aloud save for a sore throat?

For one, it’s different. We writers read the words we write dozens of times. A hundred is not out of the question. We write, read, rewrite, tweak, wordsmith, perfect. And we can vary it. We can read on paper, on computer, on Kindle, on iPad. In a different font may be more useful than with a goat, but the underlying need is to read your book in a way that gives you a perspective closer to that of a new reader than one who practically has the text memorized.

Reading your manuscript out loud changes your perspective. In hearing the words spoken instead of simply in your head, you instantly have a new experience, a new lens through which to attempt to read your book like a virgin reader.

Second, you increase your chances of finding mistakes. Our brains are very smart. And, like autocorrect, try to account for our imperfect fingers. As well-meaning as our brains may be, this “help” translates into us skipping over extra words, inserting missing ones, and glancing right over tipos — typos. Reading aloud ups the odds of finding these stealthy errors.

Finally, giving voice to your words makes those words better. When you read a sentence with warring words, fiercesomely frustrating alliteration that drones and groans and marathons on out loud, a lack of breath, an abundance of boredom, and a numbing of brain cells shine a spectacular spotlight on what, on the page, worked fine. Saying the words out loud points a finger at ill-placed or missing punctuation, run-on and thus confusing sentences, and other unintentional missteps like the one a writer friend once told me about.

He was attending an event where an author was reading from her work. To a packed crowd, into a microphone, the author read a personal, moving account of a milestone event in her life. Raw and soul-baring, the passage turned on the spigot for everyone in the room. And then she ended the reading. 

With a rhyme. An unintentional, inappropriate, mood-ruining rhyme.

If she had only read the ending out loud before this moment, she wouldn't have left her audience torn between tears and laughter.

Take control of your writing by infusing it with voice, literally. A bonus, if you have the guts, is taping yourself and listening in the car, in the gym, while folding laundry. Work through those tricky spots by changing your perspective.

And hey, at the very least, you'll have the most personalized Christmas gift imaginable for friends and family.

Do you read your work out loud? Does it improve your writing? Are you willing to risk the sore throat to test the theory?


Lori Goldstein is the author of Becoming Jinn (Feiwel and Friends/Macmillan, Spring 2015, sequel, Spring 2016). With a degree in journalism and more than 10 years of experience, Lori is a freelance copyeditor and manuscript consultant for all genres. She focuses on the nitty-gritty, letting writers focus on the writing.

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When Analyzing A Story Just Won't Quit

In my pre-kid life I was a publicist for a major movie studio and was privy to a lot of inside knowledge about the films I worked on. Often that made it hard to watch movies for enjoyment’s sake only, knowing that a particular scene was filmed where it was because the unions had made it difficult to film in the first-choice location, that the actor and director positively hated each other and searching for signs of it on screen. Several times a week, I would “have” (tough gig, right?) to watch movies and try to identify potential marketing strategies we’d use to sell the film in my geographical territory.  I could never complain about that job, but it did make watching movies feel like work, and so I escaped to books to lose myself in another world.

This summer I thought I would do the same in reverse.

With the kids home from school and plenty of vacation to disrupt our routine, I knew I wouldn’t have the quiet time and mental space I usually rely on to write and read. It’s hard to plot amidst requests to carve the watermelon or help find new batteries for the Wii remote. So I decided to give myself a total break from it all.

Mmm...not so much.

What I found was that I’d been working so hard recently to dissect books I loved and really hone the story analysis part of my brain, that I just couldn’t turn it off, even though the medium was totally different. On the one hand, there were times I really wanted to lose myself in a story, but on the other hand, I gained appreciation for the techniques other mediums employ and the way they can transfer to my own stories. I watched mindless summer blockbusters, but still gained a whole new appreciation for breathless pacing. 

I watched TV shows that were master classes in realistic dialogue. A stretch of rainy days had us marathon viewing full seasons of TV series, which gave me a great perspective on combining smaller story arcs with an overarching season-long narrative and some kick-ass examples of realistic dialogue. 

I thought I was taking a break, but instead I was expanding my source material and I’m hoping my “time off” has made me a better storyteller.

Of course, I now need to find entirely new diversions since none of these gave my brain a rest. So, can anyone recommend a good board game? Preferably one with absolutely no characters and no background storyline?

And while you’re at it, where have you found inspiration to help you as a storyteller?

Writing Basics: Dialogue

Last month I talked a bit about diversity in YA and MG, and asked for some recommendations. Thanks so much to those of you who replied either in the comments or directly. I am in the process of compiling a list. If you have any recommendations, feel free to leave them in the comments. (I sure would appreciate it!)

But in the meantime, let’s talk about writing. For my first post of the year, I decided to start with some writing basics: on writing dialogue. Let’s take a look at different ways of writing dialogue:

Direct dialogue:

Here are a couple of examples of direct dialogue.

Example A: 

“Magic is not something to play with,” my mother said.
“Why not?” I asked.

Example B:

My mother kicked her slippers off. “Magic is not something to play with.”
I cringed at the mess she left on the floor. “Why not?”

Notice where the , and ? and “ ” are.

Also, in contemporary fiction, characters don’t exclaim, suggest, mutter, sigh, or laugh their dialogue. They simply say/said it, or ask/asked it. If you must have a tag line, make it said/says or asked/asks. When possible, try not to use tag lines at all.

Indirect, implied, or reported dialogue:

Sometimes, depending on the voice and style, you may want to use indirect dialogue rather than direct. The following are some examples of indirect, implied, and reported dialogue:

A:
My mother always said that magic was not to be trifled with, that it was a serious thing.

B:
Magic is not to be trifled with, my mother always said, and I believed her.

C:
Then she told me that I shouldn’t play with magic, that I should take it seriously. I wish I’d listened.

D:
Magic should be taken seriously, my mother says every time she catches me tossing rats’ eyes into the cauldron.

E:
I shouldn’t play with magic, my mother says. I should respect its power and read the Book of Shadows every morning. With great power comes great responsibility. Yes, just like Star Wars++, she says. My mother is such a nerd.

SOME NOTES ON GOOD DIALOGUE:

• Dialogue should be believable. Try reading your dialogue aloud to another person, or have another person read it back to you in order to determine if it rings true. 
• Dialogue should advance the action of the story without stating the plot. Don’t try to use dialogue to give readers a summary of the plot, or to “explain” things. 
• In fiction, characters don’t always say what they’re thinking. People sometimes hide their true feelings or agendas. 
• Dialogue should reveal something about character in a subtle way, without trying too hard. 
• Don’t overuse characters’ names. It sounds unnatural. 

Which of these examples works (or “sounds”) better?

Example A:

When I got home from prison, Lola was waiting for me on the front steps.
“Hi, Jamie,” she said. “You’re home from prison.”
“Hey, Lola,” I said. “Yes, Lola, I’m home after being in prison for a year because I ran somebody over with my car and didn’t stop.”
“I missed you while you were in prison, Jamie. I never went to visit because I was busy raising kids and taking care of your brother who is also my husband and by the way we’re expecting! Again!” Lola said.
“I missed you, too, Lola. That year I spent in prison was really tough. Congratulations!” I exclaimed.
“Jamie, were you hurt while you were in prison and I was here raising the kids and taking care of your brother?” Lola asked.
“I don’t want to tell you, Lola,” I said. “I’m embarrassed.” I walked away.
“Please tell me, Jamie. I’m your friend. Jamie, I’m here for you.”

Example B:

When I arrived, Lola was waiting for me on the front steps.
“You look like hell,” she said.
“Thanks. I just got out of prison. What’s your excuse?”
“Got knocked up by your good-for-nothing brother.”
“Figures.”
“So how was the prison food?”
“Nothing to write home about. But better than your cooking.” I went inside.
“Dang, girl. You can’t just slap that bulldog and leave the room!”

(Note: no bulldogs were hurt during the writing of this example.)

++Just making sure you were paying attention.