Readers just won't be told!

 

Right, so don't get all huffy and storm off in a strop, have a paddy or throw your dummy out the pram. This rule was made eons ago and has recently gained crazy momentum for a reason. And no, it's not to ruin  your writing, or make it sound like everyone else's, or suck out all the fun, or hinder your natural voice. Goodness no. This rule does the opposite when used to its maximum. Exploit the 'show, don't tell' rule and your characters will come alive, your talent will explode on the page, your action will be vivid and your voice addictive. It's true.

I am sure you are SICK of hearing it, but I'm sorry, guys, it's still one of the biggest issues I see in manuscripts I'm given to edit. It's a freaking epidemic. I know, I know. You're telling a story, but 'telling' in this sentence doesn't need to be taken literally. Think of your writing as entertaining your audience, creating a movie reel in their heads, creating images and evoking emotions through your cleverly constructed sentences and precise wording. Not simply relaying what happened one word at a time. Oh no, you want more. Much more. You want to pick up your reader and plonk them in this story: hurt them in fight scenes, reduce them to tears in sad scenes, scare the heebie-jeebies out of them in frightening ones. Let them be the characters. Let them feel, hear, smell, touch. Clench their fists, grit their teeth, suppress tears, and eyeball the shadowed corners of the room.

I'll admit, it is very possible the writing world has gone a little 'show, don't tell' mental, but in this case, we're actually talking about a picnic that seriously needs this sandwich. (Stick with me...) Good books do more than tell stories, as good sandwiches do more than satisfy hunger. But it's OK sometimes to tell, it truly is. But sometimes means rarely, as little as you possibly can. Perhaps in those scenes that are fast and furious dabbling with elaborate phrasing isn't needed because you've just got to get that action across before it's too late. Fine. No one is going to tell you off. Absolutely not. But if you do this on every page, in every sentence and every scene, then your reader's likely to switch off, or literally do this...  

 

So, are you telling me, or are you showing me? T = Telling and S = Showing

Setting

T: Home was a big town called Tonbridge and the roads were red and the sky was purple.

S: Billy stood staring out at the vastness of Tonbridge. His birth place. Home. Red bricked roads twisted amongst metallic skyscrapers, the swirling purple clouds reflected in the tops.

Emotion

T: Billy was excited because he'd arrived and was going to meet his parents for the first time.

S: Billy sucked in a long, calming breath. He was here. At last. He smiled, unable to fight his emotions any longer. Somewhere, amongst the skyscrapers, were his parents. Mum and Dad. And he was finally going to meet them.

With Filter Verbs

T: Billy could hear water, which appeared to be coming from around the corner. He decided to investigate.

S: Billy paused, listening. A gentle trickling of water. But where? He focused, homing in on the sound. To his right, just through the trees. But it couldn't be, could it? Real water? He jumped down from the mound and crept closer.

Characterisation

T: Billy was an angry guy who found it hard to forgive.

S: Billy gritted his teeth and snarled at all the smiling faces ahead of him. Stupid happy families. He didn't need parents, not like these fools. And besides, istwasn't him who'd walked out all those year ago.

With Adverbs

T: Billy quickly ran to his parents, and excitedly hugged them.

S: Billy sprinted across the park and, unable to hold back his emotions any longer, threw his arms around his parents and squeezed.

 

There are other ways I often see writers telling instead of showing – info-dumping and conveniently passing on info through dialogue, for example – but these five examples are the most common. And if you work on these techniques, practise, research, read, learn, then your writing will immediately take a more professional turn. Just try it before you refuse to follow the 'show, don't tell' crowd –because I hear and see your reluctance – and if you still think your writing was better before, then I wish you all the best.

 

 

 

Loud and Clear: Part 5: Tips and Exercises for Finding Your Writing Voice

Over the course of the past four posts in this series on voice, I’ve given you a lot of information about the elements of voice. But you may still be wondering how you go about finding your voice. (Find the previous posts as follows: part 1 on defining voice; part 2 on POV; part 3 on tense, grammar and punctuation, and sentence structure; part 4 on word choice.)

This post offers some tips and exercises you can use to discover your own voice.

Before I begin, I’d like you to keep in mind that a writer’s voice can and will vary—particularly when crossing genres of fiction (and nonfiction). You probably wouldn’t write a romance novel the same way that you write a crime story.

There is likely to be an overall consistency in the writing and voice across your body of work: your voice will (and should) be different in everything that you do, but there’s also going to be some similarities because you are who you are.

And that’s a great thing. Readers come to your work because they like what you do and have some idea of what to expect. This gets into branding, which is a whole ‘nother topic!

A writer like Stephen King or John Green is going to mean something to the reader. Again, Rainbow Rowell is a good example because she writes both adult and young adult fiction. While the stories and characters are different, I know there will be an element of humor in her work and I love that.

This is the same with my own writing: I also try to write with humor. I know myself, and I know I’m not going to be able, at least in this stage of my career, to write a realistic portrayal of the bleakest, most dire days on earth. Someone will crack a joke. Super dark is not my style, and so I’ll write projects and characters that lend themselves to my style—to my voice.

And I don’t have to apologize for that. If I don’t write what I love to write and what comes naturally to me, I’m ignoring my voice and it will never be my best work.

Okay, so if it’s your distinct voice that keeps your readers coming back for everything you write, how do you develop that voice? How do you find your authentic voice?

Here are some tips for doing just that:

1. Try reading a lot of works by one author and looking for patterns. What’s similar? What’s different in terms of style and voice across all of the author’s novels?

2. Figure out what you love: The lovely Lee Kelly, whose amazing debut City of Savages released yesterday, told me this and I thought it was great. It’s a way to unabashedly discover your voice and not feel like you need to be like someone else—because you shouldn’t, remember, this is all about being unique and true to yourself.

Lee made a list of the books, TV shows, and movies she loved. Pure love. No judgment. Though she reads and watches across genres, when she studied the lists for common elements, she discovered there were many. She was most drawn to sci fi and fantasy, things with grander moral themes, and dark and edgy.

Those were the building blocks for what she wanted to write and the style in which she wanted to write them.

3. Describe yourself in three adjectives. This is another one that gets at who you are and what you like. For example: funny, loud, and outgoing. Then ask (and answer) the question: “Is this how I talk?” Then, ask other people how you talk. You can discover a lot about who you are by what other people see. It might surprise you.

4. Define your narrator. This plays into the idea of knowing your character. If you don’t know who your character is, you can’t discover his or her voice.

One way to get to know your character is to create a character profile, and there’s a lot of advice online for how to do this. Or start out more simply: come up with characteristics or traits for your narrator and create statements as if that character was saying them. “I’m a klutz.” “I have self-esteem issues.” “I’m terrified of public speaking.”

What do these traits tell you about that character? You can find out a lot about your character’s voice, and your own writing voice, through this exercise.

5. Imagine your ideal reader. Describe him or her in detail. Then, write to her, and only her. Example: My ideal reader is smart. She has a sense of humor and loves pop culture.

6. Free-write. Just go nuts. Write in a way that’s most comfortable to you, without editing. Then go back and read it, asking yourself, “Are my stories like this? Do I want them to be?” Honestly ask yourself, “Is this something I would read?” If not, you should probably think about changing your voice. Also ask yourself: “Do I enjoy what I’m writing as I’m writing it?” If it feels like work, you may not be writing like yourself.

To conclude, we talked about a writing voice being important for finding and hooking readers and editors. But there’s another reason. If you aren’t writing with your voice, if it doesn’t come naturally for you, you will burn out. It’s exhausting to try to write like someone else.

You need to feel free to be yourself. But that doesn’t mean you are off the hook for honing your voice.

All writing is craft, and voice is no different. The starting point is being true to yourself, but all the rest presented in this series can and should be used to make your voice as strong as it can be.

It may be the single greatest struggle for most writers. It won’t happen overnight, but if you pay attention to it and work on it, you will find your writer’s voice.

Lori Goldstein is the author of Becoming Jinn (now available for preorder; Feiwel and Friends/Macmillan, April 21, 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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Loud and Clear: Part 4: The Technical Elements of Voice: Word Choice

First off, Happy New Year! I'm always excited for the flip of the calendar, but this particular turn into January is something I've been waiting for since May 2013 because it means, we are finally in the calendar year that my debut novel, Becoming Jinn, hits shelves! Congratulations to all the 2015ers out there!

Okay, and now back to our regularly scheduled programming: our series on voice!

This month, I finish our discussion on the technical elements—the writing mechanics—that play a direct role in voice by focusing on word choice. In next month’s post—the final in this five-part series on voice—I’ll offer some tips and tricks you can use to find your writing voice. (For the first part in this series in which I define voice, click here; the second part on POV can be found here; and the third part on tense, grammar and punctuation, and sentence structure can be found here.)

Word Choice

To begin this discussion on word choice, I’d like to return to an author I've used previously in this series: it's an example from Eleanor and Park, one of my favorite books from one of my favorite writers, Rainbow Rowell.

Here, I’m going to start with a purposely subpar version of a scene in Eleanor and Park and follow it up with the actual published version.

The poor imitation:

Eleanor came home from school. Her mom followed her into her younger sister and brothers’ bedroom. Eleanor peered at the clothes on her bed.

“I found money in the laundry,” her mom said, giving Eleanor a knowing glance.

Eleanor’s stomach twisted into knots. She knew they could only afford used clothes and other small things. She hated that Ritchie spent most of their money at the bar. It was lucky they had anything, really.

--------------

The terrific original (published excerpt from Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell):

When Eleanor got home from school, her mom followed her into the kids’ room. There were two new pairs of Goodwill jeans folded on the top bunk.

“I found some money when I was doing laundry,” her mom said. Which meant Ritchie had accidentally left money in his pants. If he came home drunk, he’d never ask about it--he’d just assume he spent it at the bar.

Whenever her mom found money, she tried to spend it on things Ritchie would never notice. Clothes for Eleanor. New underwear for Ben. Cans of tuna fish and bags of flour. Things that could be hidden in drawers or cupboards.

Her mom had become some sort of genius double agent since she hooked up with Ritchie. It was like she was keeping them all alive behind his back.

While there are a lot of differences, there are some key pieces in terms of word choice. Let’s look at the first paragraph. The imitation says, “younger sister and brothers’ bedroom.” The original says “kid’s room.” If you’ve read the book, you know Eleanor refers to her siblings as “the kids”. This is Eleanor’s voice shining through. Using “kids” instead of sister or brother is a word choice that speaks directly to creating a distinct voice for Eleanor.

Moving on to the next paragraph, the imitation uses generic words while the original uses specific, purposeful words. For example, the original uses “Goodwill jeans” instead of “clothes.” It uses “top bunk” instead of “bed”. Think about how much we learn about Eleanor and her family simply from the use of specific versus generic words. This plays out fully in the complete excerpt here.

This is what word choice is all about: It’s being specific instead of general. It’s cutting words that are unnecessary. It’s making sure the details matter.

Of course there are other things that shine in Rainbow Rowell’s piece that contribute to great writing voice: things like vivid verbs and turn of phrase (and incredible talent! *fangirling*).

But overall, word choice in terms of voice can be boiled down to small changes that make a world of difference.

And so this post concludes the section on the technical elements of voice. I hope you can see now that voice isn’t some elusive thing that is difficult to grasp. It’s not something you have or don’t have. I think a lot of voice is simply paying attention to the details. And knowing which details are the most important to pay attention to.

That's what the posts in this series so far should be showing you. Point of view, tense, grammar and punctuation, sentence structure, and word choice all have a direct role in creating a unique voice.

In next month’s final post in the series, I’ll give you some tips and exercises you can use to do what this series is all about: Find your writing voice.

Lori Goldstein is the author of Becoming Jinn (now available for preorder; Feiwel and Friends/Macmillan, May 12, 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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Loud and Clear: Part 3: The Technical Elements of Voice: Tense, Grammar and Punctuation, and Sentence Structure

This month, I continue our discussion on the technical elements—the writing mechanics—that play a direct role in voice by focusing on tense, grammar and punctuation, and sentence structure. (Click here for the first part in this series and here for the second part, which introduces the first element of voice: POV.)

Tense

Another decision that affects voice at a basic level is tense. Present tense is often thought to be faster paced and more urgent. But the key thing to remember about present tense in terms of voice is this: Everything is happening to your character in the now. Right now. The reader is experiencing everything right along with the main character. Your character doesn’t know what happens after this very moment. This means the voice does not allow for a lot of perspective.

Unlike in past tense when the narrator is telling us what has already happened. Past tense allows the character to have more perspective and reflection. A key component of using past tense is figuring out when your character is narrating this story. Is your character narrating something that happened yesterday or ten years ago? This is a difference that will affect the voice.

The Hunger Games is present tense while The Fault in Our Stars is past tense.

Grammar and Punctuation

Now, this might sound strange because there are rules of grammar and punctuation, right? Why, yes, there are, but we all know the saying that rules are made to be broken. And that’s never more true than in writing.

If not overdone, playing with punctuation and grammar can have a beneficial impact on creating your writer’s voice.

For example, say you have a character who speaks without a single contraction and with many big-ticket words. And then say you have a character who speaks with a lot of slang, abbreviations, or poor grammar.

What does this tell us about these characters? A lot. The first might be a scholarly professor from Oxford and the second might be a street rat. We can get hints of who your characters are—education, economic level, even attitude—all through their voice and the words you choose.

Also keep in mind that playing with the rules of grammar and punctuation lend believability to your writing, especially in dialogue. People don’t speak in complete sentences with perfect grammar. And neither should your characters.

Going back to what I said at the start of this series in terms of content and audience, you may want to play with elements of grammar and punctuation (ellipses, exclamation marks, slang) in a gossip column but not if you are writing for a bank.

Syntax, Sentence Structure, and Rhythm

Like with punctuation and grammar, sentence structure can also tell us about character. For example, lots of run-on sentences may show an overexcited character. Lots of short sentences may show a character who is reserved and efficient, not wasting a breath on anything extra. We get hints about who these people are just from the length and construction of their sentences.

But that’s not the only way sentence structure is important. It’s a key element in creating a rhythm that engages the reader.

I’m going to now include a passage from author Gary Provost. It’s one of the best illustrations I’ve seen of how important something as seemingly mundane and simple as sentence structure creates voice.

From 100 Ways to Improve Your Writing: Proven Professional Techniques for Writing with Style and Power 

by Gary Provost

Pretty powerful, right?

I’d like to include another example, which is actually the first page of my novel, Becoming Jinn. It’s the very start of the book.

A chisel, a hammer, a wrench. A sander, a drill, a power saw. A laser, a heat gun, a flaming torch. Nothing cuts through the bangle. Nothing I conjure even makes a scratch.

I had to try, just to be sure. But the silver bangle encircling my wrist can’t be removed. It was smart of my mother to secure it in the middle of the night while I was asleep, unable to protest.

Though my Jinn ancestry means magic has always been inside me, the rules don’t allow me to begin drawing upon it until the day I turn sixteen. The day I receive my silver bangle. The day I officially become a genie.

Today.

What do you see in that example in terms of sentence structure and rhythm? There’s an immediate mood set with the repetition in the lists of the tools; it’s bolstered by the word echoes of “nothing” and “the day I.”

What I’ve tried to do in this section is lull you into a mood with the rhythm of the writing so that when you get to that single-word sentence of “Today” you are hit with its power. It hopefully wakes you up and makes you take notice.

That’s all done with the sentence structure. It’s one of the strongest weapons in your writing arsenal. I love wielding this particular one!

Next month, I'll tackle the final technical element of voice: word choice.

Which of these voice techniques do you use? What else do you use to create voice?

Lori Goldstein is the author of Becoming Jinn (now available for preorder; Feiwel and Friends/Macmillan, May 12, 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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Loud and Clear: Part 2: The Technical Elements of Voice: POV

Last month, I began this series on voice by defining what it is we mean by “writing voice.”

This month, I’m going to begin talking about the technical elements—the writing mechanics—that play a direct role in voice.

Before we get into the specifics, keep in mind that both the type of story you are writing and the intended audience will influence your writing voice.

The voice for a horror story will be very different from the voice for a picture book (or at least I hope it is!). The voice for a nonfiction blog about finance will be very different than the voice for a fashion blog for tweens. The first might be quite formal and professional, while the second will likely be fun, bubbly, and accessible.

As I go through the technical elements of voice, keep these two things in mind: the type of content and your intended reader.

The Technical Elements of Voice

There are five areas I want to touch on in this overview of the writing mechanics that are core to voice.

1. Point of view or POV

2. Tense

3. Grammar and punctuation

4. Syntax (arrangement of words and phrases), sentence structure, rhythm

5. Word choice (specificity, consistency, and staying true to your characters)

Point of View

This post is all about point of view.

Point of view plays a direct role in voice. It’s a key decision because it sets who’s telling your story and from what narrative perspective the reader is experiencing the action of the story.

In a first-person POV, like that of The Hunger Games, the story is told through the eyes of the main character. We see only what Katniss sees, we feel only what Katniss feels. The voice of your story is the voice of your main character. All the words used and the tone employed come from who that main character is. It’s the clearest example of how voice can come from a technical element.

But then there’s third person POV, which runs on a spectrum from very close, similar to first person, to third person objective and omniscient. As you run along this spectrum, you are increasing the distance away from your main character. Making the decision to tell your story in third person means you’ve made a clear choice to put a bit more space between the character and the reader. This is a voice decision.

The Harry Potter series is told in third person limited, staying very close to Harry in all but a few instances.

While not used much, second person, in which the narrator addresses the protagonist as “you,” as if addressing a younger version of him or herself or perhaps as used in a letter or diary format, is another key decision that affects voice. If your character is writing in a diary, essentially talking to him or herself, the voice is going to be very different from the voice that character would use when in conversation with other people.

Once you have your POV, you need to remain consistent in its use. And while every character, main or secondary, in your novel should have his or her own distinct voice, this idea is especially important in books with multiple points of view. 

Often in books with multiple points of view, the character’s name is used in the chapter title. Or different fonts are used for each narrator. Those are easy ways to tell the reader which character is narrating the chapter, but if a book is well-written, you shouldn’t need those clues. You should be able to tell which character is narrating simply from the language and style used—from the voice.

Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell is an excellent example of two very strong, distinct POVs in the same work. You know from their voices if it’s Eleanor or Park narrating that chapter. That’s exactly what you want to achieve.

One of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received on my writing was when a beta reader highlighted a line of dialogue and then added a comment in my Word file that said, “That’s so Henry!” about one of the characters in Becoming Jinn. That she could feel so strongly that a single line truly reflected my character means I drew him well, with a distinct voice that was different from all my other characters’ voices. You can bet I studied that line long and hard to see how I did that and to make sure (hope!) I could do it again!

Next month, we’ll move on to tense, grammar and punctuation, and sentence structure.

Lori Goldstein is the author of Becoming Jinn (now available for preorder; Feiwel and Friends/Macmillan, May 12, 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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