Showing posts with label editing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label editing. Show all posts

Thursday, October 4

Dear Editor-on-Call:

When should you capitalize a noun such as "the Virus"? In my WIP, the characters refer to a virus which ended up wiping out most of the human population. Would it be correct to say "the Virus" when referring to it? If so, when they speak of it as belong to a certain person (the creator) would they say "his virus" or "his Virus"?

--Capitals Conundrum

Dear Cap,

The general rule on capitalization in English is to capitalize proper nouns. In other words, NAMES of specific things.

People and animals
Bob Marley. Billy the Kid. Bo Jangles. Street Sense (racehorse). Tolkien Raintree Mister Baggins (show dog).

Adjectives based on names are also capitalized--Alexander technique, Freudian slip.

Places and Organizations
Seattle. Republic of Congo. Piccadilly Circus. Shop Rite. Grover Cleveland High School. Purdue University. Red Cross. Roman Catholic Church.

Adjectives based on places are also capitalized--French fries, English grammar.

Caveat: some regions are referred to by a directional name, such as "the West." Context should make clear that what's meant is either the geographic region west of the Mississippi or the culture of the western hemisphere (vs. the eastern). 

Titles of artistic works (except the non-leading prepositions, coordinating conjunctions, and articles [a, an, the])
The Mona Lisa. The Marriage of FigaroTo the Lighthouse. "She Walks in Beauty." Terminator. Waiting for Godot. "You Belong to Me."

Trademarked products
Kleenex. Big Mac. Kindle.

Named events and holidays (same rules as artistic work titles)
Cloverdale County Fair. Annual Walk for Peace. Easter. Rosh Hashanah.

Calendar units (for lack of a better category)
Summer. September. Friday.

The category of noun you describe is a thing. It's less common for a thing to be specifically named, unless it is an artistic work, a trademarked product or a copy of a living thing (Barbie, Winnie the Pooh). We more often use generic terms that the grammar gurus call "common nouns": tree, couch, daisy, leopard, skateboard, pork chop, party, secretary, professor, chemistry, sculpture.

You might have only one spleen, but I'm willing to bet you haven't named it. Likewise, diseases are not treated like proper nouns unless they are named after a person or another proper noun (like a place).

Example:
Julie has diabetes, Glenn has Parkinson's disease and their puppy has Lyme disease.
Jared might have irritable bowel syndrome or Crohn's disease.
Baby Miles needs measles, mumps and rubella inoculations.

If you want to give your fictional virus a name that takes a capital, name it for its creator or the one who discovered it: Malfoy virus, for example. Otherwise, refer to it simply as "the virus" and "his virus."

Which of these trip you up? Any follow-up questions on capitalization rules?
Thursday, October 04, 2018 Laurel Garver
Dear Editor-on-Call:

When should you capitalize a noun such as "the Virus"? In my WIP, the characters refer to a virus which ended up wiping out most of the human population. Would it be correct to say "the Virus" when referring to it? If so, when they speak of it as belong to a certain person (the creator) would they say "his virus" or "his Virus"?

--Capitals Conundrum

Dear Cap,

The general rule on capitalization in English is to capitalize proper nouns. In other words, NAMES of specific things.

People and animals
Bob Marley. Billy the Kid. Bo Jangles. Street Sense (racehorse). Tolkien Raintree Mister Baggins (show dog).

Adjectives based on names are also capitalized--Alexander technique, Freudian slip.

Places and Organizations
Seattle. Republic of Congo. Piccadilly Circus. Shop Rite. Grover Cleveland High School. Purdue University. Red Cross. Roman Catholic Church.

Adjectives based on places are also capitalized--French fries, English grammar.

Caveat: some regions are referred to by a directional name, such as "the West." Context should make clear that what's meant is either the geographic region west of the Mississippi or the culture of the western hemisphere (vs. the eastern). 

Titles of artistic works (except the non-leading prepositions, coordinating conjunctions, and articles [a, an, the])
The Mona Lisa. The Marriage of FigaroTo the Lighthouse. "She Walks in Beauty." Terminator. Waiting for Godot. "You Belong to Me."

Trademarked products
Kleenex. Big Mac. Kindle.

Named events and holidays (same rules as artistic work titles)
Cloverdale County Fair. Annual Walk for Peace. Easter. Rosh Hashanah.

Calendar units (for lack of a better category)
Summer. September. Friday.

The category of noun you describe is a thing. It's less common for a thing to be specifically named, unless it is an artistic work, a trademarked product or a copy of a living thing (Barbie, Winnie the Pooh). We more often use generic terms that the grammar gurus call "common nouns": tree, couch, daisy, leopard, skateboard, pork chop, party, secretary, professor, chemistry, sculpture.

You might have only one spleen, but I'm willing to bet you haven't named it. Likewise, diseases are not treated like proper nouns unless they are named after a person or another proper noun (like a place).

Example:
Julie has diabetes, Glenn has Parkinson's disease and their puppy has Lyme disease.
Jared might have irritable bowel syndrome or Crohn's disease.
Baby Miles needs measles, mumps and rubella inoculations.

If you want to give your fictional virus a name that takes a capital, name it for its creator or the one who discovered it: Malfoy virus, for example. Otherwise, refer to it simply as "the virus" and "his virus."

Which of these trip you up? Any follow-up questions on capitalization rules?

Thursday, September 6

This does NOT have to be you, young writer!
Over the years, I've had a number of friends reach out asking for me to speak with their child or cousin or niece/nephew who loves to write and needs some career direction. They see me as Exhibit A of how you can actually support yourself with an English degree, as if I'm a mystical unicorn. Perhaps I'm more like a white rhino, an endangered species. Much has changed about the publishing world since I left college and I don't think my path is one many could easily pursue today.

I entered the workforce before the Internet was widely available, and print media was still in its heyday. My relevant experience was limited to being a co-editor of the college literary magazine and tutoring at the writing center, plus a summer internship where I did administrative and communications work at an insurance company. It took ten months to find my first editorial job during the early 90s recession. But I've been able to find continual work as an editor ever since. One of those editorial jobs, at a nonprofit, even provided training in graphic design and paid for my grad school courses in journalism.

So while most college grads can't expect there to be scads of entry-level editorial jobs in print publications, there are still many ways to be involved in writing that can support you. It's also not unusual for fiction writing to be an avocation that becomes a serious side hustle as your skills grow and your voice matures.

People with strong writing and editing skills are needed in a broad array of fields. I think what's key is to figure out what genres and kinds of content you enjoy, and choose courses, extracurriculars, and work/internship experiences that give you "crossover appeal."

Career ideas for writers


If it's pure creative writing that excites you, consider script writing. Television series are booming with the advent of streaming services, and talent will always be needed. So combine your English or creative writing degree with one in drama or film studies. Look for creative ways to begin building a portfolio while you're in school by, say, writing sketches, monologues, or one-acts for the college drama group. Intern in the college publicity department, with local advertising agencies that create TV spots, or with a YouTuber.

If poetry is your jam, becoming a lyricist might be the career for you. Study music alongside poetry; join a college band or offer to write with one.

If you love science as much as writing, there's a consistent need for skilled writers in editors in medical publishing. Coursework, a minor or double major in biology, biochem or chemistry will give you the needed knowledge base. Consider joining a medical club on campus and doing some communications work for them to build your portfolio.

Maybe the wheeling and dealing world of business is more interesting to you. Consider corporate communications, which involves all kinds of written materials, from advertisements to internal newsletters to prospectuses to grant writing. Trade publishing is another field where business knowledge is needed. Again, courses that build your knowledge base will be key for finding work in corporations, accounting firms, banking, and the professional associations that support them. Trying your hand at promotional writing or grant writing for a college club can be a portfolio-builder.

If you're a gadget-loving techie and good at making complex ideas easy to understand, perhaps technical writing is the field for you. A background in computer science would be an asset.

If you have an artistic eye, learning graphic design and HTML coding along with writing and editing skills will make you a stand-out candidate in non-profit communications and marketing. Smaller operations need folks who can not only create and tidy up written content but also create finished products like newsletters, magazines, and websites. The more you can build a real-world portfolio (projects beyond class assignments), the better, so offer your design services to school clubs, family/friends, or favorite small businesses in the neighborhood, Many also want folks who know their way around social media. So get some experience under your belt running Twitter and Instagram accounts for your school clubs to show that you have some know-how developing a consistent message and building an audience, or reach out to family and friends and offer to manage social media for one of their businesses, as an informal internship.

If your one true love is fiction writing, by all means read as widely as possible and write all kinds of things. Don't limit yourself to fiction courses, because there are valuable skills to be learned from courses in poetry writing, drama, journalism, and rhetoric that will make your fiction stronger. Get involved with the literary magazine, because reading and critiquing others' work will grow your skill as well. If your school doesn't have one, search out some online literary zines and ask about joining the team that reads through submissions; these all-volunteer operations usually welcome the assistance. Submit work to small zines as a way to build up a portfolio that can help you break in to paying fiction markets and even land a literary agent. Join online forums like Wattpad, which enable you to test out your stories with an audience. Offer to beta-read for your classmates and try to connect with writers in the community at large, perhaps through NaNo meetups or at your neighborhood library. Developing your skills as a reader and critique partner can put you on the path toward a gig in a literary agency or with a publishing house. (Just be aware that you might have to moonlight elsewhere to pay the bills.)

Veronica Roth, who became a successful novelist fresh out of college, is one in six billion. Keep your expectations realistic: your goal now, while you are energetic but still green, is to work on your craft, learn a variety of skills, begin building a portfolio, and network.

Are there other writing fields you know of? How would you advise someone to break into the field?

Thursday, September 06, 2018 Laurel Garver
This does NOT have to be you, young writer!
Over the years, I've had a number of friends reach out asking for me to speak with their child or cousin or niece/nephew who loves to write and needs some career direction. They see me as Exhibit A of how you can actually support yourself with an English degree, as if I'm a mystical unicorn. Perhaps I'm more like a white rhino, an endangered species. Much has changed about the publishing world since I left college and I don't think my path is one many could easily pursue today.

I entered the workforce before the Internet was widely available, and print media was still in its heyday. My relevant experience was limited to being a co-editor of the college literary magazine and tutoring at the writing center, plus a summer internship where I did administrative and communications work at an insurance company. It took ten months to find my first editorial job during the early 90s recession. But I've been able to find continual work as an editor ever since. One of those editorial jobs, at a nonprofit, even provided training in graphic design and paid for my grad school courses in journalism.

So while most college grads can't expect there to be scads of entry-level editorial jobs in print publications, there are still many ways to be involved in writing that can support you. It's also not unusual for fiction writing to be an avocation that becomes a serious side hustle as your skills grow and your voice matures.

People with strong writing and editing skills are needed in a broad array of fields. I think what's key is to figure out what genres and kinds of content you enjoy, and choose courses, extracurriculars, and work/internship experiences that give you "crossover appeal."

Career ideas for writers


If it's pure creative writing that excites you, consider script writing. Television series are booming with the advent of streaming services, and talent will always be needed. So combine your English or creative writing degree with one in drama or film studies. Look for creative ways to begin building a portfolio while you're in school by, say, writing sketches, monologues, or one-acts for the college drama group. Intern in the college publicity department, with local advertising agencies that create TV spots, or with a YouTuber.

If poetry is your jam, becoming a lyricist might be the career for you. Study music alongside poetry; join a college band or offer to write with one.

If you love science as much as writing, there's a consistent need for skilled writers in editors in medical publishing. Coursework, a minor or double major in biology, biochem or chemistry will give you the needed knowledge base. Consider joining a medical club on campus and doing some communications work for them to build your portfolio.

Maybe the wheeling and dealing world of business is more interesting to you. Consider corporate communications, which involves all kinds of written materials, from advertisements to internal newsletters to prospectuses to grant writing. Trade publishing is another field where business knowledge is needed. Again, courses that build your knowledge base will be key for finding work in corporations, accounting firms, banking, and the professional associations that support them. Trying your hand at promotional writing or grant writing for a college club can be a portfolio-builder.

If you're a gadget-loving techie and good at making complex ideas easy to understand, perhaps technical writing is the field for you. A background in computer science would be an asset.

If you have an artistic eye, learning graphic design and HTML coding along with writing and editing skills will make you a stand-out candidate in non-profit communications and marketing. Smaller operations need folks who can not only create and tidy up written content but also create finished products like newsletters, magazines, and websites. The more you can build a real-world portfolio (projects beyond class assignments), the better, so offer your design services to school clubs, family/friends, or favorite small businesses in the neighborhood, Many also want folks who know their way around social media. So get some experience under your belt running Twitter and Instagram accounts for your school clubs to show that you have some know-how developing a consistent message and building an audience, or reach out to family and friends and offer to manage social media for one of their businesses, as an informal internship.

If your one true love is fiction writing, by all means read as widely as possible and write all kinds of things. Don't limit yourself to fiction courses, because there are valuable skills to be learned from courses in poetry writing, drama, journalism, and rhetoric that will make your fiction stronger. Get involved with the literary magazine, because reading and critiquing others' work will grow your skill as well. If your school doesn't have one, search out some online literary zines and ask about joining the team that reads through submissions; these all-volunteer operations usually welcome the assistance. Submit work to small zines as a way to build up a portfolio that can help you break in to paying fiction markets and even land a literary agent. Join online forums like Wattpad, which enable you to test out your stories with an audience. Offer to beta-read for your classmates and try to connect with writers in the community at large, perhaps through NaNo meetups or at your neighborhood library. Developing your skills as a reader and critique partner can put you on the path toward a gig in a literary agency or with a publishing house. (Just be aware that you might have to moonlight elsewhere to pay the bills.)

Veronica Roth, who became a successful novelist fresh out of college, is one in six billion. Keep your expectations realistic: your goal now, while you are energetic but still green, is to work on your craft, learn a variety of skills, begin building a portfolio, and network.

Are there other writing fields you know of? How would you advise someone to break into the field?

Thursday, May 10

Dear Editor-on-call,

I got this comment in a critique of mine and I have NO idea what it means. Could you shed some light? I feel so stupid, but I just don't get the terminology: "Misplaced modifiers. I’m seeing this phenomenon all the time with my clients! You do this just a little, but watch your antecedents."

Sincerely,
Mystified about Modifiers

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dear Mystified,

Your knuckle-rapping English teachers were trying to break you of this problem when they made you diagram sentences. You might have vague memories of identifying sentence parts as subject, verb, object. Each of these sentence parts can have modifiers--words or phrases that tell details about them.

Problems arise when those details are not close enough to the word they describe. The resulting sentences can be confusing at best, and inadvertently hilarious at worst.

Let's look at some examples.

Subject modifier misplaced

Example: The boy chased the cat who had asthma.

Whoops--Asthmatic kitties are not too common (though friends of mine work for a recording label by that name). The modifier needs to move closer to the subject, "the boy."

Revised: The boy who had asthma chased the cat.
Alternate: The asthmatic boy chased the cat.

Example: Growling and snapping, Melody was stalked by the werewolf.

Whoops--Is Mel trying to confuse the predator? More likely the writer doesn't realize the subject and object are in the wrong order.

Revised: Growling and snapping, the werewolf stalked Melody.


Example: Walking along the bridge, a ship suddenly appeared.Whoops--Is The Ship Who Walked related to Anne McCaffrey's The Ship Who Sang? You've got either some really wacky personification or a sentence with an unclear subject. I chose the latter.

This example is what's usually called a "dangling modifier"--the part of speech being described is actually missing. This sentence needs an actor walking and seeing that ship appear. Here are three ways to resolve the issue:

Revised: Walking along the bridge, the captain saw a ship suddenly appear.
Alternate: A ship suddenly appeared while the captain was walking along the bridge.
Alternate 2: As the captain walked along the bridge, a ship suddenly appeared.

Verb modifier misplaced

Example: He kept a black book of all the girls he had dated in his desk.Whoops--It might get a mite crowded in there among the paperclips! That directional "in his desk" needs to be closer to the verb "kept."

Revised: He kept in his desk a black book of all the girls he'd dated.
Alternate: In his desk, he kept a black book of all the girls he had dated.
Alternate 2 (with a shifting emphasis): There in Jason's desk drawer was his black book--a list of all the girls he'd dated.

Example: Larry told me he was getting married that afternoon at night.Whoops--When the heck is the wedding?? Oy vey. Please separate the time of the telling from the information told. "That afternoon" modifies "told," describing when Larry gave information.

Revised: That afternoon, Larry told me he was getting married at night.
Alternate: That afternoon, Larry told me about his plans for a nighttime wedding.

Object modifier misplaced

Example: You need someone to carry that load with a strong back.
Whoops--It the load is so strong, why can't it carry itself? The modifier "with a strong back" needs to move closer to the object of the sentence, "someone."

Revised: You need someone with a strong back to carry that load.


Example: I showed my dog to the veterinarian with the fleas.
Whoops--That poor, itchy vet! Sounds like he's been infested. In this case, it's the object "my dog" that needs to be closer to its modifier "with the fleas."

Revised: I showed the veterinarian my dog with the fleas.

Word order problems

Limiting modifiers can change the meaning of a sentence depending on where they are placed. Some words to beware of: only, not only, just, not just, almost, hardly, nearly, even, exactly, merely, scarcely, and simply.

Below are examples of how a sentence's meaning can change when one moves around a limiting modifier.

Subject modified:
Just Evan drank a Coke.
(No others drank Coke, only Evan did.)

Verb modified:
Evan just drank a Coke.
(Others had a big bar brawl while Evan sat there sipping his cola.)

Object modified:
Evan drank just a Coke.
(Others had vodka tonics, but Evan? Just Coke.)

Squinting modifiers are modifying phrases that could modify more than one part of a sentence. Clarity problems arise when you place them near to both possible choices.

Example: She said on Sunday she would call.

Whoops--Did she say it on Sunday? Or is she going to call on Sunday? We don’t know. The phrase “on Sunday” could modify “said” or it could modify “would call.” Revising sentences like this usually requires adding words to make clear who's doing what and when.

Revised: On Sunday, she said she would call me soon.
Alternate: On Sunday, she said, "I'll call you."

To capture the other possible meaning, try these revisions:
Revised: She just said she would call me Sunday night.
Alternate: She said, "I'll call you on Sunday."


Side note: the editor mentioned in this letter was misusing the grammar term "antecedent" to mean "a thing referred to," which should only be used when discussing pronouns. The correct grammatical term for something being modified is "headword."


Which of these areas trip you up? Any other helpful pointers for correctly placing modifiers with their headwords?
Thursday, May 10, 2018 Laurel Garver
Dear Editor-on-call,

I got this comment in a critique of mine and I have NO idea what it means. Could you shed some light? I feel so stupid, but I just don't get the terminology: "Misplaced modifiers. I’m seeing this phenomenon all the time with my clients! You do this just a little, but watch your antecedents."

Sincerely,
Mystified about Modifiers

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dear Mystified,

Your knuckle-rapping English teachers were trying to break you of this problem when they made you diagram sentences. You might have vague memories of identifying sentence parts as subject, verb, object. Each of these sentence parts can have modifiers--words or phrases that tell details about them.

Problems arise when those details are not close enough to the word they describe. The resulting sentences can be confusing at best, and inadvertently hilarious at worst.

Let's look at some examples.

Subject modifier misplaced

Example: The boy chased the cat who had asthma.

Whoops--Asthmatic kitties are not too common (though friends of mine work for a recording label by that name). The modifier needs to move closer to the subject, "the boy."

Revised: The boy who had asthma chased the cat.
Alternate: The asthmatic boy chased the cat.

Example: Growling and snapping, Melody was stalked by the werewolf.

Whoops--Is Mel trying to confuse the predator? More likely the writer doesn't realize the subject and object are in the wrong order.

Revised: Growling and snapping, the werewolf stalked Melody.


Example: Walking along the bridge, a ship suddenly appeared.Whoops--Is The Ship Who Walked related to Anne McCaffrey's The Ship Who Sang? You've got either some really wacky personification or a sentence with an unclear subject. I chose the latter.

This example is what's usually called a "dangling modifier"--the part of speech being described is actually missing. This sentence needs an actor walking and seeing that ship appear. Here are three ways to resolve the issue:

Revised: Walking along the bridge, the captain saw a ship suddenly appear.
Alternate: A ship suddenly appeared while the captain was walking along the bridge.
Alternate 2: As the captain walked along the bridge, a ship suddenly appeared.

Verb modifier misplaced

Example: He kept a black book of all the girls he had dated in his desk.Whoops--It might get a mite crowded in there among the paperclips! That directional "in his desk" needs to be closer to the verb "kept."

Revised: He kept in his desk a black book of all the girls he'd dated.
Alternate: In his desk, he kept a black book of all the girls he had dated.
Alternate 2 (with a shifting emphasis): There in Jason's desk drawer was his black book--a list of all the girls he'd dated.

Example: Larry told me he was getting married that afternoon at night.Whoops--When the heck is the wedding?? Oy vey. Please separate the time of the telling from the information told. "That afternoon" modifies "told," describing when Larry gave information.

Revised: That afternoon, Larry told me he was getting married at night.
Alternate: That afternoon, Larry told me about his plans for a nighttime wedding.

Object modifier misplaced

Example: You need someone to carry that load with a strong back.
Whoops--It the load is so strong, why can't it carry itself? The modifier "with a strong back" needs to move closer to the object of the sentence, "someone."

Revised: You need someone with a strong back to carry that load.


Example: I showed my dog to the veterinarian with the fleas.
Whoops--That poor, itchy vet! Sounds like he's been infested. In this case, it's the object "my dog" that needs to be closer to its modifier "with the fleas."

Revised: I showed the veterinarian my dog with the fleas.

Word order problems

Limiting modifiers can change the meaning of a sentence depending on where they are placed. Some words to beware of: only, not only, just, not just, almost, hardly, nearly, even, exactly, merely, scarcely, and simply.

Below are examples of how a sentence's meaning can change when one moves around a limiting modifier.

Subject modified:
Just Evan drank a Coke.
(No others drank Coke, only Evan did.)

Verb modified:
Evan just drank a Coke.
(Others had a big bar brawl while Evan sat there sipping his cola.)

Object modified:
Evan drank just a Coke.
(Others had vodka tonics, but Evan? Just Coke.)

Squinting modifiers are modifying phrases that could modify more than one part of a sentence. Clarity problems arise when you place them near to both possible choices.

Example: She said on Sunday she would call.

Whoops--Did she say it on Sunday? Or is she going to call on Sunday? We don’t know. The phrase “on Sunday” could modify “said” or it could modify “would call.” Revising sentences like this usually requires adding words to make clear who's doing what and when.

Revised: On Sunday, she said she would call me soon.
Alternate: On Sunday, she said, "I'll call you."

To capture the other possible meaning, try these revisions:
Revised: She just said she would call me Sunday night.
Alternate: She said, "I'll call you on Sunday."


Side note: the editor mentioned in this letter was misusing the grammar term "antecedent" to mean "a thing referred to," which should only be used when discussing pronouns. The correct grammatical term for something being modified is "headword."


Which of these areas trip you up? Any other helpful pointers for correctly placing modifiers with their headwords?

Thursday, April 26

Dear Editor-on-call,

I'm weak when it comes to run-on sentences. Can you help?

Sincerely,
The On-Runner


Dear Runner,

You are in good company. Run-ons are one of the three most common errors I see in academic writing. PhD programs in English seem to encourage jamming as many ideas as possible between full stops. I once broke an 11-line sentence into FOUR parts. Clearly this was a case of reader distrust--an anxiety that the reader wouldn't comprehend the way ideas were linked unless crammed together. Keep in mind that a paragraph is the best unit for clearly and readably holding together a series of linked ideas.

The biggest danger of run-on sentences is incoherence. The reader will lose the thread of what you're saying if information isn't parsed into manageable pieces.

The most common form of run-on is the comma splice. This term refers to two complete sentences joined with a comma when they should either be divided or have a conjunction inserted (i.e., and, but, for, nor, or, so, yet).

Example:
It will be clear and hot today, you should put on sunscreen.

Possible fixes:
It will be clear and hot today. You should put on sunscreen.
It will be clear and hot today, so you should put on sunscreen.

Another cause of run-ons is misuse of conjunctive adverbs like however, moreover, nonetheless.

Example:
Rocco has sent his three children to ivy-league universities, however, he has sacrificed his health working long shifts at the foundry.

Possible fixes:
Rocco has sent his three children to ivy-league universities. However, he has sacrificed his health working long shifts at the foundry.
Rocco has sent his three children to ivy-league universities; however, he has sacrificed his health working long shifts at the foundry.

I am no fan of the semi-colon and would recommend against using the latter method. These two ideas--"children in ivy-league" and "working long shifts"--are not so tightly bonded they need to be in one sentence. The semi-colon version also contains so much information in such a large chunk it can lose a reader.

And speaking of overload, the worst kind of run-on is the clause-a-thon--too many clauses strung together.

Example:
She read the letter from the insurance company that said that the claim we had filed as a result of our accident in center city on May 3 had been sent on to a review committee which would consider the matter and render a decision within a month.

Possible fixes:
She read the letter from the insurance company. It said the claim we'd filed for our May 3 accident had been sent to a review committee. The committee would review the matter and render a decision in a month.

Note that some unnecessary details are dropped and phrases condensed. The claim is for an accident (less wordy than "as a result of"). Where the accident occurred is unimportant. What matters most is whether the insurance company will pay.

The sentence could be further condensed to hit only the most important information:
The insurance company's letter said our car accident claim had been sent to a review committee. We'd have to wait another month for an answer.

The clause-a-thon is the most likely form to occur in fiction. When you run across sentences that are trying to do too much, look for ways to trim details and parse the information into smaller, more manageable chunks.

Example:
My best friend Nancy, who lived down the hall from me and who I first met at a departmental wine-and-cheese event, wore her onyx hair in a braid, smoked clove cigarettes and went through boyfriends like Kleenex.

Possible fixes:
My best friend Nancy lived down the hall from me. We first met at a departmental wine-and-cheese event. She wore her onyx hair in a braid, smoked clove cigarettes and went through boyfriends like Kleenex.

Leaner:
I first met my best friend Nancy at a departmental wine-and-cheese event. Smoke from her clove cigarette had curled around her onyx braid and wafted toward her boyfriend-du-jour.

In some cases, your best fixes will come from deeper level rewrites like this. Instead of using a list to describe Nancy, I turned the descriptions into an active flashback.

Which of these areas trip you up most?
Thursday, April 26, 2018 Laurel Garver
Dear Editor-on-call,

I'm weak when it comes to run-on sentences. Can you help?

Sincerely,
The On-Runner


Dear Runner,

You are in good company. Run-ons are one of the three most common errors I see in academic writing. PhD programs in English seem to encourage jamming as many ideas as possible between full stops. I once broke an 11-line sentence into FOUR parts. Clearly this was a case of reader distrust--an anxiety that the reader wouldn't comprehend the way ideas were linked unless crammed together. Keep in mind that a paragraph is the best unit for clearly and readably holding together a series of linked ideas.

The biggest danger of run-on sentences is incoherence. The reader will lose the thread of what you're saying if information isn't parsed into manageable pieces.

The most common form of run-on is the comma splice. This term refers to two complete sentences joined with a comma when they should either be divided or have a conjunction inserted (i.e., and, but, for, nor, or, so, yet).

Example:
It will be clear and hot today, you should put on sunscreen.

Possible fixes:
It will be clear and hot today. You should put on sunscreen.
It will be clear and hot today, so you should put on sunscreen.

Another cause of run-ons is misuse of conjunctive adverbs like however, moreover, nonetheless.

Example:
Rocco has sent his three children to ivy-league universities, however, he has sacrificed his health working long shifts at the foundry.

Possible fixes:
Rocco has sent his three children to ivy-league universities. However, he has sacrificed his health working long shifts at the foundry.
Rocco has sent his three children to ivy-league universities; however, he has sacrificed his health working long shifts at the foundry.

I am no fan of the semi-colon and would recommend against using the latter method. These two ideas--"children in ivy-league" and "working long shifts"--are not so tightly bonded they need to be in one sentence. The semi-colon version also contains so much information in such a large chunk it can lose a reader.

And speaking of overload, the worst kind of run-on is the clause-a-thon--too many clauses strung together.

Example:
She read the letter from the insurance company that said that the claim we had filed as a result of our accident in center city on May 3 had been sent on to a review committee which would consider the matter and render a decision within a month.

Possible fixes:
She read the letter from the insurance company. It said the claim we'd filed for our May 3 accident had been sent to a review committee. The committee would review the matter and render a decision in a month.

Note that some unnecessary details are dropped and phrases condensed. The claim is for an accident (less wordy than "as a result of"). Where the accident occurred is unimportant. What matters most is whether the insurance company will pay.

The sentence could be further condensed to hit only the most important information:
The insurance company's letter said our car accident claim had been sent to a review committee. We'd have to wait another month for an answer.

The clause-a-thon is the most likely form to occur in fiction. When you run across sentences that are trying to do too much, look for ways to trim details and parse the information into smaller, more manageable chunks.

Example:
My best friend Nancy, who lived down the hall from me and who I first met at a departmental wine-and-cheese event, wore her onyx hair in a braid, smoked clove cigarettes and went through boyfriends like Kleenex.

Possible fixes:
My best friend Nancy lived down the hall from me. We first met at a departmental wine-and-cheese event. She wore her onyx hair in a braid, smoked clove cigarettes and went through boyfriends like Kleenex.

Leaner:
I first met my best friend Nancy at a departmental wine-and-cheese event. Smoke from her clove cigarette had curled around her onyx braid and wafted toward her boyfriend-du-jour.

In some cases, your best fixes will come from deeper level rewrites like this. Instead of using a list to describe Nancy, I turned the descriptions into an active flashback.

Which of these areas trip you up most?

Thursday, September 15

The new school year has begun, which always feels to me like a time for me to start new things, or in this case, restart old things.

Back in 2009, one of my critique group friends called with an urgent punctuation question. It was something pretty simple about quotes within quotes. This got me wondering if any of my blog followers have burning questions about some matter of grammar, usage, or style.

From there, I started a little series called Editor-on-call, in which I answer your burning questions. It has been a long time since I put out a call for more questions, so I thought I'd do so again. I want to keep this blog relevant and a helpful resource for you, dear readers.

Perhaps first you'd like to know what topics I've already covered. There are quite a few, as it happens, though this hardly exhausts all the concerns I hear come up at my critique group and in the author collaborative I belong to.




Tell me, readers, what burning questions do you have about grammar, punctuation, or fiction writing problems you don't know how to fix?
Thursday, September 15, 2016 Laurel Garver
The new school year has begun, which always feels to me like a time for me to start new things, or in this case, restart old things.

Back in 2009, one of my critique group friends called with an urgent punctuation question. It was something pretty simple about quotes within quotes. This got me wondering if any of my blog followers have burning questions about some matter of grammar, usage, or style.

From there, I started a little series called Editor-on-call, in which I answer your burning questions. It has been a long time since I put out a call for more questions, so I thought I'd do so again. I want to keep this blog relevant and a helpful resource for you, dear readers.

Perhaps first you'd like to know what topics I've already covered. There are quite a few, as it happens, though this hardly exhausts all the concerns I hear come up at my critique group and in the author collaborative I belong to.




Tell me, readers, what burning questions do you have about grammar, punctuation, or fiction writing problems you don't know how to fix?

Wednesday, March 9

Today we're tackling a set of fraternal twins of language, the homophones coarse and course. Once again, I'll provide a definition, examples and mnemonic tricks to help you keep them straight. Because spellcheck will not help you if you use the wrong term for the context.

Luckily, these two words are always different parts of speech; the A version is only an adjective, the U version is a noun or verb.

Coarse fabric (Alvimann at morguefile.com)

coarse

(adj.) having a rough texture, or a loose weave; vulgar, rude, crude.

examples
The beggar's coarse woolen cloak gave little protection from wind.
Use coarse sandpaper to remove the old, thick layers of paint.
Mickey's coarse jokes made everyone blush.

mnemonics
Coarse oars make hands ache
The coarse mannered are always alone.


course

A riding course (jade from www.morguefile.com).
(n.) a route traveled, as by a ship, plane, or car;
a directed or mapped route
progress in time;
portion of a meal;
a unit of instruction, a plan of study on a topic

(v. intrans.) to flow or stream without obstruction;
to follow a course or be directed in a course

(v. trans.) to hunt using sight instead of scent;
to chase or pursue

Of course (idiom) - a turn of events is obvious or expected; certainly; naturally.

examples
Buffy often lost her way on the club's golf course.
Over the course of a week, the team built a new prototype.
We'll be serving salmon and roast beef for the main course.
Kyle really loved his art history course.
Tears course down Lucinda's cheeks.
My kayak coursed forward in the strong current.
The greyhounds coursed hares across the field.
Of course the class clown would wear a vampire costume to the prom.

mnemonics
For an utterly ultimate run, use our course
Una's unique course unified us students.

Which sound-alikes tend to trip you up?
Wednesday, March 09, 2016 Laurel Garver
Today we're tackling a set of fraternal twins of language, the homophones coarse and course. Once again, I'll provide a definition, examples and mnemonic tricks to help you keep them straight. Because spellcheck will not help you if you use the wrong term for the context.

Luckily, these two words are always different parts of speech; the A version is only an adjective, the U version is a noun or verb.

Coarse fabric (Alvimann at morguefile.com)

coarse

(adj.) having a rough texture, or a loose weave; vulgar, rude, crude.

examples
The beggar's coarse woolen cloak gave little protection from wind.
Use coarse sandpaper to remove the old, thick layers of paint.
Mickey's coarse jokes made everyone blush.

mnemonics
Coarse oars make hands ache
The coarse mannered are always alone.


course

A riding course (jade from www.morguefile.com).
(n.) a route traveled, as by a ship, plane, or car;
a directed or mapped route
progress in time;
portion of a meal;
a unit of instruction, a plan of study on a topic

(v. intrans.) to flow or stream without obstruction;
to follow a course or be directed in a course

(v. trans.) to hunt using sight instead of scent;
to chase or pursue

Of course (idiom) - a turn of events is obvious or expected; certainly; naturally.

examples
Buffy often lost her way on the club's golf course.
Over the course of a week, the team built a new prototype.
We'll be serving salmon and roast beef for the main course.
Kyle really loved his art history course.
Tears course down Lucinda's cheeks.
My kayak coursed forward in the strong current.
The greyhounds coursed hares across the field.
Of course the class clown would wear a vampire costume to the prom.

mnemonics
For an utterly ultimate run, use our course
Una's unique course unified us students.

Which sound-alikes tend to trip you up?

Wednesday, March 2

Welcome to my new periodic series I'm calling "Word Smart," an expansion of my "Homophone Helps" series. In it, we will look at two words and/or concepts that writers confuse, offering clarifications to help you express your ideas most clearly and accurately.

I often hear the term "jealous"  used incorrectly as a synonym for envious or covetous or even greedy. And dictionaries, because they are descriptive (reflecting what is seen in speech) rather than prescriptive (defining rules), have let the erroneous conflation become acceptable.

I hope you want better for your fiction. Because there are very good reasons to NOT conflate these two very different emotions.

Jealousy

A rival stirs jealousy (Photo from morguefile.com)

Jealousy is a very complex emotion that arises when you fear losing something rightfully yours. It most often arises in threatened relationships. Generally jealousy involves at least three parties--you, your beloved/valued thing, and a rival. This rival threatens to take away the beloved and break the bond you have.

A classic example of jealousy can be found in Shakespeare's Othello. In it, a villain named Iago convinces Othello that his wife is cheating on him. Othello's jealousy grows into a murderous rage. He orders a hit on his supposed rival, then murders his supposedly unfaithful spouse. When he later discovers the infidelity was a lie concocted by Iago, Othello is overcome with remorse and kills himself.

Jealousy is built upon distrust. It finds fertile ground to grow in relationships when trust between partners is weak and/or one partner is deeply insecure and fearful about the relationship.

While in the throes of jealousy, one wants to cling to the beloved while simultaneously feeling fearful, suspicious, hurt, betrayed, and angry.

Jealousy can also be experienced regarding more abstract things rightfully yours, like your good name, reputation or accomplishments. I suspect this is where the confusion with envy happens, If someone else gets praise for your accomplishments, is it rightly envy? No. They took what is yours. Your accomplishment, your deserved praise. You would rightly be jealous.

Teens often like to play jealousy games as a way to test whether someone is a beloved. They flirt with a possible rival to see if feelings of hurt and betrayal are stirred up in their love interest.

Non-exclusive relationships, like siblings with parents, can also lead to complex jealousies--a sister might see her brother as rival for Mom's time or Dad's affection, relational perks that are rightly hers (but also rightly his). Ditto with friend groups. Valerie is spending more time with Morgan than with me. But I'm her BFF! That sense of rivalry and betrayal, of a wedge in a relationship, is jealousy.

Envy

Photo by greyerbaby at morguefile.com

Envy is the desire for some good you do not have but another does. Another word for this is coveting, though to covet can simply mean yearn for or deeply desire, Envy involves only two parties, you and the envied one. You want to take away what they have--it is desire mixed with malice.

Some say that consumer culture and advertising are intended to stoke feelings of envy.  But note that envy is deeper than greed, You don't merely want a Maserati, for example. You want to take away your neighbor's black Maserati and keep if for yourself. An envious person couldn't enjoy having a matching car. The envious could only enjoy the car if it is gained through another's loss.

Desiring someone else's partner is therefore envy. You want to take away their beloved and keep him or her for yourself. Should you succeed, you would be the rival another is jealous of, but you don't actually experience jealousy in this case. The relationship did not belong to you; you yearned for it and maliciously stole it from another.

When your coworker is lauded for his accomplishments, the emotion it stirs is envy. You desire to take away both his accomplishments and his praise. There is no beloved thing of yours betraying you or being taken from you in this case.

When a someone seems to hate you because you have a talent they do not, they are not "just jealous" but rather envious. Make sense?

Final thoughts


When deciding how to describe one of these emotions, remember this: jealousy involves fear of losing something rightfully ours. Envy involves taking something another has.

Interestingly, in the Ten Commandments, envy or coveting is condemned ("Thou shalt not covet your neighbor's wife. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's animals or his servants or anything that belongs to your neighbor"). Jealousy is not mentioned.

In the Torah/Old Testament, God calls himself "a jealous God" who desires that his people be faithful in worshiping only Him. As creator and protector of his people, he expects them to not give allegiance to Zeus or Ashera or Horus or Odin or the Tree Spirit. Thus jealousy is a "relationship protective" sort of emotion. It becomes pathological when there is no reason for distrust of the beloved, or when exclusivity is demanded in a naturally non-exclusive relationship (such as friendship).

Do these words have distinct images in your mind, or do you confuse or conflate them?
Wednesday, March 02, 2016 Laurel Garver
Welcome to my new periodic series I'm calling "Word Smart," an expansion of my "Homophone Helps" series. In it, we will look at two words and/or concepts that writers confuse, offering clarifications to help you express your ideas most clearly and accurately.

I often hear the term "jealous"  used incorrectly as a synonym for envious or covetous or even greedy. And dictionaries, because they are descriptive (reflecting what is seen in speech) rather than prescriptive (defining rules), have let the erroneous conflation become acceptable.

I hope you want better for your fiction. Because there are very good reasons to NOT conflate these two very different emotions.

Jealousy

A rival stirs jealousy (Photo from morguefile.com)

Jealousy is a very complex emotion that arises when you fear losing something rightfully yours. It most often arises in threatened relationships. Generally jealousy involves at least three parties--you, your beloved/valued thing, and a rival. This rival threatens to take away the beloved and break the bond you have.

A classic example of jealousy can be found in Shakespeare's Othello. In it, a villain named Iago convinces Othello that his wife is cheating on him. Othello's jealousy grows into a murderous rage. He orders a hit on his supposed rival, then murders his supposedly unfaithful spouse. When he later discovers the infidelity was a lie concocted by Iago, Othello is overcome with remorse and kills himself.

Jealousy is built upon distrust. It finds fertile ground to grow in relationships when trust between partners is weak and/or one partner is deeply insecure and fearful about the relationship.

While in the throes of jealousy, one wants to cling to the beloved while simultaneously feeling fearful, suspicious, hurt, betrayed, and angry.

Jealousy can also be experienced regarding more abstract things rightfully yours, like your good name, reputation or accomplishments. I suspect this is where the confusion with envy happens, If someone else gets praise for your accomplishments, is it rightly envy? No. They took what is yours. Your accomplishment, your deserved praise. You would rightly be jealous.

Teens often like to play jealousy games as a way to test whether someone is a beloved. They flirt with a possible rival to see if feelings of hurt and betrayal are stirred up in their love interest.

Non-exclusive relationships, like siblings with parents, can also lead to complex jealousies--a sister might see her brother as rival for Mom's time or Dad's affection, relational perks that are rightly hers (but also rightly his). Ditto with friend groups. Valerie is spending more time with Morgan than with me. But I'm her BFF! That sense of rivalry and betrayal, of a wedge in a relationship, is jealousy.

Envy

Photo by greyerbaby at morguefile.com

Envy is the desire for some good you do not have but another does. Another word for this is coveting, though to covet can simply mean yearn for or deeply desire, Envy involves only two parties, you and the envied one. You want to take away what they have--it is desire mixed with malice.

Some say that consumer culture and advertising are intended to stoke feelings of envy.  But note that envy is deeper than greed, You don't merely want a Maserati, for example. You want to take away your neighbor's black Maserati and keep if for yourself. An envious person couldn't enjoy having a matching car. The envious could only enjoy the car if it is gained through another's loss.

Desiring someone else's partner is therefore envy. You want to take away their beloved and keep him or her for yourself. Should you succeed, you would be the rival another is jealous of, but you don't actually experience jealousy in this case. The relationship did not belong to you; you yearned for it and maliciously stole it from another.

When your coworker is lauded for his accomplishments, the emotion it stirs is envy. You desire to take away both his accomplishments and his praise. There is no beloved thing of yours betraying you or being taken from you in this case.

When a someone seems to hate you because you have a talent they do not, they are not "just jealous" but rather envious. Make sense?

Final thoughts


When deciding how to describe one of these emotions, remember this: jealousy involves fear of losing something rightfully ours. Envy involves taking something another has.

Interestingly, in the Ten Commandments, envy or coveting is condemned ("Thou shalt not covet your neighbor's wife. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's animals or his servants or anything that belongs to your neighbor"). Jealousy is not mentioned.

In the Torah/Old Testament, God calls himself "a jealous God" who desires that his people be faithful in worshiping only Him. As creator and protector of his people, he expects them to not give allegiance to Zeus or Ashera or Horus or Odin or the Tree Spirit. Thus jealousy is a "relationship protective" sort of emotion. It becomes pathological when there is no reason for distrust of the beloved, or when exclusivity is demanded in a naturally non-exclusive relationship (such as friendship).

Do these words have distinct images in your mind, or do you confuse or conflate them?

Wednesday, February 24

Photo by Earl53 at morguefile.com
First person point-of-view is way of narrating as if you were looking through someone else's eyeballs, wearing her skin, moving about the world in her body. It offers tremendous access to another person's psyche.

But only if you remember to let your reader get that close.

A common problem in writing first person POV is what I call "filtering," that is, when the character first labels an experience before experiencing it. While filtering is a staple of third person limited POV, it weakens first person narration.

Here are some examples, (both past and present tense):

  1. I feel a chill prickle up the back of my neck.
  2. I see eleven elven princesses arrayed in silver sweep into the room.
  3. I hear the waves crash against the shore.
  4. I smell the pungent odor of old fish and gag.
  5. I wondered what my dad would do when he found out.
  6. I thought he had the style sense of a colorblind accountant.
  7. I turned my head and there to my right I noticed a patch of cheerful daffodils swaying in the breeze.

They don't sound like problem sentences at first blush, do they? But consider that we have access only to the sensations of the protagonist narrator. Is it really necessary to tell us first that he is feeling a sensation or thinking a thought? Of course not. Obviously only the protag/narrator could be having these sensations and opinions, since we are privy to no one else's inner world.

The filter clause further adds a redundant telling to something the rest of the sentence shows. And these filter clauses add a load more iterations of that pesky pronoun "I" that can make even the most selfless protagonist sound like a raging narcissist.

Now let's see those sentences "unfiltered":

  1. A chill prickles up the back of my neck.
  2. Eleven elven princesses arrayed in silver sweep into the room.
  3. Waves crash against the shore.
  4. The pungent odor of old fish makes me gag.
  5. What would my dad do when he found out?
  6. He had the style sense of a colorblind accountant.
  7. To my right, a patch of cheerful daffodils swayed in the breeze.

Note how much more immediate and punchy these are. As a reader, you feel as if you are experiencing sensations with the protagonist, rather than being told about them across a table. You're looking through her eyeballs, not sitting on her shoulder.

The thoughts and opinions sound more natural, the way thoughts form inside your own head. You don't think to yourself "I think I want cake." No, that desire will be in your head as "I want cake" or simply "Cake! Must have cake!" (For some, the "I think" filter is a way of expressing uncertainty, so the unfiltered version would be "Should I have cake?" or "Is it bad that I want cake?")

Most of these filters are easy to find and trim away.With "I wondered" some rearranging will likely be necessary, because wondering is a way of contemplating questions.

Example 7 is a way of filtering using excessive "stage business"--narrating movement that could be inferred from context. Obviously a character turns her head to see something to her right. Trust the reader to get it.

A few caveats


When your character is relaying a story to someone else, these filters would be perfectly appropriate. His or her storytelling will not be deep POV, but limited.

Another instance where filtering might be necessary is when the reader knows the protagonist's senses have been interfered with or limited in some way. For example, "Through the blindfold I could see only dark blotches against a field of orange."

What special challenges do you have with writing particular points of view?
Wednesday, February 24, 2016 Laurel Garver
Photo by Earl53 at morguefile.com
First person point-of-view is way of narrating as if you were looking through someone else's eyeballs, wearing her skin, moving about the world in her body. It offers tremendous access to another person's psyche.

But only if you remember to let your reader get that close.

A common problem in writing first person POV is what I call "filtering," that is, when the character first labels an experience before experiencing it. While filtering is a staple of third person limited POV, it weakens first person narration.

Here are some examples, (both past and present tense):

  1. I feel a chill prickle up the back of my neck.
  2. I see eleven elven princesses arrayed in silver sweep into the room.
  3. I hear the waves crash against the shore.
  4. I smell the pungent odor of old fish and gag.
  5. I wondered what my dad would do when he found out.
  6. I thought he had the style sense of a colorblind accountant.
  7. I turned my head and there to my right I noticed a patch of cheerful daffodils swaying in the breeze.

They don't sound like problem sentences at first blush, do they? But consider that we have access only to the sensations of the protagonist narrator. Is it really necessary to tell us first that he is feeling a sensation or thinking a thought? Of course not. Obviously only the protag/narrator could be having these sensations and opinions, since we are privy to no one else's inner world.

The filter clause further adds a redundant telling to something the rest of the sentence shows. And these filter clauses add a load more iterations of that pesky pronoun "I" that can make even the most selfless protagonist sound like a raging narcissist.

Now let's see those sentences "unfiltered":

  1. A chill prickles up the back of my neck.
  2. Eleven elven princesses arrayed in silver sweep into the room.
  3. Waves crash against the shore.
  4. The pungent odor of old fish makes me gag.
  5. What would my dad do when he found out?
  6. He had the style sense of a colorblind accountant.
  7. To my right, a patch of cheerful daffodils swayed in the breeze.

Note how much more immediate and punchy these are. As a reader, you feel as if you are experiencing sensations with the protagonist, rather than being told about them across a table. You're looking through her eyeballs, not sitting on her shoulder.

The thoughts and opinions sound more natural, the way thoughts form inside your own head. You don't think to yourself "I think I want cake." No, that desire will be in your head as "I want cake" or simply "Cake! Must have cake!" (For some, the "I think" filter is a way of expressing uncertainty, so the unfiltered version would be "Should I have cake?" or "Is it bad that I want cake?")

Most of these filters are easy to find and trim away.With "I wondered" some rearranging will likely be necessary, because wondering is a way of contemplating questions.

Example 7 is a way of filtering using excessive "stage business"--narrating movement that could be inferred from context. Obviously a character turns her head to see something to her right. Trust the reader to get it.

A few caveats


When your character is relaying a story to someone else, these filters would be perfectly appropriate. His or her storytelling will not be deep POV, but limited.

Another instance where filtering might be necessary is when the reader knows the protagonist's senses have been interfered with or limited in some way. For example, "Through the blindfold I could see only dark blotches against a field of orange."

What special challenges do you have with writing particular points of view?

Wednesday, January 27

Dear Editor-on-call,
Photo credit: Sgarton from www.morguefile.com

How do we figure out where the line is between a stylized voice/dialect vs. proper grammar? I know this is a hugely "case-by-case" basis, but I often find the pieces I write with a bit of a dialect or style get corrected by critiquers for grammar, effectively changing how the character would think.

Sincerely,
Dialectable Dilemma


Dear Di,

I suspect the subtext of your question is this: "What do you do when your critiquers are so zealous in their campaign to promote 'good writing' that they suck all the voice out of your work?"

Let's face it, reading is a subjective thing. Some people like to experience cultures beyond their own, to meet people very unlike themselves--and others don't. Any literary device you choose to use will have its fans and its detractors.

As I see it, you have a few options in this scenario.

A. You keep changing your book trying to please everyone until you hate it so much you shelve it.

Can we say neurotic need for affirmation? Nothing will make you quit writing faster than trying to be everything to everyone.

B. You ignore everything the grammar zealots say, because they obviously don't get you.

Of course, they very well might have good insights into non-dialect sections. Do you really want to lose that too?

C. You ask only those who get what you're trying to do to read and critique.

Here, you run the danger of stagnating, because these friendly folks won't push you to change and grow.

D. You provide requests for specific feedback when asking anyone to critique:
"This story contains dialect. Please highlight spots that you think aren't quite reading smoothly."

If you're getting a lot of advice that feels useless, consider how you can be more explicit about what would be useful. Every reader goes into some default mode when they aren't given instruction. For some, the default is "find a dozen nice things to say." For others, the default is "find every instance of nonstandard usage and sloppy grammar."


You can probably guess which option I favor (D, of course!). While it's a good idea to periodically reassess how healthy or dysfunctional your critique relationships are, don't be too quick to sever ties with those who seem too harsh--or give unhelpful advice. Most folks who get into critique groups do so with the intention to learn and to help. Sometimes all that's needed is a meeting session in which you establish some ground rules, then ask for specific kinds of feedback whenever you submit work to be critiqued.

If that doesn't change things, you can decide to ignore certain kinds of critique (like grammar correcting dialect), mull the crits and weigh their merits, or simply leave if the overwhelming feeling from the group is constant negativity and put-downs.

While I haven't read it myself, I've heard others recommend The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide: How to Make Revisions, Self-Edit, and Give and Receive Feedback by Becky Levine as a great resource for both new and established critique groups to function well.

And when it comes to dialect, go light. Research is essential for making it sound authentic. To that end, here are a few previous posts I've written
Swimming in the crick: delving into dialect
Howdy, 'allo, yo: five tips for researching dialect

And here are some addition helpful links on the topic:

The Uses and Abuses of Dialect
Grammar Girl: Writing Accents and Dialects
Writing Dialect: It's in the Rhythm

How have you dealt with unhelpful critiques? What's your take on dialect in fiction?
Have an Editor-on-Call question for me? Ask away!
Wednesday, January 27, 2016 Laurel Garver
Dear Editor-on-call,
Photo credit: Sgarton from www.morguefile.com

How do we figure out where the line is between a stylized voice/dialect vs. proper grammar? I know this is a hugely "case-by-case" basis, but I often find the pieces I write with a bit of a dialect or style get corrected by critiquers for grammar, effectively changing how the character would think.

Sincerely,
Dialectable Dilemma


Dear Di,

I suspect the subtext of your question is this: "What do you do when your critiquers are so zealous in their campaign to promote 'good writing' that they suck all the voice out of your work?"

Let's face it, reading is a subjective thing. Some people like to experience cultures beyond their own, to meet people very unlike themselves--and others don't. Any literary device you choose to use will have its fans and its detractors.

As I see it, you have a few options in this scenario.

A. You keep changing your book trying to please everyone until you hate it so much you shelve it.

Can we say neurotic need for affirmation? Nothing will make you quit writing faster than trying to be everything to everyone.

B. You ignore everything the grammar zealots say, because they obviously don't get you.

Of course, they very well might have good insights into non-dialect sections. Do you really want to lose that too?

C. You ask only those who get what you're trying to do to read and critique.

Here, you run the danger of stagnating, because these friendly folks won't push you to change and grow.

D. You provide requests for specific feedback when asking anyone to critique:
"This story contains dialect. Please highlight spots that you think aren't quite reading smoothly."

If you're getting a lot of advice that feels useless, consider how you can be more explicit about what would be useful. Every reader goes into some default mode when they aren't given instruction. For some, the default is "find a dozen nice things to say." For others, the default is "find every instance of nonstandard usage and sloppy grammar."


You can probably guess which option I favor (D, of course!). While it's a good idea to periodically reassess how healthy or dysfunctional your critique relationships are, don't be too quick to sever ties with those who seem too harsh--or give unhelpful advice. Most folks who get into critique groups do so with the intention to learn and to help. Sometimes all that's needed is a meeting session in which you establish some ground rules, then ask for specific kinds of feedback whenever you submit work to be critiqued.

If that doesn't change things, you can decide to ignore certain kinds of critique (like grammar correcting dialect), mull the crits and weigh their merits, or simply leave if the overwhelming feeling from the group is constant negativity and put-downs.

While I haven't read it myself, I've heard others recommend The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide: How to Make Revisions, Self-Edit, and Give and Receive Feedback by Becky Levine as a great resource for both new and established critique groups to function well.

And when it comes to dialect, go light. Research is essential for making it sound authentic. To that end, here are a few previous posts I've written
Swimming in the crick: delving into dialect
Howdy, 'allo, yo: five tips for researching dialect

And here are some addition helpful links on the topic:

The Uses and Abuses of Dialect
Grammar Girl: Writing Accents and Dialects
Writing Dialect: It's in the Rhythm

How have you dealt with unhelpful critiques? What's your take on dialect in fiction?
Have an Editor-on-Call question for me? Ask away!

Wednesday, January 13

For today's phonics fun, I'd like to tackle a pair of homophones, pronounced /koar/ I've seen misused even in published books, though not because the spellings are at all similar. Rather, one form of the word is quite simple and familiar, and the other more obscure and less likely to be known.

Let's take a look at definitions, visuals, examples, and mnemonics to get the words clear in our heads. Because spell-check will not help you.

Core

Image: marykbaird for morguefile.com
(n.) the center; the essential part; the inner parts, as of a fruit; muscles in the center of the body.

(adj.) central, innermost, essential, reflecting the essence

(v., trans.) to remove the center or inner parts of a fruit or vegetable.

Examples
Josiah's intelligence gathering was core to their mission.

He felt her rejection in the core of his being.

Mom's core concern was for my brother's safety.

He got six-pack abs doing core strengthening exercises

I had to core and slice the apple so Lila could eat it without harming her braces.

Mnemonics
In her core she did adore the shore.
The core has more seeds that he could store.

Corps

Image: mzacha for morguefile.com
(n.) a group of people engaged in a particular activity. A tactical military group.

This term derives from the Latin corpus, meaning body and comes to English via French, which tends to not pronounce ending consonants. It is most often encountered military and few other contexts and in a handful of borrowed French phrases like esprit de corps, meaning group spirit, loyalty and pride.

Examples
Louis plans to join the Marine Corps.

Greg plays trombone in the Highpoint Drum and Bugle Corps.

The entire press corps stood when the ambassador entered the room.

Gabrielle liked the group pride her class had, the lovely esprit de corps.

Mnemonic
At the end of his letter, a core P.S.: "without the corps I'd be a corpse."

Which sound-alike words tend to trip you up?
Wednesday, January 13, 2016 Laurel Garver
For today's phonics fun, I'd like to tackle a pair of homophones, pronounced /koar/ I've seen misused even in published books, though not because the spellings are at all similar. Rather, one form of the word is quite simple and familiar, and the other more obscure and less likely to be known.

Let's take a look at definitions, visuals, examples, and mnemonics to get the words clear in our heads. Because spell-check will not help you.

Core

Image: marykbaird for morguefile.com
(n.) the center; the essential part; the inner parts, as of a fruit; muscles in the center of the body.

(adj.) central, innermost, essential, reflecting the essence

(v., trans.) to remove the center or inner parts of a fruit or vegetable.

Examples
Josiah's intelligence gathering was core to their mission.

He felt her rejection in the core of his being.

Mom's core concern was for my brother's safety.

He got six-pack abs doing core strengthening exercises

I had to core and slice the apple so Lila could eat it without harming her braces.

Mnemonics
In her core she did adore the shore.
The core has more seeds that he could store.

Corps

Image: mzacha for morguefile.com
(n.) a group of people engaged in a particular activity. A tactical military group.

This term derives from the Latin corpus, meaning body and comes to English via French, which tends to not pronounce ending consonants. It is most often encountered military and few other contexts and in a handful of borrowed French phrases like esprit de corps, meaning group spirit, loyalty and pride.

Examples
Louis plans to join the Marine Corps.

Greg plays trombone in the Highpoint Drum and Bugle Corps.

The entire press corps stood when the ambassador entered the room.

Gabrielle liked the group pride her class had, the lovely esprit de corps.

Mnemonic
At the end of his letter, a core P.S.: "without the corps I'd be a corpse."

Which sound-alike words tend to trip you up?

Wednesday, October 28

image by http://wallpaper222.com/
William Shakespeare is considered a key transforming force in the English language. There are hundreds of words and phrases, particularly colorful idioms, he is believed to have coined. While scholars may squabble over which terms he invented and which ones were simply the slang of his day that he recorded for the first time, there's no doubt that his plays have hugely influenced our language.

Ask a teen to read Shakespeare, and they'll say his work is full of cliches, mostly because terms he first penned continue to be used so widely today. "Break the ice," "fancy-free," "in a pickle," "live long day," "neither rhyme nor reason," "night owl," "play fast and loose," "primrose path,"  "seen better days," "set my teeth on edge," "tongue-tied" are but a small sample of idioms we now use every day thanks to Shakespeare. (A comprehensive list is available here.)

But there are a number of his famous idioms that linger in our language with meanings and spellings that aren't particularly obvious in 2015, because they include archaic words one never hears outside these Shakespearean phrases. With each term, I give  the "eggcorn" version, a misheard or misunderstood incorrect variation. (For more on eggcorns, see The Eggcorn Database.) I also explain the phrase's meaning, giving special attention to the odd word you are likely to misspell.

bated breath (eggcorn: baited breath)
To hold one's breath in anticipation. Bated is a form of abate, to diminish or reduce.

much ado about nothing (eggcorn: much adieu)
Fuss, overreaction to something unimportant.

one fell swoop (eggcorn: one foul swoop)
Quickly arriving doom. Fell is an archaic term meaning deadly. The image is of a bird of prey attacking.

short shrift (eggcorn: short shift)
To make quick work of something or have little regard for it. Shrift is an archaic term that comes from shrive, to serve penance. The image is of being given an easy task to atone for sin, like reciting the Lord's Prayer once.

shuffle off this mortal coil (eggcorn: mortal toil)
To die.  Coil/coyle in this era meant trouble, strife. The image is of drifting away from the struggles of life.

Other archaic idioms you might be misspelling

Shakespeare was neither the first nor the last to give us lasting idioms that include archaic words. Here are some others to be aware of, some first appearing as early as Chaucer (1343-1400), some only a century and a half ago.

damp squib (eggcorn version damp squid)
Something that flops or fails to work as expected. Literally, a dud firework because it got wet.

derring do (eggcorn: daring do)
Heroic daring.
Possibly coined by Chaucer. More on origins here

high dudgeon (eggcorn: high dungeon)
Resentment.
Might come from Welsh, or might derive from the term for a knife handle first recorded decades before Shakespeare's plays. More on origins here.

on tenterhooks (eggcorn: on tenderhooks)
In suspense. The image is of woolen cloth stretched on a special rack (tenter) after washing to prevent shrinkage.

vale of tears (eggcorn: veil of tears)
Deep suffering. Vale is a derivative of valley.

Which of these idioms have plagued you most? Do you try to coin idioms in your work? Any favorite Shakespeare quote you'd like to share? 
Wednesday, October 28, 2015 Laurel Garver
image by http://wallpaper222.com/
William Shakespeare is considered a key transforming force in the English language. There are hundreds of words and phrases, particularly colorful idioms, he is believed to have coined. While scholars may squabble over which terms he invented and which ones were simply the slang of his day that he recorded for the first time, there's no doubt that his plays have hugely influenced our language.

Ask a teen to read Shakespeare, and they'll say his work is full of cliches, mostly because terms he first penned continue to be used so widely today. "Break the ice," "fancy-free," "in a pickle," "live long day," "neither rhyme nor reason," "night owl," "play fast and loose," "primrose path,"  "seen better days," "set my teeth on edge," "tongue-tied" are but a small sample of idioms we now use every day thanks to Shakespeare. (A comprehensive list is available here.)

But there are a number of his famous idioms that linger in our language with meanings and spellings that aren't particularly obvious in 2015, because they include archaic words one never hears outside these Shakespearean phrases. With each term, I give  the "eggcorn" version, a misheard or misunderstood incorrect variation. (For more on eggcorns, see The Eggcorn Database.) I also explain the phrase's meaning, giving special attention to the odd word you are likely to misspell.

bated breath (eggcorn: baited breath)
To hold one's breath in anticipation. Bated is a form of abate, to diminish or reduce.

much ado about nothing (eggcorn: much adieu)
Fuss, overreaction to something unimportant.

one fell swoop (eggcorn: one foul swoop)
Quickly arriving doom. Fell is an archaic term meaning deadly. The image is of a bird of prey attacking.

short shrift (eggcorn: short shift)
To make quick work of something or have little regard for it. Shrift is an archaic term that comes from shrive, to serve penance. The image is of being given an easy task to atone for sin, like reciting the Lord's Prayer once.

shuffle off this mortal coil (eggcorn: mortal toil)
To die.  Coil/coyle in this era meant trouble, strife. The image is of drifting away from the struggles of life.

Other archaic idioms you might be misspelling

Shakespeare was neither the first nor the last to give us lasting idioms that include archaic words. Here are some others to be aware of, some first appearing as early as Chaucer (1343-1400), some only a century and a half ago.

damp squib (eggcorn version damp squid)
Something that flops or fails to work as expected. Literally, a dud firework because it got wet.

derring do (eggcorn: daring do)
Heroic daring.
Possibly coined by Chaucer. More on origins here

high dudgeon (eggcorn: high dungeon)
Resentment.
Might come from Welsh, or might derive from the term for a knife handle first recorded decades before Shakespeare's plays. More on origins here.

on tenterhooks (eggcorn: on tenderhooks)
In suspense. The image is of woolen cloth stretched on a special rack (tenter) after washing to prevent shrinkage.

vale of tears (eggcorn: veil of tears)
Deep suffering. Vale is a derivative of valley.

Which of these idioms have plagued you most? Do you try to coin idioms in your work? Any favorite Shakespeare quote you'd like to share? 

Wednesday, September 2

For today's phonics fun, I'm going to tackle the semi-homophone pair, dual and duel. Most pronounce the words similarly, though one of the pair might have two syllables (dewl; DEW-ul). There may be significant variation here depending on your dialect. The two are most often confused in written contexts, because they sound nearly alike and are spelled nearly alike.

Their meanings, however, are nearly antonyms. Nearly because they aren't the same part of speech. The A version is an adjective, the E version, a noun and verb. But both involve twosomes, the former, friends, the latter, enemies.

Confused yet? Let's dive in to meanings, see the words in context and learn some handy mnemonics to keep them straight (not strait, that's a geography term).

A dual team. Photo by earl53 from morguefile.com

Dual 

(adj.) having two parts or aspects that are alike or complementary.

Examples

  • Geoffrey is a dual citizen of the US and Canada.
  • The dual speaker system makes the sound so rich.
  • Dual airbags keep both front passengers safe in a crash.
  • Maisie had a dual purpose for her trip--to relax and find a man.
  • We call our two-man  mime act "Dual Fools."

Mnemonic
Dual parts are always pals.

Fencers dueling. Photo by FidlerJan from morguefile.com

Duel 

(n.) a contest or battle between two opponents to settle a dispute or point of honor.

(v., intrans.) to battle, to fight in a duel.

Examples

  • Benedict challenged Roderigo to a duel for publicly embarrassing his wife.
  • Kate and Leo dueled all semester to become valdictorian.
  • Hal displayed his grandfather's Ã©pée, a light dueling sword.
  • The Ravens and the Mustangs will duel for the league championship.

Mnemonic
Enemies ever duel to the end.

Do these two words trip you up? What homophone pairs give you trouble?
Wednesday, September 02, 2015 Laurel Garver
For today's phonics fun, I'm going to tackle the semi-homophone pair, dual and duel. Most pronounce the words similarly, though one of the pair might have two syllables (dewl; DEW-ul). There may be significant variation here depending on your dialect. The two are most often confused in written contexts, because they sound nearly alike and are spelled nearly alike.

Their meanings, however, are nearly antonyms. Nearly because they aren't the same part of speech. The A version is an adjective, the E version, a noun and verb. But both involve twosomes, the former, friends, the latter, enemies.

Confused yet? Let's dive in to meanings, see the words in context and learn some handy mnemonics to keep them straight (not strait, that's a geography term).

A dual team. Photo by earl53 from morguefile.com

Dual 

(adj.) having two parts or aspects that are alike or complementary.

Examples

  • Geoffrey is a dual citizen of the US and Canada.
  • The dual speaker system makes the sound so rich.
  • Dual airbags keep both front passengers safe in a crash.
  • Maisie had a dual purpose for her trip--to relax and find a man.
  • We call our two-man  mime act "Dual Fools."

Mnemonic
Dual parts are always pals.

Fencers dueling. Photo by FidlerJan from morguefile.com

Duel 

(n.) a contest or battle between two opponents to settle a dispute or point of honor.

(v., intrans.) to battle, to fight in a duel.

Examples

  • Benedict challenged Roderigo to a duel for publicly embarrassing his wife.
  • Kate and Leo dueled all semester to become valdictorian.
  • Hal displayed his grandfather's Ã©pée, a light dueling sword.
  • The Ravens and the Mustangs will duel for the league championship.

Mnemonic
Enemies ever duel to the end.

Do these two words trip you up? What homophone pairs give you trouble?

Wednesday, May 13

We live in an information-saturated world with greater access to reading material than any other time in human history. In such a glutted marketplace of ideas, quality matters more than ever before.

Photo credit: 5demayo from morguefile.com
Editing is your first line of quality control in developing excellent written products. You shouldn't entrust your work and reputation to anyone who claims to know those elusive comma rules. Because perfectly placed punctuation is not enough to stand out. Message matters. Presentation matters. Clarity matters. Beauty matters.

Are you ready to take your writing to the next level? You’ve come to the right place. I am a veteran wordsmith who brings decades of editing experience to every project entrusted to my care--and I'm taking new clients.

Check out my new tab, "Editing services" to learn all about what I can do for you!

Tell me, what do you most look for in an writer/editor relationship? 
Wednesday, May 13, 2015 Laurel Garver
We live in an information-saturated world with greater access to reading material than any other time in human history. In such a glutted marketplace of ideas, quality matters more than ever before.

Photo credit: 5demayo from morguefile.com
Editing is your first line of quality control in developing excellent written products. You shouldn't entrust your work and reputation to anyone who claims to know those elusive comma rules. Because perfectly placed punctuation is not enough to stand out. Message matters. Presentation matters. Clarity matters. Beauty matters.

Are you ready to take your writing to the next level? You’ve come to the right place. I am a veteran wordsmith who brings decades of editing experience to every project entrusted to my care--and I'm taking new clients.

Check out my new tab, "Editing services" to learn all about what I can do for you!

Tell me, what do you most look for in an writer/editor relationship? 

Wednesday, April 15

Writing effective dialogue is tricky, no doubt about it. It can't be pointless and boring. It can't be too fast or too slow. But most of all, it can't be confusing.

An important consideration in creating dialogue clarity is paragraphing--which lines should be grouped together, and which ones shouldn't.

I think the best way to learn is to analyze an example, then look for guiding principles.

Below is a section of an unpublished middle grade short story of mine about a bunch of preteen musicians at a competition, trying to psych each other out. It's in third person limited omniscient POV, told by eleven-year-old Callie.

Because the audience is younger readers, more of the dialogue has either a tag (he said), or an action beat (Joe smiled), or a description than would be strictly necessary for adult readers. But note that there is variety in how speakers are identified. Constant "he said...she said" can be as grating as no attribution is confusing.

Note also in the fifth through seventh paragraphs, there is one actor, but noticeable shifts in emphasis, which calls for separate paragraphs. Callie goes from processing to decision to acting on a decision. Those paragraph breaks are an important clue to the reader to pay attention, something is changing with each new paragraph.

---

The flautist beside her kicked her legs out straight. Callie flinched when she noticed a wide run snaking from ankle to knee of the girl’s dark tights. [Callie's observation, her POV]

“Trumpet, huh?” the flautist said. She tossed her hair and wrinkled her nose at Callie. “You know a brass player has never won this contest.” [flautist response]

Callie set down her horn and said, “You have a run in your tights.”

The flautist narrowed her eyes. “Nice try, brassy. I’m gonna wipe the stage with you.”

A snarky comeback tumbled to the front of Callie’s brain. Then she remembered the boy who’d been stalking the hall, bragging. He came back from the audition red-eyed and smelling of puke. Two minutes under the bright lights and his toughness had vanished. A scared kid among other scared kids. Why couldn’t anyone be real about it? Or at least less jerky? [Callie's interior mental and emotional processing]

Could I? she wondered. Could I play a new tune, a different game? [Callie's crux moment thought]

Callie sat up straighter. “I have an extra pair you can borrow if you want.” [Callie acting on decision]

“What?”

“Tights. I have extras. You want them?”

The flautist looked at her leg and screamed. “What am I gonna—? I can’t go out there like—!” Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Callie pulled a crinkly cellophane package from her bag and set it on the flautist’s lap. “Here, please take them, um…”

“Amber,” the flautist whispered, sniffling. “I’m Amber.”

“I’m Callie.” She jutted her chin toward the bathroom. “Go ahead, there’s time.”

Amber nodded, clutched the tights, then jogged down the hall.

The boy violinist a seat down from Amber smiled and gave Callie a thumbs-up. “Nice strategy,” he said. “One down, eighty six to go?” [new actor introduced]

Callie shook her head and rolled her eyes. [action beat only reaction]

“Let me guess…I have spaghetti sauce on my shirt? Mismatching socks? Come on, Trumpet Girl, bring it on.  I can take it.”

“You look fine. Good luck.” Callie blew another warm breath into her horn.

“Yeah, right. It is spaghetti sauce, isn’t it? Man, I knew it!” He jumped up and ran for the bathrooms, nearly banging into Amber. [violinist action and speech, segue to new actor]

“What’s his problem?” Amber asked as she took her seat.

“Nerves, I guess.”

“Hey, Callie? Um…thanks for the tights. They’re way nicer than the ones I was wearing.”

“No problem.”

Amber bit her lip. “Can I ask you something?”

“I guess.”

“How come you’re being nice to me? I was, well, not to you.”

Callie shrugged. “I just don’t see the point of us all snarling at each other.”

“But it’s all part of the game. Throw the other guy off balance and all that.”

Photo credit: ronnieb from morguefile.com
“I came here to play music, not mind games. Honestly, does putting other kids down make anyone a better musician?”

Amber picked a hangnail. “I think it just makes me tense, trying to look tough.”

Callie nodded. “Exactly. I mean, what good is that?”

“So how do you not get nervous?”

Callie twirled the mouthpiece in her pocket. “I remember how it feels when I’m playing. Like there’s liquid gold flowing from my breath, through my horn and filling everything with light and happiness.”

Amber stared at her, wide-eyed.

“That sounded totally nuts, didn’t it?” Callie said.

“No. It sounded nice. Light and happiness. I like that.”

The boy violinist stomped up the hall. He stopped in front of Callie’s chair and yelled, “I look fine! Totally fine!” [previous actor returns. His actions and speech]

“Of course you do. Didn’t I say that?” Callie replied.

“She did, I heard her,” said a cellist two chairs down. “So how about you stop hollering? I’m trying to meditate.”  She closed her eyes and laid her hands, palms up, in her lap. [tertiary character speech and action]

----

What are some key takeaways from this example?

1. Same actor and speaker in a paragraph.

2. New actor or speaker, new paragraph

3. Segues to new actors need to be clear.

4. Use not only tags, but also action beats, descriptions, distinctive diction (dialect, pet phrases), address to another speaker ("Hey, Joe"), or mention of a relationship ("Mom wouldn't like it") to distinguish speakers.

5. Reactions that are unspoken--action beats or the POV character's thoughts--should be separate paragraphs from what they are reacting to. See #1 above.

6. Moments of interiority or even action interspersed in dialogue should be paragraphed topically or thematically, with breaks for new topics or themes or actors (see THIS post for more examples)

For further reading, I recommend Gloria Kempton's Dialogue: Techniques and exercises for crafting effective dialogue. Cincinnati: Writer's Digest Books, 2004.

Do you find paragraphing dialogue difficult or easy? Why?

Wednesday, April 15, 2015 Laurel Garver
Writing effective dialogue is tricky, no doubt about it. It can't be pointless and boring. It can't be too fast or too slow. But most of all, it can't be confusing.

An important consideration in creating dialogue clarity is paragraphing--which lines should be grouped together, and which ones shouldn't.

I think the best way to learn is to analyze an example, then look for guiding principles.

Below is a section of an unpublished middle grade short story of mine about a bunch of preteen musicians at a competition, trying to psych each other out. It's in third person limited omniscient POV, told by eleven-year-old Callie.

Because the audience is younger readers, more of the dialogue has either a tag (he said), or an action beat (Joe smiled), or a description than would be strictly necessary for adult readers. But note that there is variety in how speakers are identified. Constant "he said...she said" can be as grating as no attribution is confusing.

Note also in the fifth through seventh paragraphs, there is one actor, but noticeable shifts in emphasis, which calls for separate paragraphs. Callie goes from processing to decision to acting on a decision. Those paragraph breaks are an important clue to the reader to pay attention, something is changing with each new paragraph.

---

The flautist beside her kicked her legs out straight. Callie flinched when she noticed a wide run snaking from ankle to knee of the girl’s dark tights. [Callie's observation, her POV]

“Trumpet, huh?” the flautist said. She tossed her hair and wrinkled her nose at Callie. “You know a brass player has never won this contest.” [flautist response]

Callie set down her horn and said, “You have a run in your tights.”

The flautist narrowed her eyes. “Nice try, brassy. I’m gonna wipe the stage with you.”

A snarky comeback tumbled to the front of Callie’s brain. Then she remembered the boy who’d been stalking the hall, bragging. He came back from the audition red-eyed and smelling of puke. Two minutes under the bright lights and his toughness had vanished. A scared kid among other scared kids. Why couldn’t anyone be real about it? Or at least less jerky? [Callie's interior mental and emotional processing]

Could I? she wondered. Could I play a new tune, a different game? [Callie's crux moment thought]

Callie sat up straighter. “I have an extra pair you can borrow if you want.” [Callie acting on decision]

“What?”

“Tights. I have extras. You want them?”

The flautist looked at her leg and screamed. “What am I gonna—? I can’t go out there like—!” Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Callie pulled a crinkly cellophane package from her bag and set it on the flautist’s lap. “Here, please take them, um…”

“Amber,” the flautist whispered, sniffling. “I’m Amber.”

“I’m Callie.” She jutted her chin toward the bathroom. “Go ahead, there’s time.”

Amber nodded, clutched the tights, then jogged down the hall.

The boy violinist a seat down from Amber smiled and gave Callie a thumbs-up. “Nice strategy,” he said. “One down, eighty six to go?” [new actor introduced]

Callie shook her head and rolled her eyes. [action beat only reaction]

“Let me guess…I have spaghetti sauce on my shirt? Mismatching socks? Come on, Trumpet Girl, bring it on.  I can take it.”

“You look fine. Good luck.” Callie blew another warm breath into her horn.

“Yeah, right. It is spaghetti sauce, isn’t it? Man, I knew it!” He jumped up and ran for the bathrooms, nearly banging into Amber. [violinist action and speech, segue to new actor]

“What’s his problem?” Amber asked as she took her seat.

“Nerves, I guess.”

“Hey, Callie? Um…thanks for the tights. They’re way nicer than the ones I was wearing.”

“No problem.”

Amber bit her lip. “Can I ask you something?”

“I guess.”

“How come you’re being nice to me? I was, well, not to you.”

Callie shrugged. “I just don’t see the point of us all snarling at each other.”

“But it’s all part of the game. Throw the other guy off balance and all that.”

Photo credit: ronnieb from morguefile.com
“I came here to play music, not mind games. Honestly, does putting other kids down make anyone a better musician?”

Amber picked a hangnail. “I think it just makes me tense, trying to look tough.”

Callie nodded. “Exactly. I mean, what good is that?”

“So how do you not get nervous?”

Callie twirled the mouthpiece in her pocket. “I remember how it feels when I’m playing. Like there’s liquid gold flowing from my breath, through my horn and filling everything with light and happiness.”

Amber stared at her, wide-eyed.

“That sounded totally nuts, didn’t it?” Callie said.

“No. It sounded nice. Light and happiness. I like that.”

The boy violinist stomped up the hall. He stopped in front of Callie’s chair and yelled, “I look fine! Totally fine!” [previous actor returns. His actions and speech]

“Of course you do. Didn’t I say that?” Callie replied.

“She did, I heard her,” said a cellist two chairs down. “So how about you stop hollering? I’m trying to meditate.”  She closed her eyes and laid her hands, palms up, in her lap. [tertiary character speech and action]

----

What are some key takeaways from this example?

1. Same actor and speaker in a paragraph.

2. New actor or speaker, new paragraph

3. Segues to new actors need to be clear.

4. Use not only tags, but also action beats, descriptions, distinctive diction (dialect, pet phrases), address to another speaker ("Hey, Joe"), or mention of a relationship ("Mom wouldn't like it") to distinguish speakers.

5. Reactions that are unspoken--action beats or the POV character's thoughts--should be separate paragraphs from what they are reacting to. See #1 above.

6. Moments of interiority or even action interspersed in dialogue should be paragraphed topically or thematically, with breaks for new topics or themes or actors (see THIS post for more examples)

For further reading, I recommend Gloria Kempton's Dialogue: Techniques and exercises for crafting effective dialogue. Cincinnati: Writer's Digest Books, 2004.

Do you find paragraphing dialogue difficult or easy? Why?

Wednesday, April 8

A speedy, lean machine (photo by xenia from morguefile.com) 
Over winter break, back in December, I picked up a copy of the Man Booker Prize-winning novel The Sea by John Banville. It's a slim little volume about an Irish man coming to terms with the loss of his wife. I like prize-winning literary fiction for the most part. I love Ireland. And I'm always deeply moved by stories about grief. I'd heard good things about Banville. His writing is lovely and wryly funny.

And I just can't seem to get through this darned book.


Nearly every page is one solid block of text. At the end of a long day spent copy editing scholarly lit crit (where literature meets philosophy), I just can't seem to get through more than one dense paragraph a night. By about the twelfth line, my mind starts to wander--and not deeper into the story world.

I can't help thinking that I would have finished this book in a week, if only it had shorter paragraphs.

Maybe too infrequent paragraph breaks aren't your particular vice. Maybe you don't have a clear sense of what things to group together. Both issues stem from a common problem: understanding what a paragraph unit is supposed to be.

Paragraph defined


Our friends at Merriam-Webster define it like this:
paragraph - a subdivision of a written composition that consists of one or more sentences, deals with one point or gives the words of one speaker, and begins on a new usually indented line.

UNC's Writing Center adds this helpful distinction:
[T]he unity and coherence of ideas among sentences is what constitutes a paragraph.

So what a paragraph does for your writing is to put the prose into coherent chunks, make the prose bite-sized so to speak, or at least small enough portions for a reader to fit on her mental plate.

Paragraphing and pacing


This might seem an obvious point, but I suppose it bears saying nonetheless: shorter paragraphs make for a quicker reading experience, and provide a subtle clue that this section of the story is moving along at a fast pace. Action sequences generally have frequent paragraph breaks, while scenes in which a character is regrouping, formulating a plan, or contemplating a decision will generally employ longer paragraphs.

Scenes of suspense, I've found, most often combine short and long paragraphs. This not only keeps the reader a little off-kilter, it also inserts small crescendos of tension. For example, you might have a character being chased who will run, dodge an obstacle, wiggle through a tight spot, and then perhaps stumble or pause to hide or to catch her breath. That pause paragraph might stretch to momentarily release tension, so that you can continue building it, or it can stretch to draw out the inner turmoil the character is experience in order to amp up the tension.

What you don't want in a suspense scene is to insert a long, chatty character monologue about the scenery or her favorite holiday memory or worries about the state of her hairdo. Off-topic tangents, especially lengthy ones, tend to bring a scene to a screeching halt and frustrate the reader.

But what about those contemplative scenes? How do you not get carried away? Audience expectation is one thing to consider--middle grade readers will lose interest after seven or eight sentences, literary fiction readers can persevere longer.

Just keep in mind that the longer you draw out a paragraph, the more mental work you are asking of readers. They may gradually get lost and forget what the paragraph is all about if the topic sentence was six inches up the page. Adding paragraph breaks can be like adding spikes to a mountain face, giving climbers behind you more footholds, easing their ascent.

Paragraphing narration and description


Just because you have one "speaker" in a passage of narrative summary or description--either the narrator or POV character, it doesn't mean that an entire page of this material is necessarily the same kind of stuff.

Narrative summary typically covers hours, days, or even years of story time in a compressed manner. But within that summary, there will likely be shifts of focus or tone. Descriptions will likewise range across a number of different focal points, one after another.

With each shift in focus, subject, or emotional tone, you want a new paragraph

Here's an example from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets:

Harry looked nothing like the rest of the family. Uncle Vernon was large and neckless, with an enormous black mustache; Aunt Petunia was horse-faced and bony; Dudley was blond, pink and porky. Harry, on the other hand, was small and skinny, with brilliant green eyes and jet-black hair that was always untidy. He wore round glasses, and on his forehead was a thin, lighting-shaped scar.
 It was the scar that make Harry so particularly unusual, even for a wizard. This scar was only a hint of Harry's very mysterious past, of the reason he had been left on the Durselys' doorstep eleven years before.
At the age of one, Harry had somehow survived a curse from the greatest dark sorcerer of all time....[continues with a brief summary of the attack that killed Harry's parents]. (Rowling, Chamber 9)

Notice how Rowling gradually shifts the attention from general description to a particular feature. That feature is discussed alone, making way for a segue into the backstory of that feature. Each of these separate paragraphs relate to what came before and after, but each has a different focus.

It may be partly because this book is geared to middle grade readers, but one can see "topic sentences" opening two of the three paragraphs ("Harry looked nothing like the rest of the family"; "It was the scar that made Harry so particularly unusual"). If in your writing you find a statement that is then followed by supporting details, that's a good indication that statement should begin a new paragraph.

Paragraphing interior monologue


Interior monologue will usually entail a character working through his or her thoughts and feelings about events or interactions or relationships, bit by bit. Most often a character will cycle through a range of responses, moving from a negative emotional state to a positive one (or vice versa), from confusion to clarity, or from indecision to decision.

Paragraphing for interiority can be tricky, because at times you are trying to show gradual changes in emotional states. It takes a little finesse to know when the emotion has shifted.

As a guiding principle, your interiority should follow a feeling through its exploration to a change. Pick up the new feeling, created in the change, in the next paragraph. Think of it as a kind of relay race, with each new emotion a baton moved forward.

When it's a mixture of emotion and thought, watch for topic shifts--those are a good indication that your character is perhaps processing a different aspect of the emotion, and each new angle or facet will call for a new paragraph.

Here is an example from Sara Zarr's How to Save a Life:

Despite all the love lectures and even though I just said it to Dylan, sometimes I'm not sure I know what it really means to say "I love you." These days with Dylan -- when we're together -- it's more friendly and cozy than romantic and exciting, but it still soothes me. Isn't that more caring about myself, though, than loving him? Shouldn't love have at least a little to do with the other person, separate from yourself? But how can you see anything or anyone in the world apart from yourself? I mean, everything we experience is subjective, since we have no way of experiencing it other than through our eyes. And I get to thinking that love is just a word we use to describe what boils down to a selfish and temporary state of happiness.
I'm not trying to be a cynic. I seriously wonder about this. Because after my dad died, I thought a lot about what a pathetic job I did loving him, and I couldn't figure out why I was so bad at it or what made it so hard. Then I thought maybe I didn't really love him until he was gone. And that made me wonder whether love is impossible until it is too late. 
Except I know that love is possible, because I know my dad loved me and loved my mom. What I don't understand is how he learned to do that so well and what I'm going to do now that he's not here to show me. Maybe I can't do it. Maybe I don't have whatever it takes. (Zarr, How to Save 91-92)
In a few paragraphs, Zarr takes us through mental and emotional processing of a pretty big topic: What does "I love you" mean, and how does one love? Interestingly, in each paragraph, the character begins at a somewhat more positive state and cycles back to a negative state: from realizing love should be selfless to realizing how impossibly selfish we can all be; from desiring the ability to love well to feeling hopeless that it's even possible; from grasping hope in the example of others to once again feeling defeated and irredeemably flawed.

Each paragraph takes a slightly different angle on the topic as well. It begins with romantic love, moves to familial love, and finally examines the teachable nature of love. In her longer paragraph of the three, she uses questions (asking the reader to engage) and transition phrases ("I mean," "I get to thinking") to keep the forward motion of the thought.

More next time...
Paragraphing dialogue is another animal that deserves its own post to be explained effectively, I plan to do that next week, Stay tuned!

Do you find it easy or difficult to separate material into cogent paragraphs? Why?
Wednesday, April 08, 2015 Laurel Garver
A speedy, lean machine (photo by xenia from morguefile.com) 
Over winter break, back in December, I picked up a copy of the Man Booker Prize-winning novel The Sea by John Banville. It's a slim little volume about an Irish man coming to terms with the loss of his wife. I like prize-winning literary fiction for the most part. I love Ireland. And I'm always deeply moved by stories about grief. I'd heard good things about Banville. His writing is lovely and wryly funny.

And I just can't seem to get through this darned book.


Nearly every page is one solid block of text. At the end of a long day spent copy editing scholarly lit crit (where literature meets philosophy), I just can't seem to get through more than one dense paragraph a night. By about the twelfth line, my mind starts to wander--and not deeper into the story world.

I can't help thinking that I would have finished this book in a week, if only it had shorter paragraphs.

Maybe too infrequent paragraph breaks aren't your particular vice. Maybe you don't have a clear sense of what things to group together. Both issues stem from a common problem: understanding what a paragraph unit is supposed to be.

Paragraph defined


Our friends at Merriam-Webster define it like this:
paragraph - a subdivision of a written composition that consists of one or more sentences, deals with one point or gives the words of one speaker, and begins on a new usually indented line.

UNC's Writing Center adds this helpful distinction:
[T]he unity and coherence of ideas among sentences is what constitutes a paragraph.

So what a paragraph does for your writing is to put the prose into coherent chunks, make the prose bite-sized so to speak, or at least small enough portions for a reader to fit on her mental plate.

Paragraphing and pacing


This might seem an obvious point, but I suppose it bears saying nonetheless: shorter paragraphs make for a quicker reading experience, and provide a subtle clue that this section of the story is moving along at a fast pace. Action sequences generally have frequent paragraph breaks, while scenes in which a character is regrouping, formulating a plan, or contemplating a decision will generally employ longer paragraphs.

Scenes of suspense, I've found, most often combine short and long paragraphs. This not only keeps the reader a little off-kilter, it also inserts small crescendos of tension. For example, you might have a character being chased who will run, dodge an obstacle, wiggle through a tight spot, and then perhaps stumble or pause to hide or to catch her breath. That pause paragraph might stretch to momentarily release tension, so that you can continue building it, or it can stretch to draw out the inner turmoil the character is experience in order to amp up the tension.

What you don't want in a suspense scene is to insert a long, chatty character monologue about the scenery or her favorite holiday memory or worries about the state of her hairdo. Off-topic tangents, especially lengthy ones, tend to bring a scene to a screeching halt and frustrate the reader.

But what about those contemplative scenes? How do you not get carried away? Audience expectation is one thing to consider--middle grade readers will lose interest after seven or eight sentences, literary fiction readers can persevere longer.

Just keep in mind that the longer you draw out a paragraph, the more mental work you are asking of readers. They may gradually get lost and forget what the paragraph is all about if the topic sentence was six inches up the page. Adding paragraph breaks can be like adding spikes to a mountain face, giving climbers behind you more footholds, easing their ascent.

Paragraphing narration and description


Just because you have one "speaker" in a passage of narrative summary or description--either the narrator or POV character, it doesn't mean that an entire page of this material is necessarily the same kind of stuff.

Narrative summary typically covers hours, days, or even years of story time in a compressed manner. But within that summary, there will likely be shifts of focus or tone. Descriptions will likewise range across a number of different focal points, one after another.

With each shift in focus, subject, or emotional tone, you want a new paragraph

Here's an example from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets:

Harry looked nothing like the rest of the family. Uncle Vernon was large and neckless, with an enormous black mustache; Aunt Petunia was horse-faced and bony; Dudley was blond, pink and porky. Harry, on the other hand, was small and skinny, with brilliant green eyes and jet-black hair that was always untidy. He wore round glasses, and on his forehead was a thin, lighting-shaped scar.
 It was the scar that make Harry so particularly unusual, even for a wizard. This scar was only a hint of Harry's very mysterious past, of the reason he had been left on the Durselys' doorstep eleven years before.
At the age of one, Harry had somehow survived a curse from the greatest dark sorcerer of all time....[continues with a brief summary of the attack that killed Harry's parents]. (Rowling, Chamber 9)

Notice how Rowling gradually shifts the attention from general description to a particular feature. That feature is discussed alone, making way for a segue into the backstory of that feature. Each of these separate paragraphs relate to what came before and after, but each has a different focus.

It may be partly because this book is geared to middle grade readers, but one can see "topic sentences" opening two of the three paragraphs ("Harry looked nothing like the rest of the family"; "It was the scar that made Harry so particularly unusual"). If in your writing you find a statement that is then followed by supporting details, that's a good indication that statement should begin a new paragraph.

Paragraphing interior monologue


Interior monologue will usually entail a character working through his or her thoughts and feelings about events or interactions or relationships, bit by bit. Most often a character will cycle through a range of responses, moving from a negative emotional state to a positive one (or vice versa), from confusion to clarity, or from indecision to decision.

Paragraphing for interiority can be tricky, because at times you are trying to show gradual changes in emotional states. It takes a little finesse to know when the emotion has shifted.

As a guiding principle, your interiority should follow a feeling through its exploration to a change. Pick up the new feeling, created in the change, in the next paragraph. Think of it as a kind of relay race, with each new emotion a baton moved forward.

When it's a mixture of emotion and thought, watch for topic shifts--those are a good indication that your character is perhaps processing a different aspect of the emotion, and each new angle or facet will call for a new paragraph.

Here is an example from Sara Zarr's How to Save a Life:

Despite all the love lectures and even though I just said it to Dylan, sometimes I'm not sure I know what it really means to say "I love you." These days with Dylan -- when we're together -- it's more friendly and cozy than romantic and exciting, but it still soothes me. Isn't that more caring about myself, though, than loving him? Shouldn't love have at least a little to do with the other person, separate from yourself? But how can you see anything or anyone in the world apart from yourself? I mean, everything we experience is subjective, since we have no way of experiencing it other than through our eyes. And I get to thinking that love is just a word we use to describe what boils down to a selfish and temporary state of happiness.
I'm not trying to be a cynic. I seriously wonder about this. Because after my dad died, I thought a lot about what a pathetic job I did loving him, and I couldn't figure out why I was so bad at it or what made it so hard. Then I thought maybe I didn't really love him until he was gone. And that made me wonder whether love is impossible until it is too late. 
Except I know that love is possible, because I know my dad loved me and loved my mom. What I don't understand is how he learned to do that so well and what I'm going to do now that he's not here to show me. Maybe I can't do it. Maybe I don't have whatever it takes. (Zarr, How to Save 91-92)
In a few paragraphs, Zarr takes us through mental and emotional processing of a pretty big topic: What does "I love you" mean, and how does one love? Interestingly, in each paragraph, the character begins at a somewhat more positive state and cycles back to a negative state: from realizing love should be selfless to realizing how impossibly selfish we can all be; from desiring the ability to love well to feeling hopeless that it's even possible; from grasping hope in the example of others to once again feeling defeated and irredeemably flawed.

Each paragraph takes a slightly different angle on the topic as well. It begins with romantic love, moves to familial love, and finally examines the teachable nature of love. In her longer paragraph of the three, she uses questions (asking the reader to engage) and transition phrases ("I mean," "I get to thinking") to keep the forward motion of the thought.

More next time...
Paragraphing dialogue is another animal that deserves its own post to be explained effectively, I plan to do that next week, Stay tuned!

Do you find it easy or difficult to separate material into cogent paragraphs? Why?

Sunday, December 14

Writer-friends, Christmas will soon be upon us, and if you're a procrastinator like me, you may have remembered at the last minute some special people you'd like to give a gift--your critique partner, writing group president, book club host, beta reader, editor or other support folks who have made your journey sweeter, like your book tour coordinator. Here are some fun ideas likely to appeal to any literature lover. (Click on each subtitle for more information or to purchase).

Tequilla Mockingbird: Cocktails with a Literary Twist

Wondering what to get your book club host? Look no further--this fun blend of literary anecdotes and cocktail recipes is sure to hit the spot. With hilarious recipe  names like Brave New Swirled, A Cocktail of Two Cities, and Romeo and Julep, it will amuse as much as wet your whistle.


Drink with Great Drinkers gift set

Help your writing group loosen up a little by tossing back a few using these literary shot glasses. Glasses feature Oscar Wilde, Dorothy Parker, Winston Churchill, W. B. Yeats, and Charles Baudelaire, with a quote about drinking by each.

For the Love of Reading Gourmet Gift Set

A book-lover's delight--a book design chest packed with coffee and sweet treats to enjoy with a favorite book. Perfect for your book club host, critique partner or family bibliophile.




Personal Library Kit

Perfect for your favorite book bloggers and beta readers: a kit to help them manage all the favorite titles they share with friends and family.



Editor gift set

What better way to thank your favorite superheroes with a red pen--your editor and proofreader--than to keep them well caffeinated and smiling? This nifty set includes several flavors of coffee, a fun mug and coaster set with the reminder "Keep Clam and Proofread."


Hyperbole Tee

What do you get for the critique partner with razor-sharp wit who always knows how to fix plot holes, talk you off ledges and pull your story's essence out of overwritten muck? How about this cheeky tee--Hyperbole: The Greatest Thing on Earth. Lots of fun colors to choose from, too.


Which of these gifts appeals most to  you? 

Sunday, December 14, 2014 Laurel Garver
Writer-friends, Christmas will soon be upon us, and if you're a procrastinator like me, you may have remembered at the last minute some special people you'd like to give a gift--your critique partner, writing group president, book club host, beta reader, editor or other support folks who have made your journey sweeter, like your book tour coordinator. Here are some fun ideas likely to appeal to any literature lover. (Click on each subtitle for more information or to purchase).

Tequilla Mockingbird: Cocktails with a Literary Twist

Wondering what to get your book club host? Look no further--this fun blend of literary anecdotes and cocktail recipes is sure to hit the spot. With hilarious recipe  names like Brave New Swirled, A Cocktail of Two Cities, and Romeo and Julep, it will amuse as much as wet your whistle.


Drink with Great Drinkers gift set

Help your writing group loosen up a little by tossing back a few using these literary shot glasses. Glasses feature Oscar Wilde, Dorothy Parker, Winston Churchill, W. B. Yeats, and Charles Baudelaire, with a quote about drinking by each.

For the Love of Reading Gourmet Gift Set

A book-lover's delight--a book design chest packed with coffee and sweet treats to enjoy with a favorite book. Perfect for your book club host, critique partner or family bibliophile.




Personal Library Kit

Perfect for your favorite book bloggers and beta readers: a kit to help them manage all the favorite titles they share with friends and family.



Editor gift set

What better way to thank your favorite superheroes with a red pen--your editor and proofreader--than to keep them well caffeinated and smiling? This nifty set includes several flavors of coffee, a fun mug and coaster set with the reminder "Keep Clam and Proofread."


Hyperbole Tee

What do you get for the critique partner with razor-sharp wit who always knows how to fix plot holes, talk you off ledges and pull your story's essence out of overwritten muck? How about this cheeky tee--Hyperbole: The Greatest Thing on Earth. Lots of fun colors to choose from, too.


Which of these gifts appeals most to  you? 

Tuesday, September 30

Because I'm an editor who writes, people frequently ask whether I edit my own work and if so, how.

Like most of you, I believe every writer should do some self-editing to ensure a piece is the best you can make it before seeking feedback from others. (I also believe that other eyes are essential, and that self-editing alone will generally not result in a manuscript that it is the best it can be. But that's a topic for another post.)

And like most of you, I also lean on expertise when I'm unsure of a rule: "when in doubt, look it up" is a core motto for editors everywhere. Below are a few favorite resources that I regularly turn to for help with micro issues--sentence-level editing.

Self-Editing for Fiction Writers


I sometimes call this book by Renni Browne and Dave King "a portable MFA." It offers some of the best insights I've come across to make your work not simply clean, but also polished and sophisticated. In fact, one of the most helpful chapters is titled "Sophistication." In it, Browne and King identify a handful of small changes that can make passages sound far more professional: avoiding "as" and "-ing" constructions (which place action at a remove from your reader), ferreting out weak verbs, paring back exclamation points and italics for emphasis, placing literary devices appropriately, and removing unnecessary repetition.

Their insights on proportion--giving actions, characters, devices, scenes only as much page time as is justified--are extremely helpful, especially when you're approaching revision and not sure where to start. When it comes to honing your narrative voice, the authors not only show how to improve, but also explain why some techniques are so effective. If you've always wanted to do deeper point-of-view writing but aren't quite sure how to pull it off, Browne and King's chapters on "Point of View," "Interior Monologue," "See How It Sounds," and "Characterization and Exposition" will guide you expertly.

Browne and King also cover some core revision concerns including show/tell balance, consistent point of view, and well paced dialogue.


Woe Is I


Subtitled "A Grammarphobe's Guide to Better English in Plain English," Patricia O'Conner's guide to basic grammar rules is, well, a lot more fun than you ever dreamed grammar could be. Her pun-filled chapter titles, like "Plurals Before Swine" and "Comma Sutra," lead chapters of no-nonsense advice full of funny examples and witty word play. Her special section called "mixed doubles" on homophones and other commonly switched pairings inspired my "Phonics Friday" series on homophone helps (which I hope are even a fraction as funny as O'Conner's chapter).

The material is grouped topically, though there's an excellent index if you need to find guidance on a particular grammar bugaboo. In addition to covering all the basics, from pronoun use, plurals, and possessives to verb tenses, modifiers, and punctuation, the book has several helpful chapters on frequently misused words and outdated grammar rules that need to be buried with that persnickety snob John Dryden and his ilk. And she clearly knows the sources of every outdated rule and why it needs to die--evidence aplenty to silence your uptight uncle who refuses to watch Star Trek because each episode opens with  Capt. Kirk saying "to boldly go" rather than "boldly to go" (the bogus split infinitive rule).

If you are a grammarphobe, this is one grammar book that will leave you giggling, not whimpering.



What resources have you found helpful for sentence-level editing?
Tuesday, September 30, 2014 Laurel Garver
Because I'm an editor who writes, people frequently ask whether I edit my own work and if so, how.

Like most of you, I believe every writer should do some self-editing to ensure a piece is the best you can make it before seeking feedback from others. (I also believe that other eyes are essential, and that self-editing alone will generally not result in a manuscript that it is the best it can be. But that's a topic for another post.)

And like most of you, I also lean on expertise when I'm unsure of a rule: "when in doubt, look it up" is a core motto for editors everywhere. Below are a few favorite resources that I regularly turn to for help with micro issues--sentence-level editing.

Self-Editing for Fiction Writers


I sometimes call this book by Renni Browne and Dave King "a portable MFA." It offers some of the best insights I've come across to make your work not simply clean, but also polished and sophisticated. In fact, one of the most helpful chapters is titled "Sophistication." In it, Browne and King identify a handful of small changes that can make passages sound far more professional: avoiding "as" and "-ing" constructions (which place action at a remove from your reader), ferreting out weak verbs, paring back exclamation points and italics for emphasis, placing literary devices appropriately, and removing unnecessary repetition.

Their insights on proportion--giving actions, characters, devices, scenes only as much page time as is justified--are extremely helpful, especially when you're approaching revision and not sure where to start. When it comes to honing your narrative voice, the authors not only show how to improve, but also explain why some techniques are so effective. If you've always wanted to do deeper point-of-view writing but aren't quite sure how to pull it off, Browne and King's chapters on "Point of View," "Interior Monologue," "See How It Sounds," and "Characterization and Exposition" will guide you expertly.

Browne and King also cover some core revision concerns including show/tell balance, consistent point of view, and well paced dialogue.


Woe Is I


Subtitled "A Grammarphobe's Guide to Better English in Plain English," Patricia O'Conner's guide to basic grammar rules is, well, a lot more fun than you ever dreamed grammar could be. Her pun-filled chapter titles, like "Plurals Before Swine" and "Comma Sutra," lead chapters of no-nonsense advice full of funny examples and witty word play. Her special section called "mixed doubles" on homophones and other commonly switched pairings inspired my "Phonics Friday" series on homophone helps (which I hope are even a fraction as funny as O'Conner's chapter).

The material is grouped topically, though there's an excellent index if you need to find guidance on a particular grammar bugaboo. In addition to covering all the basics, from pronoun use, plurals, and possessives to verb tenses, modifiers, and punctuation, the book has several helpful chapters on frequently misused words and outdated grammar rules that need to be buried with that persnickety snob John Dryden and his ilk. And she clearly knows the sources of every outdated rule and why it needs to die--evidence aplenty to silence your uptight uncle who refuses to watch Star Trek because each episode opens with  Capt. Kirk saying "to boldly go" rather than "boldly to go" (the bogus split infinitive rule).

If you are a grammarphobe, this is one grammar book that will leave you giggling, not whimpering.



What resources have you found helpful for sentence-level editing?