Playing with Tense

A popular post from April 2008

by Annette Lyon

Don't. Unless you know what you're doing. Really.

In some of my editing work recently, I've come across an interesting trend among aspiring writers: a huge number of them seem to think that writing in first-person present tense makes their work better or sound more literary or intellectual.

The truth is that it's the author's voice, word choice, pacing, description, and so much more that make them sound good, literary, or intellectual.

If the author has the skill to pull off both first person and present tense, it's a nice layer of icing. But it's not the cake.

Worse, when done poorly, first-person present tense can turn into a real mess, like a lopsided cake with crumbs in the icing and entire chunks missing.

Most fiction, even with first-person point of view, is written in the simple past tense:

I walked, I ate, we drove.

There's a lot of excellent first-person present tense fiction out there:

I walk, I eat, I drive.

In other words, the piece feels like it's happening right now as you read it.

One of my personal favorite books written in first-person present is Lolly Winston's Good Grief. It's a fantastic book, one that's funny, poignant, and abounding in excellent writing all around. In a discussion with some friends recently, one pointed out that it was written in present-tense, and another friend, who counts that book as one of her favorites, had to go pull it off her shelf to check. Sure enough, it was present tense. Huh. She hadn't noticed.

And that's how it should be. The nifty tools you use as a writer shouldn't be out there flashing in the reader's face. They should be used for a reason, and that reason needs to be more than, "It'll make me look good." Because chances are, it won't.

Present tense can provide a different style and feel to your work than past tense. It can make the story feel more immediate. And it does have its place. One of the pieces I edited did it very well—and really needed to be in present tense because of the structure, tone, and events of the piece. But most of the others that used it would have been better off with plain old past tense.

Those pieces felt like awkward toddlers trying to get their feet under them as they try to use first-present present, as if they're declaring, "Look at me! I'm a writer! I really am!" Instead, they should have analyzed why they wanted to use present tense—what effect were they trying to create, and will present tense help them get there? In the vast majority of cases, the answer was unclear at best and a resounding, "NO" at worst.

One major problem that creeps in with trying to write this way is accidentally falling into the wrong tense.

For example, if a writer includes a brief flashback into the past, it's all well and good, if they're now using past tense. You can't stay in present tense for a flashback. Doing so confuses the timeline for the reader.

("Wait. Isn't this a memory? Then why does it say it's happening now?")

Similarly, when you come back from the flashback, be sure to stay in the present tense. It's easy for a writer to accidentally slip into past tense (we're all more familiar with it, after all) and then go back to present tense, but it's very hard on a reader to keep everything straight. The back-and-forth reads clunky and amateurish.

And a lot of times, a story can be told more effectively in the simple past tense. It's a voice most readers are very familiar and comfortable with. A present tense version might call attention to itself . . . in a bad way.

If you do decide to use first-person, present tense, fine. But be sure you can handle it. It's one more plate to keep in the air, and if you let that one fall, it's going to make a huge crash.

The great news: you don't need present tense to be a great writer. In fact, I recommend not using it at all unless and until you have a great handle on all those other plates you need to keep in the air. (Things like plot, characterization, pacing, point of view, dialogue and more . . . that's a lot of plates.)

Don't assume that this is a plate you need to sound good. Some of the best writers in history never gave it a passing glance. Using it well doesn't mean you're extraordinary.

But if you do eventually decide to pick it up, don't do it until you know precisely why it might make your piece more effective and you know—really know—how to juggle it.

POINT OF VIEW: First Person vs Third Person

A popular original post from 2007

By Heather Moore
(Originally published April 26, 2007... but POV continues to be a struggle for many new writers)

If you just said, "Huh?" this blog is for you.

When we read a book, we don’t always pay attention to the point of view. Instead, we enjoy the story. But when you write a book, point of view becomes an integral method of telling the story through the character.

FIRST PERSON
First person point of view is almost always used in YA novels. Over the past several years, it has become increasingly popular in adult fiction, especially the suspense genre.

In Orson Scott Card’s book, Characters and Viewpoint, he says: “When you use a first-person narrator, you are almost required to tell the story in someone else’s voice—the voice of the character telling the tale.” (143)

1st person/present tense—Good Grief by Lolly Winston

On Halloween, angels and ghosts and pirates flock to my doorstep. A tiny pumpkin hoists her leg over the threshold and clings to my calf like a koala bear.
“No Jenny,” the baby’s mom says, and laughs. “We don’t live here.”
This is a busy year for trick-or-treaters. It’s only seven and I’m already running low on candy, since I never made it back to Safeway to load up. (p.34)

1st person/ past tense—Life of Pi by Yann Martel

My fellow castaway came into view. He raised himself onto the gunnel and looked my way. The sudden appearance of a tiger is arresting in any environment, but it was all the more so here. The weird contrast between the bright, striped, living orange of his coat and the inert white of the boat’s hull was incredibly compelling. My overwrought senses screeched to a halt. (p.160)

THIRD PERSON
Third person point of view is by far the most common and reaches across all genres and age groups. Third person has two methods: limited narrative and omniscient narrative.

Orson Scott Card says a reader is “led through the story by one character, seeing only what that character sees; aware of what that character thinks and wants and remembers, but unable to do more than guess at any other character’s inner life.” (155)

You can also change viewpoints with limited narrative, as long as you have a clear division like a scene break or new chapter.

3rd Person—Limited Narrative: At the Journey’s End by Annette Lyon (all in different scenes)

Maddie’s POV:
A rifle shot split the air with a crack.
The sound halted Maddie in her step, and she looked around for the source. Maybe Peter or James had bagged some game for dinner—a wild rabbit, perhaps. It would taste good after eating dried fruit and jerky for nearly two weeks. But something told her that wasn’t right. (1)

Clara’s POV:
Another coughing fit gripped Clara Franklin, one so intense she didn’t even reach for her handkerchief on the end table. Her frail body curled up against the pain piercing her chest with each cough. As the spell ended, she found her hands clenching the bedclothes like claws. She had to consciously release each finger and make her breath even out. (35)

Abe’s POV:
Taking his hat off, Abe entered the building and wiped his sleeve across his brow. He was tired of the heat. First Utah’s, now California’s. He knew he might as well get used to it, at least until he reached Snowflake. (55)

OMNISCIENT NARRATIVE:The narrator can see into more than one character’s mind, switching back and forth at will. (Card, 156)

3rd person—Omniscient: Skipping Christmas by John Grisham (all in the same scene, 77-79)

Nora's POV:
“I already have calendars for next year.” That was news to Nora, who was biting a fingernail and holding her breath.

Luther's POV:
Luther caught himself for a second and allowed his anger to settle in. As if buying a calendar was the only measure of his pride in the local police force.

Treen's POV:
Since Treen could think of no intelligent retort, he grew hot too and decided he would get Krank’s license plate number and lie in ambush somewhere . . .

And finally . . .
Before you start writing your novel, decide on which point of view you’ll use. Do you want the readers to see the entire book through just one character’s eyes? Then try 1st person. Are you writing a romance and want the POV of the heroine and the hero? Try 3rd person narrative. Just be sure that you don’t POV hop when writing either 1st person or in 3rd person narrative. When in 3rd person narrative, you can switch POV when there is a scene or chapter break.

Choose Your Characters

A popular post from February 2008

by Lu Ann Staheli

Characters exist in both fiction and non-fiction. In fiction we know these people, animals, or creatures as protagonists and antagonists. The protagonist is the good guy, the one we root for to get what they wanted in the end. The antagonist is the one who tries to stop our hero from reaching his or her goal. In non-fiction, the character is the narrator. This may be the voice of teacher, the sage, or simply one who has been there. Character roles may also be played by businesses, natural disasters, disease, or any one of hundreds of other topics covered in a non-fiction book.

In both fiction and non-fiction, we will likely see characters of two types. Major characters are those who play a significant role in bringing change. Often they change within themselves, growing through the learning they do. Because of this growth, they are known as round characters. A flat character plays a minor role in the story. Like bit players on the stage, these characters make brief appearances that rarely effect the outcome of the story.

An author must choose a point of view from which we will get to know the characters. First-person is most often used in adolescent novels where the reader wants to have a close connection to the main character, see what she sees, feel what she feels. Although rarely used, second person point of view might find a place in a non-fiction How To book, but writers must be careful not to sound too demanding when they use this voice. Perhaps the most difficult for the novice writer, but also the most accepted by editors and readers is third person point of view. Whether third person omniscient—the all seeing, all knowing god who understands what everyone is feeling—or the third person limited, who follows around a single character, describing all from their own point of view, using third person allows more freedom to the storyteller than either first or second person does.

Once an author knows their character and point of view, they begin to use syntax, diction, punctuation, and dialogue to develop the character, adding their own style. This becomes the author’s unique voice, a trait highly sought after by editors. Using the right voice for the desired audience will form a winning combination, a book that editors can’t let pass them by.

Whose Point of View?

A popular post from January 2008

By Heather Moore

In a recent manuscript, I came to a dead stop at a particular scene. But it was not just an ordinary scene—it was the climax of the entire novel.

In this scene, a man is burned to death for his religious beliefs. He is given the chance to recount his teachings, but refuses. Therefore, the punishment is death by fire.

I wondered if the scene would be stronger in the man’s point of view . . . or in the man’s wife’s point of view.

Would it be more compelling for us to know the thoughts of a man who’s taking his last breath and knowing he’s going to die? Is it more compelling to “feel” the pain of fire with him as he’s consumed?

OR is it more compelling to watch with his wife as her husband is brutally tortured? Do we want to know her intimate emotions, experience her undoubted grief and horror? To hear her thoughts of loss and anguish?

The way I answered this question was: Who has the most to lose?

Then I posted it on a blog and received excellent feedback. Everyone agreed. The wife had the most to lose. So the death scene should be in her POV.

When you are writing in multiple view points (3rd person in my case), the rule of thumb for selecting POV is to take a look at the character who experiences the most change, or is highly affected, or who has the most to lose in the scene.

Then you'll have your answer.

To begin is human . . .

A popular post from September 2009

By Heather Moore

I’ve been to many writers conference over the past eight years, and listened to maybe close to 100 presenters. I’m at the point where I’ve heard pretty much everything, so I rarely take notes anymore. Mostly I’m interested in publishing stories—as in how did this bestselling author get his/her start?

At the Book Academy conference held at Utah Valley University this past week, Brandon Sanderson was the keynote speaker. If you are a fantasy writer, for children, YA, or adult, his books are a must-read. He writes the Alcatraz series for middle-grade readers (they are hilarious for adults as well. Also, for you omniscient pov writers, this series is a classic example). He also writes epic fantasy. Elantris is his first published, and the Mistborn trilogy has propelled him to pretty much stardom. I'm dying to read Warbreaker, his newest release, but I'm trying to get my WIP progress drafted first.

Brandon talked about how he wrote novel after novel (I think it was 12-13) before he finally got his #6 book a publishing contract. When he heard from the editor who wanted to buy his book, he contacted an agent who he’d gotten to know over the years through various writers conferences. The agent signed him.

Brandon gave some advice on things he wished he would have known before he tried to follow market trends (which wasn’t successful for him). I won’t reiterate it here since I don’t want to plagiarize, although I did ask him if it was okay to blog about it. And I think he said yes. Or maybe I just told him I was going to, and he looked at me funny. I’m not sure (since when I'm around famous people I'm lucky to remember my name), so to be on the safe side, I’ll just tell you about one of the things he emphasized.

“Write what you like to READ.”

This sounds so simple, but when you really think about it, it makes a whole lot of sense. This can solve some of our writer’s angst when we are trying to think of a new genre to break into. Say you are published in historical fiction (like me!) and you see all of your friends getting huge advances in children’s lit. Hmmm. Should I switch genres? Catch the tide? Do I love children’s lit or am I just trying to copycat?

So I pause and ask myself: “What do I READ?” That’s the answer. If I don’t like to read what I’m writing, then guess what? The passion will fizzle out all too soon.

So, like Brandon, who decided to not follow the tide and write what he was passionate about (Epic Fantasy), I think I’ll do the same—not the same genre, but you know what I mean.

One last quote from Mr. Sanderson, which I thought about putting on my whiteboard in my office, but then didn’t want to be reminded of a big revision in my near future:

“To begin is human.
To finish is divine.
To revise is hell.”

Fashion Statements and the Omniscient POV

A popular post from June 2009

by Annette Lyon

Anne Shirley longed to wear puffed sleeves.

In high school, I wore pegged jeans and shoulder pads.

And a century and a half ago, Dickens wrote in the omniscient point of view.

Fashions change, and the literary world is no different. Today, it's very difficult to write in an omniscient POV and get published. There are several reasons for this.

Frankly, a good omniscient POV is really hard to do well. It sounds easy, because yes, "omniscient" means that the narrator knows what's going on in each character's mind.

But here's the giant caveat: that does not mean that the narrator can hop around between their heads willy nilly. There has to be a purpose for when we go from one person's viewpoint to the next person's, a stylistic reason for showing the contrast between this person's feelings and that one's, even if it's within the same line.

The most common excuse beginning writers use when they're criticized for a poor point of view is, "But I'm using an omniscient POV."

Chances are that no, you're not. You're just being sloppy.

A real omniscient narrator has its own personality and feel. There's a distinct reason and purpose for telling the story in that way, more so today than in Dickens' time.

In today's publishing world, the most common place you'll see this type of POV is in epic-style fantasy, where the scope is large and sweeping. But even in many of those works, you'll get third person POV, such as with Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time books, which are definitely written in third person.

A contemporary example of an omniscient POV that works is Lemony Snicket's 13-volume The Series of Unfortunate Events, wherein the narrator has such a distinct personality that he even breaks the "fourth wall" and talks directly to the reader at times. He pontificates on his own opinion of the events as well as what other characters think about them. It's done very much tongue-in-cheek and deliberately over-the-top. And every bit is intentional and smart.

A somewhat older (and serious) book that has an omniscient POV is James A. Michener's The Source. It was published in the 1960s, when the omniscient POV was already going out of style. The POV really works in this book, and for that matter, there's really no other POV that Michener could have used for it. For starters, the book covers literally thousands of years, so he couldn't have picked two or three POV characters to carry the plot.

Another big issue with The Source is that because the stories and themes covered over the centuries in the book reflect on one another, an omniscient narrator is needed to gently draw lines between them for the reader. The result: a brilliant read that must have been painstakingly written.

The entire point of this post? In general, pick a third person POV (how close or distant is up to you, as is how many POV characters, but I wouldn't go for more than 3-5), or first person. Each of those POVs has its own pros and cons.

But unless you have a really, really good reason for using the omniscient POV, resist the urge. There's a very good chance your story won't come across as a brilliant Michener work (the guy won a Pulitzer, for crying out loud). Instead, you'll likely look like an amateur who head hops and doesn't know what it means to maintain a decent POV.

Anachronisms & Other Ways to Make Readers Snicker

A popular post from November 2009

by Annette Lyon

Anachronisms are hysterical in fiction . . . and usually not in the way the author of a piece intended.

An anachronism is something stuck in a place where it doesn't fit in time. A really, really bad one would be giving a caveman a car. That's a bit too obvious, something no writer would ever accidentally do, but writers put in anachronisms all the time in more subtle ways.

While this is relevant to me as a historical writer, the overall concept is crucial for all writers to keep in mind, particularly in the revision stage, so read on.

For me, I constantly have to research bits and pieces to make sure that certain vocabulary, hair styles, household items, and so on were in use when I place them into a story.

Could Joe use a match to light a fire in this year? Can Sally eat a "cookie" in that year? Would David have access to envelopes in this location at this time? When did diamond rings become common symbols of engagements?

Those are the kinds of things writers pay attention to in their research. Where writers often lose focus is inadvertently throwing in common expressions that don't work for the time period of the book.

For example, a bad anachronism would be for a character from Shakespeare's time to say, "We're really off track."

The problem? "Off track" came from railroads. And yeah . . . railroads didn't exist in Shakespeare's time, so someone from that period wouldn't know what the phrase means.

So why is this important if you don't write historical fiction? Because this is one more way you can mess things up by imposing your mindset onto your characters.

The writer must always remember how the CHARACTER would really think and feel and relate to his or her world.

Luke Skywalker would never say he's "shell-shocked," even if what he's feeling would apply to our definition of that term. He'd use some other way to describe the feeling, because "shell-shocked" is World War II lingo.

When Lizzy from Pride and Prejudice discovers Darcy's involvement in saving her family's name, she'd never have said that he "stepped up to the plate." That's an American baseball term from the 20th century, for starters, one that didn't exist when the book was written. So granted, Jane Austen couldn't have used it, but someone trying to write a P&P sequel today could, and would really mess it up.

Another phrase I came across in a historical novel recently was, "We should give it a shot." I don't know for sure when that phrase came about, but the novel was set a long time ago, so the sentence jumped out as not belonging. It sounded way too modern for the context. I stopped believing the writer. These kinds of things just don't work.

Another warning: too much colloquial phrasing will date a contemporary book too; avoid anything too dated, even if it's dated as now.

In one book, the characters were from the early 1800s, and one referred to his mother as "pushing his buttons."

Um . . . which buttons would those be? The ones on his shirt? Because, yeah, well, hate to say this, but see, computers and other things with buttons that can be pushed . . . weren't invented when this guy supposedly lived.

What this writer needed was an idiom, term, or phrase from the early 1800s that would give the reader the same feel as "pushing my buttons" does today, but that came from the right period. They also needed something matching the character's personality. Instead, what we got was the writer's voice intruding on the story, the writer's point of view.

Sadly, it was hard to get immersed in the book when the author kept poking their nose into the story. I was painfully aware that they weren't fully into the characters' minds and hearts, let alone fully into the time period.

One of my favorite stories of this kind of revision (for the better!) is in Michele Paige Holmes's newest book, All the Stars in Heaven. She's used this example in a workshop herself when teaching how to get into characters' heads.

She originally wrote a scene where Jay, her hero, listens to the heroine, Sarah, sing a choir solo for the first time. He is blown away by her voice and says it's one of the most amazing things he's ever heard.

The rough draft had him compare her voice to an angel's. But then Michele realized that Jay wouldn't say that kind of thing. He's manly and tough. He wouldn't think in terms of angelic choirs. He loves and plays rock music.

Her final version says that Sarah's performance was the most amazing thing he'd ever heard with the possible exception of Hendrix playing "The Star Spangled Banner."

I love that change. It's true-blue Jay, precisely how he'd think. It's okay that Michele's rough draft had the angelic bit. We all have rough drafts that aren't perfect (that's why they're called rough). And frankly, the original wasn't bad. But the final version was perfect: just how Jay would think and express himself. Michele stepped aside as the author and let him speak.

Be sure that when you do those later passes over your manuscript for revision that you read each scene with an eye out for when you're really in your characters' heads. Is this really how they'd see each situation? Or is it your lens that we're looking through?

Ask yourself: Is there anything that I, as the writer, am putting in that doesn't belong?

Would your character really say it this way, think this particular thought?

Are you expressing your opinion or your characters'? Your world view or theirs?

Worse, did you inadvertently throw in an anachronism?

Another gem I caught recently: "No, way."

In context, it sounded just like a Valley Girl from 1988. The problem? The story was set during the time of pirates.

I closed the book, tempted to walk around the house, flipping my hair, snapping gum, and going, "Like, totally argh, Matey."

Close vs. Distant POV

A popular post from March 2010. 

by Annette Lyon

It's come to my attention that in all our posts about point of view, that we've never covered the concept of close third person versus distant third person.

Time to remedy the oversight!

Most contemporary fiction written in third person (he said this; she did that) is written in a pretty close point of view. It's probably what you're used to reading. For that matter, if you look at the Writing on the Wall archives, close third and first person are the two points of view that generally apply.

But what is close third?

To start defining the term, let's first describe distant third person.

Distant Third Person

Point of view, of course, is the lens through which the writer (or the narrator voice) tells the story. For a moment, think of that lens as a movie camera standing back from the action but hanging in the air over a character's head.

The camera captures what the POV character sees, and perhaps what the POV character hears. However, for the most part, the narrative is separate and apart from the character and what he or she is feeling or experiencing. It's objective, not making interpretations.

The camera can certainly show an amazing fight sequence. We won't be privy to the POV character's thoughts, feelings, and so forth about it, but we'll see a great movie in our heads.

It's almost like a journalist reporting the events in vivid detail, sitting perched on that camera.

The camera can get more distant, pulling back to the point that we can't even tell much about the POV character at all, or it can get a bit closer, perhaps letting us in on gestures and other behaviors.

But there's always a barrier; the reader stays outside the POV character's head.

Close Third Person

Just as with distant third, close third has degrees of closeness. A very close (or tight) third person POV will be so entrenched in the POV character's head that the reader knows their every thought, feeling, smell, taste, sound, touch, reaction, facial expression, motivation, and more.

A slightly less tight POV will show emotions and senses, but might not get so tightly ingrained in the character's psyche. Again, it's a matter of degrees. Just how close are you to the character, emotionally, psychologically, and otherwise?

In a sense, all variations of third person are about degrees of closeness, and the same book could have varying degrees.

For example, an opening paragraph of a chapter could be very distant as the reader is introduced to a location, say a snowy mountain scape. Then the "camera" pans closer to the POV character huddled a cave trying to stay warm. The closer we get, the more we know about what that character is thinking, feeling, doing, planning.

Some people argue that if you're going for an extremely tight third person, then you might as well be writing in first person, since that POV is just as tight, if not tighter. (If the character is telling the story, you're totally in their head, right?)

The problem with that argument is that a story in first person has limitations of its own, among them this biggie: your first person POV character must be present in every single scene, and you can never, ever, show anything from anyone else's POV.

That said, first person is a popular POV, and many fantastic books have been written in it. Just be certain it's the right one for your story before you commit to it. (Rewriting a book with a new POV is as big a task as writing an entirely new book. Trust me on this one; been there, done that.)

Ask yourself whether your book would be stronger if you could show a scene from another POV, such as the antagonist's, a parent's, or a friend's.

If so, opt for a tight third instead of first. That way, you get most of the benefits of first person (you're right in their head) without the restrictions.

Another caveat:

Don't cheat with first person. Readers will be seriously annoyed if something the POV character knows isn't revealed to them as well. After all, they're in the POV character's head, so they should know everything that character does.

Some rules of thumb with point of view:

• Don't have too many POV characters per book. A common number is between two and five. Some genres lean toward fewer POVs (such as romance), while others can handle more (such as epic fantasy). Know your genre and its expectations. Avoid too many if you can, simply because keeping track of them and readjusting to a new POV can be taxing on the reader.
• Maintain ONE point of view per scene. Don't be tightly in Jane's head and then flip to a John's head (tight or otherwise) mid-scene. That's disorienting and unnerving to the reader, who is trying to keep track of who is thinking and feeling what, and exactly which lens to interpret the story through.
• Separate point of view shifts with scene shifts (and visual markers like asterisks) and/or chapter breaks.

When Present Tense Works

A popular post from March 2010.

by Annette Lyon

Some time ago, I ranted about many aspiring writers I'd recently come across who insisted on using first person, present tense in their work. More specifically, I ranted about how it's not that great of an idea to do unless:

A) you know how to handle all the other aspects of writing a good story

AND

B) you know why you're using present tense instead of regular past. (Why and how will present tense make the story stronger?)

Since I recently came across a great book that uses first person present, I'm thinking it's time to revisit the topic and show why it worked in that book.

The Chosen One by Carol Lynch Williams is a young adult novel about thirteen-year-old Kyra, who lives in a polygamist compound and is promised to her 60-year-old uncle as his seventh wife. It's a complex, rich story, and it's told with Kyra's voice in present tense, as if it's happening right now.

One thing that present tense has going for in this book is that it provides a solid way to flash back to intense, important moments from the past.

When the rest of the story is happening NOW, we get a clear cue as to when we're in a flashback by the simple use of past tense. One moment Kyra IS DOING THIS, and the next, we're remembers that SUCH AND SUCH HAPPENED.

There's no need to transition with past perfect (I had gone, he had said) to alert the reader that we're going into or out of a flashback.

In many of the cases I ranted about, the beginning writers were relying on flashbacks in a bad way; it was often a clue that they were either starting in the wrong place or including information the reader didn't really need.

In the case of The Chosen One, we need all that information. And starting earlier and showing those scenes in real time would have weakened the impact of those scenes, because they're shown in an important sequence and as Kyra herself is reflecting on them and how they impact her next moves and decisions.

Big caveat here: Flashbacks are much like present tense: HANDLE WITH CARE.

Sloppy writers rely on lots of flashbacks to explain back story and provide exposition. If you're flashing back too often (or even in the first chapter), stand back to see if you're starting in the wrong place or whether that back story is really necessary to the whole. You might be able to cut it altogether.

As my previous rant (ahem . . post) warned, be careful about maintaining your tenses. Since we're all most familiar with regular past tense, it's all to easy to slide into past tense when you don't mean it to be a flashback. It's equally easy to revert to present tense in what should be a past-tense flashback. You'll need eagle eyes during revision to make sure you're consistent.

First-person present can be done well, and The Chosen One is a great example of that. (Another is Good Grief, by Lolli Winston.) But don't choose it willy-nilly.

Know why it will strengthen your story (or will it?) and how to do it well. If you're still trying to learn the basics of writing (dialogue, characterization, plotting, and so much more), stick with past tense for now.

It was plenty good for just about all the old greats in the literary cannon; it's good enough for you, too.

Time Warps

A popular post from 2011

by Annette Lyon

Throughout your story, time will pass. Story time, that is. (Even more time will pass as you write it, but that's another topic.)

Handling time can be tricky, and if it's done poorly, your reader may get confused, annoyed, and, quite possibly, put the story down. Here are the most common ways writers mishandle time that I see as an editor:

Back Story Dumps

This is one of the most common ways to mismanage time: dwelling on back story, especially in the first couple of chapters. Get to the now of the story right away. Give us whatever information we need from the past in small bites (usually later), and probably less back story than you think we need. We've talked about this one elsewhere, so we'll jump to the other time problems.

Flashbacks

While I'd never say you can't use a flashback (few writing rules are so solid you can actually say "never" to them), I would say to be wary of them and, when using them, learn to do so well.

A few flashback tips:

1) Make the transitions into and out of the flashback crystal clear so the reader can follow easily. We need to know where and when we are at all times.

2) Keep the flashbacks short and few. Lots of flashbacks aren't a story. You don't want your novel to get mired in what led up to this point; tell us what's happening now. That's where the current conflict (and therefore, what your reader will care about) lies.

3) Use flashbacks with a clear purpose, deliberately, when you've gone through other techniques and are sure that there's no other way to effectively accomplish what your story needs. Don't fall back on this technique as your default. Chances are, the easiest way to tell the story isn't going to be the most effective.

Flashbacks Within Flashbacks

Laugh if you will, but I do see this. A flashback all by itself has the potential for confusing the reader about what happened and when. Adding a second flashback inside the first is doubly confusing. If the second flashback includes time words like "two weeks ago," we have no idea what's going on; is that two weeks prior to the second flashback? Is the second flashback two weeks prior to the first? Or is this two weeks before the main story line? Confusing? You bet. It's also sloppy.

Rewinding.

This is when, for example, Scene A covers the time from 3 to 6PM, and then the writer goes on to write Scene B, but backs up in time and repeats some or most of what happened in scene A, only from a different POV.

Here's the problem: After reading scene A, which ends at 6PM, most readers (understandably, since in our lives, time moves forward) will assume the time is 6PM (or later).

Rewinding is jarring in the extreme. Readers expect time to flow one direction unless clearly told otherwise. So if that expectation is violated, the reader gets pulled out, has to reorient, and only then move forward. You've just given the reader the perfect chance to close the cover and walk away.

In one rewinding case I saw, two characters see one another for the second time. We first see the brief meeting from the man's point of view. He went on to have a pretty long scene with other events. So when the next scene began, from the woman's point of view, I assumed an hour or two (at least) had passed.

The scene read fine that way at first. But halfway through, the door opens, and she sees the man. I assumed this was their third meeting. It wasn't until a page or two later that I realized that oh, this is meeting #2, and we're seeing it for a second time.

Among the problems with this particular story: The second viewing didn't add a thing.

As with flashbacks, there's no hard and fast rule to avoid this technique, but I'd caution against it even more than with flashbacks.

Rewinding: A Caveat

As an editor, I have seen rewinding done well . . . a total of one time.

In that case, it worked for several reasons:

1) When we jumped from Character A to Character B, the section was labeled with the B character's name clearly identified as the POV character. I knew right away that we'd changed locations and POV, and when the time shifted too, I was ready for it.

2) Although we were reliving a time period, a significant amount of Character B's story didn't feature Character A at all. For the most part, we weren't seeing the same scenes, just the same time period.

3) During the moments where we were repeating a scene, we got a brand new perspective with new, important information. Both perspectives were crucial to the story.

4) We weren't ping ponging back and forth; each section was several chapters long, so we had a significant amount of time with each POV before swapping to the other.

In the first case (that didn't work), none of these items were present.

1) We simply moved to the next scene with no marker or header telling us where (or when!) we were.

2) We relived not only the same time period, but the exact same moment.

And the kicker:

3) The two characters' perspectives weren't different enough to add a single thing to the story.

A rule of thumb regarding POV:

Use the point of view of the character who has the most to lose in any given scene.

A corollary:

That means you can't pick two characters to use and then show the scene twice.

As an exercise, feel free to write both. Then see which is the most effective and choose the better scene. I can guarantee that one of the two will be better than the other. Use that.

Then throw the other one away.

Handling time in fiction, especially in something as lengthy as a novel, can be tricky. Avoid the pitfalls of back story dumps, flashbacks (plus flashbacks within flashbacks), and rewinding, and you'll have eliminated a lot of potholes, making your story much smoother reading.

What I See Most Often

A popular post from September 2011

by Annette Lyon

As an editor, I see a lot of the same things. If you can avoid these few issues in your work, you'll automatically be a step ahead of the competition.

Here are three of the most common problems I see:

Back-story Dump

Also known as "info dump." This is when the story comes to a screeching halt so we can learn the characters' history, what led up to this moment, and so on. It includes flashbacks, long strings of thought, dialog where characters recap the past (things they already know and likely wouldn't actually say to one another), and so on.

At the beginning of a story, this is a real problem. Back story may be important, although I'm betting it's less important than you think. We really don't want to hear about it in the first chapter. If the reader needs information from the past, tell us in small pieces . . . later.

Point of View Problems

I highly recommend reading Orson Scott Card's book Character and Viewpoint as a primer for learning how point of view works, how to pick the right one, and how to use it well.

Common POV problems I see include head-hopping, picking the wrong POV, having no point of view whatsoever, and having inconsistent POV characterization. POV problems pull the reader out of the story. They can make the narrative confusing. When handled well, POV helps the reader get immersed in the story.

Telling Instead of Showing

Show, don't tell, is such a common piece of advice it's almost cliche, but it's crucial. Telling creates a shallow story with flat characters. Instead of readers feeling and experiencing the story, getting wrapped up into it, they'll remain at a distance, as if reading a summary.

Good showing appears on the sentence and paragraph level (what I call micro showing) and in the overall scene, chapter, and full-length work level (what I call macro showing).

Interestingly enough, back story dumps and POV problems are often also telling problems. If you learn how to avoid these three common weak spots, you'll automatically find yourself knowing how to fix a lot of problems in your work--and avoid them altogether in the future.

Staying True to Your Characters

A popular post from January 2012.

by Annette Lyon

I love reading a book where the characters are so well-drawn that they feel real. Where I read a description or action and know exactly why this character said, acted, or described something a specific way.

Writing characters that are round instead of flat, who seem to breathe off the page instead of walk around like paper dolls, is hard.

Some time ago I posted about character lenses. That concept is one of my favorite tools for characterization, ever. If you haven't read that post, go read it now to brush up on what I mean by "lenses."

Short version: It's the unique way each character views the world. (But the post explains it in greater detail.)

The crucial part:

Creating a lens does you no good unless that lens colors every page that the character shows up on. If we see it for the first time on page 287, it's useless.

Here are some ways to give your character a lens:

A Defining Characteristic

I've visited the house of Finnish composer Jean Sibelius twice in my lifetime. Both times, a trait of his stood out to me: he was a synesthete, meaning he had what's known as synesthesia.

Synethesia is when two senses that wouldn't normally cross, do. One synesthete may see colors with letters. Another may associate a personality with numbers, and so on.

For Sibelius, sound had color. He had a painting hanging in his house with a lot of a specific shade of yellow that, to him, was D Major. A bright green fireplace was the exact shade of F major. (Apparently he "saw" only major keys, not minor.)

Give your character something that distinguishes them, like synesthesia . . . or something less dramatic.

Does your synesthete hear a shrill minor key when walking in city traffic? Does a lullaby evoke a peaceful light blue? If we learn how your character interacts with their world through their individual attributes, everything will be more alive, even if that attribute isn't nearly as "out there" as synesthesia.

Passions

What really gets your character excited?

If it's food, then a totally awesome event should be described in terms of European chocolate or a favorite restaurant's cuisine.

If your character loves to knit, use terms about yarn, stitches, gauges, needles, and the frustration of frogging.

If it's motorcycles, use terms that evoke the passion, whether it's rev and gear, or other things, like the challenge of fixing the engine yourself, running out of gas, a flat tire, or the thrill of wind in your hair.

If your character is a football star and experiences something totally exciting, don't describe it as heavenly; describe it as feeling like he won the Super Bowl.

Career/Talents

Whatever your character is good at is likely something that will color their lens.

For some old friends of mine, that would be theater. I could write about an actor and use theater terms to color experiences in the story, events in the story that of themselves have nothing to do with theater. Think green room, opening night jitters, break a leg, flop, standing ovation, etc.

Brandon Sanderson does this well in his Way of Kings. A main character is a soldier, but he's no ordinary soldier; as a boy, he was trained to be a surgeon. He views life (and the battlefield) in terms of a surgeon. He doesn't just see blood; he knows exactly where the man was pierced with a sword and how it must have missed an artery, because of the way the blood flows.

Background

Dad grew up as a farm boy. Mom grew up in a metropolitan European city. People used to joke that they were the embodiment of the Green Acres TV show, and the idea wasn't that far off.

When Dad saw my sister watching Charlotte's Web and crying, he shook his head and said, "Pigs are dirty. And they're food." By this point, he was a professor, but it was the farm boy speaking.

Mom, on the other hand, to this day, finds her eye drawn every time she passes a Jaguar on the road. The metropolitan girl is still there.

A different way of looking at it: A few years ago, PEG's own Heather Moore and I co-chaired a writing conference, and as part of our duties, we picked up a literary agent from the airport. On the way to dinner, she commented about how gorgeous the mountains were.

This was mid-March. As northern Utahns know, that's probably the ugliest time of year for our dear mountains. But for someone who'd never seen mountains like this, close up, they were beautiful.

In a story, a Utahn might not notice the mountains unless the seasons were changing, especially in the fall. But a transplant would.

Along the same vein, a tourist might walk the streets of Manhattan, head back to see the tops of the skyscrapers, and a local would know right away that the other person is a tourist. Locals don't gaze upward at the skyscrapers.

In every scene, get into your point-of-view character's head and mindset. That could mean more than one of these elements. Perrin in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series uses both black smith imagery and wolf imagery as his lens, and both totally work.

As you think about your characters, you'll not so much create a lens for them as much as discover what's already there.

Expand Your Characters

by Annette Lyon

When writers think about point of view, they often focus on keeping the action and thought process inside one person's head throughout a specific scene. As well they should.

But there's one aspect of point of view many writers forget about, and it's one that, when handled well, can really bring characters to life.

Consider:
How does your character view the world?

How does he/she relate to it?

What kind of things are in his/her background?

All of these things and more should have a great impact on how your POV character in any given scene tells the story and relates to the other people and events in it.

One great example is Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. He has many point of view characters and a complicated world with many cultures. But no matter whose head he's in, he's firmly entrenched in their way of thinking and viewing the events.

Perrin, who began the series as a blacksmith's apprentice, often uses blacksmithing imagery in his thoughts, speech, and comparisons: the fire, the anvil, and so on.

Elaine, on the other hand, grew up in a palace as a princess. She's also trained in the use of magic. Much of the way she thinks and talks is based on her background: epithets from her childhood nursemaid crop up frequently, as do how she can handle situations as a woman and with her magic.

A common theme in stories is the fish-out-of-water concept: a person taken out of their element and put somewhere else. The displaced character needs to relate to the new situation in terms of their old one, because that's the only frame of reference they have at first.

Be careful not to impose the new frame of reference onto the character too early.

What if Mork from Mork and Mindy had run into some major problem and made some joke about calling 9-1-1? He'd be more likely to refer to his own planet's way of handling an emergency.

In the first Harry Potter book, we're in Harry's head when Hagrid arrived at the shack on the island. When Hagrid sends a letter by owl, Harry describes the situation as if Hagrid had just made a phone call. For the time being, the Muggle world is Harry's only frame of reference. A phone call is exactly what Harry would compare it to.

If you put your own frame of reference into the POV character's head, you're sticking out as the writer. It's what you would think or feel in the same situation rather than your character.

I read a manuscript once that had a junior-high-aged farm boy looking at a rusted wheel-well of a truck. He compared the holes in the rust to the beauty of a lace doilie. That pulled me right out of the story. A 14-year-old boy is not going to be thinking of pretty lace doilies. He'd be far more likely to see a piece of Swiss cheese on his favorite sandwich or something else more boyish.

Listen to people talk: Men and women will use different phrasing and vocabulary to talk about the same thing. So will adults compared to children. Put yourself deeply into your character's situation, into their head, and figure out how they'd really react, think, and feel.

What specific words or images would they use?

An exercise:
Think of a single situation (breaking a bone, getting a flat tire, getting fired, failing a test, whatever) and then put several different characters into it. (Say, a football player, a cop, a fourth-grade girl, a lawyer, a fashion designer, a stay-at-home mother, a cheerleader.)

How would their reactions differ? What specific images from their backgrounds could you use to compare the bad situation to?

The football player might use images of tackles, fumbles, or interceptions.

The lawyer might feels as if his case had been thrown out or that he'd been given a bum jury.

The SAHM might decide she prefers changing a flat to changing dirty diapers.

Basically, what unique elements do each of your characters bring to the table that you can draw on? Make each one different. Make each one specific.

And they'll all stand out.

Multi-Person Narrative

By Julie Wright

No, we are not talking about schizophrenia (even if most of us have this ailment).

Melissa C has asked a question on narrative and POV (Point of View).

She is writing the manuscript in first person, but has a point of view that needs to be in the story that is from a differing point of view than that of our protagonist. The question is:

That second storyline is vital to the story, in my opinion but I don't know
what tense to write it in. Do I use third person or what? OR should you even
have a second storyline going in if the book is in 1st?

The answer is you can use a multi-person narrative mode in order to make your second storyline come through. You can do it one of two ways (there are other ways, but these two are the most common as well as the easiest to keep clear for the reader).

• First person POV with main character/storyline, and first person POV with secondary character storyline.
• First person POV with main character/storyline, and third person POV with secondary character storyline.

As Heather mentioned in the comment section of the previous blog, the absolute most important thing when you're switching point of view is to make sure the reader knows within the very first sentence that we've switched. You need to change scenes or chapters so the reader knows we're starting somewhere new. There are several successful authors who use multi-person narrative.

It is natural to move into first person narrative when we're story-telling. It keeps us closer to the character and makes us feel like we know exactly what's going on. The problem comes when you need the reader to know things the character doesn't know. At that point we end up contriving stupid scenes that could never happen in anyone's reality in order to put the character in the right place to overhear/see/be-in-on whatever we need them to know.

Having another point of view helps us as writers to avoid the absurd contrivance of maneuvering our characters into places they wouldn't logically or believably be. Even when real life seems contrived. Your manuscript cannot.

So if you need to add another point of view in order to carry along your secondary plot line, go ahead.

One last tidbit of advice: if you're secondary plot line is told by the antagonist or bad guy, you will likely want to do that POV in third person (even if your main storyline is told in first and you want to keep things all equal). The reason for this is that it is very hard for many readers to be too closely in the mind of the bad guy. It's causes a repulsive reflex that is hard to overcome.

Clear as mud?

:)

Interview with Debut Author--Diana Spechler

by Heather Moore


I've been waiting a long time to share the story of how I met Diana Spechler, author of Who by Fire (Harper Perennial).

I met Diana at the BEA Expo in Los Angeles this past May. Her book looked interesting so I stood in her line and ended up talking to her for a couple of minutes. Since I spent time living in Jerusalem, I was especially intrigued by this novel that partially takes place in Jerusalem. And of course, I was interested in how she came up with her story idea and her road to publishing with a major NY publisher.

So without further delay, I'd like to welcome Diana to our blog:

Me: Diana, you’ve been published in Glimmer Train Stories, Moment, and Lilith. What compelled you to start writing a novel?

Diana: Who By Fire actually started as a short story that I wrote during my last semester of graduate school and published in the Greensboro Review in 2003. It was told from Bits’ point of view, and after writing it, I was curious about her brother, Ash. I wrote something from his point of view, then returned to hers, then went back to his, and so on. At first, I wasn’t really sure what I was doing. I couldn’t imagine that I was writing a novel. That was something that other people did, people who…you know…knew how to write novels. I was just making my characters have a conversation. Like a puppet show. It became a novel, of course, but I still write short stories, too. I love short stories.

Me: Have you always wanted to be a writer?

Diana: Yes. I think that when I was eight, I used to tell people I wanted to be a marine biologist, but I doubt I really knew what that was, since I still don’t exactly know what it is. I mean, I know it’s a scientist who studies animals that live in the water, but what exactly would that entail? It sounds complicated. I’ve been writing since I could pick up a pencil. It is really the only thing I’ve ever loved to do (not counting things that aren’t jobs—like drinking good wine or going swimming).

Me: I loved the premise of the story as soon as you told me about it. Having lived in Jerusalem for a couple of years, I was excited to read your book. Where did your ideas first come from in writing this book?

Diana: I studied at Hebrew University for a semester during college. I also spent a summer in Israel when I was seventeen. Of course, I got to know the texture of the country during those trips, which has enabled me to write about it, but the idea for the novel really came from the short story I wrote about Bits and Ash (it was called Close to Lebanon), which sort of came from thin air. Set in Boston, the story takes place over a two-day period while Bits is waiting to hear from Ash after a suicide bombing. I guess the topic was on my mind because my brother had recently gone on a Birthright Israel trip. He was there during a particularly bad time, and I was worried about him, and I guess that’s what planted the seed.

Me: Tell us how you found your agent and the process from submission to acceptance.

Diana: Nothing makes me starry-eyed like talking about my agent. She’s the best. Her name is Kate Lee and she was recently ranked the twenty-first most powerful woman in New York, but I would rank her higher. I was lucky because one of my friends, the very talented author Cristina Henriquez, is Kate’s client. She read an early draft of my novel and offered to recommend me to Kate. I was thrilled because Cristina’s experience with Kate had been so positive, so I knew that if she accepted my novel, I would be in very good hands. When she signed me, I felt like my life was changing. I went to a bar that night to play pool and celebrate. In fact, my life was changing, but the process was slow. Kate had a lot of editing/rewriting suggestions, and then there was a lot of talking with various editors, getting feedback from them, rewriting again, and on and on and on. By the time Harper Perennial bought the novel, Kate and I had been working together for more than a year and a half.

Me: Your writing style seems so effortless. Do you go through several drafts? Describe your writing process.

Diana: Thank you, Heather! Bless you! I could use many words to describe my writing process, but “effortless” would never be one of them. Yes, I write a lot of drafts. I know some people use outlines. I’ve never done that. I just draft and draft and draft. Who By Fire has existed in countless manifestations. In early drafts, there was no plot. Of course, that was a problem. Plot often comes last for me, but until I find a plot, I’m terrified and frustrated. I always think, “What if this is just a plotless, pointless piece of crap?” But then when I do find the plot, I think, “That’s so obvious. Why didn’t I know it from the beginning?” Another integral part of my process is feedback from my readers. I have several writer buddies with whom I regularly exchange work. I don’t know what I would do without them.

Me: The characters in your book are very likeable, and their flaws make them easy to relate to. Did you pattern your characters after yourself or people that you know?

Diana: Yes and no. I think I inhabit all of my characters to some extent. But they’re usually composites. There are pieces of lots of people I know or have known or have met and pieces that are completely invented. For example, in Who By Fire, Ellie and Ben met in Jerusalem in the 1970s. My parents also met in Jerusalem in the 1970s, but they’re nothing like Ellie and Ben. I’ve just always found it incredibly beautiful and romantic that my parents met in Israel; I liked incorporating that detail into the novel.

Me: You write the whole book in first person, present tense. Is this your natural writing style or did you do it just for this book?

Diana: I don’t think I ever toyed with third person on this project, but at one time, all of Bits’ chapters were written in the past tense. (Changing that was tedious, to say the least.) In general, I like first person because of the sense of intimacy it creates. Whenever I start writing in third person, I have to ask myself what exactly I’m shying away from. Sometimes I let myself write in third person if the intimacy of first is daunting to the point of paralyzing me; after all, it’s better to write something than to write nothing. For some reason, I think my sentences are prettier when I use third person, but there’s an immediacy and an openness that only first person can create.

Me: In the “Conversation with Diana Spechler” at the end of the book, you mention some strange coincidences in what you wrote in your book to actual events that happened later. One of them is that your own brother decided to move to Israel to study Orthodox Judaism (when that’s exactly what the main character’s brother, Asher, did in Who by Fire). So . . . is he still on that path?

Diana: No. Not really. He is more religious than I am—keeps kosher, observes more holidays—but religion is not the focal point of his life right now. Which is not to say he’s plummeted into a life of sin or anything (whatever that would mean). He’s a lawyer in Texas who advocates for kids with disabilities. Quite an amazing, benevolent guy, my little brother.

Me: What advice do you have for other writers?

Diana: Write as much as you can. Read a lot. Try to eliminate as many distractions as possible. Don’t let yourself judge people; it’s more useful to step back, observe, and try to get a kick out of how weird people are.

Me: Tell us about the book you are writing now.

Diana: I’m writing a novel based on my experience working at a weight-loss camp for kids in the mountains of North Carolina.

Me: Thanks for the interview, Diana. Best of luck with your new release!

You can find out more about Diana's book on her website.

First Person is HOT

By Heather Moore

In the last few years, I’ve noticed more and more books written in first person. And not just YA or Middle Grade either. Suspense novels, literary, mainstream, humorous, etc. you name it—they are being written in first person.

Also, hot on the market is present tense. Why? Is it is just a trend? Or is it here to stay? Traditionally, YA is usually written in first person—the woes of a teenager dramatizing every single detail of her traumatic life . . . you get the picture.

Recently I interviewed an author that I met at the L.A. BEA Expo (Diana Spechler, author of Who by Fire, Harper Perennial). We’ll post her interview in September in conjunction with her new release. But when I asked Spechler why she wrote in first person, present tense, she said, “In general, I like first person because of the sense of intimacy it creates. Whenever I start writing in third person, I have to ask myself what exactly I’m shying away from. Sometimes I let myself write in third person if the intimacy of first is daunting to the point of paralyzing me; after all, it’s better to write something than to write nothing. For some reason, I think my sentences are prettier when I use third person, but there’s an immediacy and an openness that only first person can create.”

For a traditionalist like me, it’s taken some getting used to. I don’t read a ton of YA, so when I do open a favorite author’s book and see that it’s in first person, I hesitate. Then I dive in and by the second or third page, I don’t notice anymore. In fact, I’m caught up very quickly in the characterization. Just as Spechler said, it really does bring an intimacy and immediacy to the character.

Here’s a list of NY Times Bestselling authors who write in first person that may surprise you:

Jodi Picoult (first person and present tense, and get this—Perfect Match alternates with chapters in third person, present tense)

Jason Wright (first person in upcoming book: Recovering Charles)

Lolly Winston (first person, present tense)

Mary Higgins Clark (first person, past tense)

Sue Grafton (first person, past tense)

So, if writing in first person is your natural style, you won’t have to conform to the traditional narrative third person any longer. Write, write, write!

WD Revision lesson #6 and #7

Points #6 and #7 in Jordan Rosenfeld's Writer's Digest article, Novel Revision for the Faint of Heart (February 2008) are adjusting point of view and make a plot promise.

First, point of view (POV). Point of view relate to who tells the story and how they tell it. Most writer's have a POV they are most comfortable with, some are afraid to try something different. Regardless, through the revision process make sure that you're telling the story the best way you can, that you're taking advantage of the strengths for whatever POV you've chosen. Some books are stronger in first person, some need third person and some (though few, in my opinion) work best with omniscient. It might be too late to change your POV at this point, but it's certainly not too late to strengthen it. Also, make sure your POV isn't changing between characters without a clear transition, usually a chapter break. Because we know all our characters, it's easy to pop in and out of their heads as we write, but the reader needs to have a clear focus of whose POV they are reading from.

The second tip is make a plot promise, basically this means that you are going to stay true to the plot. You might surprise your reader, throw in twists and turns, but you are going to fulfill the contract you made with your reader when they picked up the book. Essentially, this is very similar to some of the other lessons--make sure you only have scenes that support plot, that you don't have unfinished plot threads dangling, and that any plot holes are filled. If you've followed the other tips thus far, this should be fairly easy to do.

When No Criticism Is Bad News

by Annette Lyon

As I judged a writing contest this last week, several commonalities struck me about the entries.

A few things cropped up over and over again:

• Point of View issues: No point of view. Or poor execution of point of view. Or some funky version of an omniscient narrator. None of which worked.
• Telling instead of showing, which is especially weak when it’s during moments that should be tense or emotional.
• Punctuation mistakes. Not only were sentences punctuated incorrectly (which editors hate), but a lot of the time the wrong punctuation made the text plain old hard to decipher. Good punctuation acts as sign posts so the reader knows what belongs where, who’s doing what, and where the pauses belong. It’s worth learning how to do it right.
• Awkward or stilted dialogue.
• “It was all a dream” cop-out endings.
• Starting in a boring place—often way too early—and including lots of extra back story and other elements that didn’t belong to the core story.
• Padding sentences with extra baggage, like the piece that used the term, “a forest of trees.” (As opposed to what, a forest of pretzels?)

As I made my way through the entries and jotted notes in the margins, I found a pattern: The worst entries had very little red ink, while best ones were covered with my scribbles.

At first that made no sense.

After a little reflection, the reason dawned on me: The best entries were ready for polishing. I could indicate redundancies, awkward sentences, or motivation issues. I could make concrete suggestions for improving a paragraph or a description. These authors knew enough to take such suggestions and run with them. They have the basics down and just need someone to point the way down the path and give them a nudge to get going.

What I’ll call the “non-winning” entries were on a different level altogether, and not in a good way. The majority had major problems—problems that went beyond what I could suggest or help with in a quick margin note. With these writers,“Show this,” “Begin with the moment of change,” or, “Be sure to keep a consistent point of view,” would be like speaking a foreign language to them.

So I had to sit and stare at those stories to figure out what to say to their creators. Where do you begin to point out a path to someone when they aren’t even on the map? To use a different metaphor, I can’t suggest how to decorate a house when the foundation isn’t even in place.

I tried to give some kind of constructive suggestions to everyone, but it was tough. The non-winning folks got a lot of “fun image”-type comments and have large sections with no red ink at all, while the winning entries almost look like I bled on them.

I feel bad about that; I hope the winners don’t get discouraged but instead see the feedback as a chance to grow and improve as writers.

Next time you enter a contest or get feedback from an agent or editor, keep this in mind: The more specific the criticism, chances are, the better writer you are. If you stunk, there would be no way to point out every weakness; the judge/editor/agent on the other end wouldn’t know where to start.

The moral of today’s post: Never look at feedback as merely cutting you down. Instead, open your arms and let it in. It only goes to show that you’re already good, and weighing the suggestions carefully will only make you better.

3 Point of View Pitfalls

by Annette Lyon

I recently pulled out an ancient manuscript of mine and read through the first few pages. At first I was pleasantly surprised; the writing and dialogue weren't too bad. I still thought the language was fresh and fun.

One big problem, though: the point of view was nonexistent.

While some of my favorite authors, like L M Montgomery and Charles Dickens, could get away with either not having a point of view or using an omniscient point of view (where the narrator can see into everyone's head--and DOES, at any point), that method is far less likely to get your work into print today.

Readers and editors expect a clear point of view. Who's head are we in? Whatever is seen, thought, heard, felt, experienced, and (most importantly) interpreted, is through one person's eyes in that particular scene. You can have a few points of view in a novel, although more than 3-5 can get cumbersome.

Below are three pitfalls to avoid so your readers aren't getting dizzy trying to keep it all straight.

Pitfall #1: Hopping heads
As I said, you can have more than one point of view per book. Just don't hop between them willynilly. Don't switch even in the course of a scene. And absolutely never do what an author I recently read did by switching points of view at paragraph breaks--at nearly every paragraph break. It was hard to connect with the characters' thoughts and reactions when every few lines we're seeing the story through a different lens. The experience was flat at best and jarring at worst.

Pitfall #2: The Boring POV
Don't pick a random POV for each scene, showing the story from one person's head just because they happen to be there. Maybe another key person in the scene would provide a different--better--angle for the story.

Think about who has the most to lose. Often that's the right POV to pick. Maybe there's someone who has the possibility for misinterpretation of what's happening. Pick that POV. Who will react the strongest to the conflict in this scene? Latch onto that. Whichever POV you pick should help the scene be the most effective dramatically.

Pitfall #3: The POV Intrusion
This particular pitfall is so easy to fall into and not even realize it. The POV Intrusion is when the author is being so careful to stay inside one person's head that they get a little too carried away with pointing it out.

If we're in Sally's POV and she's waiting at a crosswalk, we don't need to be told that she sees a red car drive by. If the red car drives by (and we're in her POV), we can easily assume that she saw it. Same goes with all the other senses. Don't tell us that she heard the car's engine or noticed the cloud of exhaust. Just describe the sound of the engine, the smell of the exhaust.

This may sound like a little thing, but it's not: Every time you use a POV Intrusion, you're throwing up a flag to your reader that says, "POV Alert! Did you see it?" That pulls the reader out of the story.

Worse, it makes your reader less connected to your character. If Sally sees or notices something, the reader doesn't. It effectively keeps your reader one step away from the vicarious experience you're trying to create.

On the flip side, if you describe Sally's experience without the POV intrusion, the reader will feel it too, almost as if it's happening to them. In short, you've shown instead of told.


Point of view can be tricky, but it's a skill that's worth learning, especially if it gets your readers so entrenched in your story that they forget they aren't your characters.

Actions and Reactions

by Annette Lyon

One of the most common problems I see in beginning writers' work is that the story is reported factually. "He said this. She replied this. He did this. She did that."

By this point, I’m reaching for a chocolate donut, because I’ve lost interest—even if the plot line itself has a great premise and I want to know more.

Why? Because I don’t care about the characters or even know enough about what they're doing, thinking, and feeling to care.

This is where point of view becomes crucial. In any given scene, the reader should be firmly entrenched in one person’s head. That means we’re not just observing the scene from the outside, but from their eyes. We know what they’re thinking. We feel what they feel. We react the way they react.

But just choosing a POV character isn't enough. You can pick one and still be a newspaper reporter about the events unless you show what the character is experiencing.

That can’t happen with a laundry list of events, no matter how exciting those events are. If Joe says something shocking, Jane needs to react to it. Is she feeling hurt? Afraid? Angry? Does she laugh out loud?

Great. Show the reader. (Remember: don’t TELL us that she’s hurt/afraid/laughing. SHOW us.)

Do Joe and Jane have a romantic doorstep moment? Then don’t rush through it, saying that he kissed her and then she went inside. That's cheating the reader. Instead, explain what she felt as he kissed her (assuming she’s the POV character), what she felt when it ended, and what’s going on in her head, heart, and body as she goes into the house.

Print out a chapter of your work in progress and read it aloud. After each line of dialogue and each action, pause and ask yourself if the "movie" that’s in your head has really made it onto the page, or if there’s more you can add to flesh out the characters, the scene, the feelings within the story. Mark each spot that needs more. Then go back and flesh it out.

This can be a fun revision if you consider your first draft to be the bones of your story and then go back and to add the body to it—the muscles, the skin, the hair, the fine lines and details that make an okay piece stand out and come alive.