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A pause for a note on showing versus telling
Frequently I see in manuscripts and in published work a bit of telling like this one from a recent edit:
The candidate paused, and for the first time smiled at the camera.
Here's another one with a use of ellipses to indicate a pause and then dialogue to let you know that it was a pause:
". . . He's a very nice man."
Steve noticed the pause. "All the time?
This is "telling." It's straightforward and common . . . but there's a better way to create an actual pause that the reader can feel and absorb as an integral part of what's going on. A stronger technique is to create a pause in the reader's reading of the narrative by showing the speaker actually pausing. You do that with action or thought beats.
Here's the first example rewritten to create an actual pause:
The candidate stopped speaking and gazed at the camera. For the first time, he smiled.
Here's an action remedy for the second example:
Susan studied the photo. "He's a very nice man."
Here's that author using ellipses for a hesitation:
". . . That is generous of you."
"You hesitated. Why?"
The reader has to be told that the ellipses mean a hesitation. Instead:
Susan said, "That is . . ." She pursed her lips. ". . . generous of you."
Still, the fact that the listener notices the hesitation is important, but his dialogue could be more to the point:
"Why the hesitation?"
Here are more examples drawn from edited manuscripts and ways to show a pause rather than tell.
Using action and thought beats to create pauses instead of "he paused" or "he hesitated" or ". . ." First, the original . . .
"Does Steve know Frank?"
"Yes, he's a friend. A good friend."
Instead:
Susan decided to be open about the relationship.
This from an action scene:
"I'm in a red SUV, headed straight for you."
After a few seconds pause. "Got it. We see you."
Or, with a real pause:
He gained another hundred yards before Susan said, "Got it. We see you."
A long pause.
Tutu replied, "Let me just say that one of the things we need to establish is that—" Long pause—"God is not a Christian…"
Tutu replied, "Let me just say that one of the things we need to establish is that—" He peered at his audience, searching for the right words.—"God is not a Christian."
Here's one that already had the pause:
He paused and wiped his mouth on his dirty sleeve, then took a deep breath and blurted his precious information.
Telling us that he paused seems redundant. Instead:
He wiped his mouth on his dirty sleeve, then took a deep breath and blurted his precious information.
So . . . illustrate a pause rather than report that there was one and you'll come closer to involving the reader in the experience of the scene.
For what it's worth,
April 30, 2012 in Writing | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)
Flogometer for Ron--would you turn the page?
What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, 12-point type, etc.) there should be about 16 or 17 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page). Directions for submissions are below.
Ron has sent the first chapter of This Way Comes. He tells me that this is his first try at any kind of writing.
Once again I find myself here, resting on the old grey steps of this farm house. Reflecting on all that has happened and what lies before me, I pause a moment and listen to the darkness around me. I want to absorb it all and take it with me, for I do not expect to see this place again.
The stars shine as radiantly tonight as they did in ancient times. Like the twinkle of an eye they greet me. We were partners, they and I, witnesses to things no man should be required to bear. Much more than me, they were a constant in the maelstrom. So I assemble here late this night, to abide again with the one companion who has observed my struggle, endured as I have endured and seen what I have witnessed. For nothing is left untouched, except the stars and I am reminded I sit astride two centuries, though not as centuries marked on a calendar. What was new is now old and what was old is now new.
Tonight the air is lighter and no longer bears the impenetrable weight of foreboding that had come to weigh upon us all. Instead the sweet summer air has taken on the qualities of an elixir, soothing my bones even as the crickets, imbibing too freely, now lay quiet. The rustling leaves of the poplar stir my soul and the old house behind me is relaxing, breathing easier. It was once part of a thriving farm on the outskirts of town, later abandoned as the city grew outward, bringing a halt to its country way of life.
Would you turn Ron's first page? Be tough. Comments help the writer.
No page-turn, but not because of the writing
The writing is elegant and nicely done. My issues are on the storytelling side. Folks who frequent FtQ know what's coming--nothing is happening, and there's no real tension in the narrative for me. No foreshadowing of a problem ahead for this unknown person. In fact, at the end of the page, things are "lighter and sweeter"--as a little old lady once said in a hamburger commercial, "Where's the beef?"
The narrative refers to untold things that have happened, things witnessed, things ahead, and this is frustrating for this reader, not to mention that "nothing" contributes nothing to a story. The character knows these things, but they have no meaning for the reader--so why are they there? This strikes me as an ailment common in writers new to storytelling--throat-clearing. We're being told some stuff that matters to the writer, but we're not being shown anything much happening, not being embedded in a character's experience of something going wrong in his life.
I suggest you look further on in your manuscript for a stronger opening. Thanks for sharing your work, and keep at it; your prose is strong.
April 27, 2012 in Flogometer | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBack (0)
Flogometer for Suzanne--would you turn the page?
Suzanne has sent the first chapter of Dark One's Mistress.
"Clarabelle!" The cry rang out across the street, scattering the pigeons resting atop the roofs and sending the nearby cats into a fit of hissing as they scampered for cover. One swiped at a dog in passing. The mutt, scrawny and half bald from neglect, let out a whimper as it cringed under the remains of a stall.
All around, men and women paused in their daily business. The street gained an eerie silence. Some, more worldlier, folk boasted that such deathly quiet could only be heard in Everdark.
Then someone coughed, another person sneezed and the sounds flooded back. The hum of talk. The occasional clink of coins. A few people turned to stare at the young woman in question, but mostly, the irate cry seemed to be forgotten about.
In the middle of it all stood Clara, her face burning long after the last casual glance had vanished. Why does she always have to do that? A sigh had escaped upon hearing her mother's manly bellow, now she contented herself with the roll of her eyes. It wasn't as if she was some small child. She knew her duties well. Knew the streets even better.
She shuffled her burden of the morning's wares; bread, cheese, a skin of goat's milk and a tiny, dog-eared book on the world beyond. The last was for herself, literally titled The World Beyond. Beyond what, she didn't know, but it sounded intriguing.
Would you turn Suzanne's first page? Be tough. Comments help the writer.
I like the voice and the way the scene was set. Good writing, too . . . but not much in the way of story questions, and none that pertain to this character. Well, there are some--what does her mother want and will the book be intriguing--but those are not so compelling.
Sure enough, on the very next page was a paragraph that, if it had been on the first page, would have gotten me to turn because it raised good story questions, and that's what drives readers forward. So I'm going to trim this down enough to include the three lines of that paragraph and you can see what you think.
"Clarabelle!" The cry rang out across the street, scattering the pigeons resting atop the roofs and sending the nearby cats into a fit of hissing as they scampered for cover. One swiped at a dog in passing. The mutt, scrawny and half bald from neglect, let out a whimper as it cringed under the remains of a stall. While this is fun, we need the space to get some good story stuff on the first page. This takes care of two of the three lines needed.
Then someone coughed, another person sneezed, and the sounds flooded back. The hum of talk. The occasional clink of coins. A few people turned to stare at the young woman in question, but mostly, the irate cry seemed to be forgotten about.
She shuffled her burden of the morning's wares;: bread, cheese, a skin of goat's milk and a tiny, dog-eared book titled The World Beyond. on the world beyond. The last was for herself, literally titled The World Beyond. Beyond what, she didn't know, but it sounded intriguing. This cuts one more line, which makes room for this:
In the pit of her stomach, Clara knew concern hadn't driven her mother's voice. She'd taken too long, pure and simple. It wasn't her fault the baker's son had gone missing, was it now? She'll find some way to blame it on me.
Would you turn the page if it included the new material?
April 25, 2012 in Flogometer | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBack (0)
FtQ Bookshelf
FtQ Monday Bookshelf. A place where authors can promote their books. I'll post a cover graphic, link, and 100-word summary for new authors. Caveat: I have not read these books and advocate none--although the first, second, and fourth of these stories have received floggings by me and you.
Street Crimes by H. L. LeRoy
A 21,000-word short story anthology. Free to Amazon Prime and 99 cents otherwise. Text-to-Speech and Lending enabled.
Mistake Proof - A bank robbery goes wrong in this noir story.
Rare Justice – The first appearance of Private Investigator Jillian
Hollywood Hitman – Making Hollywood a kinder and gentler place, one hit at a time.
The Game's End - Jillian Varela's young client only wanted to know if her boyfriend had been cheating on her. Now she may wind up on death row.
April 23, 2012 | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)
Flogometer for Anita--would you turn the page?
Anita has sent a revision of the first chapter of The Ghost Logger's Curse, middle-grade fiction.
Like a moth to a flame, he was pulled toward the building, aware of the danger but unable to resist. The brick, two-story structure stared down menacingly. Across the road, the sun was sinking behind the stables. The light reflected off the windows and into his eyes as he stumbled up the front steps. He reached for the doorknob, but before he even touched it, the door creaked open, revealing only darkness. Despite a growing sense of fear, he stepped inside.
"I've been waiting for you, Goose," said a familiar sounding voice.
Looking about nervously, he tried to adjust his vision to the dim light, then jumped as he heard the door shut behind him. A match was scratched across a table and the flame brought to the wick of a lantern, revealing the man's features.
The face was handsome. Young but rugged. A slightly hawkish nose sat above a neatly trimmed moustache and dark eyes twinkled beneath a pair of thick eyebrows and a tumble of black hair.
He knew this face. It was the face of someone he had trusted.
Feeling himself relax, he took a step closer.
With a slow smile, the man stood from the table and towered over him, wearing Levi's and a flannel shirt that stretched over wide working shoulders. On his feet were a pair of worn leather work boots.
Would you turn Anita's first page? Be tough. Comments help the writer.
A likeable voice, good writing, an immediate scene, the scene is set--but, for me, not much in the way of tension. In fact, toward the end, the character is relaxing. All seems well. Why should I turn the page?
It turns out that this is a dream, and in it this nice-seeming man attacks with an axe before Goose is awakened. I think opening with a long segment of a dream can work against you--it sets up expectations, then the reader is cut off in the midst of becoming involved. If you must have a dream segment, make it quick and gripping. It might work as well to have the character awaken and then, very briefly, recall the terrible nature of the dream. Notes:
Looking about nervously, he tried to adjust his vision to the dim light, then jumped as he heard the door shut behind him. A match was scratched across a table and the flame brought to the wick of a lantern, revealing the man's features. Adverbs just don't provide very good description, as in looking about nervously. Try to show. Thoughtstarter: His gaze skittered around the room as he tried to adjust…etc.
The face was handsome. Young but rugged. A slightly hawkish nose sat above a neatly trimmed moustache and dark eyes twinkled beneath a pair of thick eyebrows and a tumble of black hair. I'll object to the adverb again. What am I supposed to see if the nos e is "slightly" hawkish? A little bump? A flatter curve? I think eliminating the adverb and going with "hawkish" would be better.
Feeling himself relax, he took a step closer. Why is he "feeling himself" relax? Why not keep it straightforward. Eg. He relaxed and stepped closer.
With a slow smile, the man stood from the table and towered over him, wearing Levi's and a flannel shirt that stretched over wide working shoulders. On his feet were a pair of worn leather work boots. Here we are trying to hook the reader and create tension and we're getting a description of clothing, right down to the boots. I'd cut this way down or eliminate it and include something happening.
Something of undead interest
I received a promotional email about a Kindle Single that I found of interest and thought you might as well.
Undead focuses on Bram Stoker's story, and gives insights into the literary history of the vampire genre. Nicely written by Frank Delaney, I can recommend it. The cost is 99 cents, and Amazon Prime members can "borrow" it for free.
My interest, of course, stems from of my experiences with a certain vampire kitty-cat.
Flogometer for Shiv--would you turn the page?
Shiv has sent the first chapter of Judgment Day.
The silence screamed at Albert Trott, and he refused to listen.
He stood, one foot hovering in the air over the edge of the conveyor belt, as if hesitant to take the next step. His eyes were downcast, and still they flickered, from left to right, taking in people's shoes, socks, trousers, skirts, even the tails of their coats from time to time. Anything but what surrounded him.
From the inside, the Employment Department was nothing but one giant room. Down the centre ran the conveyor, a thin black strip flanked on either side by an ocean of white cubicles that stretched as far as the eye could see, nestled back to back like featureless tiles in some gigantic game of dominoes. The next floor was the same. And the next, and the one above that, and so on, level upon level of stark, unrelenting sameness, stacked one on top of the other, a monument of monotony reaching up into the sky. Albert stood on the conveyor, eyes still focused on his shoelaces. He preferred not to look at his surroundings. There was no need. Everything around him was exactly the same as what preceded it. At the Employment Department, déjà vu was not a feeling; it was a constant state of being.
Slowly, still not looking up, he began to count under his breath. At 10,123 he stopped counting and stepped off the conveyor, headed for the first cubicle on his right. Twenty two years was more than enough time to get the timing right, but even so, he couldn't help feeling smug. He (snip)
Would you turn Shiv's first page? Be tough. Comments help the writer.
Didn't grab me
The writing is clean and clear (though there is a clarity/continuity hiccup), and Shiv does a good job of describing a really depressing world. In the tradition of speculative fiction, writers often take some time to establish the world of the story. Shiv does that, but, in the process, misses out on giving us any story questions or tension.
The clarity/continuity thing--we begin with his foot hovering over the conveyor belt, and then him arriving at his cubicle. But he never stepped on the conveyor.
As for introducing tension, I can think of two things: one would be some sort of foreshadowing , but that seems artificial. My suggestion would be to begin with either the later computer-screen dialogue between the character and another who has found a big secret or, maybe even more compelling, the conversation with the mysterious "SUE." The setting can be established after Albert leaves his cubicle. It can also be established at the opening in just a few sentences if we get right to the conversation that is the inciting incident. In my view, that is. Give us some reason to care about this character, too. Notes:
The silence screamed at Albert Trott, and he refused to listen. The silence would mean a lot more if we knew that he was amidst a lot of people as is described in the next paragraph. That would make me wonder why they were silent, a good story question. It would also be helpful to let us know how he feels about this "screaming silence."
He stood, one foot hovering in the air over the edge of the conveyor belt, as if hesitant to take the next step. His eyes were downcast, and still they flickered, from left to right, taking in people's shoes, socks, trousers, skirts, even the tails of their coats from time to time. Anything but what surrounded him. Why "as if hesitant?" Is he hesitant, or not? This didn't help me, and it wasn't paid off.
From the inside, t The Employment Department was nothing but one giant room. Down the centre ran the conveyor, a thin black strip flanked on either side by an ocean of white cubicles that stretched as far as the eye could see, nestled back-to-back like featureless tiles in some gigantic game of dominoes. The next floor was the same. And the next, and the one above that, and so on, level upon level of stark, unrelenting sameness, stacked one on top of the other, a monument of monotony reaching up into the sky. Albert stood on the conveyor, eyes still focused on his shoelaces. He preferred not to look at his surroundings. There was no need. Everything around him was exactly the same as what preceded it. At the Employment Department, déjà vu was not a feeling; it was a constant state of being. It may be that "Albert stood on the conveyor" means that he got on, but it isn't clear. Especially since the first reference was to a conveyor BELT--and this doesn't say that he's standing on it. I do like the line about déjà vu.
Slowly, still not looking up, h He began to counted under his breath. At 10,123 he stopped counting and stepped off the conveyor, headed for the first cubicle on his right. Twenty-two years was more than enough time to get the timing right, but even so, he couldn't help feeling smug. He (snip) I'm an opponent of "began to" and "started to" in most instances. Just do it. It produces crisper writing and action. I'd look for a way to avoid the echo or "time" and "timing" in the same sentence.
Flogometer for Karen--would you turn the page?
Karen has sent the prologue (titled Epilogue) and the first chapter for Cherry.
Epilogue, Part One
Some people just wanna die.
Elmore Leonard would follow that kick-ass opening line with a kick-ass story about a petty thief who, through a series of unbelievable coincidences, manages to wrap his mitts around a shitload of mob money. Realizing his mistake, he tries to return the dough, but his efforts are thwarted by a succession of increasingly ridiculous goofs and gaffes. Meanwhile, The Boss has caught wind of the little snot's crime and orders a hit; meaning, of course, that the unfortunate idiot is running out of time.
Truth is, the idiot's been running out of time for a month now. He's been running non-stop, 24/7, for a solid month and he just can't do it anymore; hence, the loaded .44 Magnum on the passenger seat of his car, next to the fifth of Smirnoff.
That's "Plan B."
"Plan A" looms 500 yards ahead: a behemoth iron gate stretching across the service road, built to stop idiots from driving onto the dike.
I bet that thing could stop a tank, he thinks. He opens the vodka for one last pull, closes it up and sets it on the seat; then, he looks in the rearview mirror.
"Why did you do it?" he asks the schmuck in the rearview.
Would you turn Karen's first page? Be tough. Comments help the writer.
The voice, the unusual reference to Leonard, and what would happen with the gate kept me involved.
First chapter
Journal Entry: Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The kid looked like a dog shitting razor blades and no wonder; it was freezing cold out there last night: mid-December, ten o'clock at night, thirty-seven raw degrees and raining, and here's this kid in jeans and a thin nylon windbreaker, freezing his ass off out there in the rain, head down, staring at his shoes.
I was worried for the kid, that's why I pulled over. This was in Bad Axe, past the tracks, at the corner of Oak Street and Vine. I pulled over on Oak, shifted into 'Park,' opened the driver's side window half-way and called out, "Hey."
He looked up and I waved him over. He crossed the street and stopped two feet from my van.
"Are you okay?" I asked him. I tried not to look at the snot running out of his nose.
He took a step closer. "Are you a cop?" Shivering.
"No, I'm a college professor," I said. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," he answered, standing in the rain; hands shoved deep into his blue jean pockets; brown hair plastered to his head.
He didn't look all right to me.
"Do you want to come in for a minute to get warm?" I asked him. I felt sorry for the kid; that's why I offered.
Would you turn the chapter's first page?
While the voice is still as likeable, there wasn't much in the way of tension on this page. However, if the totally prologue/epilogue had hooked me, I might have read on. This page is, for my eye, a bit overwritten. For example:
Turns out the boy is a prostitute. I'd try to get that on this first page.
I got involved with figuring out taxes and forgot to post Friday's Flogging. It will appear on Monday. See you then.
Speaking of Mondays, the offers to post your book cover with a 100-word blurb and a link, or to post a review, are always open.
April 14, 2012 in Miscellaneous | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Flogometer for Elaine--would you turn the page?
Elaine has sent the opening chapter for The Last Cygnet (women's fiction) Note: British spelling.
The body was nearly ready for the mortuary slab except for one thing: the sunken eyes weren't yet lifeless, and Jack Flannagan walked around the hospital bed to avoid the dying man's gimlet-eyed stare. Although the skeletal frame bore no resemblance to the person he remembered, this was still the man who had ostracised him for more than twenty years. Strong in the belief that his father and brother – the two people who had caused him such pain in this world – would receive divine justice in the next, Jack wanted to whisper in Liam Flannagan's ear that the perpetual light one prays for as a soul passes over to the other side wouldn't shine. In Jack's mind, there was one simple reason why his father shouldn't be allowed to rest in peace – he didn't deserve to.
It was more than eight years since he'd walked out on everyone he loved, vowing never to return, during which time he'd learnt to banish thoughts of what had gone before, but now conscious of the familiar churning sensation in the pit of his stomach the hospital room began to fade. Instead, all Jack could see was a blackboard with a date chalked in the corner – Friday, 11 September 1936 – he was thirteen again and back in Borogegeen, the village straddling the counties of Kerry and Limerick in the old country.
As the schoolroom door closed, Jack was amazed his thumping heart hadn't given him away; (snip)
Would you turn Elaine's first page? Be tough. Comments help the writer.
Didn't turn the page.
There's nice writing here (a couple of technical glitches, but nice), and a confident voice. The thing is, we're dealing with the first page here, and need to hook the reader. After the first paragraph, I was definitely interested. After the second, not so much--it sent me to backstory.
It turns out that all the rest of the chapter, some 31 pages, was that backstory. And, for all I know, all of the rest of the novel. But, under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn't have gotten there because I generally avoid flashback openings.
If the rest of the novel picks up with current-day Jack, then I think that the gigantic flashback should probably go, or at least be broken up and distributed through the story--if that material is necessary at all. This may be, and I can't know this, a case of the writer telling us about a character's formative childhood so that we can understand the current-day story. I my experience, this is rarely necessary. Notes:
It was more than eight years since he'd Jack had walked out on everyone he loved, vowing never to return, during which time he'd learnt to banish thoughts of what had gone before,. but But now, conscious of the familiar churning sensation in the pit of his stomach, the hospital room began to fade. Instead, all Jack could see was a blackboard with a date chalked in the corner – Friday, 11 September 1936 – he was thirteen again and back in Borogegeen, the village straddling the counties of Kerry and Limerick in the old country. The antecedent for the pronoun in the opening sentence wasn't clear--it could refer to his father. The sentence was terribly long and, because a couple of commas were missing, difficult to parse. And it signals a flashback coming, not a good technique for a reader who wants to know what happens NEXT, not what happened THEN. I think most readers fall into this camp.