by Lynne | Nov 28, 2016 | Editing, Writing, Writing Tips
A writer friend asked me whether it was really a good idea to pay a professional editor to read her manuscript. My immediate response was yes, but the question made me pause and reflect on my personal experiences.
I have had all five of my novels edited by pros. Here are my thoughts.
There is huge value to editors who “copy” edit, that is, they read for spelling, grammar, syntax, etc. You always miss something: a comma where it doesn’t belong, the incorrect use of a semicolon. In terms of the broader picture: the plot, characters, structure, tension, conflict, on and on, the pro can be very helpful. . . or not.
In my Triangle book, the professional editor I hired was so intrigued with the historic story that her suggestions would have made me totally change the book. It would have become a historic mystery rather than a historic mystery that is solved today with modern technology. She had her own vision for the book. But who was writing this?
The editor I hired for my Civil War book, however, was extremely helpful. He gave me an idea for a dynamite ending that I hadn’t even considered. It totally changed the story for the better.
Before you consider hiring a pro, however, do your own self-editing. Believe it or not, there is a lot you can do to improve your writing before it gets the going-over by someone else. Some suggestions:
Edit in small sections at a time. If possible, reread the section before and then edit the current 5 to 10 pages.
Also, read aloud (or to your dog or cat.) I can’t emphasize enough how important this is. You’d be surprised what you hear that you didn’t think you wrote. Dialogue may sound stilted, tension weak, setting inappropriate. Often I will come away from my reading out loud thinking, ugh, did I write that?
Some things to look for when you’re self-editing:
- Do you want to turn the page?
- Did you stumble over awkward phrases or clunky words when you read aloud?
- Were you confused by your own plot twists?
- Did punctuation mess up your reading?
- Were your characters boring, too flawed (yes, that’s possible) or totally unbelievable (unless you write Bourne thrillers)?
- Were there plot inconsistencies ie: a character appeared after she was murdered?
- Were there setting inconsistencies? It was hot as Hades one day, snowing the next?
- Did you get your facts right? Very important if you want authenticity.
You can be your own best editor. But, just to be sure — reread, rewrite, read aloud. And again x 3.
Now hire a professional for the final read.
Your thoughts welcome.
by Lynne | Oct 31, 2016 | plots and subplots, Writing, Writing Tips
All good books (and movies) contain subplots.
Like real people, main characters have a lot going on in their lives. They go to work, make breakfast for the kids, feed the dog, pick up the groceries, and pay the bills. Are these mundane tasks subplots? I don’t think so. For me, they are often background noise.
I don’t care what kind of pancakes the kids get, although they can be mentioned to add flavor to the characters. I do care about paying the bills if the main character is in debt and worried about her sick mother and is considering suicide to redeem the life insurance policy.
Subplots can be very important, however, if they keep the central story moving forward. This is particularly true when new characters make their appearance. Why is this character here? What’s their purpose to the story? I’ve read books where characters were introduced then went nowhere. In fact, they disappeared without any reason for their existence. Did you ever wonder what happened to the suspicious woman seen in the same coffee shop the main character frequented? What was their point? To make us feel nervous that our heroine was in danger?
Moving the story forward is paramount.
In every scene, every chapter, every section, every episode. There are times when information and descriptive details can add to the story. You want to know, perhaps, what kind of furniture is in Sam’s bedroom, particularly if Sam is a stud who brings women back to his apartment and later kills them. A glass and steel, black and white décor Sam is quite different from an Italian Mediterranean Sam with rich, warm woods and quilts of gold and red. I would say these descriptions are not subplots. They are part of character development.
Let me use a popular PBS series, Downton Abbey, as an example of what I mean by subplots that take away from (or even take over) the main plot. For Downton fans now watching the current season, what would you say the major plot is? The family is once more in financial straits and in danger of losing their home? Or would you focus on the individual character s, ie: will Mary find a new mate? Will Edith eventually marry Michael? Will Tom take his baby and run off to America? I guess these are all subplots that keep the main storyline going. Each subplot must be resolved somehow.
Also, as writers we must take care not to drag subplots out too long – or end them too quickly. For instance, the maid that Lady Grantham hired back without consulting with Mrs. Hughes once again made a play for Tom. Duh. When Mrs. Hughes found out, she made quick work of her and she was out of the series in a couple of episodes. Ahh, too quick for me. There could have been an excellent subplot here.
I felt the opposite when Anna refused to tell Mr. Bates about her rape. Even though it lasted just a few episodes, I was impatient to have the story told. Now, I want to see what Mr. Bates does in response. Tension.
Veering too often from the main story in unrelated directions will make your readers impatient. I know because I’m one of those impatient readers . . . eager to follow the story line to its final resolution.
by Lynne | Oct 10, 2016 | Crafting Characters, Dialogue, Writing, Writing Tips
One of the major characters in my book, “Time Exposure” is Alexander Gardner, a famous, and real, Civil War photographer. Gardner hailed from Paisley, Scotland and arrived in Washington, D.C. in 1856 with a thick Scottish accent. How was I to handle dialogue? I wanted to make sure that the reader knew Gardner was from Scotland. So, I added a bit of dialect. Check this out:
“I must speak to ye, Joseph.” Gardener took a deep breath. “I’ve had a special offer I must consider. Mind ye now, it doesna preclude my maintaining an association with Brady. But, I want ye to be part of me decision.”
I also sprinkled in lots of dinnas, shouldnas, couldnas, ayes, me for my, etc. Ugh. The reader couldn’t possibly forget that Gardner was from Scotland. Or care. He’d already given up on the book.
Thanks to my critique group my eyes were open to this dialect dilemma. I began to notice it in other novels. Too much of an accent: “How vould you vant me to wote?”
Or overuse of slang: “He needs to mellow out, he’s bonkers and that’s too dicey for this girl.”
Or clichéd idiomatic expressions : “Once in a blue moon, we see eye to eye, but you’re usually on the fence, which only adds insult to injury.”
Eeek. The use of “casual” spelling such as lemme, or gimme, can be used . . . sparingly. Dropping “g” for a word ending in “ing” gets tiresome too if used every other sentence. We have to give the reader credit and assume that by dropping a slang word, accent or expression in, they’ll get the point and as they continue to read that character’s dialogue, they’ll naturally hear the dialect.
Some of the worst examples of overusing dialect can be seen when characters have southern or New York accents. Like the use of “Ah” for “I” or “y’all for, well, you know. Then there’s the exaggerated Brooklynese – “toidy-toid and toid street” or “poils for the goils.” (These may actually need translation!) I grew up in Brooklyn and, frankly, you do hear this. It’s one thing, however, to add it to a movie, where you can hear the character say it. It’s another to read it in a book ad nauseum.
So how do you get the character’s geographical location, or educational background across? The best way is through the rhythm of the dialogue and the words you choose. One “aye” from my Scotsman and the reader hears his accent through the rest of the dialogue. To portray a well-educated German you might avoid contractions and use the full words to make the speech more formal sounding: “I should not bother with that if I were you. Do you not think so?”
In the end, you need to do your homework. Learn the true dialect, accent, slang expressions of the region your characters come from, both geographically and historically. Depending upon the time period, speech was often more formal than we’re used to today.
Practice on yourself. Once you know how the dialect really sounds have your character try it out in dialogue in a scene. Read it aloud. Very important, to really hear the effect, you must read it out loud. You’ll find you will most likely want to eliminate all but a smidgen of the dialect. What will be left is the essence of your character.
Then fuhgeddaboudit!
by Lynne | Oct 3, 2016 | Crafting Characters, Writing, Writing Tips
Writing mysteries is an exercise in pitting bad characters against good.
There are degrees of bad and good, of course, but in compelling stories, the bad character is often seriously, diabolically, dangerously bad. He (or she) will certainly have good points. He may be charming, clever, handsome, sympathetic, and have superior interpersonal skills–think Ted Bundy–but the reader learns soon that these are just a cover, enabling him to get close to people in order to do his dirty work.
I have used individuals in my books to play the villain. An art critic, a factory owner, a southern sympathizer, a rich landowner. In others, I have used a group (or blast, or den, or herd, or flock, or conflagration—see my last blog on word play) of baddies, ie: Nazis, where most folk will agree that it’s easier to count the good ones than the bad.
A “collective” villain makes for an interesting read.
The Nazis, the hedge fund crooks, the greedy corporate thieves, the Republicans, the Democrats, the tax collectors, the CIA, the FBI, the police, lawyers, politicians, doctors . . . all can play the role of collective villains.
In the case of the Nazis, you expect evil. In the case of doctors, you may not.
Anyone can be a villain.
If your experience tells you Nazis are bad, a good Nazi will be an interesting character. Same is true in reverse for a doctor. Then you have the Nazi doctor and you won’t know what to believe. But I digress.
A good writer will build each character with good points and bad points that the reader will both admire and loathe. It’s a fine line to walk. If your reader loathes your character too much, he (or she) might put the book down. 
In the case of the Nazis, there is, built-in, a sense of evil, danger, and villainy. And because Nazis were historically real, readers will have an innate sense of foreboding right from the first page.
Hence, my next book will return to the Nazis and World War II. The theme will be not be confiscated art . . . but stolen music.
by Lynne | Sep 26, 2016 | English language play, word play, word play, Writing, Writing Tips
I got a great response from my last blog on word play so I thought I’d try another!
Collective nouns are names for a collection or a number of people or things. For example, some common ones are group, herd, flock, or bunch.
I browsed the Net and found these great ones from various sites. Many of these make a welcome change from the ordinary ones we usually see. As writers, these can enrich your story and even add a chuckle or two. Enjoy.
A bask of crocodiles
A shrewdness of apes
A shush of librarians
A shuffle of bureaucrats
A flight of refugees
A bevy of ladies
Or how about . . .
An aurora of polar bears
A prickle of porcupines
A surfeit of skunks
A siege of bitterns
A cry of hounds
A lounge of lizards
A stud of mares
A troop of dogfish
A shoal of minnows
A flotilla of swordfish
A pack of perch
A pandemonium of parrots
An amble of walkers
Think you can use some of these?
by Lynne | Sep 19, 2016 | Writing, Writing Tips
Chapter endings are as important as beginnings.
Read the endings of your chapters. Go ahead. Are they riveting? Are you anxious to turn the page? Will your readers be? Take a closer look at the ho hum ones and begin to focus on endings that would compel a reader to keep going.
I skimmed through some books to see how those authors ended their chapters. Here’s one from Deception Point by Dan Brown. “Rachel felt weightless for an instant, hovering over the multimillion-pound block of ice. Then they were riding the iceberg down – plummeting into the frigid sea.” The reader is not likely to put the book down at this point, at least until they find out what happened to Rachel and her friend. Brown could have ended with something like: “Rachel stood motionless on the block of ice and prayed the block wouldn’t fall into the sea.” Nah.
Here’s another.
“Emergency Room. Code Blue. Susan ran for the elevator.”
This is from Chelsea Cain’s The Night Season. What if Cain had stopped at Code Blue? Would it have the same impact as her running for the elevator?
I believe this idea of compelling endings is not only important for fiction but for non-fiction as well. Take Laura Hillenbrand’s Unbroken: “Sometime that day, or perhaps the day before, he had taken off his uniform, picked up a sack of rice, slipped into the Naoetsu countryside, and vanished.” Vanishing, dying, running, falling, are all great ways to end a chapter on a high, cliffhanger note.
How about this from my mystery, Time Exposure: “As he sank to his knees, he lifted his head to gaze up at the Blackhawk. Captain Geoffrey Farrell smiled down at him. A boot to the head put him out.” 
Or this from Pure Lies, in the form of dialogue: “Well, you may be nuts and I wouldn’t testify to this in court, but between you, me and the microscope, honey, these signatures were all written by the same person.”
Scene endings can follow this rule to some extent, but it might get tiresome if every scene did.
I think you have to let the reader rest once in a while and catch up with the action.
Not all chapter endings must end on an action note either. Many can end with inner conflict or conflict between characters. Gives the chapter tension. What happens between these two people next? Does Anna May leave her husband? Does mom throw Maynard out of the house? Does little Davey start to cry? Is Barbara in danger of being fired, of losing her health insurance, of missing a plane to an important event? If you care about the characters, you will turn the page.
I’d love to hear some chapter endings you think are great . . . or terrible. When we can recognize what works and what doesn’t, our writing benefits in the long-run.
