youXfoundXme’s The Only Girl in the Band edits

It’s always a good idea to read it as intended so here’s a link to the original.

I realize this is one of your older works, but the newer stuff is just as bad. Because this was last updated in 2011, I assume it’s finished so I can properly critique it and you should be objective enough to look at it without too much sentimentality. I won’t read past the first 1,000 words or so either since the first scene can’t rely on later ones to make it worthwhile. If it tries  that, no one will get past it.

Ch. 1

 

P1 S1

“Vanessa Nicole Laine.

No one does this, not even parents. This was concocted by stupid sitcoms in the 70s and hasn’t died yet. Stop it. People are more likely to bark a single name because that’ll have more punch. Shorten this to “Laine!”

But is this really the start you want? Some faceless guy who is irrelevant to the scene yelling at her? It’s boring. I read that first line and knew immediately your story wouldn’t be good because it starts off poorly. I’m not going to wait for it to get good. If you can’t manage a beginning, the easiest part of a story, then why should I look forward to the tricky parts of storytelling?

S2 – S3

Take those headphones out of your ears. It gives a bad impression to the customers,” my manager, Mr. Newton, barked at me.

This introduces music to your story. It would be a better start than S1, but still weak. It could have interesting thematic meaning if the entirety of the story centers around people telling her to knock it off with the music and get back to work.

But right now, it’s bland. Mr. Newton lacks personality. He’s grouchy; bosses usually are when employees are listening to music instead of working. It doesn’t identify him as anything but a boss. It sort of identifies Vanessa as a slacker who cares more about listening to music than working, but that’s all teenagers and though you mean for her to be in her 20s, she feels like a teen. Maybe because you’re a teen or you haven’t had enough suffering in your life to realize what’s important in life so you can’t realize what’s important in storytelling.

Here are some suggestions to how to keep this idea but improve it with personality, tone, humor, and visual appeal. Mr. Newton is doing some terrific balancing act with pitchers of beer and hot wings while Vanessa drums on her empty pad meant for orders while the door chimes with new customers who are waiting to be waited on. Maybe they’re standing at a “Please Wait to be Seated” sign looking around at empty tables and noting how some need busing. Mr. Newton passes Vanessa, who has her earphones in and iPod on another counter with the cord spanning the linoleum canyon between. Mr. Newton runs into the cord and the earbuds pop out from her ears and land in the dipping sauce. Then Mr. Newton yells at her to knock it off with the hip-hop or whatever he assumes she’s listening to (maybe he’s a bit racist about it and calls it jungle music or maybe he’s old-timey and tells her to knock it off with the funk). She acquiesces with a “Yes, Mr. Newton” and absent-mindedly returns the earbud to her ear without wiping off the garlic sauce.

That’s a suggestion. It’s not even writing—it’s just an idea. You can go anywhere with the beginning. You can open up with a crazy stunt so long as it’s believable and interesting. It’ll set the tone of your story. If you want to write comedy (the tags are Teen Lit and Humor), write some witty or zany beginning so we know that’s the tone you’ll have throughout. If this were screenwriting, you could have a musical cacophony of door chimes, teapot whistling, and chatter as Vanessa bops along to it (not the most original idea, but it’s fresh enough that you can get away with it). How important is That Food Place as a setting? Is it the main setting? If it is, if it’s where Vanessa’s future band plays a number of gigs, then you can start off with a description of the restaurant. Where is it? What’s it look like? What’s above it? Around it?

You could also characterize That Food Place by characterizing Mr. Newton. How does he carry the food? Does he use old shirts with pit stains as pot holders? Does he have a long, yellow thumbnail that he places in the soup as he carries a bowl and then in front of the customer, he sucks off the flavor from his thumbnail while asking “Can I get you anything else?” You call him a psychopath later but how is he a psychopath? You need some visual details and actions to characterize people because your dialogue is easily dismissed. Readers could skip this scene and not care. It has no impact.

S4

I groaned and pulled out my earphones and tucked them in the pocket of my khaki pants.

 

Here’s a detail and it’s a bad one. What’s interesting about pockets? Or khakis? We can vaguely picture her pants now but why should we? They’re pants. Who cares?

The groaning is okay but what’s she groaning? Is she muttering under her breath? Or does she put up a smile and say “Okay, sir! Sorry, sir!” and then he leaves and she gnashes her teeth at him?

P1 Revision: That Food Place was on the corner of Skenk and Oskaloosa, beneath a preschool. During quiet hours, the children’s pitter-patter footsteps gave the illusion of rain. Then one would shriek the way children do that makes it seem like someone’s getting murdered. We ignored it. The pub was locally famous for its breakfast food, but breakfast time had our dead hours. Everyone wanted brinner. Plates dribbled with grease from the Breakfast Bonanza (eggs, pancakes,  bacon, sausage, ham, hash brown, and milk or coffee). Dishes were a pain to wash. They were a pain to carry too because grease always splashed onto my uniform and the manager Mr. Newton would make me buy a new one if the spot didn’t wash out. It never did. It was a tradition that he took out thirty bucks each0 paycheck to replace my uniform. The old ones I gave to him because I wasn’t about to go to Chem class with “That Food Place” plastered across my chest. He used those rags as potholders. When I started here, he used his own shirts which had pit stains and little curly-cue hairs practically woven into the seams.

 

I tapped my pen on the order pad which had faint impressions of past orders. I drummed to the rhythm of my favorite song—well, one of them. I had about a thousand favorites. Every great song became my favorite and it’d go on repeat till I needed a break or got nostalgic for a previous favorite. Today’s top hit was Terrorist Love. “You ripped open my chest, pulled out my heart, and replaced it with a ticking bomb.” The lyrics were gruesome! But the bass is really what sold it. It had my phone thumping on the counter while the cord to my earbuds spanned the linoleum canyon.

 

Mr. Newton carried a pitcher of beer to some college kids with fake IDs. I knew them. They were in my Lit class. They were freshmen. Mr. Newton should’ve guessed by how much they giggled when he took their order. They had also ordered chicken wings with our golden garlic sauce. When Mr. Newton walked by, he got tangled in my cord and the earbuds popped out. One landed in the garlic sauce. But I was frantic because he had also tugged my phone from the counter and it had crashed to the floor. It’d taken a month’s paycheck and it had about 10,000 songs. I stuck the earbud back in and luckily the phone was still working. But I had forgotten about the garlic and now my ear canal was slimy with it.

 

“Laine!” Mr. Newton raged in a whisper so customers wouldn’t hear. “We’ve got customers waiting to be waited on. They’ve been standing at the ‘Please Wait to be Seated’ sign for five minutes! Shut off your Walkman and do your job.”

 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

 

“And bus table four. Ray’s on break and I’m sure as hell not doing it.” He left to deliver the beer and chicken wings. His thumb, which had a long and yellow nail, had rested on the rim of the plate and touched one of the chicken wings. He sucked it clean of flavor then asked the boys, “What else can I get you, gentleman?”

 

I gnashed my teeth at his back and stuck my earbud back in. But the song was over. I seated the customers.

 

This is just a possible revision. It’s not great but I have to invent characteristics because nothing existed before. If you have a better idea for the story, then do it, but do it well. It takes work. Your readers should be saying “I have a good imagination so I can picture the story easily” because the read was so smooth and simple that they don’t even realize you planted those images inside their noggins.

 

P2 S1

I hated my job.

 

You need to show this before you can state it. And once you’ve shown it, you might not even need to state it. It’s up to you. I’d still say it for this piece.

 

S2

I was 20 years old and I worked at the local diner, cleverly named That Food Place, serving greasy food and strong coffee.

 

You can just say “I was 20 and worked….” The “years old” is implied.

 

The name is not clever. You know that. You don’t need to sarcastically say “clever.” The stupid ironical name will make people hate it enough as is. Don’t bog it down with dead words.

“Greasy food and strong coffee” are trite details. Everyone tries to describe American diners that way. Maybe they are all like that but then it’s a meaningless descriptor. Descriptors are meant to individualize a person, place or thing, not make it generic. And a place named That Food Place seems like it’d be more pretentious than just a diner. The two things contradict each other. You can leave the details because contradictions happen in reality. And how many diners have music shows? Normally those are reserved for pubs because they’re open late and serve alcohol, which makes performing easier and audiences friendlier.

More interesting details might be “That Food Place had a nutrition regimen hung on the walls. It promised results fast if you ate there everyday. In just a week, you’ll need new pants. In a month, you’ll be unrecognizable. After a year, you’ll be dead from clogged arteries.” There’s a chain called The Heart Attack Grill that uses similar marketing tactics. Or you could make it like Denny’s where they serve breakfast 24/7 and only newcomers order anything off the dinner or lunch menus and often the newcomers never come back because Mr. Newton is inept at anything but bacon, sausage, eggs, ham, and pancakes. Maybe some foreigners came in once and ordered a crepe and he just pointed to the door. Give us some real detail about a real restaurant or else we won’t believe this is a real place. Good fiction is generally about 50% made up and the rest is drawn from reality.

You can also use the patrons to describe the diner. Are they hipsters? Truckers? Families with newborns and one mother doesn’t mind giving a show to gawking teenage boys as she feeds her baby? Does Mr. Newton hang pictures of celebrities on the wall claiming they frequent the place but no one’s ever seen any of them? You have a lot of options on how to characterize the diner and a lot of them will make us sympathetic to Vanessa as she slaves there.

 

S3

But it was a job.

 

This is a common sentiment. I won’t tell you to cut it out, but it only has impact if readers can see that it’s a miserable place and she’s only working there for the money and not a passion for waiting tables.

 

S4

And I needed money to pay for college.

 

“to pay” is unnecessary. Cut it down to “And I needed money for college” because what else would you do with money but pay for things? It’s only two words and I’m being a stickler, but economic writing means using as few words as possible to express yourself without losing vividness. I’m not asking for terse prose, but don’t include words or images that people will just gloss over because if they get in the that habit, on page 100 they’ll only be reading every other line because they know they’re not missing much. You could combine S3 and S4 to just “But I needed tuition money.”

 

S5 – S6

I guess the only good thing about working there was that every Friday night, any local talent would perform on stage in the back center of the restaraunt[sic]. That included poets, singers, musicians, dancers.

 

[sic] is a symbol that points to an error made by the author and since I typed this up, I wanted to emphasize that I did not misrepresent the author by misspelling a word for her. Restaurant. The U goes after the first A.

Cut out “I guess.” We don’t need your narrator to be wishy-washy about this. She can elsewhere but here, she knows this is the only good thing about it and there’s no reason to be uncertain. And cut out “the only good thing.” That’s lazy writing. You’re telling us it’s a good thing when you should be showing it. You can easily do that by starting with “However, every Friday night….”

You don’t need “any” before “local.” Or “would.” We don’t care about the specifics of where the stage is. It’s a boring detail and doesn’t create a better image in our mind. You don’t even need to tell us there’s a stage actually. We assume the bands aren’t doing this in the midst of the tables or on top of the bar. They’re not performing in the kitchen.

So we’ve pared S5 down to “However, every Friday night local talent performed.” Local talent is a general, vague description that you clear up in S6. Combine the two sentences . “However, every Friday night local poets, musicians, and dancers performed.”

The “talents” are still boring because of how expected they are. You could spice it up with “There was even a masochist of a juggler that was a regular and he always got booed.” You could replace juggler with magician, unicyclist, or any other kitschy talent, if you’re interested in being humorous.

 

S7

Some people sucked. A lot.

 

Combine this to “Most sucked.” It’s shorter and has more punch and it still expresses the same idea. It also gives the previous sentence more impact.

 

S8

So much so that people would throw their over-priced food at them.

 

Don’t continue the last sentence with this next one. It shouldn’t bleed over. That sentence is done and we’re moving on. Transitions just add words to a sentence that are deadwood because we already know those details because we just read them. I think you’re doing this because you realize that it’s a generic description to say they suck and you want people to know that they really really really really really suck but you’re not sure how to do that. Show it. Give us a few descriptions of bad performances. Does some guitarist mess up the second riff and then he says “Hold on, hold on, let me start over” and repeats that till he runs from the stage to the bathroom where he vomits? Do drunk girls just warble “Girls just wanna have fun” and sensually lick the mic while staring at some frat boys? Does a comic start insulting people just so they pay attention to him? Either way, cut out “So much so that” and just start the sentence with “People would throw….”

 

Have you ever seen this in real life? I haven’t. I go to open mic nights on occasion and I’ve never seen a malicious crowd, even when drunk. There might be a few hecklers or friends might chirp the guy, but mostly people are polite about their disdain because they’re going to the performance knowing it’ll be bad. I have a hard time believing this detail. If you had set the tone for caricature and comedy, I might believe it but it’s a stale idea that you see in cartoons and rarely in life.

If you’ve seen food being thrown at amateurs, then keep the detail.  But be specific about it. What are they throwing? Lobster and steak? Bottles? Used tissues? Do they just squirt ketchup? I can’t picture “food” because it’s an abstract word. You want to bring the level of abstraction down with concrete nouns like “wienerschnitzel, ham and cheese omelette, supreme pizza, frappamochaccino expressos.” The type of food can further characterize the restaurant.

“Over-priced” doesn’t need a hyphen either and it’s better to tell us the price of the food.

Possible Revision: Drunk girls who were out for a gals’ night would warble “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” into the mic and when they forgot the lyrics they’d sensually lick the microphone while staring at the beefiest frat boy. Last week, an Australian was doing pretty well with the ladies as his accent was a better aphrodisiac than our twenty-dollar oysters or even alcohol and he was ready to seal the deal by strumming “Livin’ on a Prayer” as his groupies belted it out, but he got to the second riff and fumbled his pick. “Hold on, let me start over,” he said and the fans let him have the mulligan. “Hold on, let me start over.” They clapped to give him some confidence. “Hold on, let me start over.” Eventually they left. The people gave an award to the worst stinkers: they’d squirt ketchup on them, and then they’d complain that their ten-dollar hamburger was dry.

 

But be weary of too much detail. Overwriting can make it worse because people have to slog through.

 

S9

But some people were actually really good.

 

Half of this sentence is unnecessary words. “People,” “actually,” and “really.” We know that “some” refers to people. It’s implied. “Actually” is redundant because of “but.” “But” is a contradicting word so we know whatever was true in the last sentence won’t be true for this one. “Really” is an intensifier but what’s the difference between really good and good? Not much to readers so just tell us they were good.

How were they good? Was it what they played? Did they know all the chords to their instruments? Did they have good banter with the crowd? This one I would let slide without detail if there’s a big build-up of terrible acts, but alone it’s not enough. The difference between bad writing and good writing can be a few lines.

 

 

S10

And it was those people that made it worth working there.

 

Cut this line. It’s sappy and better left implied.

P2 Revision: I hated my job, but tuition bills were always coming and I couldn’t ignore them (I tried that with the first one). And at least every Friday, local poets, musicians, and comics provided free entertainment in hopes of striking it big. Mr. Newton occasionally secreted the rumor that a talent agent was in the crowd. It was just his brother planted at a back table with a notepad where he doodled. People probably knew it was a sham but they loved performing.

 

Most sucked. Drunk girls who were out for a gals’ night would warble “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” into the mic and when they forgot the lyrics they’d sensually lick the microphone while staring at the beefiest frat boy. Last week, an Australian was doing pretty well with the ladies as his accent was a better aphrodisiac than our twenty-dollar oysters or even alcohol and he was ready to seal the deal by strumming “Livin’ on a Prayer” as his groupies belted it out, but he got to the second riff and fumbled his pick. “Hold on, let me start over,” he said and the fans let him have the mulligan. “Hold on, let me start over.” They clapped to give him some confidence. “Hold on.” Eventually they left. The audience gave an award to the worst stinkers: they’d squirt ketchup on them, and then they’d complain that their ten-dollar hamburgers were dry. Yeah, most sucked.

 

But some were good. They actually knew the chords of their instruments.

 

 

P3 S1

I myself am an aspiring musician.

“I myself?” Who else would “I” refer to? It’s not a common name in any culture, especially not an English speaking one, so we can assume “I” and “myself” are the same person and cut the reflexive pronoun. It makes the line stiff and awkward, which makes it stand out but not in a good way. A good way to catch awkward lines to read them aloud. You’ll hear how unnatural it sounds.

You switch to present tense for one line and the rest of the narrative is past. That’s grating to a close reader. If you saw this in a novel, you’d stumble over it and wonder how it ever got by editors since it’s such an easy fix—take out the reflexive pronoun and keep the verb tense constant.

Reflexive pronouns are too often used for emphasis but what are you emphasizing here? Maybe if it was an astonishing revelation in the midst of chaos of details, you’d want to somehow emphasize the line, but this is dull  and will be obvious as the story goes on. It doesn’t need to stand out. It’s obvious from the title. The whole line is boring and unnecessary. It would be better replaced with the following anecdote or cut altogether. It shows motivation but a paltry one. You could characterize her as humble or just starting out on this dream with a line like “I liked to sing, too. Just to the shower head or alone in the car. Maybe one day I’d get a night off and could get up there and give it a try.”

 

S2

I would secretly sing to my showerhead in the apartment that I shared with my annoying Barbie-doll roommate and best friend, Mae Strauss (pronounced May).

How else would you pronounce Mae if not May? My? Why bother spelling it differently from it’s pronunciation if you’re that concerned with how it’s said aloud by people you’ll never hear? J.K. Rowling waited until the 4th book of Harry Potter, an international bestseller, to clarify how Hermione should be said. That’s an odd name that people would be unsure about, but Mae isn’t. These are just wasted words.

You’re introducing irrelevant details with the apartment and roommate. She hasn’t arrived yet. You don’t have to warn us for her arrival either, especially not with such vague details. It’s colorless. Who cares about Mae? Who cares about your apartment? We care about the girl in the shower wailing about…what does she sing? You’re already struggling with one character and you’ve thrown in another to clog our heads. Do the work for us and characterize Vanessa before you move onto another character or bring in Mae immediately and have their interaction characterize both of them. That’s generally how it’s done and should be done because just telling us that Vanessa doesn’t like her job isn’t interesting, but if she rants to Mae about him, their friendship tells us something about them and their situation.

Why does she want to be a musician? Money? Fame? Fun? Because she can’t stop humming tunes that have never appeared on the radio or her iPod? Is her butt wiggling as she strolls down the street to whatever rhythm’s in her head? Right now the dream is undeveloped and so conventional that who cares? Has she spent years perfecting her drumming or vocals? How is this anything but a flighty fancy of a teen? There’s no depth to it and if she were real, she’d give it up because she just briefly thought it’d be cool to be on stage like whoever her favorite lead singer is and never grew up enough to actually pursue it in any way but singing to a shower head.

That could be an interesting plot point. Let’s say she has some talent but her interest is immature. She just thinks it’d be cool to be in a band. But bands are hard work, a lot of travel, a lot of sacrifices, working two jobs to afford life and the hobby that might one day lead to stardom but will most likely just be a crushed dream that weighs on your spirit the next time you have to take a chance. And the people in the band she joins might know all this and so she might meet with tension because of it. “This life isn’t so easy that you can just pick up a mic and start singing and fill your bank account. I’ve been performing since I was twelve and I haven’t eaten this week because I needed a new amp.” Something like that. But that’s for later on.

 

S3

She was always telling me to perform TFP. My problem? I had stage fright.

 

Perform TFP? Do you mean perform at TFP? And again, this line is telling us some boring detail. It’s important but just telling it to us isn’t interesting. Your job is to entertain. Show it in conversation. Have Mae encouraging Nessie to get up there and shake her ass for the crowd or whatever colorful thing Mae might say and then Vanessa can resist.

P3 Revision: I liked to sing, too. Just to the showerhead or alone in the car. Maybe one day I’d get a night off and could get up there and give it a try.

 

P4 S1 – S2

When I was 10, I got picked to be one of the leads in a school play about the pilgrims and native americans [sic]. It was some corny musical version of the historical event and I got picked to play Pocahontas.

 

 

Capitalize Native Americans.

 

Combine these sentences to “When I was 10, I got picked to be Pocahontas in some corny musical about the pilgrims.” Everything else is unnecessary and cluttering your writing. If you want to expand your writing, great! But do it with good details and not with wordiness.

 

S3

Why?

 

No one asked. At 10 years old, we assume names were drawn out of a hat. It’s not a high school production where people actually try out and are expected know their lines. They show up, mumble a tune, and the teacher points to her favorite student to be the lead. Don’t ask rhetorical questions if they’re stupid. Don’t ask any rhetorical questions actually. Why? Because it’s the mark of an amateur.

 

S4

Because I had a good voice and a knack for acting.

 

No one will believe this. Maybe it’s what your mom told you, but the brothers and sisters and other people dragged to this performance will dread every second of it. There are few people talented enough to make an elementary school-appropriate play bearable. They’ll believe you were the only kid who cared enough. Or that you were the favorite student because you sucked up and organized the supply shelf during recess. Or that you were the only student without your finger up your nose. Be a little self-deprecating. Laugh about it. Don’t brag about being the lead of a play at 10 years old. If you were chosen during high school, maybe you can boast but it’s going to make people roll their eyes.

Whatever details you replace this with, make them more interesting and solid than such vague descriptors.

 

S5

So I got on stage on opening night and promptly threw up on my leading man, John Smith.

 

This is a decent detail. A little expected but not everything has to be original. Sometimes we like familiar anecdotes. I would offer some changes though: “So I got on stage and while stuttering my first line, I caught the eyes of the audience. They were all staring at me through camcorders. I promptly threw up on John Smith.” Whatever you do, take out “my leading man.” Your audience knows the story of  Pocahontas and they know John Smith is the leading man. Telling us is unnecessary. It’s like saying “I’m about to read the story, Catch-22.” Even if people aren’t familiar with Catch-22 specifically, they’ll know from the verb “reading” that it’s a story so you can just take that out and have cleaner writing.

 

S6

And just like that, I was done performing in front of people.

 

There are a lot of reasons to stop performing. Some childhood mishap is not one of them. Maybe if she were a teen and it happened, it’d be more believable. Teens are self-conscious and awkward and aware of the social pressures at school and any embarrassment can turn them into a recluse. But generally people don’t perform because they just don’t care. Not everyone likes the interpretative arts, especially in America where you’re more likely to perform as an athlete or just be ignored and so you become a creative artist instead, doing paintings and stories that you post on the internet.

The sentence is implied too. The previous vomit anecdote shows us Vanessa has stage fright. There’s no need to tell us she never performed ever again. We don’t care if she never performed again, frankly. We just care that getting up in front of people, even her friends and classmates to give a speech or an audience of pious old ladies who are deaf and too polite to criticize some young girl in the choir, makes her tremble.

P4 Revision: When I was 10, I got picked to be Pocahontas in some corny musical about the pilgrims. So I got on stage and while stuttering my first line, I caught the eyes of the audience. They were all staring at me through camcorders. I promptly threw up on John Smith.

 

P5 S1

“Earth to Nessie,” I heard a voice say.

 

Is this the opening line you want for the best friend, presumably a main support character? Not only is it trite and boring, it doesn’t tell us anything about her. At best, we get a nickname for Vanessa (a decent nickname too so keep it but put it somewhere else).

What is her personality? Is she a ditz? An attention whore? Real people can’t be summed up easily but you can at least toss out a handful of adjectives to get close to their personality. But I can’t think of any for Mae except what’s stated because she’s a boring character. I’m examining this closer than your audience too so I should be able to pick out something interesting about her but I can’t. I don’t even know what she looks like other than blonde hair, blue eyes and that pretty much describes everyone in Sweden. What are some flaws that she overcorrects? Does she have a snaggle-tooth so she constantly bleaches her teeth till they glow in the dark? Is her hair unnaturally blonde? Are her tits scrunched up with a push-up bra? You’re writing for teens, right? So use their fads and insecurities to characterize her.

Is Mae goofy? Does she come up behind Vanessa and grab her shoulders and shake her while saying “Ah! Earthquake!” and then she has a big laugh at her own joke? Is she vulgar? Does she just launch into a sexcapade at full volume ignoring the eager looks of some nearby boys? Does she immediately start to whine about how she has homework tonight even though it’s Thursty Thursday and professors just don’t get that she has a life outside polynomials? What is some personality trait that you can capture in a single utterance?

Even if you keep her Barbie personality, do something fresh with her. Make her a whiz at calculus or someone who studies most weekdays. Maybe she volunteers at an animal shelter and she doesn’t mind cleaning all the poo because she just wants someone to cuddle with. Give her a borderline personality when she’s alone. Give Mae her own life outside of the story that occasionally bleeds over to our view. Be subversive and don’t play into every expectation about her hair color. All of that doesn’t need to be captured now, however. It’s just a note for future development of the character. Some of it can be shown now, but keep the focus on Vanessa.

Also, Vanessa would immediately recognize the voice if they’re roommates and best friends. Cut out this “I heard a voice” crap that novices always want to do. It doesn’t build suspense. It just delays information. Tell us immediately who the voice belongs to. “…,’ Mae said. Mae Strauss was my roommate and best friend…”

 

S2

I saw fingers with neon pink nail polish on them snap in front of me and I blinked.

 

Everything that the audience sees, we assume the narrator sees too. Don’t ever say “I saw.” It makes a sentence weaker than it needs to be. If you did it for everything Vanessa sees, you’d say it in just about every sentence and when someone talks you’d start with “I heard.” Switch it around to “Pink nails snapped in front of me.”

Blinking is not interesting. I do it once every five seconds. Women do it twice as much on average. If you’re going to tell us every time someone blinks, it’s going to get annoying. Don’t tell us even once. Vanessa could flinch, fall out of her chair, spill her coffee, anything that might show us she’s startled because she was zoned out until now. But blinking doesn’t tell us that. It just tells us she’s alive, which I guess is news since her personality is lifeless.

P5 Revision:

My thumb was looking for a new song on my phone, but nothing meshed with my mood, and I kept scrolling and scrolling and scrolling till I was lost in the remnants of my favorites from high school. Mae grabbed my shoulders from behind and cried, “Earthquake!” then got into a fit of giggles at her own joke. She didn’t care that people stared since she looked good. She was my roommate and best friend since third grade when we both had a crush on the same boy. He went for her.

P6 S1

“Hey Mae,” I said smiling at the rhyme that never got old.

 

This is okay. It’s not great, but I’d let you keep it. But you need to accommodate basic punctuation conventions. Put a comma before the name: “Hey, Mae.”

Then I’d put a period after Mae. You show us an action of Vanessa after her speech, so we can assume Vanessa is talking and Mae isn’t chatting with herself. “‘Hey, Mae.’ I smiled at the rhyme.”

 

S2

In front of me stood a pretty girl, with long, wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

 

We don’t care where she’s standing. We don’t care that she’s standing.

Don’t string long, wavy, and blonde together. Three adjectives in front of a noun is too many, especially such boring adjectives. Also this description shouldn’t be mixed in with Vanessa’s dialogue. Give it a paragraph with Mae as the lead. Think of paragraphs like a camera. Whenever you turn the camera to look at someone new, make a paragraph. You can either throw this in P5 or put it with P7.

 

P7

“You know, no wonder you never get any tips. It’s because you zone out so much,” Mae said.

 

This is just boring. You need to show it before Mae walks in and narrates what the narrator is doing. And don’t just tell us she’s zoned out. Tell us what she’s doing. Is she staring at a burrito spinning under a hot lamp? Is she lost in music (seems like she should be)? What has her mind occupied? It can’t be the open mic night because that should be so ingrained in her routine that she hardly gives it any thought.

P7 Revision: “Nessie, I’ve been standing her for like an hour. This is why you never have rent money. Customers won’t tip airheads unless they show a little something-something.” Mae brushed her wavy blonde hair behind her so her cleavage was out.

 

P8 S1

“You’re right. It can’t be that my psychopath boss steals them all,” I replied.

 

Cut out the “You’re right.” It’s unnecessary. It’s like if someone asked is the weather nice and you say “No, it’s raining.” If you cut it down to just the informative part, the “It’s raining,” then it’s a cleaner read and we still get the answer. Audiences don’t miss what they never see.

You need to show that he’s a psychopath before you tell us.

Don’t use too many dialogue tags beyond he said, she asked, he barked, she shouted, he shrieked, she yelled, he mumbled, her murmured. There are others that are worthwhile too but replied, responded, shot back, answered, retorted, and all those other synonyms for “said” are worthless. Just say said. People don’t get tired of it easily. But if you’re using “said” too much, then use an action to show us who’s talking. Example: “It couldn’t be that my psychopath boss steals them.” I rattled the full jar in her face. It was never full at the end of the night.”

This gives us some visual appeal and because we can see someone doing something around the time of the speech, we assume they’re speaking.

 

S2

She rolled her eyes.

 

This should not be in with Vanessa’s dialogue and don’t have people rolling their eyes to show dismissal or disdain. It’s like sighing or blushing or biting your nails. At one point it was a vivid descriptor that showed personality, but it’s so commonplace now that it tells and it’s boring and the mark of laziness. She could say “Mhmm” as she checks for new texts on her phone. That would show dismissal and disbelief and could start a pattern of selfishness for Mae.

 

S3

“What are you doing here? It’s a Thursday night. You’re supposed to be at a club,” I asked.

 

This is more telling. You’re telling us that she frequents clubs in the most obvious and boring way possible. Be descriptive! Let your characters have some wit. Let them show the language of their age. “What are you doing here anyway? It’s Thursty Thursday. Shouldn’t you be twerking down at The Shadow Lounge?” I asked.

 

And don’t just tell us “at a club.” Name a club she likes. Give it a pretentious name or a sleazy name or whatever kind of club she likes. Just go to google and type in night clubs and you’ll get lists of them from all over the world. Or if you’re familiar with night clubs in your area, use one of those names that stands out.

P8 Revision: “It couldn’t be that my psychopath boss steals them.” I rattled the full jar in her face. It was never full at the end of the night.

 

“Mhmmm.” Mae checked her cracked iPhone for new texts. She had a dozen. She sent winking smileys to each of the boys.

 

“What are you doing here anyway? It’s Thursty Thursday. Shouldn’t you be twerking down at The Shadow Lounge?” I asked.

 

Twerking might be a little mature for publishers of teen lit, but you can get away with it online.

 

P9 S1

“Psh. And leave my best friend here?” she said, waving her hand.

 

Don’t do sound effects. They’re never as wonderful for the reader as they are for you. Most people skip them because they don’t add any information.

Why is she waving her hand? That’s visual appeal, but it doesn’t make any sense. People wave to greet others, to fan away bad smells, and to fan themselves, but I don’t understand why she’d wave her. Is she being dismissive, like waving her off? You need a better action that waving to show that. But I don’t know why she would be dismissive here anyway. It’d make more sense to feign injury or play like she’s only here to give of herself while Vanessa slaves for half of minimum wage.

Also, when you have a dialogue tag like “she said,” it’s cleaner writing to put the following verb after a conjunction, instead of in the progressive form. So instead of what you have, it’s cleaner to put it “she said and waved her hand.” It’s better for reasons I can’t explain but professionals generally agree on that point and if you read each aloud, you’ll hopefully agree too. It’s not a taboo to use the progressive, but as a general rule, you should use simple verb tenses instead.

 

S2

I raised an eyebrow at her.

 

This is like sighing, biting nails, rolling eyes, and blushing. It’s telling. People do it in real life, but in writing, it’s become boring. Maybe have Vanessa flick her forehead every time she lies (but that’s a pattern you’ll have continue so people understand and now isn’t the best time to start it). Or have her say something like “The truth, please.” Whatever you do, you need a new paragraph.

 

S3

She smiled.

 

I don’t care. Everyone’s always smiling in amateur fiction. Is that a shocking detail to anyone? I generally assume people smile on occasion. Cut it out.

 

S4

“Ok, ok. I was actually about to go get ready to go. But I wanted to ask you if you were working tomorrow first,” she said.

 

The oks can stay. I’d rather get rid of them because we won’t miss them afterwards, but you’re trying to show Mae admitting that she lied so maybe keep them.

Read this aloud “I was actually about to go get ready to go.” Do you hear how awkward that sounds? It’s much too wordy considering it’s a short sentence.  Just make it “I was about to go.” People are more likely to speak in short sentences than long ones. Your dialogue should have the ring of real speech. That also means you’re allowed fragments.

It’s a good break in the sentence between the “…go.” and “But…” It shows us a pause, like she’s hesitating or saying the second sentence as an afterthought.

The second sentence in that dialogue is awkward though. Mainly because of the “first” at the end. It would fit better after “But,” but I’d cut it out. The “first” is unnecessary verbiage.

 

P9 Revision: “And leave my best friend here?” she asked with a gasp. She embraced me tenderly. Her pungent perfume mixed with the stench of pregaming.

Her hair got caught in my mouth and I spat it out. I shoved her away. “The truth, please,” I said.

“Ok, ok. I was about to get ready. But I wanted to ask if you’re working tomorrow.”

 

The pregaming detail might be too mature for your audience if you’re writing for teens. Teens will probably know what it is since most are drinking by 16, but if you ever try to get a story published for teens, adults like to think kids are innocent and never cuss and never drink or do drugs and don’t lie to porn sites about their birth year. But if you’re content publishing online, it’s a detail worth including. People rarely go to clubs without enjoying alcohol before, during, or after.

 

P10

“No, I’m off. For once,” I said.

 

Just cut out the “No.” We won’t miss it.

 

P11

“Perfect! Will you come to the Sunset Grill with me tomorrow night?” she asked.

 

The difference between the “Perfect!” and the “No,” in the previous paragraph is that “Perfect!” shows her excitement so it’s worth keeping.

You can slim the second portion of the speech down to “Want to come to the Sunset Grill tomorrow night?”

The “T” in “the Sunset Grill” might be capitalized. It depends if “the” is part of the name of the restaurant. I’d capitalize it but I don’t know the restaurant, if it’s a real one.

Why are they going to a grill on a Friday night to listen to a band? You’re more likely to hear it in a club, a pub, or something where alcohol is served. Or a coffee shop but those are usually earlier in the day. Whether I’ve lived in small towns or cities, I’ve never gone to a grill that had live music. I’m challenging it and I can’t move past it with a pleasant mindset.

It’s been very talky since Mae got here. Not much action, not much scenery. Characters can’t just stand and talk. They should be doing something. Is Mae fidgeting with her phone? Is she scoping out the talent at That Food Place? Is she checking her make-up? What’s Vanessa doing? What’s going on in the background? I need something more than just a conversation between the girls. If you put it here, then there can be a pause between Vanessa’s next line as she mulls over the offer.

 

P12 S1

“Why?” I asked.

 

This is boring dialogue. It’d be more interesting and have the same affect to have Vanessa resisting the invitation, either by politely declining because she doesn’t like the patrons of The Sunset Grill or because she wants her night off to actually be a relaxing experience. Then Mae can convince her and plead with her.

P12 Revision: “I don’t know, Mae. It’s my only night off and I really just want to sleep or catch up on homework or relax. I don’t even know what’s on TV anymore.”

 

P13 S1

“Because…I met this guy.

 

Ellipses do not show pause. This is a barbarism perpetrated by the internet crowd. Ellipses show that something is being skipped, like the other end of a phone conversation that someone can’t hear or if Mae is telling a long story and Vanessa isn’t listening, the story can fade off after a line or two and then gets picked up at the end. Maybe you remember using them for term papers when you had to skip lines of research because academic writers are long-winded and only some of it was relevant to your paper. But they do not show pauses. That’s neon sign that someone is uneducated about English language conventions.

 

S2

And he works there.

 

You don’t need the “And.”

What’s he do there? Is he a manager? Is he older? Is he a bus boy? Does he tend bar and she’s hoping he’s more likely to believe her fake ID if she flirts with him?

 

S3

And he told me to come.

You’re setting up a pattern of speech that could be effective if the sentences worked in succession. But they don’t. “And” is a conjunction that combines two things (sentences, clauses, nouns, etc) but these don’t need to be connected like that.

This sentence is especially bothersome. Why did he tell you to come by? What was his excuse? Guys aren’t going to just tell a girl “Come visit me at work.” They’ll say “I tend bar at the Sunset Grill. You should come by and see this band playing on Friday. I hear they’re pretty loud.”  It has the same affect but it’s the social contract that by saying this, he’s actually telling her to come hang out with him while he’s working and if she agrees to see the band, she’s actually agreeing to hang out with him.

I’d change it to “He said I should check out this band. They’re supposed to really loud.” Of course, “loud” could be replaced by other ridiculous adjectives like sick, wild, thumping. But use the language of their age to build credibility that this is a real world you’ve created.

 

S4

And I don’t want to go alone,” she replied.

I’d change this so it has more impact and shows her as being manipulative. Maybe something like “‘Don’t make me go alone!’ she pleaded.”

Again, don’t use said-synonyms. She could plead or beg in this situation.

P13 Revision:  “But I met this guy. He works there. Tends bar or something. He said I should check out this band they’ve got playing. They’re supposed to be really loud. Don’t make me go alone!” she pleaded.

 

P14 S1

“I still don’t understand why I have to go.

 

This is just unnecessary. Cut the sentence.

 

S2

To serve as your third-wheel? I’d rather not,” I said.

 

Trite imagery. I might let you get away with it if you had other rich descriptions but you don’t and we’re here to learn so let’s come up with something better. Maybe show us something that would be unpleasant to watch like Mae and the guy grinding or his tongue grazing her ear as he whispers to her to be heard above the music. Or maybe Vanessa can’t stand Mae’s fake laugh that she uses to reel in the hunky but boring boys.

P14 Revision: “I love you, Mae, but I can’t stand another night of your fake, flirty laugh. It’s a miracle the boys don’t go running from it either. You’re bored by their jokes. They’re repulsed by your cackle. Why bother saying anything if all you want is man-meat and they just want your meat? Makes me want to be a vegetarian.”

 

Come up with something else. This shows the comfort friends have by insulting each other, but it’s still not top-notch writing.

 

P15

“Laine! Stop chatting and get to work!” Mr. Newton yelled at me from the back kitchen.

You don’t need “at me” or “kitchen” or you could keep kitchen and get rid of “back.” He says her name so we know it’s at Vanessa.

P15 Revision: “Laine! Stop chatting and get to work!” Mr. Newton yelled from the back.

 

P16

“I’m taking her order!” I lied, turning my head back to Mae.

 

You don’t need to tell us you lied. Your audience is perceptive enough to know that because they haven’t heard Vanessa take Mae’s order, that this is a cover-up. Cut everything after the quotes.

P16 Revision: “I’m taking her order!”

A few considerations though. Would Vanessa yell at her boss? Or is she the type to keep frustrations inside and acquiesce to whatever authority figure is closest? She doesn’t have to be, but you want to keep personality consistent in the beginning. Real people have contradictions in them but if we find constant contradictions, we wonder if you really had a plan or prototype to model her character?

Also, here could be a good time to characterize Mr. Newton and Mae more. Mr. Newton probably knows Mae if she comes in regularly to chat with Nessie. How does Mr. Newton feel about her? Is he creepy towards her because she’s a sweet young thing and he’s lonely? Depending on your audience, you don’t have to be overt about his creepiness. It can be implied through friendliness just to Mae or other pretty lasses and a general unease felt by the girls. Or Mr. Newton could show a business side by being friendly to her. He’s in charge so surely he wants customers returning so he’d be polite as he tries to pull Vanessa away from the conversation.  Mae could in turn show personality by being receptive to or repulsed by or expectant of this attention. If she gets it all the time and it’s not big deal, we know she expects it and that she really is a good-looking girl. If she likes the attention of an older man, plus her need to constantly have boys drooling over her, we can guess she might have daddy issues. If she’s repulsed by it, then we know she’s well-adjusted but it can give some comedy and wit to her character. Depending on what you do, you might have to change P15 too.

 

P17 S1

“You won’t be my third wheel.

 

Even if you keep “third wheel” in above, it’s long forgotten now. It’s not colorful enough language to be remembered for more than a few lines so Mr. Newton’s interruption makes us forget about it. Cut it out from here.

S2

There are some bands playing there.

 

If you accept the earlier recommendation, then this is repetitive. But you can delve further into it. What kind of bands? Would Vanessa like them? How does Mae perceive Vanessa’s taste in music?

Mae is trying to coax Vanessa into going here. First she’s likely to use something that would tempt Mae, e.g. boys, free Jell-O shots, dancing, whatever you think would be Mae’s reason to go out. Then she might try thinking it over from Vanessa’s point of view.

 

S3

You can go to listen to music.

 

Bland. Boring. Repetitive. Just cut it.

 

S4 – S5

Who knows? Maybe you’ll find your soul-mate there,” she said.

 

No. This is overused in amateur fiction but you never see it in published materials (or maybe I just don’t read enough trash). That’s because this is a god-awful line. You can imply that Vanessa should go for the sweaty men in tight T-shirts, but at 20, someone like Mae isn’t thinking about her soul mate so she’s definitely not thinking about Vanessa’s either.

P17 Revision: “There’ll be boys there! Big, beefy boys! And they’re always generous with free drinks if you just flip your hair and lick your lips. Or you could go for the bands! Some weird underground group from Austin. They’ve got an electric violin,” Mae said.

 

P18

“There’s a band playing here, too. Why not just come here?” I asked.

 

P19

“No there’s not. I checked the listing. It’s a stupid depressing poet. Come ON Nessie. Please!” she begged, making a pouty face.

 

P18 and P19 are both unnecessary. P19 has the depressing poet line, which is good, but the rest of it doesn’t fit and you can’t keep crap just to accommodate one line. And why would Vanessa want to come to her place of work on her one night off if she thinks her boss is a psychopath? There’s no logic there.

I don’t know That Food Place or whatever it’s supposed to be based off, but how many small “diners,” pubs, clubs, coffee shops actually have poets on listings anyway? Bands, sure, they put up a listing and people might come to see them because listening to music is passive and people can do it while they drink, eat, and talk or it can be active and they can dance or sing along. A poet might get a listing if he’s a hot shot with a red wheelbarrow glazed in with rain water, but mostly those nights have poets stepping up when the music has died because people in the band have to piss.

About the conventions of these sentences though, S1 should be “No, there’s not.” Don’t capitalize “ON” for emphasis as it’ll already be emphasized in our heads and it’s not something we need extra emphasis for, and there needs to be a comma between “on” and “Nessie.”

“Making a pouty face” is a wordy way of saying “she pouted.” Another telling descriptor like blushing, sighing, biting nails, rolling eyes, and raising an eyebrow.

I would also add some narration here. An action of Mae’s or Vanessa’s or another glimpse of what’s happening in That Food Place. It’ll add a pause as Vanessa considers the offer. This could be a good time to bring in Mr. Newton and show how he interacts with Mae. It’ll be a little tangent but could be important for Mae and Mr. Newton and he can turn to Vanessa after and scowl telling her to get back to work then smile at Mae and offer her a free soda or something. These are just suggestions, obviously.

 

P20 S1

“Ugh, fine. Now go away before I get fired,” I said.

Again, no sound effects.

You can break up Vanessa’s answer and the afterthought more effectively if you rearrange the dialogue tag. “‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Now go before I get fired.’” The “I said” adds a pause to her speech. You can increase the pause with narration, but if you do that make it interesting and necessary. Here, I don’t think a long pause is needed.

 

S2

She smiled and hugged me over the counter.

 

New paragraph.

No smiling.

The hug over the counter is an interesting visual, especially if Mae is given an aggressive personality early on and then it’s easy to picture her pulling Nessie over the counter for the hug.

 

P21

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You won’t regret it!” she called as she walked out of the diner. I rolled my eyes after her and then went to wait on some people that just walked in and sat down.

 

Like most beginners, you went too long. Take out this paragraph. There is no way to fix it because the hug is more interesting than anything else you can do in the logic of the story. Aliens could come down or a truck could come screaming through the window and I suppose that could be more interesting than a hug, but the hug is a good end and actually makes sense.

~

Let’s compile the revisions and I guarantee the story will be better. It’ll have better word economy though it’ll be longer, but that’s because the words actually create images and add personality to the names. The only thing I didn’t add to this was plot, which other editors might rail you for but I don’t mind a slow beginning. If this were a short story, then I’d demand some tension immediately, but for a novella (79 pages on Wattpad is probably a novella), the opening scene can just set up the characters, world, and premise that will create tension.

 

Revision:

 

That Food Place was on the corner of Skenk and Oskaloosa, beneath a preschool. During dead hours, the children’s pitter-patter footsteps gave the illusion of rain. Then one would shriek like someone mid-murder. We ignored it. The pub was locally famous for its breakfast food, but breakfast time had our dead hours. Everyone wanted breakfast for dinner and even our menus read “Brinner.” Plates dribbled with grease from the Breakfast Bonanza (eggs, pancakes,  bacon, sausage, ham, hash brown, toast, and milk or coffee). Dishes were a pain to wash. They were a pain to carry too because grease always splashed onto my uniform and the manager Mr. Newton would make me buy a new one if the spot didn’t wash out. It never did. It was a tradition that he took out thirty bucks each paycheck to replace my uniform. I gave the old ones to him because I wasn’t about to go to Chem class with “That Food Place” plastered across my chest. He used those rags as potholders. When I started here, he used his own shirts which had pit stains and little curly-cue hairs practically woven into the seams.

 

I tapped my pen on the pad which had faint impressions of past orders. I drummed to the rhythm of my favorite song—well, one of them. I had about a thousand favorites. Every great song became my favorite and it’d go on repeat till I needed a break or got nostalgic for a previous favorite. Today’s top hit was Terrorist Love by some total nobodies; tickets cost less than a drink. “You ripped open my chest, pulled out my heart, and replaced it with a ticking bomb.” The lyrics were gruesome! But the bass is really what sold it. It had my phone thumping on the counter while the cord to my earbuds spanned the linoleum canyon.

 

Mr. Newton carried a pitcher of beer to some college kids with fake IDs. I knew them. They were in my Lit class. They were freshmen. Mr. Newton should’ve guessed by how much they giggled when he took their order. They had also ordered chicken wings with our golden garlic sauce. When Mr. Newton walked by, he got tangled in my cord and the earbuds popped out. One landed in the garlic sauce. But I was frantic because he had also tugged my phone from the counter and it had crashed to the floor. It’d taken a month’s paycheck and it had about 10,000 of my favorite songs. I stuck the earbud back in and luckily the phone was still working. But I had forgotten about the garlic and now my ear canal was slimy with it.

 

“Laine!” Mr. Newton raged in a whisper so the wallets wouldn’t hear. “We’ve got customers waiting to be waited on. They’ve been standing at the ‘Please Wait to be Seated’ sign for five minutes! Shut off your Walkman and do your job.”

 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

 

“And bus table four. Ray’s on break and I sure as hell ain’t owning the place so I can be a bus boy again.” He left to deliver the beer and chicken wings. His thumb, which had a long and yellow nail, had rested on the rim of the plate and touched one of the wings. He sucked it clean of flavor then asked the boys, “What else can I get you, gentleman?”

 

I gnashed my teeth at his back and stuck my earbud back in. But the song was over. I seated the customers.

 

I hated my job, but tuition bills were always coming and I couldn’t ignore them (my credit rating tells the tale of how I tried that with the first one). And at least every Friday, local poets, musicians, and comics provided free entertainment in hopes of striking it big. Mr. Newton occasionally secreted the rumor that a talent agent was in the crowd. It was just his brother planted at a back table with a notepad where he doodled perfectly figured, possibly underage girls. People probably knew it was a sham but they loved performing.

 

Most sucked. Drunks out for a gals’ night would warble “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” into the mic and when they forgot the lyrics they’d sensually lick the microphone while staring at the beefiest frat boy. Last week, an Australian was doing pretty well with the ladies as his accent was a better aphrodisiac than our twenty-dollar oysters or even alcohol and he was ready to seal the deal by strumming “Livin’ on a Prayer” as his groupies belted it out, but he got to the second riff and fumbled his pick. “Hold on, let me start over,” he said and the fans let him have his mulligan. “Hold on, let me start over.” They clapped to give him some confidence. “Hold on.” Eventually they left. The audience gave an award to the worst stinkers: they’d squirt ketchup on them, and then they’d complain that their ten-dollar hamburger was dry. Yeah, most sucked.

 

But some were good. They actually knew the chords of their instruments.

 

I liked to sing, too. Just to the shower head or alone in the car. Maybe one day I’d get a night off and could get up there and give it a try.

 

But when I was 10, I got picked to be Pocahontas in some corny musical about the pilgrims. I got on stage and while stuttering my first line, I caught the eyes of the audience. They were all staring at me through camcorders. I promptly threw up on John Smith.

 

My thumb was searching for a new song on my phone, but nothing meshed with my mood, and I kept scrolling till I was lost in the remnants of high school. Mae grabbed my shoulders from behind and cried, “Earthquake!” then got into a fit of giggles at her own joke. She liked that people stared since she looked good, always. She was my roommate and best friend since third grade when we both had a crush on the same boy. He went for her. She kicked him in the nuts for making me cry.

 

“Hey, Mae.” I smiled at the rhyme.

 

“Nessie, I’ve been standing here for like an hour. This is why you never have rent money. Customers won’t tip airheads unless they show a little something-something.” Mae brushed her wavy blonde hair behind her so her cleavage was out.

 

“It couldn’t be that my psychopath boss steals them.” I rattled the full jar in her face. It was never full at closing time.

 

“Mhmmm.” Mae checked her cracked iPhone for new texts. She had a dozen. She sent winking smileys to each of the boys.

 

“What are you doing here anyway? It’s Thursty Thursday. Shouldn’t you be twerking down at The Shadow Lounge?” I asked.

 

“And leave my best friend here?” she asked with a gasp. She embraced me tenderly. Her pungent perfume was mixed with the stench of pregaming.

 

Her hair got caught in my mouth and I spat it out. I shoved her away. “The truth, please,” I said.

 

“Ok, ok. I was about to get ready. But I wanted to ask if you’re working tomorrow.”

 

“I’m off. For once.”

 

“Perfect! Want to come to The Sunset Grill tomorrow night?” she asked.  

 

A toddler knocked his glass of Mt. Dew off the table and it shattered. The bright pool washed the shards through the aisle. The mother alternated between apologizing to Mr. Newton, who was already mopping up the mess, and soothing the munchkin’s wailing. Mr. Newton assured her it was okay, and he really believed it when we found their bill and tacked on the price of the glass and another dollar for profit.

 

“I don’t know, Mae. It’s my only night off and I really just want to sleep or catch up on homework or relax. I don’t even know what’s on TV anymore.”

 

“But I met this guy! Aiden, I think. He works there. Tends bar or something, I don’t know. He said I should check out this band they’ve got playing. They’re supposed to be really loud. Don’t make me go alone!” she pleaded.

 

“I love you, Mae, but I’m not up for another night of your fake, flirty laugh. It’s a miracle the boys don’t go running from it either. You’re bored by their jokes. They’re repulsed by your cackle. Why bother saying anything if all you want is man-meat and they just want your meat? Makes me want to be a vegetarian.”

 

“Laine! Stop chatting and get to work!” Mr. Newton yelled from the back.

 

“I’m taking her order!”

 

“There’ll be boys there! Big, beefy boys. And they’re always generous with free drinks if you just flip your hair and lick your lips,” Mae said and demonstrated for me. “Or you could go for the bands!  There’s some weird underground group from Austin. They’ve got an electric violin.”

 

“Fine,” I said. “Now go before I get fired.”

 

She hugged me over the counter.

 

I still have a complaint about this scene. How would you summarize it? I would say it’s two girls talking about going to a club. There are some great stories with boring summaries, but even with my edits, it’s not brilliant. It probably won’t be without a lot of work and passion invested in this scene and I don’t know Mae, Vanessa, or That Food Place so I can’t fake those insights. But don’t forget that you can set a conversation somewhere other than a food place. People often set them in kitchens, restaurants, dorm rooms, and they get boring to read time and time again even if they’re slightly different. To fix this, Vanessa could just be getting off work and it’s pouring out and Mae has come to pick her up. They dart from overhang  to overhang to avoid getting wet. You can characterize them through why they don’t want to be wet too. Mae could be wearing a white shirt and Mae could say “I can’t give everyone on the street  a peek.” Vanessa could say “What do you care? You’re always giving the boys at the clubs a peek.” And Mae could respond, “If they buy me a drink. I’ll give a show, but it’s not free.”

Dance with Me by IronHorseXLiveStrong edits

I don’t enjoy dancing and I don’t understand it as an art form, but my sister was a dancer; my girl friends in high school were dancers, and I was in the party scene of the Nutcracker in the 6th grade so while my knowledge is limited, I have resources to lend me credibility if I ever write about dance (I never have and don’t plan to outside this analysis and edit). If you are not a dancer or do not know dancers, your writing will suffer because your descriptions are inaccurate. Even a professional-level writer cannot imagine the dance moves of ballet or other forms, but also your observations of a dancer’s personality will be general and often wrong. The cracked toenails; the dry, red feet; callouses; blisters; the line of massages that dancers do; the hairstyle, these wow the readers; either your reader is a dancer and will say, “Exactly!” or they are not dancers and enjoy learning the absurdities of the art. Research is important, even if you forget the information a month later. Earlier this week, my friend Lindsay displayed her dance skills and knowledge, and even researched a few moves with me. Thank you, Lindsay.

Before battering the text, I’ll highlight its strengths.

The language is simple and won’t send anyone to the dictionary, though the punctuation is overused.

The author mixes up sentence structure so it stays mostly fresh.

There are few stock phrases so the writing forces you to read each word instead of just the first of a familiar phrase before you skim.

The tone in the first half is suitable to the subject. It feels like a performance. When the author wanders off afterwards, the tone double-downs on the melodrama and makes me sick, but it works in the first half. It emphasizes a writing technique that is difficult to explain without example so because “Dance with Me” brings up the lesson, I will explain it further on. There is a time to be clear, and a time for mystery.

Her text and my suggested revisions are bolded. Analysis will be done in normal font.

Dance with Me by IronHorseXLiveStrong

 

Vanessa Williams starred in a 1998 movie called Dance with Me; it currently has a rating of 5.2 on IMDB, though Roger Ebert gave it three of four stars. You can use a title even if another creative work thought of it first; however, when it’s a Hollywood movie, that’s usually a sign that it’s not that interesting and you should think of something else.

 

Tagline: A leaf that dies in the fall does not lose its beauty, its delicate drifting movement as it spirals to the ground, pushed by the wind. Water still runs, be it dirty, or clear. But she, a woman who had found escape in passion and dance and grace, what was she worth?

 

This tagline doesn’t draw me in, especially after having read the rest. You’re forcing parallels with dancing and falling leaves and running water without showing a connection. And even if you had made connections, they aren’t apparent in the tagline. This is your conclusion but you’re presenting it before making it your argument that proves it. It’s not convincing on its own, so you shouldn’t present it on its own.

A more appealing tagline for your story is a description of dance. Impress us with the performance as that’s the strength of your story. After the dance, your stories dies and but you drag it along like Hector’s corpse attached to Achilles’s chariot. It’s insulting to its former glory.

 

_

 

 

Author’s Note: Inspired by AlyTheAwesome1’s story Dancing in the Dark. This is my own idea however, and the only thing I really used from hers was the general idea of dancing. I don’t know why, exactly, I wrote this, but I wrote the first three paragraphs out of the blue and couldn’t stop. So, please read, and enjoy!

 

Just cut this note to “Inspired by AlyTheAwesome1’s story Dancing in the Dark.” Everything else is uninteresting. We assume this is your own idea. We don’t need to know why you write something. Also this is overpunctuated. Too many commas and we either trip on them or ignore them.

 

Paragraph 1: A woman stepped out from the shadows of the trees, her long, slim legs bending gracefully with each step. Her skin was startlingly white, and she wore a grayish, black leotard and white ballet shoes. Her black hair was tied back tightly, and her eyes were caked in smokey make-up. She was beautiful.

Sentence 1: “A woman stepped out from the shadows of the trees, her long, slim legs bending gracefully with each step.” This is the first sentence of your story, and in middle school we called these “attention grabbers.” Those teachers instructed us to give a quote, fact, description, question, or say something shocking. There are others and those listed are ineffective on their own as no one is interested in a quote like “Hello, how are you?” –Abraham Lincoln, but the basic idea is right. You need to hook your claws into your readers and pin their attention so they can’t escape. A long-legged woman walking from the shadows of a tree doesn’t do that. Before performances, dancers often exclaim “Merde!” which is French for “Shit!” as a good luck tradition. It’s fresher than “Break a leg” and fits in with the theme of ballet. I would start with that. An alternative could be a description of the waves of the ocean settling down like an audience finding their seats. You want to be vivid with the description of the waves’ turmoil then tranquility and then make the connection to an audience settling in.

Sentence 1 would then get pushed to a new paragraph, whichever opening you choose.

You don’t need the two prepositions so cut “out.” It’s deadwood. Often when there are two prepositions, one can be cut. A side note: it is not incorrect to end a sentence with a preposition unless that preposition is unnecessary to the sentence. “Who are you going with?” is fine, but “Where are you going to?” is not because the “to” doesn’t add anything.

“Long, slim” are repetitive with each other. Something that is slim often appears long, but neither are specific to a dancer. I would use “lithe.” It’s a stronger adjective and brings to mind a dancer, but it’s clear that she’s a dancer so you don’t really need an adjective. It’s up to you. I would assume the dancer is fit without the adjectives “long,” “slim,” or “lithe.”

Even if this isn’t your attention-grabber, you want it to be an interesting sentence, both the style and the content. We don’t need an explanation of how she walks though – no one finds that interesting unless she’s prancing or doing a Monty-Python silly-walk. But if she’s just walking normally, then just tell us that. You’re attempting to slow the pace with description and that can be an effective technique if the description is interesting. I’ll point to where it belong when we get there and show a few examples of how to do it properly. “A lithe woman stepped from the shadows of the trees.”

Sentence 2: “Her skin was startlingly white, and she wore a grayish, black leotard and white ballet shoes.” You need to show the whiteness of her skin. Does it shine in the moonlight? Is it thin enough to see veins through? Anton Chekov said “Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” Keep that in mind when describing things but there are times when it’s easier and more effective to just tell, like the color of her leotard and shoes.

Make the leotard just black. We don’t care that much about the color. The contrast of her pale skin with the dark leotard won’t impact most readers but if it’s ever made into a movie, then it’ll be striking on its own. The imagination is only so effective at bringing to life description.

The white shoes and the pale skin gives you room to do something artsy. Her skin and shoes are roughly the same color and will appear without a seam in the moonlight, so you can hint that the girl and the shoes are one as though dancing is her life. If you do that, you don’t want to force it though. Don’t hit the audience over the head.

Suggestion: The moon lit her silver skin beneath the black leotard. White shoes blended with her feet.

Sentence 3: “Her black hair was tied back tightly, and her eyes were caked in smokey make-up.

What kind of black hair? Mediterranean? Arab? Asian? Italian? You don’t need to spend more than a few words on this, but give us a better description of her. Even if she is a nameless avatar, help us along with picturing her. The namelessness is fine but don’t think that it limits the universality of your writing. F. Scott Fitzgerald said something like “Write about everyone and you write about no one. Write about the one and you write about everyone.” The truth of that is arguable but if you ever have more than one person in a story, you need to give them more than just pronouns for clarity’s sake. Here, it works because there is no one else.

How is the black hair tied back? Is it in a bun? Be specific about it.

Make-up is always “caked” in stories. Why is it caked? Is it stage make-up? Does she look like a geisha girl or a hooker? What kind of eye make-up is it? Mascara? Eye-shadow? Specifics will bring it to life.

“Smoky” is the spelling that I know and I don’t think “smokey” is acceptable outside the US though I might be wrong.

Suggestion: Her dark Mediterranean hair was tied in a bun and the eye shadow of her stage make-up made her look like a beautiful Hollywood whore.

Sentence 4: “She was beautiful.

She doesn’t have to be beautiful. “Beautiful” in writing should be reserved for romantic moments or comical effect. If she had fat rolling over her leotard and a wart on her knee and runs in her tights, then you called her beautiful, we’d know there was something deranged about your view—the whole “love is blind” thing. And if this were a love story, then we’d fall in love with her as much as her lover and then when you said she was beautiful, we’d believe you. Here, if you really want to call her beautiful, I suggest tacking it onto “beautiful Hollywood whore” in the previous statement. It’s a bit of dry humor and social commentary on how hookers in movies are always beautiful when in real life they’re usually rough and worn.  If you do a good job at describing her performance, we might fall in love with the dance and assume she’s beautiful and you can state it then.  But here, it’s not that colorful or believable.

Paragraph 2: She took one step, then another, before bowing slowly and rising. Suddenly, she was a blur of motion. Her arms were opened wide, as if welcoming an embrace, and her feet leapt and twisted, lifting her higher and higher in the air with each bound. With her arms splayed out, her shadow looked like an angel.

Sentence 1: “She took one step, then another, before bowing slowly and rising.

You’re trying to slow down the pace so we’re surprised when she’s “suddenly a blur of motion,” but steps aren’t interesting and too many commas are annoying. Before a performance, dancers bow to the audience to acknowledge them. This gives you an opportunity to talk about the “audience,” which since she’s alone the audience is just scenery. Describe the beach, maybe compare where the ocean darkens the sand to the dark orchestra pit with a dead branch poking up like a conductor’s wand. Maybe the ocean has settled but the waves still lap like whispers. You don’t want to force a comparison of course. Even though you’re the God of this universe with total control over land, sea, and air and their inhabitants, you want to manipulate them with a gentle touch.

Start a new paragraph after her bow, then new paragraph for the scenery, then a new one for the “blur of motion.”

Sentence 2: “Suddenly, she was a blur of motion.

This is telling and you don’t want to tell us that she’s blurred. Show it to us. What movement does she start with? “Her arms whipped open.” A whip is always blurred and always fast so the “suddenly” and “blurred” and “motion” are implied but easier to imagine.

This is a tough technique to pull off – to go from slow paced writing to sudden action. I’ve copied Chapter IX of A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway for you so that you can see how he did it effectively. It gets a bit gruesome as the chapter is about being shelled during WWI, but it’s the best example I’ve found.

You can play with sentence structure, long or short; lots of semicolons; colons or dashes; conjunctions; few commas except where necessary; even comma splice errors and run-on sentences. Be careful with breaking convention though as if your style isn’t professional level then the broken rules will look accidental and break your credibility. I would start the action with a long sentence. Maybe start the paragraph with “She rose from her bow,” so you bring focus back to her then go on to “She rose from her bow. Then her arms whipped open, ready to embrace a partner but no one came, no one leapt into her arms so she pranced toward the water and twirled with her foot kicking out over the orchestra of dying waves, and as her momentum slowed she hopped to stage left, then right, back, back, back, spin, leap, twist, hop-hop-hop higher-higher-higher toward the moon, toward the stars, toward the black, then down to the beach. She bowed to the audience.”

 

Verbs are your best friend for action like this. You do not want periods to break your audience’s reading pace. Instead try to force them to read it without pause so at the end they’re as breathless as your ballerina. Be specific with your verbs, but I’d also keep this wild compared to the next performance so don’t use ballet terms yet.

Sentence 3: “Her arms were opened wide, as if welcoming an embrace, and her feet leapt and twisted, lifting her higher and higher in the air with each bound.

Focus on what the dancer is doing. She is doing these actions, not her feet, not her arms, unless they alone are widening.

Sentence 4: “With her arms splayed out, her shadow looked like an angel.

I’d include this description in your action without pause and focus on her action and reserve narrator comments like “her shadow looked like an angel” for another paragraph.

 

Paragraph 3: Each time her feet touched the ground she was back up, her eyes closed as her body knew the patterns. The full moon overhead made her silver, yet dark. Her hair appeared white, and her skin glowed, but the charcoal dark leotard and make-up made her seem unreal, unearthly.

Sentence 1: “Each time her feet touched the ground she was back up, her eyes closed as her body knew the patterns.

Include all the description of her actions in one paragraph. If you think of the narrator as a camera filming the performance, when the narrator turns the camera, make a new paragraph.

Sentence 2: “The full moon overhead made her silver, yet dark.

This doesn’t belong here. If you want the dancer to come to an abrupt stop in the next paragraph, you need to be abrupt when you stop the action. Right now the action is trailing off. If you want to include this elsewhere, such as when you’re lulling us with description before the dance-sequence, then move it above.

If you include it elsewhere, cut the “overhead.” Where else would the moon be? I do this too when I’m not thinking but it’s deadwood.

Sentence 3: “Her hair appeared white, and her skin glowed, but the charcoal dark leotard and make-up made her seem unreal, unearthly.

Again, move this elsewhere.

“Appeared” is rarely a useful verb. Just use “was.” Actually just cut the detail because I don’t believe black hair looks white from the moon especially if her leotard and make-up don’t also. Combine “her skin glowed” with the previous sentence. “Dark” is redundant with “charcoal” and “charcoal” is more interesting.

I don’t see how dark leotard or make-up makes her unreal or unearthly, but use a positive word to describe it – avoid “not X” or “unX” or “nonX” when you can. Use words like “divine,” “demonic,” “heavenly,” “spiritual.” They are better words, but again, it’s not really necessary.

Suggestion: Her skin glowed silver yet dark under the full moon.

 

But remember to move it elsewhere, like in the description you gave earlier.

Paragraph 4: Abruptly, she came to a stop, feet buried in the sand, legs straight, with her palms flat on the ground. Her chest moved faster than before, her breath sped up by the exhilaration of the dance. Rising slowly, her lower half not moving, she extended her hands up, and then out, parallel to the ground.

Sentence 1: “Abruptly, she came to a stop, feet buried in the sand, legs straight, with her palms flat on the ground.

By now she’s already stopped in our minds. When you go on to describe her looks and her clothes and her make-up, she’s no longer moving to us. So to us, she hasn’t come to an abrupt stop because of your narration. If you cut that out, as I’ve suggested, then the stop becomes abrupt and you don’t need to tell us. “Abruptly” is an adverb and they’re typically ineffective writing. Just have her stop.

It’s wordy to say “she came to a stop” when you can just say, “She stopped.” But if she’s bowed as I suggested at the end of your action sequence, then you don’t need to even say that. Though I don’t know the dance-etiquette as to whether or not dancers bow after each performance. A cloud could pass over the moon, the moon a stand-in for a stage-light, and the ballerina could take a knee or hold a pose—make it an interesting one like “One hand stretched toward the sky while the other held her thumping heart, and a cloud passed over her moon-light.” This implies she’s forlorn without beating us over the head with it. It keeps the tone of the piece.

This is an odd image. My friend Lindsay acted it out to confirm its awkwardness but why would anyone bend over with their palms on the ground after dancing? Is she stretching? You wouldn’t do that during a performance and I think you should treat this solo dance for the scenery as a performance. So cut this pose in favor of another or the one I suggested. You can keep the detail “feet buried in the sand” but put it where it won’t bog down the pace. After the pose, it might be a good idea to shift focus away from her briefly like the audience waiting for the next scene to start. Then you can go backstage to her panting and preparing to dance again.

Sentence 2: “Her chest moved faster than before, her breath sped up by the exhilaration of the dance.

This is just a wordy way of saying “She panted, exhilarated.” You could mess with the structure so that the rhythm is like her panting. Not everyone will pick up on it but you could do “She panted, exhilarated, tired, covered in sand.” The key is to keep a parallel pattern (so all verbs in the same tense, or all –ed words even if they’re verbs and verbs used as adjectives, or all flat adverbs, or whatever) and ignore MSWords’s suggestion to include “and” after the last comma.

Sentence 3: “Rising slowly, her lower half not moving, she extended her hands up, and then out, parallel to the ground.

I get what you’re trying to show here, but I’m not enough of a ballet expert to describe it properly. All I can tell you is this isn’t a good way of doing it. It sounds more like a yoga pose than ballet. Rethink whether or not it’s necessary, definitely reword it if you think it is. Remember be positive and active. Don’t slow the pace with empty words.

 

Paragraph 5: Swiftly, she turned in small circles, her right foot barely grazing the ground as she spun. The movement was more methodical, more controlled than the last, and again, abruptly, she came to a halt.

Sentence 1: “Swiftly, she turned in small circles, her right foot barely grazing the ground as she spun.

The adverb “Swiftly” makes your sentence un-swift (I recognize that that’s not a word, but I want to emphasize that it is not swift). Again, do the transition showed by Hemingway from an interesting lull to sudden action. You do not need to say “suddenly” or “swiftly” if you show it.

“Circles” and “spun” are redundant, as is “barely” with “grazing.” You only barely touch the ground if you graze it.

I don’t care which foot is doing what so cut out “right.”

Suggestion: Her foot grazed the ground, drawing in the sand as she spun.

Sentence 2: “The movement was more methodical, more controlled than the last, and again, abruptly, she came to a halt.

If the movement is more methodical here than be more specific that just verbs: use ballet terms. My friend Lindsay helped me some but the burden is on you to choreograph this as you see it. You still want to be clear to the audience – don’t just spit French at us and expect us to visualize it from that, but help us along by mixing verbs and French ballet terms together. You can check the American Ballet Theatre’s “Ballet Dictionary” online at http://www.abt.org/education/dictionary/index.html. There are videos and names if you do not know the terms or the moves. If you are not a dancer, do not attempt to choreograph a huge performance. Any reader that’s also been a dancer will scoff at it. Even if your audience is mostly non-dancers, you don’t want the one or two dancing readers to reveal to the others that you’re a fraud. So do your best to recreate a real performance.

I’ve listed below movements that fit what you’ve described. Remember to italicize foreign words.

Port de bras – Literally “arm movement,” or arms splayed out.

 

Changement –a leap often done in succession with feet crossed.

 

Chene –literally means dog, but another name for a turn (I don’t know the specifics of the turn).

 

Pirouette piquée –A spin on the toes. These can be done with a progression of getting larger.

 

Sissonne –a jump from both feet straight up and down, often repeated to get larger and larger. A sissonne fermée is to the side, forward or backwards.

 

Pas de bourrée –a step to the side.

 

Sauté – more jumping.

And my favorite, the Lame Duck – A small turn on one leg, also called piqué entournant en de hors. This would add dry humor to your piece, as would “Merde!” at the start of the writing without detracting from the overall serious tone. Humor is a good way to charm people so they keep reading. Often we want people to cry over our pieces but you won’t do that if you never get connected to it and humor helps you connect your audience. Even Hemingway, a serious and even depressed writer who as a geezer killed himself with a shotgun, used dry humor and comedic humor. Lame Ducks often turn into pirouette piquée or other turns according to Lindsay.

So expand your sentence a whole paragraph of dance terms and verbs to help us understand them. I’ll do my best to show you but I’m not a dancer so forgive the awkwardness: “Her lame ducks turned to greater twirls, pirouette piquée, arms wider with each turn, then a step to one side, then back – pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée. Sauté into the air then more spins – chene, then pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée. A small jump, repeated higher, sissonne, sissonne, sissonne till her legs couldn’t push any higher. Pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée. Her arms splayed out, port de bras then pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée, and changement toward the dark sky. Pirouette to a full stop where she faced the sea.”  It’s tough to do when you’re not an expert on the subject but hopefully that gives you a few ideas. Write it like you’re doing the choreography for new dance students. Give enough hints that we know what each move is, but also use the name of the move to give you credibility as the choreographer.

Paragraph 6: Turning, she faced the sea. Her legs folded beneath her and she crumpled down like a wilted flower. Her face looked to the night sky as she closed her eyes, the faintest beginning of a smile wrinkling the edges of her mouth. A breeze flew over the sand around her, caressing her bare skin.

Sentence 1: “Turning, she faced the sea.

Include this in the choreography so she spins and ends the spin facing the sea.

Sentence 2: “Her legs folded beneath her and she crumpled down like a wilted flower.

Include this in the choreography, but my friend Lindsay says this would be a weird way to end a dance. Usually it’s done with a pose like taking a knee and hugging the other. The wilted flower and knees buckling are tired images anyway. They’re not that dramatic because of overuse. Find a genuine end to a dance use it because those are often dramatic.

Sentence 3: “Her face looked to the night sky as she closed her eyes, the faintest beginning of a smile wrinkling the edges of her mouth.

Start the paragraph after the dance here.

Her “face” isn’t looking at the night sky. She is. Don’t isolate her body parts unless they’re the only piece of her doing it.

“Night sky” is repetitive; just say “to the sky” or “to the night.”

If she’s looking to the sky, in writing, she shouldn’t immediately close her eyes after. It’s just odd. If she looks at the sky, we assume she wants to look at it for some reason but then she doesn’t. It’s odd for readers. If you say “she closed her eyes to the night” it gives a happier meaning because “night” could be symbolic of sadness and if she closes her eyes to it then we recognize that dance made her happy, especially if she smiles after.

“The faintest beginning of a smile wrinkling the edges of her mouth” is a wordy way of saying “she smiled.” There’s no difference to the reader between the two. She can grin, smirk, beam, or simper, and those have a different meaning from the basic smile but watering down your meaning with a lot of words is not good writing. You could get away with “a smile wrinkled her lips” as a fresher expression than “she smiled,” but keep it as economical as possible.

Suggestion: She closed her eyes to the night as a smile wrinkled her lips.

Sentence 4: “A breeze flew over the sand around her, caressing her bare skin.

I’d switch this with the previous sentence. It has less punch to it and you want to end a paragraph with punch. You could also bring some humor in and say sad blew up her nose or in her mouth, just so you don’t get too melodramatic and chase away mature readers.

 

Paragraph 7: Her lips as delicate as rose petals, she opened her mouth ever so slightly, breathing deeply. She bit down slightly on her bottom lip, her smile melting down to a frown. Her brow wrinkled in concentration, distorting her beauty. A silent tear rolled down her cheek, turned black from the powder under her eyelids. A small hiccup of air escaped her lips.

This paragraph is where you start to lose my interest. The drama was present throughout but it was believable, the kind found in ballet, but suddenly we’re on the rise and you don’t slow at all in the coming paragraphs. Climaxes are important but because there is no clear plot aside from the dance, a climax is a harder thing to escalate towards. It would be better to leave us hanging with a bit of sadness in our mind or with happy resolution through dance such as closing her eyes to the night. I would cut everything after this paragraph because we’ve moved from the dance to this boring personal stuff. It would be interesting if your character had any personality, but we don’t know her or her name so why should we care that she’s lonely? We care about the dancer up on stage but when they go to their dressing rooms, we don’t care anymore unless we’re their friend or family. This cliff-hanger end would also leave us wondering if the dance was a practiced performance of sadness or the ballerina’s actual sadness expressed through dance. Artistically, it’s more interesting if you don’t explain it.

This is where clarity versus mystery is important. Young writers, especially poets, try to be mysterious with their writing but they do so through obscurity. The readers have no idea what’s going on. We can’t imagine it. We can’t relate. Even if we could sort through the details, we have no interest in pursuing the meaning because we don’t see even a hint of one. However, what you’ve done here is a good way to leave meaning mysterious. You’re clear about what’s happened on the surface-level. Once you touch everything up we can visualize clearly what’s going on. It’s like we’re there – that is what you want! And in real life, just because we are there, doesn’t mean we know everything that’s actually happening behind the scenes. If we saw this girl dancing in real life, we wouldn’t know why she’s doing so but we could theorize based on some clues provided and so as the author, you do not need to explain to us why she’s sad. You don’t need to tell us she’s forced to dance alone. She doesn’t need to draw a rose with bitter thorns. She can just dance, be sad, and leave and we’re left to figure out why.

That being said, you have to describe it vividly. We need to be able to picture it perfectly and there need to be details we can interpret as clues. We might be misled by our biases or we might have differing opinions than our friends and some will be more believable such as “She’s a jilted bride” and others will be less believable, “She was abducted by aliens and her tushy is still sore from all the probing.” There will be incorrect interpretations as poetry and literature cannot just be interpreted as whatever comes to mind—however, there might not be one right answer. In philosophy they call that “pluralism” as in multiple right answers.

Sentence 1: “Her lips as delicate as rose petals, she opened her mouth ever so slightly, breathing deeply.

Again, you’re stretching out the meaning into 16 words when you only need a few.

Rose-petal lips are trite. It’s too common of a comparison. They don’t need to be delicate either. Most ballerinas aren’t delicate even if they look so. Most are strong, muscular women with rough feet and knots in their backs.

Of course she opens her mouth to breathe deeply after that dance. It’s just deadwood. “Ever so slightly” means the same as “slightly,” but it’s an adverb and not an effective one here.

“Breathing deeply” is a vague verb with a weak adverb. How is she breathing? Wheezing? Panting? Inhaling? Sucking in the salty air and choking on grains of sand? Give me a strong verb.

Suggestion: “She wheezed through rosy lips.”

Sentence 2: “She bit down slightly on her bottom lip, her smile melting down to a frown.

We assume it’s her bottom lip that she’s biting. Rarely do people bite the upper lip unless they’re stressed and looking for something to chew on or the lip is chapped and they’re peeling the flaking skin off it. So cut “bottom.”

Cut “slightly.” Cut “down” too. It’s implied and then it forces you to use “on.” You can just say “She bit her lip.”

It’s a little stale for a person to bite their lip but I’ll allow it. It implies sorrow and you don’t want to go into it too much.

Sentence 3: “Her brow wrinkled in concentration, distorting her beauty.

Everyone is always wrinkling their brow, or furrowing it. You also used wrinkle one paragraph up so you shouldn’t use it again already.

I don’t see how this distorts her beauty.

Just cut this whole line. It’s not an interesting image.

Sentence 4: “A silent tear rolled down her cheek, turned black from the powder under her eyelids.

Tears in writing are overdramatic. True sadness is rarely expressed through tears unless there is a tragic event that just happened. You see someone die and you cry. Or if there’s a reminder of it, e.g. someone dies and you’re hearing the eulogy, you might cry. But in writing, tears should be implied or just not present. Especially if there’s no personality to your dancer because it’s hard to look at someone crying. It’s not beautiful when they cry like in movies – it’s gross and snotty and hard to watch. So your tone should imply the sadness and don’t do anything with tears.

 

Sentence 5: “A small hiccup of air escaped her lips.

“Of air” is verbiage. What else do you hiccup?

It’s a wordy way of saying “She hiccupped.” You’re missing content here which is why my interest wanes. I would end it before then. End it quickly after her dance ends. She smiles at the night and closes her eyes. Her eyelids are then the final curtain and you can describe the waves as picking up again like applause. But don’t wander off into stuff that isn’t interesting or relevant to the dance.

 

Paragraph 8: Just as she had fallen, she carefully rose. Her white shoes were flecked with wet sand from the tide, and her legs were dotted with grains of sand where her skin had touched the ground. Walking unsteadily inland, her past grace gone, more tears fell, dotting the sand with black drops.

Again, cut, boring, overdramatic. The sand dotting the shoe is interesting imagery but can go elsewhere like between the two dances.

 

Paragraph 9: She slowed as she approached the crest of a hill. There, resting against a small, shriveled tree, was a large rock. The rock was obsidian, and shone like glass in the moonlight. Her hand reached out to touch it, and her delicate fingers ran along the lines forever molded into it. She knelt on the ground beside it, her eyes distant and bleary.

 

Boring, irrelevant, overdramatic. Cut. The obsidian could be a prop/scenery used during the dance as dances occasionally have that. You’ll want to describe it before the dance but do not describe it the same way you’ve described everything else, as shining in the moonlight. Find new images. But everything else here is uninteresting.

 

Paragraph 10: In the sand surrounding the dark rock, she drew a heart, and inside it a rose with thorns on the stem. The thorns were jagged, and fierce, and not at all sweet. They spoke of beauty, yet bitterness, and the woman could not contain herself. A sob racked her body, and she pressed a dirt-caked hand to her mouth, willing herself to be silent. She closed her eyes against more tears, and still they came.

 

Cut this melodrama. You’re explaining too much and since we don’t know her or who broke her heart, we don’t care.

Another note, if you tried drawing a rose in the sand it would not look like a rose. And if you tried drawing thorns, they would not look like thorns. The drawing would turn out like a sunflower with a hairy stem, which if you ever reuse the image could be a good antidote to the melodrama. Too much sentimentality is repulsing but if you throw in some humor it helps us get through it. You don’t have to be irrelevant, but real life is rarely melodramatic despite what teenagers and the depressed often see. Even they smile regularly and laugh and have fun, though many claim to fake all of it. Life, even tragic moments, have wit and humor to them and as the writer you have to present these in a way that does not undermine your overall tone. A little dry humor won’t undermine you and will help your readers enjoy your piece. Writing is a form of entertainment first, and art second. If you can’t entertain people, you won’t get them to see the art.

 

Paragraph 11: The blackness of her tears fell on the rose in the sand at her knees. They splattered her creation, the grains turning black and inky, not unlike blood in the shadow of night. As she opened her eyes to see what she had done, she could not take it.

Black, shadow, night, tears, blood, even ink – these are all words that connote melodrama. Cut down on them. A few throughout gives us the tone. Too many suffocate us.

 

Paragraph 12: The woman jerked herself to her feet, similar to a marionette, and threw herself into the air into what seemed an endless leap. Her feet caught her as she landed, and she turned, leaping and kicking and moving her arms in a way that she moved in and out of the shadows.

My friend Lindsay and I disagreed about where to end it. We agreed to cut the melodrama, but she thought you should have another small performance like this whereas I’ve told you where I would’ve liked it to end.

 

Paragraph 13: She danced passionately, tirelessly, and did not stop. As she reached the beach, her movements became slower, more fluid, and she pushed all of her focus into precision and beauty. Not an error was made, yet her tears did not stop, for what was dancing worth, when she was in pain?

If you’re really a dancer, you’d express the pain through dancing. It’s therapeutic and all that. It breaks your credibility as the author if you can’t understand how dancers actually feel about dance. To them there’s a reverence to it. It’s an escape. You wouldn’t ask, “What’s it worth?” unless this was a full-length novel in which through the struggles of life and dance, you lose your faith.

 

Paragraph 14: A leaf that dies in the fall does not lose its beauty, its delicate, drifting movement as it spirals to the ground, pushed by the wind. Water still runs, be it dirty, or clear. But she, a woman who had found escape in passion and dance and grace, what was she worth?

 

Sentence 1: “A leaf that dies in the fall does not lose its beauty, its delicate drifting movement as it spirals to the ground, pushed by the wind.” A common poetic sentence structure used to emphasize a point is to give one noun, comma, another noun. Here it is “beauty” then “delicate drifting movement as it spirals to the ground, pushed by the wind.” It doesn’t work here though. The narration starts by talking about losing the leaf’s beauty, but it can’t lose its “delicate drifting movement.” The sentence should be split into two or rearranged.

Before we can do that, we need to fix the basics of the sentence. We don’t care when the leaf dies, do we? “The fall” is irrelevant to the leaf dying. Most leafs die in the fall, but many drop from their branches in spring and summer too. Cut “in the fall.”

“Delicate drifting movement” is a wordy way of saying “drifting.” Drifting is an action verb so of course it’s a movement too. Drifting is always gentle or delicate.

When a leaf drifts, we assume it’ll head “to the ground.” Where else would be an obvious place to land? If it lands somewhere other than the ground, it might be interesting to note, but the most conventional landing zone will be assumed and so you don’t need to include it.

 

Suggestion: “A leaf that dies, drifting and spiraling in the wind, does not lose its beauty.” This is still a sentence I would cut. The profundity here is phony.

Sentence 2: “Water still runs, be it dirty, or clear.” If I wanted to be obstinate, I could point to thick mud which does not run though it still is water. But mostly I don’t understand why you need to point this out. It’s false profundity. You’re marketing it as a shrewd observation when most people know that water runs in different forms. Just cut this.

If you don’t, clean up the punctuation. You don’t need the comma as “dirty.” If this is poetic prose and you do more with that, then you might be able to get away with the unconventional punctuating but you still can’t over-punctuate without readers being annoyed or without them skipping it. If you do view this as poetic prose then think of commas as a rest in music, semicolons are slightly longer rests, and periods are full stops. Dashes and colons speed up the pace. You should use punctuation either conventionally or sparingly though. Too much trips up your readers.

Sentence 3: “But she, a woman who had found escape in passion and dance and grace, what was she worth?” My dancer friend Lindsay was confused by this; dance should be the most valuable escape in a dancer’s life. You lost credibility as a believable narrator with her when you said this and I have to agree. Personal self-esteem issues aside, dance is an art form that many worship whether they practice, practiced, or not. So for an author to question the worth of dancing and dancers, it makes them seem like they’re not a dancer.

On a basic stylistic level, you don’t need “she, a woman.” What else would “she” be but a woman? It’s just wordy and the pretense that amateurs think is poetic. For a new reader to say it aloud, they’ll probably stumble over it.

You don’t need “and grace.” Too many items to a list bog it down and it’s really just repetitive with “dance.” Readers assume dance is graceful.

Suggestion: “But she had found escape in passion and dance, so what was she worth?”

 

Paragraph 15: A ballerina, forced to dance alone.

 

I guess that’s sad, but this story isn’t about character and so we don’t care if the character is pained, lonely, or whatever. This is a story of dance and while there can be sadness choreographed in, it should be hinted at instead.

Now that the analysis is over, it’s time to reveal the rewrite but it needs more hammering from an expert on dance. The somber tone is also not my preference and I tend to be more irreverent and jokey, but I did what I could to point to the weaknesses. Even if my suggested revisions are not to your liking, consider new ones. Other writers might say it as well or better in a different way as there is not one way to write. There are many bad ways and I’ve attempted to steer you away from them. Do not accept my revisions without attempting your own that will shore up the faults. My revision is 452 words, about half the length, with more vividness and specificity and credibility. I used the second performance as the tagline, though the first would work too.

“Dance with Me” by IronHorsexLiveStrong

 

Tagline: Her foot grazed the ground, drawing in the sand as she spun. Her lame ducks turned to greater twirls, pirouette piquée, arms wider with each turn, then a step to one side, then back – pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée. Sauté into the air then more spins – chene, then pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée. A small jump, repeated higher, sissonne, sissonne, sissonne till her legs couldn’t push any higher. Pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée. Her arms splayed out, port de bras then pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée, and changement toward the dark sky. Pirouette to a full stop where she faced an applauding sea.

_

 

Merde!

 

The waves broke and the foam was silver under the moon. They lapped the beach, grabbing hermit crabs, darkening the sand, depositing shells and driftwood.  The clouds covered the moon-light and the sea settled to whispers before going quiet.

 

A lithe woman stepped from behind the tree’s shadowy curtain. The moon lit her silver skin beneath the black leotard. White shoes blended with her feet. Her dark Mediterranean hair was tied in a bun and the eye shadow of her stage make-up made her look like a beautiful Hollywood whore. She bowed, acknowledging her audience of waves.

 

The dark sand touched by water was like the dark pit of an orchestra. A branch stuck up like the conductor’s wand which rattled in the wind, demanding silence from the waves. A few tap-tap-taps and the waves obliged, settling, calming their whitecap applause. They still lapped like eager whispers. The cloud drifted on, uncovering the moon-light which shined the beach stage, shined the dancer.

 

She rose from her bow. Then her arms whipped open, ready to embrace a partner but no one came, no one leapt into her arms so she pranced toward the water and twirled with her foot kicking out over the orchestra of dying waves, and as her momentum slowed she hopped to stage left, then right, back, back, back, back, back, spin, leap, twist, hop-hop-hop higher-higher-higher toward the moon, toward the stars, toward the black, then down to the beach. One hand stretched toward the sky while the other held her thumping heart, and a cloud passed over her moon-light.

 

She panted, exhilarated, tired, covered in sand. Grains dotted her shoe. The moon-light shone only on her and the waves were dark. Footprints pounded into her stage would remember the choreography till morning when high tide washed away her sweat.

 

Her foot grazed the ground, drawing in the sand as she spun. Her lame ducks turned to greater twirls, pirouette piquée, arms wider with each turn, then a step to one side, then back – pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée. Sauté into the air then more spins – chene, then pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée. A small jump, repeated higher, sissonne, sissonne, sissonne till her legs couldn’t push any higher. Pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée. Her arms splayed out, port de bras then pas de bourrée, pas de bourrée, and changement toward the dark sky. Pirouette to a full stop where she faced an applauding sea.

 

Kneeling on one knee, she hugged the other and the ocean clamored with the wind that rattled the conductor’s wand. Wheezing through rosy lips, she bit the lower one. As a smile wrinkled her lips she closed her eyes to the night.

Said Synonyms

Before I corrupt your vocabulary with stupid synonyms, I warn you that “said” is perfect for 75% of dialogue. It is not just acceptable, tolerable, passable, or okay – “said” is perfect.

There’s a misconception among composition teachers and young writers that because “said” is a boring word, it shouldn’t be used. “Said Jenny” tells you Jenny spoke. It does not show with vivid imagery her tongue wagging and lips flapping. It does not delight with fanciful diction. It tells you, and every writer has heard “Show, don’t tell,” though that’s a false generalization whipped into you by middle school teachers who are desperate to improve your writing for standardized tests. But “said” is for clarity – so tell us. How would you show someone, through text alone, wiggling their tongue and contorting their mouth and sound coming out? You can’t in a consistently interesting way without getting repetitive or wordy and so you shouldn’t bother. Tell us who is speaking and move on. Most readers skim for the name anyway and care nothing for the verb.

The misconception comes from poorly-written children books (with exceptions such as Holes and The Tale of Despereaux) where “said” is overused on a single page. I have altered an example from chapter 1 of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer to prove this point. I have not removed any narration; I’ve only added who said the lines. Read it aloud:

Tom said: “I can lick you!”
“I’d like to see you try it,” said the well-dressed boy.
“Well, I can do it,” said Tom.
“No you can’t either,” he said.
“Yes I can,” said Tom.
“No you can’t,” he said to Tom.
“I can,” Tom said.
“You can’t,” the well-dressed boy said.
“Can!” said Tom.
“Can’t!” he said.

And on it goes for over a page. When substituting for pre-K through 8th grade, I read books with dialogue set up like this with short, generic dialogue and little action. I stumble over myself because of the awkward echo between “said” and “said” and “said” and “said” and “said” and “said” and “said” and “said” and “said” and “said.” In 58 words, 10 of them are said. Readers recognize this awkward style and young writers try to fix it but they do so with synonyms. Below is the same passage but altered in the usual novice way.

Tom said: “I can lick you!”
“I’d like to see you try it,” replied the well-dressed boy.
“Well, I can do it,” responded Tom.
“No you can’t either,” he spoke.
“Yes I can,” Tom declared.
“No you can’t,” he informed Tom.
“I can,” Tom commented.
“You can’t,” the well-dressed boy told him.
“Can!” shouted Tom.
“Can’t!” he yelled.

It’s ridiculously wordy compared to the best patch and still awkward. Readers stumble over the words but they’re disguised with forced synonyms so it’s harder to spot why this is an awkward fix. Some of these synonyms (“shouted,” “yelled,” “declared” and “informed”) can be useful but their purpose here is to disguise “said” instead of showing how the speaker said the line. The dialogue-tags slow down the argument and so the lines lose impact. It’s no longer a snappy spat between boys, but a disagreement between stereotypically slow-witted country folk.

Mark Twain originally did it like this:

Tom said: “I can lick you!”
“I’d like to see you try it.”
“Well, I can do it.”
“No you can’t either.”
“Yes I can.”
“No you can’t.”
“I can.”
“You can’t.”
“Can!”
“Can’t!”

The speakers can still be traced by their side in the argument. Tom is the one insisting he can, and the well-dressed boy is denying it: the speakers are clear despite only one name being used, and the lines have punch. It’s the perfect solution for this dialogue. He-said-she-said slows down the text, which can be a useful trick but when people are arguing, often a quicker pace is a better representation of how it would be acted out. Charles Dickens was the most famous amateur actor in London, but he got sick before his audition to be a professional and so he became a creator instead of an interpreter; he always remembered his acting days as a writer though and often acted out what he wrote. If it was boring to do, he’d throw out the line or change it. I recommend doing this as it’ll help you understand the pacing of your writing. If you’re too proud to get up and make a fool of yourself while alone in your room, then at least read your stories out loud. You’ll hear where they are awkward.

Because most dialogue is too short to space out the he-said-she-saids, you need other tools to be clear about who is speaking without dialogue-tags: characterizing actions, scene-setting, and other narration. This is the best solution when you can afford a slower pace. JD Salinger in “For Esme—with Love and Squalor” did it like this:

The door banged open, without having been rapped on. X raised his head, turned it, and saw Corporal Z standing in the door. Corporal Z had been X’s jeep partner and constant companion from D-Day straight through five campaigns of the war. He lived on the first floor and he usually came up to see X when he had a few rumors or gripes to unload. He was a huge, photogenic young man of twenty-four. During the war, a national magazine had photographed him in Hurtgen Forest; he had posed, more than just obligingly, with a Thanksgiving turkey in each hand. “Ya writin’ letters?” he asked X. “It’s spooky in here, for Chrissake.” He preferred always to enter a room that had the overhead light on.

X turned around in his chair and asked him to come in, and to be careful not to step on the dog.

“The what?”

“Alvin. He’s right under your feet, Clay. How ’bout turning on the goddam light?”

Clay found the overhead-light switch, flicked it on, then stepped across the puny, servant’s-size room and sat down on the edge of the bed, facing his host. His brick-red hair, just combed, was dripping with the amount of water he required for satisfactory grooming. A comb with a fountain-pen clip protruded, familiarly, from the right-hand pocket of his olive-drab shirt. Over the left-hand pocket he was wearing the Combat Infantrymen’s Badge (which, technically, he wasn’t authorized to wear), the European Theatre ribbon, with five bronze battle stars in it (instead of a lone silver one, which was the equivalent of five bronze ones), and the pre-Pearl Harbor service ribbon. He sighed heavily and said, “Christ almighty.” It meant nothing; it was Army. He took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, tapped one out, then put away the pack and rebuttoned the pocket flap. Smoking, he looked vacuously around the room. His look finally settled on the radio. “Hey,” he said. “They got this terrific show comin’ on the radio in a coupla minutes. Bob Hope, and everybody.”

X, opening a fresh pack of cigarettes, said he had just turned the radio off.

Undarkened, Clay watched X trying to get a cigarette lit. “Jesus,” he said, with spectator’s enthusiasm, “you oughta see your goddam hands. Boy, have you got the shakes. Ya know that?”

X got his cigarette lit, nodded, and said Clay had a real eye for detail.

This adds visual appeal and characterization and separates the saids and other dialogue-tags so when reading you don’t trip over awkwardness. Even without the dialogue-tags, it would be clear who was speaking, but Salinger uses them to pause between lines. This is what your teachers should’ve instructed instead of teaching you to use a thesaurus to find said synonyms. I keep order among tykes during 3rd grade writing classes taught by a 50-year-old woman who last wrote an essay for her Bachelor of Education in the 80s and she tells them not to use “said” and I groan. It is the solution of amateur writers.

When making a new paragraph, imagine it’s a camera turning its focus. When a new person talks, make a new paragraph and capture what they’re doing; always keep characters in view. When the next person talks, you start a new paragraph. People rarely just talk in real life and should do so even less in stories because talky writing is usually boring. Do you like reading Shakespeare? I don’t, but I like seeing it on stage with swords and emotion, and yet, though his dialogue is sharp and interesting (because that’s what plays rely on), it is boring to read. A director interprets his lines and minimal actions and settings to make an exciting production, but a writer must be creator and director and add the visual appeal: setting, actions, description. A novel should not be written like a play. Characters move about, interacting with the scenery, with props, with other people. Characters dart from overhang to overhang in the shopping district to escape the rain. They punch each other, hug each other, give each other titty-twisters. They bang open the door without rapping. They put their dirty boots up on the bed. And if readers see a character doing something, then your audience reads a quote, they will assume the character is speaking. If two characters interact during narration, then a dialogue-tag becomes necessary but if you have narration then the saids won’t echo as easily.

Above, during the second Mark Twain alteration, I noted that some synonyms are useful and I repeat, synonyms are useful when used properly. Just as people don’t stand around chatting, when speaking, they aren’t always calm or talking clearly. Sometimes they shout. Sometimes they whisper. Sometimes people mumble or mutter. These show us how a line of dialogue is said and gives us information about the character or the plot. If someone is whispering, they’re usually hiding a secret from nearby ears. A shy guy mumbles when in the presence of a big-bootied girl in hot pants. People shout during political arguments. If someone is informing you, they’re a know-it-all or correcting you. Teen girls gossiping about their best friend who slept with Maggie T’s boo last night while everyone was drunk as a skunk will prattle or cackle or babble or ramble. However, people are not always shouting or mumbling. Often people just say things, and that’s when “said” is the perfect word.

“Respond” and “reply” are tricky synonyms to use properly because they aren’t used just because a person is responding or replying to another line of dialogue, or else every line but the first will be a response or reply until you have a non sequitur, and these said-synonyms stand out more than “said” so just use that. I avoid “respond” and “reply” completely, but you might run into situations where they’re necessary – be careful.

Another common technique to replace “said” is by using an action, often smiling or one of those synonyms, as the dialogue tag. “‘Hello,’ she smiled” or “‘Hello,’ he waved.” Not only are these boring actions, they’re also wrong. Until waving your hand back and forth or curling your lips upward can make words come out of your mouth, you are wrong. Convention says you’re wrong so just follow the herd on this minor point. You can rebel in ways that will actually make an impact on the writing community like original characters and plots, but stop annoying mature readers with grammatical stupidities. If you want to use these actions, put a period at the end of your quote and start a new sentence. “‘Hello.’ She smiled.” “‘Hello.’ He waved.” They’re still boring but less annoying.

This list has some of the synonyms you might be tempted to use in place of “said.” I’ve bolded the ones that I like but only when they have purpose beyond hiding “said.”

Inquired
Mused
Commented
Informed
Told
Spoke
Said
Replied
Responded
Declared
Announced
Answered
Stated
Rambled
Chit-chatted
Babbled
Prattled
Whispered
Mumbled
Muttered
Uttered
Instructed
Corrected

 

Mr. Fountain

Editing Bellasonline’s “The Deal with Mr. Player”

The bolded text is hers or my revision for her. The non-bolded are my comments.

A few praises before we shred her text:

Her language is simple. She violates rules of economy, color, and freshness but she at least isn’t sending readers to the dictionary as she inflates her language, attempting to seem smart. Simple language is always effective. She does violate simplicity with 12 characters and a mess of scenes strewn together, but the language is at the level it needs to be.

Her plot is strong and clear even from the beginning. It is an old plot, tried and tested, of unlikely lovers. It’s nothing original, but it’s relatable. If the characters were interesting and the scenery was there at all, this could be a publishable story. At least  the prologue will be up to professional standards when I’m through with it.

The Deal with Mr. Player

By BellasOnline

Taglines: “I will say sorry to you in front of the whole school, I’ll beg for your forgiveness, I’ll never humiliate you, I’ll accept you can make any man to adore you… But like I said……. On one condition,” Asher smiled sickly cute at Liana.

“You have to make me fall in love with you!” he finished with a smug smirk… He knows that it never will happen. Can Liana make him fall for her or will she fail??? Follow her..! Through her pains, humiliation, failure, success……

The paragraphs should be split between “smirk…” and “He knows that it never will happen,” not between lines of dialogue. It’s the same person talking; he hasn’t changed positions; we haven’t looked elsewhere in the scene. A paragraph split happens when the narrator, the camera, looks elsewhere (usually).

Line 1: Why would the whole school care? Are these two characters important to every clique, every grade, every teacher? Are lunch ladies coming from behind the vat of microwaved Sloppy Joe meat, bring their ladles and hair nets, to watch some teenage drama unfold between neighbors? No. No one cares but those involved and their friends and people within ear shot. Don’t exaggerate the importance of your characters in their world. They are important to us, the reader, but not to every background character. End the sentence after “school.” There’s no reason to ram the sentences together, especially since Asher seems clear-headed enough to plan this challenge so why is he talking too quickly to pause? So revise the first line so it’s more realistic for the world they live in. Maybe Asher has some influence in the school so he can gather the whole grade for the spectacle. Maybe he can get up on stage at an assembly and do it. Show his influence or bring down the drama because most people won’t care. Suggestions: “I’ll gather the basketball stars, football guys, soccer, I’ll find every team I’m on and make them to watch as I apologize to you.”

Line 2: “I’ll beg for your forgiveness.”  Cut out either “your” or “for.” It’s deadwood that slows the sentence. It reads more cleanly, more like dialogue, without it. Everyone’s always begging for forgiveness. It’s a trite phrase, worn out in the 1700s when Henry Fielding mocked it by having every character fall to their knees, sobbing for forgiveness. This doesn’t sound like real human speech. It’s colorless. There’s no wit or personality to it. If you’re set on Asher overdramatically begging, be interesting with it. Suggestion: “I’ll follow you through the halls – begging – till my knees are red and cracked.”

Line 3: “I’ll never humiliate you.” Shouldn’t you tack on “again?” It’s not a daily occurrence for a normal someone to humiliate you, so offering not to do it implies it’s been common before with this character. Since we haven’t read the story, we don’t know that he’s humiliated her before or how. You need “again” if it’s to make sense. But again, it’s colorless language. How has he humiliated her? What’s his favorite way to do it? Make it personal to him, make it realistic, make it something the readers will gasp at. Suggestions: “I’ll never chop off your ponytail again!” or “If you fall asleep in Language Arts, I’ll never draw a dick on your face again!”

Line 4: “I’ll accept you can make any man to adore you.” Read this out loud. Read everything out loud. You will hear how awkward and wrong this sentence is and only because of one word: “to.” “I’ll accept you can make any man adore you.” “To adore” is an infinitive (To + verb). It’s probably a typo, but if you read it out loud, you’d hear it’s awkward. Toss out “to” and read it again. Still awkward. I’d actually change the sentence but I want to reword it to show the difference between a cleanly worded sentence and this one. Suggestion: “I’ll admit that you can seduce any man.” Accept is an imprecise verb. It has too many meanings and the context of others can muddle your meaning here. Admit has connotations of pride, which fits with the speech Asher is giving. “You can make any man adore you” is wordy. It tangles the tongue so simplify it to “you can seduce any man.” You cut two extra words and it flows better. The verb is stronger and has other implications that Asher might intend given his character. If you feel “seduce” is too tainted by slutty intentions, you can switch it to “woo” or “court” or even “get.” “Get” is a non-specific verb, but the context seems clear.

Line 5: “‘But like I said……. On one condition,’ Asher smiled sickly cute at Liana.” You’re attempting to show a pause through an ellipsis. That is not what they are for, though authors get away with it when used sparingly. An ellipsis is three periods unless it marks the end of a sentence then you put on the final punctuation, whatever that may be (period, question mark, exclamation point). It is never seven periods. That is text-language or internet-language and proof that you are not a credible author. An ellipsis shows a gap in conversation, something that the reader is not privy too because it is unimportant, or the viewpoint character reasonably can’t hear what’s happening, or to build suspense. It is not just a pause. If you want to show a pause, end the quote after “said” and use action or scenery description to delay the reader. It adds visual appeal to your writing and achieves that pause. A short sentence would be enough. If you don’t want to draw out the tagline with visual appeal, you can use a comma and people will read the pause. It won’t be as long but it’ll be there.

But like I said, on one condition.” When did he say this? Your first time readers wondering what this is about haven’t heard it. For all we know, he never said it. And even if he did, how is it different from “But on one condition?” It’s not. You’re being too word with his dialogue, possibly to draw suspense, but we don’t care. Everyone has “one condition.” It’s a tired technique to build suspense but it’s ineffective. “But” or “However” is enough to show us that there’s a catch. If you shortened it to “‘But.’ Asher smiled sickly cute at Liana” it has the same meaning. Do that or give it more content that requires it to be longer. Do not just fill the page with uninteresting words that you read elsewhere.

“Smiled” is not talking. If someone can smile and words pop out of their mouths, then you can use that in place of “said.” Either end the quote with a period or put “Asher said and smiled sickly cute.”

Asher does not smile “sickly cute” unless he is cute because he has a terminal illness. Sickly means he is sick and it’s apparent – he’s pale; vomit’s on his breath; he’s hacking up blood, etc., none of which is cute. The word you want is “sickeningly” as in it’s so cute it makes everyone else sick. However, I’ve never seen any smile that’s actually sickeningly cute. He’s not doing anything to excessively cute: he’s not baby-talking to a dog; he’s not having a “you hang up, no, you hang up” conversation with his girlfriend; he’s smiling. If that makes you sick, you probably have the flu.

You use the characters’ names and vaguely introduce us to them, but make the action that splits the dialogue more interesting than a smile. Everyone smiles. That does not make him an individual; it does not make him interesting. Even the wording is awkward. “Sickly” or “sickeningly” are adverbs and should be used sparingly. Suggestion: “‘However,’ Asher said and brushed my hair from my eyes. He leaned in close so I could smell tacos on his breath.”

Line 6: “‘You have to make me fall in love with you!’ he finished with a smug smirk…” This should be directly after line 5. No paragraph.

Use exclamation points sparingly. They don’t bother you, the writer, because you’re not reading them. Everyone else is suddenly excited or yelling and it’s unnecessary. A poem once said you are given five at birth and once you’ve used those, you’re done. No more exclaiming for you. In the narration, I agree. In dialogue, sometimes people yell and that’s fine, but only when necessary. Asher seems like a cool character (calm, not popular) so why would he yell here? It doesn’t make sense. Cut out the exclamation point.

The dialogue is incredible. Not awesome, amazing, cool, good job incredible. I do not believe that anyone would say that. It sounds phony in text. It’s heavy-handed too. Suggestion: “I’ll admit you can seduce any man, but only if you woo me first.” Pick something more human. I personally don’t like the content at all but if you’re set on the meaning, make it interesting, make it human.

First he smiled, now he’s smirking. That’s uninteresting. If you change the first, or put this smirking above, then you’ll solve the problem. ‘Smirk’ is a good verb. It tells us something about him.

Again, don’t end with an ellipsis. Use a period.

Line 7: “He knows that it never will happen.” I don’t have a problem with this line. It’s not a great line but it works in the situation. You could take out ‘that’ and switch the words around so it has a better flow. “He knows it’ll never happen.” But that’s a judgment call.

Line 8: “Can Liana make him fall for her or will she fail???”  No. Do not use three question marks unless you are mocking the stupidity of teenagers in their text conversations. “Falling in love” is a cliché. Find some new phrasing for it. Be as fresh in your writing as you can or else anyone could have written this. We want YOUR story. Cut out the “or will she fail.” Obviously if the answer to the first half is “No, she can’t,” then she has failed.  Otherwise, good job summing up the major conflict.

Line 9: “Follow her..! Through her pains, humiliation, failure, success……” Stop with the ellipses. No more ever again. The list has parallelism issues. It sounds weird to say. The first word is pains, plural, but the rest are singular. Make all plural or all singular. You like the word humiliation too much. You used it twice in the tagline. You’re watering down its meaning when you overuse it. Humiliation is the worst moment of your life, complete embarrassment, a reason to say “Kill me now.” It’s overdramatic here. Till you show us a situation we cringe to read, use “embarrassment.” Its meaning is more mild but it’s the one you want.

_________

Prologue: From best friends to enemies

This is not a prologue. The first chapter is not a prologue. Prologues give background information that can’t be found through the story told by the narrator. Information from God sent to the reader so he sees through the illusion of the story to the theme, to the irony, to whatever. It’s often told from a different perspective than the rest of the stories. In early days of the novel, the prologue might have biographical information on the main character because they thought a story should start at birth and end at death so prologues gave his history till the main conflict occurs (chapter 1) then after everything is resolved, the epilogue gives a summary of his final days.

The title of the chapter is telling. Don’t immediately tell us anything. Avoid telling by showing us first. If it’s still not clear, then you can tell. The basics of writing is “show, don’t tell” but telling has its place and that’s to clarify motives, themes, whatever, or to simplify complex human behavior. Telling is a shortcut to information but don’t rush your readers because they’re more likely to forget things. When you tell us anything, it has to be vivid. You cannot, should not ever tell us someone is nice. No one cares if a person in a story is “nice” unless you show it to us, prove it to us, and it better be relevant. If you tell us something, make it colorfully told. Like “She was a hoary spinster and the students gossiped that even at 68, she was still a virgin.” Whatever you tell us has to stick out in our minds. We should be quoting it to our friends.

“What are you wearing? People usually dress like this on a date,” He sniggered from somewhere in our large garden.

“Sniggered” is a good verb. It characterizes He and adds a tone to his dialogue that might not be apparent from the quote alone. However, the quote itself is weak. It has potential, but it needs personalizing. Anyone could’ve said this and we wouldn’t know who it was if you don’t tell us (which you don’t). Show his wit. Show his cruelty. Show what’s important to him in the way a woman dresses for a date. Suggestions: “People usually try to look nice for a date: pretty, fashionable, showered. Did you even bother with the deodorant?” That is teasing that might hurt a person’s ego and distract them during their date.

“‘…’ He sniggered….” Who is He? I know you mean Asher, but that’s not clear until we get a few paragraphs down. This will frustrate your close readers who expect you to provide necessary information in a logical order. The narrator knows who it is speaking so tell us who it is.

“…from somewhere in our large garden.” Large is a vague adjective. It doesn’t tell us anything specific. Bring down your level of abstraction. You can give dimensions; you can tell us it encloses both your houses now; you can look around at the places Asher could be and if there are a few varied places, we’ll assume this is a “large garden.” It’ll also add to the visual appeal of the scene. As you have it, we don’t know where we are. What kind of garden is it? Are plants trimmed or wild? What plants are growing? Is there décor like lamp posts with ivy growing up them? Are there gaudy ornaments like fat cherubs spitting water? It’s shared by your family and his; are there conflicts on how to keep the garden? This is your chance to look around and show us where we are. It doesn’t have to be more than three sentences if you’re effectively using your narrator’s eyes. Wherever she looks, we should be able to see, but make sure it’s interesting. With more scenery, it would also explain why she can’t see Asher? Why is he “somewhere” and not behind the 100-year-old oak? You’re the author. Even if Liana doesn’t know, if you tell us he’s there, we’ll believe you. Or you can guess and look from place to place. Suggestions: “Asher sniggered from somewhere in our large garden. Was he behind a 100-year-old oak? Behind the trimmed hedge fences? Behind the nalca plant that looked like giant rhubarb? I spotted his sandy blonde spikes by a fat cherub spitting water. The pipe went up between the angel’s legs but age and weather had worn the statue down till the concrete broke and water trickled from a crack in his—her—smooth crotch.” Do you see how much more visual appeal there is now? We can see some scenery. We can start to picture this “large garden” in our mind and suddenly we’re there. When looking for plants, go to google images or Wikipedia and research. Find something that grows in your area with a fun name or a fun visual. Not everyone will know what they look like so you might need to assist their imaginations with phrases like “that looked like giant rhubarb.”

I looked down at my outfit. Being ignorant and cocky jerk that he was, he’d think my outfit was a wreck, but my outfit was the last thing I care about.

Line1: “I looked down at my outfit.” What ARE you wearing? You, the writer, brought it up. You now have to show us. It is practically illegal to not show us. Give us the visual appeal. Introduce us to her style. Don’t label it “emo” “goth” “scene” “preppy” “nerdy” “geeky” or anything. Give it to us straight. “I looked down at my tattered hoody with a mustard stain on the shoulder from when Asher saw me eating a hot dog and knocked it down.”

Line 2: “Being ignorant and cocky jerk that he was, he’d think my outfit was a wreck, but my outfit was the last thing I care about.” Whoa. What has he done in your story, what have we seen him do that warrants anger toward him? Nothing. You can’t label him ignorant and cocky till you’ve shown us this or else you look like a petty bitch for being so insulted by his remark. You’re telling us his personality when you should be showing it to us. It’ll still be clear based on dialogue and action. Also he hasn’t said anything ignorant or even cocky yet. He’s been mean, but cocky and ignorant aren’t mean. Someone who is cocky might be mean. Someone who says ignorant things might be mean. But so far Asher is just mean.

Start with “He’d” but change it because it’s an awkward sentence. Let’s look at a rewording. “He’d say my outfit was a wreck even if I wore an $800 dress.” You could use a brand name or designer label in place of the dollar amount. “He’d say my outfit was a wreck even if I wore a Louis Vuitton dress.” End the sentence there. Don’t let your narrator ramble.

but my outfit was the last thing I care about.” It should be “cared.” Do not drop your Ds from the end of words. It doesn’t make logical sense and it frustrates your readers who know better. “the last thing I cared about” is a tired phrase. Why not just say, “But I didn’t care.” It’s not stellar, but it has the same effect.

“Screw you,” I muttered loudly. What the hell was he doing here?  Shouldn’t he be out with one of his fake girlfriends? I wondered to myself.

Line 1: “‘Screw you,’ I muttered loudly.” “Screw you” is trite. Everyone says it. I’ll allow it if the rest of your phrases are interesting and fresh. It also contradicts the above line. I won’t suggest taking this out, but I point it out in case you didn’t realize. If you leave it in, it shows unreliability in the narrator which readers like so long as they can see through it.

How do you “mutter loudly?” To mutter is to say something under your breath, usually because you’re upset. Just mutter. Reader don’t need an adverb to sludge through. “Screw you,” I muttered.”

Line 2: “What the hell was he doing here?” I don’t have a problem with this. It’s not spectacular but it works.

Line 3: “Shouldn’t he be out with one of his fake girlfriends?” Fake girlfriend? Is she a sex doll? Imaginary? Or do you mean “plastic?” Be specific with your insults. Why is she fake? Ten pounds of makeup, hair extensions, highlights, hair dye, stuffed bra, fake lashes, fake nails, sprayed-on tan, does she spell her name in a stupid way, what about her is fake? Do not make a judgment without proving it to us first or you look like a bitch. You want the narrator to be sympathetic for more than just spurned teen girls. You are not pandering to the lowest common denominator, but you want a strong enough character that she will hold up to scrutiny.

Line 4: “I wondered to myself.” If you ask a question in narration, wondering is implied. Furthermore, you only wonder to yourself so chop it down to “I wondered” if you have to say it. But it is implied here so cut this line.

“Too bad! You can’t,” he replied back to my utter irritation.

Line 1: “Too bad! You can’t,” The dialogue is ineffective. It isn’t bad, people say it in real life, but in a story it needs more personality. He does not need to be yelling this. Cut that exclamation point. Suggestions: “Maybe if you were pretty, I’d let you,” or “Maybe if you lose ten pounds, I’ll let you.” With dialogue like this, he’s insulting and mean.

Line2: “he replied back to my utter irritation.” I will stop you here and not mention it again. You say “utter” too much and you never need it. Cut it out of your vocabulary. Intensifiers do not intensify anything in writing.

If your dialogue is effective, you do not need to tell us that what he said irritated you.

In writing, people said things, quothed things, replied, remarked, retorted, uttered, spoke, articulated, ejaculated, narrated, phonated, recounted, related, sounded, told, uttered, verbalized, vocalized, and voiced. None of these mean anything different from “said.” Said is the standard, use it always. The exceptions are when people aren’t just speaking. When they’re yelling, shouting, shrieking, screaming, squawking, whispering, mumbling, muttering, etc, use one of those. That tells us how a person is talking.

Basically, cut this line after the dialogue OR replace your colorless, imageless writing with an action by Asher. It’ll add visual appeal to the readers (they like to imagine the story as they read) and it’ll characterize him. Do not just have him walk or scratch his face. It has to be an important mannerism. Always keep the characters in sight.

I wanted to punch him so badly, kick him where it would hurt. I didn’t know why, but whenever I saw his face or heard his voice it made me angry. He was the bane of my existence. I would give anything to make him cry in pain, just once for all that he had done to me. I was always a peace loving one, not to him anymore.

No to this whole paragraph. You’re telling us too much and it’s wordy and unoriginal. It’s not even logical. “I didn’t know why but whenever I saw his face…it made me angry” I know why, why wouldn’t you? You know that he’s a jerk. Are you still stumped? The only salvageable line here is “I wanted to punch him.” That’s it. Cut the rest. Even that is unoriginal but I would allow it.

Your stock phrases include “bane of my existence,” “whenever I…I wanted to…,” “saw his face or heard his voice,” “I would give anything to…,” “cry in pain,” “for all that he had done to me.” Those are words that you should be charged with plagiarism for because they are common in books a hundred years old.

The irony of it all was that he was my next door neighbor. Our houses were both built inside a big compound garden. Yup the world was so unfair.

Line 1: This is not ironic. It is not the opposite of what I would expect. Why would you be warring with someone across town? They are not close enough to irritate you all day, every day. Even if it was ironic, you do not tell us it’s ironic.

This line is colorless and redundant with the next sentence. Cut this one in favor of that one which actually gives information.

Line 2: “Our houses were both built inside a big compound garden.” “Big” like “large” is too vague. It’s already implied if two houses are built inside the garden. We don’t expect two families to live in a small garden. We don’t expect them to live in adjacent tool-shacks. “Both” is implied too. It’s deadwood. We know there are two families here, so why tell us both? It’s slowing your writing down. Trim it. Show us the garden some more. Are you enclosed by hedge fences? Is ivy growing on the houses? Is there a conflict in decorating and maintaining the garden? Is there an inequality among the houses? Is one bigger than the other? Is there a dividing line? Show us. It’s too colorless currently. Make us believe that this is a real situation. Suggest: “Our houses were surrounded by the same hedge-fence. A short brick wall divided the two properties but the gate was broken and Asher could waltz onto our side whenever he wanted.”

Line 3: “Yup the world was so unfair.” You sound like a baby. Do not whine to your readers. “Oh woe is me; I have neighbors I don’t like! Actually I like most of them but one! But oh woe is me!” It’s overdramatic. Stop it.  Never say “Yup” in narration either. You are to write like a professional and even conversational stories do not say “hello” “nope” “yup” like they are responding to what the readers might be saying. They’re wordy and unnecessary. They do not add flavor; they just point out your amateur status as a writer. If you’re going to save this line, do it sarcastically. “People are starving in Africa and have been since medieval times, but this was the true tragedy of the world.” Or, I read this elsewhere earlier and it fits with the mock-epic tone, “It was like when you dip your Oreo in the milk for too long and it breaks off and you wonder why bad things happen to good people.” I would cut the whole thing however. Expand on line 2, show us the garden and the housing situation, and move on.

To my utter distaste our moms had been best friends since high school and they still would go shopping together, like a pair of school girls; our fathers always hung out together, they were even business partners; our brothers were the closest pals, they were in college together doing the same course and even sharing a room. Sadly our sisters were as close as the rest of them, they were both in preschool and they would do absolutely everything together. Maybe even our Grandmas might have had an alliance back in the day.

Line 1: “To my utter distaste our moms had been best friends since high school and they still would go shopping together, like a pair of school girls.” No intensifiers like utter. Stop the sentence here. You don’t need to drag on forever. Semicolons have their places and this could be a spot, but it makes more sense while reading it to slow down the pace with strong punctuation like a period.

Give us more information. Two women shopping isn’t an interesting relationship. Change it to something fresh and maybe quirky or be vivid about their exploits at the mall. Maybe they sip wine and model their clothes for one another.

The school girl comparison is trite. Cut it out. It’s unnecessary anyway. Unless they’re giggling and trying on clothes too fashionable for their age and post-pregnancy bodies, then the comparison won’t hold up to scrutiny. Suggestion: “Our moms took weekly shopping trips to West Peaks Mall. They’d come home, the minivan full of bags, and pop open some wine before modeling their outfits for the family. Mom hadn’t lost her pregnancy weight after Shay but squeezed into a tube top anyway.”

 

Line 2: “Our fathers always hung out together, they were even business partners;” Again, end the sentence after the thought. You need to properly break up “Our fathers always hung out together” and “they were even business partners.” Right now the error is a comma splice. Commas can’t join two independent clauses without a conjunction (and, but, or). Either stick in “and” or use a semicolon or period.

“together” is unnecessary. We aren’t assuming they hang out with other people. Why “fathers?” Why not “dads?” You had “moms” earlier so why is this more formal? You don’t have to show us now, but you need to consider your language and its impact if you haven’t already.

“Hung out” is a trite phrase. It’s non-specific and can mean anything. Do they go hunting together? Do they play pool at the local bar? Do they like gardening or skiing or playing video games? What do they do together?

What is their business? Make it something interesting or don’t mention it at all. “They worked as hosts on WDBR’s morning show, taking calls from insomniacs and construction workers.” Is one dad the boss of the other?  Is one dad the breadwinner of his household and the other a wage-earner while his wife makes big bucks? You don’t need to stuff all this information in now, considering we haven’t even met the characters, but you need to hint at some of it now. And you need to tell us what their job is.

 

Line 3: “Our brothers were the closest pals, they were in college together doing the same course and even sharing a room.” Again, the comma splice issue. After “pals” you need a semicolon, period, or comma and conjunction.

“Closest” is an absolute that you can’t know. Narration should never have superlatives except in a sarcastic sense. Other people are bound to be as close. Writing is an odd tension between confidence and cockiness. You can’t waffle on your meaning, but you can’t assume either. Is there extra meaning in being “the closest pals” versus just “pals?” Not to your readers.

Again, “together” is deadwood. You don’t need it because it’s assumed. Most of the time “together” and “both” are unnecessary.

Which college are they at? Which course are they in? Which room or dorm are they in? Do they have bunk beds?  These are important details that make you credible as a storyteller. “Our brothers, Billy and Zane, roomed in Gaas dormitory at Central College. They took the same international business courses and shared the textbooks, but Billy hated when Zane highlighted them because the bookstore paid less at the end of the semester for marked-up books.”

 

Line 4: “Sadly our sisters were as close as the rest of them, they were both in preschool and they would do absolutely everything together.” Comma splice issue.

Why is this sad? Do you want your sister to feud with her neighbor because you are too? That’s Hatfield and McCoy thinking and it doesn’t make you a sympathetic narrator, especially given her age. Cut out “Sadly.”

“Our sisters were as close as the rest of them” How? What do they do to together? They do everything so you should be able to pick out one detail that’s of interest to us. “They picked each other noses,” or “They sampled the fine cuisine of crickets found in the bushes.” Kids are cute enough that people gush on sight. Being a writer, you have to establish that these are real kids. Telling us their age isn’t enough to make people coo. If you need to cement that the girls are close, do it colorfully. “Our sisters were in on the conspiracy too. You could find them during daylight hours sampling crickets in the bushes.”  But show them being kids, doing something cute and funny. Even in a dramatic story, humor will keep your readers charmed and it’ll make writing more fun for you. If you’re not enjoying the writing, why would anyone enjoy the reading? Remember that humor is an antidote for sentimentality.

“They were both in preschool and they would do absolutely everything together.” You’re falling into absolutes again. That’s obviously not true and it’s not an effective exaggeration. Take line 1’s advice and show them doing something kids do.

 

Line 5: “Maybe even our Grandmas might have had an alliance back in the day.” This is a colorful line. “Alliance” is what helps it. Cut out “back in the day” and replace it with something more interesting though like “before they got buried.” That shows a bit of irreverence and tells us they’re dead. Also cut out “Maybe” too. Without it, the sentence means the same thing thanks to “might have had.” If you can remove a word or ten without losing meaning, do it. “Might have had” is hard to say, that’s why we contract it in daily speech.  Some professors and teachers consider contractions a sin as grave as beating your wife, but it’s too stiff to leave them separate. Writing is meant to be read out loud. If you stumble during that, the sentence might need fixing.

Fix “Grandmas” to “grandmas.” You’re saying “our grandmas” so it’s not their names. If you said, “Maybe Grandma had an alliance with Asher’s nana,” then it’d be okay to capitalize it.

Suggestion: “Even our grandmas might’ve had an alliance before they got buried.”

Finally, I presented that jerk of a man-whore and me. We both hated each other with a burning passion; the amount of hatred we would, most likely, add up to the amount our families loved each other.

 

Line 1: “Finally, I presented that jerk of a man-whore and me.” You don’t need “finally” here. It’s deadwood. They teach you transition words in high school and you’re supposed to put them in whenever possible, but don’t. You rarely see it in literature. “Then” is the exception and if you’re describing something in order like instructions, then maybe use transitions.

You want the present tense of “presented” because you didn’t present you two in the past; you’re presenting him now.  But that’s irrelevant as it’s a bad sentence. It’s boring. It’s wordy. It doesn’t give any information. Combine it with the next line. “The jerk of a man-whore and I hated each other.” Jerk is a mild insult. No one cringes because you call them a jerk. They might flinch at the volume you scream it, but not at the word. You’re telling here, but “man-whore” is a vivid, meaningful insult. I’ll let you get away with it though you haven’t shown it yet.

 

Line 2: “We both hated each other with a burning passion;” “Both” is deadwood. We know two people are involved.

You’re telling us you hate each other. We know. We get it. You haven’t shown much but we know how you feel about him. Cut this line

“burning passion” is a stock phrase. Get it out of there. Even if you keep the line against my advice, you don’t need “a burning passion.” “The man-whore and I hated each other” is potent enough. Don’t take away the punch trying to add intensifiers. They don’t work in writing.

 

Line 3: “the amount of hatred we would, most likely, add up to the amount our families loved each other.” This is semi-colorful. It has a little wit to it that helps it, but because you don’t need to tell us that you hate him and he hates you, you don’t need this line. But we’ll fix it anyway as it’s wordy and awkward.

Take out “most likely.” That’s waffling and you don’t need the interruption taking away your credibility. It’s not fun for others to read even if it sounds so in your head. Be confident.

“The amount of…” and “the amount of…” echo. Read it aloud and you’ll hear. Take the first one out.

“the hatred we would add up” is awkward. You have some grammar issues there. Maybe it’s a typo. Just say “our hatred added up to…” If you can take out the past “would” in any sentence, do it. Use the simple past tense when possible. But the verb is still wrong. Try “Our hatred cancelled out our families’ love for each other.” That sounds cleaner to me. It flows better and isn’t so wordy. But like I said, the whole paragraph is weak. I’d cut each line.

I didn’t know exactly when I started to hate him, it might had been when he pushed me out of a wooden swing or even the time he tore my teddy bear, but the hate was not as intense back then. We fought over lots of things, but we always made up quickly. Because whatever it was, Liana and Asher were best buddies back then.

 

Line 1: “I didn’t know exactly when I started to hate him,” Guess. We don’t know if you’re wrong. Give us a general time frame. Middle school. Freshman year of high school. From the next paragraph it seems like you have a clearer idea about when than you say here. But again, you’re telling us how you feel about him. Don’t do that. After this sentence you need a semicolon, period or comma and conjunction, but given that this sentence points to the next, you could use a dash or a colon. Those are arrows that let readers know that the first sentence is pointing to the next because of some special relationship. Do not overuse these.

Line 2: “It might had been when he pushed me out of a wooden swing or even the time he tore my teddy bear, but the hate was not as intense back then.” You give us info here and we start to believe he’s a real person. Keep up that level of specificity about his character and your relationship.

“had” is the wrong tense. You want “have.” To stay parallel, change “even the time he…” to “even when he…” it flows better because you’re not changing the formatting up on us unnecessarily. There are times when changing the sentence structure is beneficial (usually) but within a list of items like memories, you want parallel structures.

Line 3: “but the hate was not as intense back then.” Telling, ineffective, cut.

Line 4: “We fought over lots of things, but we always made up quickly.” Cut this out. It’s telling again. You can intersperse the idea in with the memories but don’t separate the two.

 

Line 5: “Because whatever it was, Liana and Asher were best buddies back then.” Don’t talk about yourself in third person. That’s weird. Cut out that first clause of the sentence “Because whatever it was.” It doesn’t tell us anything.  “Back then” is a nonspecific time. When? K-6? K-10? When? Or just cut it.

Show us memories of you two as you grow up and use little narration to tell us that the teasing or bullying didn’t separate you two till X memory. “In our preschool days, he tore the arm off my teddy bear, but we made up. At recess in the third grade, he shoved me from the swings, but he apologized. But in middle school he changed from a quiet boy with a lisp to a spikey-headed twit that spent his study hall missing three-pointers in the gymnasium with the other jocks. Before then, we were best buddies.”  

 

I started to hate him when he turned from a nice person, my best friend, to one of the cockiest players in our school. I started to hate him when he pushed me out of his life for only one reason: popularity.

 

Combine this with the previous paragraph. It’s the same thought so it should be the same paragraph.

Line 1: “I started to hate him when he turned from a nice person, my best friend, to one of the cockiest players in our school.” You have not used enough slang to establish credibility as a high schooler and so “player” sounds phony. It might be personal bias, but I scoff at the word. Maybe if you use more slang, not ridiculous amounts but some, it would be believable.

Don’t “start” to do anything in writing unless it’ll be interrupted immediately. “I hated him when…” has the same meaning and more power. Do not “start to” “begin to” “continued to” “proceeded to.” Just do the action.

“Nice” is meaningless. Cut it out of your vocabulary for describing personality.

Show his cockiness. You haven’t shown us anything except him insulting your outfit but you’ve called him cocky two or three times now. It’s not believable to anyone but gullible, recently spurned women.

Line 2: “I started to hate him when he pushed me out of his life for only one reason: popularity.” Starting two or more sentences the same way is called an anaphora. It’s a popular literary technique used to intensify the sentence as you repeat the phrase more, but it should be used sparingly. Starting two sentences the same way won’t have the desired effect as there’s not enough time to get the snowball rolling down the mountain before it crashes into the house. After two sentences, it’s no bigger than a fist and has all the impact of lobbing a snowball. It’s more effective during climactic sequences than exposition.

Again, don’t “start to hate him,” just “hate him.”

“pushed me out of his life” is trite. Be creative with your phrasing. “When he left for school without me, I knew he had left me behind.”

 

“for only one reason” This means nothing. This phrase tells us that you’ll soon be telling us something. We’re not so eager to find out what it is that we’ll put up with being told to wait if we don’t have to. Readers skim these words because they’re unimportant. Just say “for popularity.”

 

Popularity is something people rarely seek out. Despite what you see in Hollywood and memoirs, my experience never showed people actively seeking popularity. Maybe they wanted to fit in with this clique or that, but not popularity. This does not sound credible to me. I’m not supposed to comment on your plot or characters because they are your creations, but the way you’re wording Asher’s motivation is unbelievable. I’m as likely to believe he’s a spy for the CIA infiltrating a underage prostitution ring run by the principal and at least that has some intrigue to it. You don’t need to tell us his motivations. If you show us his character properly, we might assume he left you for popularity. But in chapter 1, do not explain it if you can’t do it believably.

 

I remembered that day clearly, it was the first day of freshman year; I was waiting for him to pick me up for school, like he usually did, but didn’t come; that was the first blow to our relationship. Then I saw him hanging out with all the jocks and cheerleaders, which was the second strike. I waved at him and he didn’t even nod back, that was the third strike and he was out! Finally, I just decided to rid him from my life. It was not easy then and not easy now, but I had managed to pretend.

 

Line 1: “I remembered that day clearly, it was the first day of freshman year; I was waiting for him to pick me up for school, like he usually did, but didn’t come; that was the first blow to our relationship.” You finally did what I wanted you to. “I remember” is a meta-cognitive statement. Others include “I saw,” “I believe,” “In my opinion,” and “I think.” Don’t do this! If you did it every time you saw something, thought something, remembered something, you’d write that at the beginning of every sentence and when it’s taken to that extreme, we can see why it’s annoying. But even in small doses, it’s a bad idea. They’re unnecessary words that don’t tell us anything new.

If you really remember the day clearly, show it to us. What’s the weather like? What are you wearing? What car does he normally pick you up in? Or were you walking to school? Where were you waiting? What were you doing while waiting? When did you realize he wasn’t coming?

Knock it off with this strike one, two, three, you’re out stuff. It’s not clever. Everyone tries it before they understand that fresh writing is better.

Line 2: “Then I saw him hanging out with all the jocks and cheerleaders, which was the second strike.” So? No mature reader will care about this. Jocks and cheerleaders are label and don’t determine if a person is a villain except in Hollywood stories. In real life, jocks and cheerleaders are just people. Some are smart; some are not; some love video games; some only like Call of Duty and Halo and Madden. It’s not enough of a sin to play football or to cheer or to associate with people who do. You even later say that one of your friends is a jock so you shouldn’t cast judgment on people, in the story, just because of their clique. Maybe you see him doing lines of cocaine or being near lines of cocaine. That’s an offense that could terminate your friendship. Or maybe you overheard him in the locker room talking to the team about his sexual conquests involving you and one of your friends. Or maybe he abandons you one weekend, claiming he’s busy taking care of Bly, but you catch him getting drunk at a lake party thrown by the jocks.

Again, cut out the “strike” idea.

This is an acceptable use of the meta-cognitive phrase “I saw.” You could rephrase it and remove it or the need for it, but I won’t tell you to remove it.

Line 3: “I waved at him and he didn’t even nod back, that was the third strike and he was out!” This should be before “strike two.” This is a petty offense, even less important than befriending your enemies.

Line 4 & 5: “Finally, I just decided to rid him from my life. It was not easy then and not easy now, but I had managed to pretend.” You’re telling us stuff here. It’s nonspecific. How did you rid him from your life? How was it not easy? It’s better not to say any of this and just let us assume though.

 

After years, I learned how to mask my true feelings and how to pretend. After wearing the mask continuously, now I didn’t even remember my true self, but I loved it. Because this way no one could hurt me anymore, no one could look clearly into my soul.

 

Too dramatic. We don’t care about Liana yet, so why should we care that she’s crying? You need to characterize her more before being melodramatic. Not to mention all of this is cliché, straight from every angsty teen girls diary. It’s too conventional and when other people see it, they ralph at the idea. When it’s your idea, it seems great, but we’re too attached to our own words.

 

Why didn’t any jerk want to hang out with me? Yes, you’re correct. I was ugly or repulsive or whatever you wanted to name me.

 

Here’s some characterization of your narrator: she has confidence issues. Phrasing needs fixing, but those are cosmetic changes and at least we know what she’s like without you telling us she’s this way or that.

Add to it though. Tell us why she’s ugly or why she thinks she’s ugly. Make it colorful too. Not just extra flab, though that can be in there, but maybe “My nose was bumpy with whiteheads and once I tried popping them – it looked like cream cheese squeezed out. Then when I rinsed the pus, half my nostril was skinned. I had a scar from it. People say they don’t notice, but I can’t look in the mirror without seeing it, even if I’m just checking my hair.

Cosmetic changes to make: “Why didn’t any jerk want to look at me long enough for a conversation? I was ugly, hideous, repulsive. My nose was bumpy with whiteheads and once I tried popping them – it looked like cream cheese squeezed out. Then when I rinsed the pus, half my nostril was skinned. I had a scar from it. People say they don’t notice, but I can’t look in the mirror without seeing it, even if I’m just checking my hair.

 

I wore thick black framed glasses, which hid my round blue eyes; I’d always prefer saggy clothes and pants, because dresses were never my first choice; my dark brown hair was as boring as the rest of me. My usual attire also consisted of a hooded jacket; I loved the warm protective feel it gave me.

 

None of this is ugly. Blue eyes are preferred on women and glasses don’t hide them as they bring the attention upward. Don’t tell us what you don’t wear. Make your unconventional look interesting. Your pant-legs drag and are tattered from constantly stepping on them. You have holes in your shirts and paint stains and they’re hand-me-downs from your brother so you even wear a Federal Bikini Inspector shirt when everything else is dirty. Maybe you grew five inches last year so nothing fits but your parents are too cheap or poor to afford new clothes so you only have two shirts that fit you and you’re constantly wearing them, but when you forget to do laundry, you have to wear your old clothes which show off your mid-drift; maybe it’s flabby so you get self-conscious; maybe you got in trouble with the principal because mid-drifts are against school policies, though they’re a part of the design of the cheerleader uniform. Don’t tell us you don’t wear dresses. Tell us what you do wear and why it’s unconventional and why you wear it anyway.

 

I had four best friends; they were the best people in the world! They loved me with all their hearts and I loved them back just as much.

 

You’ve already wandered off into irrelevancies in the narration. We’ve since forgotten the scene. If it was a stronger scene, better developed, then we’d remember it, but you’ve spent too much time giving exposition. Bring us back to the scene and don’t introduce characters until they walk on stage and demand an introduction. Cut all these introductions except maybe Trent and only if you decide to keep the date summary in this chapter though I’ll recommend against that. You already introduced Asher, Liana, moms, dads, brothers, sisters, and now your friends and soon a date? Simplify your cast to only the necessary characters. There can be many characters but not in so little space. It’s only the first chapter after all.

Also, no absolutes. They are not the best people in the world and they do not love you with all their hearts (also a stock phrase).

 

Let me introduce you to my group, we jokingly named ourselves ‘The trouble clause.’ No, we were not popular, but we were not social outcasts either. We would never forbid ourselves from having fun, ‘where there are pranks there is the trouble clause’ is our own saying. We loved playing jokes on people, only on the rude and obnoxious people, for example, people like my next door neighbor.

 

First: it was me, Liana, a seriously damaged girl with crazy brain and broken heart. I would look like a person who didn’t have a bit of fashion sense, but this was what I had decided to look like to mask my true self. No one knew who I was inside except my four best friends, of course.

 

Second: it was Sidney, an emo girl. She loved black but sometimes wore white and other colors too. Her black hair and black eyes were an added bonus to her appearance. She was silent, but not around us; she was a glutton for punishment (same as me) and she was a great singer, her voice was like a smooth pearl over silky satin, but she usually would sing in the bathroom.

 

Third: Harry, the joker of the group. His fiery red hair had no consequence over his moods. He was always laughing and smiling, you could call him any bad name and he’d still smile at you. He was the social butterfly of our little group, but he’d never leave us for anything, he and Sidney were together. I didn’t know how they got together, but Sid’s shy exterior and hi outgoing one were exactly matched.

 

Fourth: Riya, a cool outspoken girl. She was straightforward and rude sort of like me, but she was honest nonetheless. Her shining blonde hair was up to cheerleader standards, but she was nothing like them and she would never even think about becoming one. She looked like a model, everyone wanted to be with her, but she wanted us and only us. She may occasionally wave to the outsider, but she would never open up them like she did with us.

 

Finally: Trent, the jock in our group. He was a football player, but not a jerk. He was Sid’s brother and my best friend out of the whole group. Emo, jock and I had been best friends since when I was 13, Harry and Riya came along later. Trent loved art and drama; he was a genuine person. He was seeing Riya, and they were perfect for each other, just like Barbie and Ken.

 

We five were different as five fingers, but that’s what made our friendship interesting and splendid. We would always fight with each other, but that only improved our friendship, not ruined it. I was kind of a lone wolf of the group, but I never felt like the third wheel. That’s how we roll.

 

I already said cut this, but I have to comment. No one here is different from one another. You’ve given them labels and maybe an interest or two, but not a personality. People are made up of  thousands of worthwhile memories but most of all they have a feel to them that is human. When you write, first give them a rich background full of memories. Those are more important than adjectives. After you establish a background, work on their feel, their mannerisms. If they come on stage and speak, readers should know them by what they say and how they say it.

The interesting observation you made, possibly by accident, was that small groups of friends are almost incestuous, By the end of high school, everyone has had a crush on everyone else or dated everyone else.

 

Here, standing in front of my huge front door, I almost recited my whole life to you and where was that buffoon who was suppose to be taking me on a date? Grrr, I hate waiting!

 

I like the wit here and you can still use that idea even without introducing your friends.

 

How is your front door any “huger” than a normal front door? Is it a French double-door? Is it a heavy iron door? Is it the door to a mansion?

Don’t growl in narration. Do it in dialogue. Don’t say “Here;” just tell us where you are. You want “supposed,” not “suppose.” Watch the final Ds on verbs. Don’t drop them in writing even if we do in speech. Weren’t we in the garden with Asher waiting for this guy to show up? Why are we now at your front door?

I had just decided to run back home and take a huge nap, but before I could turn back, a car rushed into my driveway. Plan cancelled, but I wanted to sleep!

 

You were just waiting in front of your “huge front door.” Why are you now “running back home?”

Cut out the date. Have him stand you up. While he actually has some interesting characteristics, more so than the rest of your characters even, he’s not important to the chapter as anything but a plot device. You’re watering down your scenes with all this narration and then you skip the interaction with Asher. He gets two lines of dialogue for introduction when he’s the title character and who you’ve been ranting about for a thousand words. You need to give him more time to develop. Have Fred stand you up and Asher comment. Maybe he pretends to be nice for a second then verbally backhands you when you let your guard down. You need to expand on your scene and I think you didn’t do that because your initial writing was bland and you got bored of doing it. If you spice it up, then you’ll stay interested without switching from scene to scene so the reader has an easier time getting to the end.

____

My comments end here. I’m over 8,000 words of comments for 1,317 of primary text. While I’d like to keep this short because it’s easier on me and easier to read, mediocre writing needs fixing. If you hope to be published someday, you need more than just an interesting plot (which you have). You need quirky characters whom show the absurdity of human nature while still being relatable. You need visual appeal so people can imagine these characters and the scenery. You need to personalize everything so that no one but you could have written this story. And you need to simplify everything so your readers can follow it without backtracking. Having twelve characters with the same personality is hard to follow. All of my advice is a suggestion and you know these characters better than we do so you can come up with actions that fit their personalities.

I suggest basing characters on people you know well, but don’t get stuck on what that person did in real life. The split should be about 40-60. Either 40% fictional and 60% real or 40% real and 60% fictional or somewhere between. Don’t try to create from your imagination alone and don’t get caught up in facts.

Spend six to eight hours writing and editing for every 1,000 words you write. Focus on the words you use and don’t just let your fingertips mash out some hackneyed drivel because it flowed during a moment of inspiration. Easy writing makes for hard reading. Hard writing makes for easy reading.

Now compare her original text to the edited version below. The word count is only 70 less than the original, but there’s more power, visual appeal, and personality. It’s not perfect and it’d be better and longer if the author did it herself. I only improved on what was there and what was hinted at. I didn’t add too much more information other than concrete details to her abstract ideas.

_

Tagline: “I’ll gather the basketball stars, football guys, soccer, I’ll find every team I’m on and make them to watch as I apologize to you. I’ll follow you through the halls – begging – till my knees are red and cracked. If you fall asleep in Language Arts, I’ll never draw a dick on your face again. I’ll admit that you can seduce any man. But,” Asher said and smirked at Liana, “only if you woo me first.”

He knows it’ll never happen. Can Liana make him fall in love with her? Follow her through pains, embarrassments, failures, successes.

___

Chapter One: A First Date

“People usually try to look nice for a date: pretty, fashionable, showered. Did you even bother with the deodorant?” Asher sniggered from somewhere in the garden. Was he behind the 100-year-old oak? Behind the trimmed hedge fences? Behind the nalca plant that looked like giant rhubarb? I spotted his sandy blonde spikes by a fat cherub spitting water. The pipe went up between the angel’s legs but age and weather had worn the statue down till the concrete broke and water trickled from a crack in his—her—smooth crotch.

I looked down at my tattered hoody with a mustard stain on the shoulder from when Asher saw me eating a hot dog and knocked it down. But he’d say my outfit was a wreck even if I wore a Louis Vuitton dress. What the hell was he doing here anyway? Shouldn’t he be out with some blond Oompa-Loompa? “Screw you,” I muttered.

“Maybe if you lose ten pounds, I’ll let you.” He sat on the fountain. I hope his butt got soaked.

Our houses were surrounded by the same hedge-fence. A short brick wall divided the two properties but the gate was broken and Asher could waltz onto our side whenever he wanted. Our families loved each other so no one bothered fixing the gate.

Our moms took weekly shopping trips to West Peaks Mall. They’d come home, the minivan full of bags, and pop open some wine before modeling their outfits for the family. Mom hadn’t lost her pregnancy weight after Shay but squeezed into a tube top anyway. Our dads hosted WDBR’s morning show, taking calls from insomniacs and construction workers. They made for good entertainment because they were buds who teased and punched one another, on-air and off. Billy and Zane, our brothers, roomed together in Gaas dormitory at Central College. They took the same international business courses and shared the textbooks, but Billy hated when Zane highlighted them because the bookstore paid less at the end of the semester for marked-up copies. Our sisters got brainwashed to be best friends at a young age; you could find them during daylight hours sampling crickets from the bushes. Even our grandmas might’ve had an alliance before they got buried.

But the man-whore and I hated each other.

In our preschool days he tore the arm off my teddy bear, but we made up. At recess in the third grade he shoved me from the swings but he apologized. But in middle school he changed from a quiet boy with a lisp to a spikey-headed twit that spent his study hall missing three-pointers in the gymnasium with the other jocks. Before then, we were best buddies.

I didn’t realize that we were separating right away. We clung to our history, or maybe it was just me. But on the first day of our freshman year, I waited for him to come by so we could walk to school together. It was about a mile with hills and it was raining so the storm drains would be slick and I needed him for support, in case I slipped. I always thought he’d catch me. I waited at my dad’s office window, looking for Asher to come from his front door. My dad was at his computer in his boxers, paying bills. He kept updating me on the time. “It’s 7:20; aren’t you usually gone by now?” “It’s 7:30; better hurry or you’ll be late.” “It’s 7:35. Do you need an umbrella?” I think he wanted me gone so he could look at porn. I finally left and knocked on Asher’s door. I planned on telling him to get better because I figured he was sick. But his mom answered, hungover with last night’s makeup streaked under her eyes; she told me he had already left with some ginger girl—Cindi somebody.

Maybe he had forgotten our plans to walk to school together this year! Maybe he came by and I was still in the shower. I told myself all sorts of lies to excuse his behavior. But the next weekend, we were supposed to see Terminator: Salvation with Christian Bale, but he cancelled the Friday before, claiming Bly needed a babysitter while his parents rekindled their romance with a date night. I went to the movie anyway, alone, and found a kid from my English class in there. He invited me to a party because he didn’t know what a freak I was yet. The party was at a basketball player’s mansion – his dad was an anesthesiologist and owned a plane. I walked in and heard, “Chug! Chug! Chug!” being chanted – at Asher. He slammed down his plastic red cup and WOOed! The whole party joined in, except maybe the kids doing it in the master bedroom.

That was it. We were done. Next time he saw me, I snubbed him. But he didn’t notice because suddenly I was invisible, too far beneath him.

Why didn’t that jerk or any of the rest of them want to look at me long enough for a conversation? Because I was ugly. Hideous. Repulsive. My nose was bumpy with whiteheads and once I tried popping them – it looked like cream cheese squeezed out. Then when I rinsed the pus, half my nostril was skinned. I had a scar from it. People say they don’t notice, but I can’t look in the mirror without seeing it, even if I’m just checking my hair.

I had blue eyes, but everyone only noticed my glasses; they were the cheapest pair and not exactly fashionable. The lenses were thick and scratched and the frames were something old ladies wore. My pants were too long and dragged so the legs were tattered from constantly stepping on them. My shirts had holes and paint stains because they were hand-me-downs from my brother so I even had a Federal Bikini Inspector shirt that I wore when everything else was dirty. Last year I grew five inches so nothing fitted anymore. I only had two shirts that fit and I was constantly wearing then washing them. Sometime I forgot to do laundry, and had to put on my old clothes which showed my jiggling belly. The principal once told me that mid-drifts are against school policy, though they were a part of the design of the cheerleader uniform.

Sitting on the roots of an ancient oak, my butt getting dirty, I recited half my life to you and where was that buffoon who was supposed to be taking me on a date? I hated waiting.

Asher hung from a branch wearing a tanktop so his flexing arms showed. They were puny. “Date forget about you?”

I ignored him.

“Maybe he got hung up. Maybe his mom died or something.” Was Asher being nice?

“Maybe,” I mumbled. “Do you think?”

“Maybe he killed her so he’d have a legit excuse to ditch you.”

I threw an acorn at his head.

Economy of Expression

Economy of Expression: When five words will do the work of sixteen, with no loss of vividness or clarity, please hack the extra eleven out of there. Economy does no mean brevity, but requires “that every word tell”. Compression of meaning is one of the factors that create impact in our writing, and its power is felt even by simple readers who cannot explain why they are moved. Sections A through D illustrate some common sources of wordiness that dilute our effectiveness. Squeeze the water out of what you write, even if only a word or two.

A. Stock or Prefabricated Phrasing: This often makes our writing windy and always makes it stale. Underline the familiar or stale combinations of words in the examples below – they’re not cliches in the sense of hackneyed metaphors or similes, but they have the same wearisome effect on the reader, and they make the statement diffuse, robbing it of impact:

1. Indifference on the part of Stevening to the fact that his films are full of vice make him a sorry influence as far as young people are concerned.

Nearly half of that sentence is stock phrasing (13 words out of 28), and the effect is like driving on ice – we try to pull away from the stop sign but we’re moving hardly at all, though the engine races and the tires whine – a lot of words are going by, but little information. “Indifference on the part of Stevening” should be reduced to “Stevening’s indifference.” And when we write in standard phrases we often cease to think about what the words mean 0 it’s not a fact that these films are ridden with vice, but only this author’s value judgment. The stock phrase “as far as… are concerned” is completed by adding X, Y, or Z in the blank – “as far as tennis is concerned,” or “as far as college was concerned.” Fill-in-the-blank writing is like painting by the numbers – it does not produce distinguished results. The sentence above should be pruned: “Stevening’s indifference to the vice in his films has a sorry influence on the young.” I’m not here concerned with the author’s meaning, but only his manner of expressing it. If wordiness may be compared to body fat, then strive for a lean and athletic style, through exercise.

2. With all due respect to Joseph Stalin, how anyone could want to have his own image adored on millions of posters, portraits, and monuments was beyond me. His ruthlessness and fear of conspiracies caused the deaths of millions of ordinary Russians. A case in point was his massacre of the Kulaks and his purge of the Red Army’s officer corps, which catastrophes that…

The opening phrase makes no sense, since the author does not “respect” Stalin – writers of hackneyed phrases become inattentive to the meaning of their words. After cutting the first five words, the author is left with a stock sentence beginning “How anyone could want… was beyond me,” and he plugs in A, B, or C to bung the hole. Finally, after noting Stalin’s paranoia and brutality, he wishes to cite specific instances, so he prefaces these with the stock phrase “A case in point was….” But the reader needs no help to recognize that the references to the destruction of the Kulaks and the Red Army purge are offered as evidence. Such phrases as “For example,” “By way of illustration,” and “A case in point” are nearly always deadwood (and he cites two cases, not one). We could improve the economy of the passage and freshen its stale smell by saying “How Stalin could endure the adoration of his image on millions of posters, portraits, and monuments is a mystery of human vanity. His ruthlessness and fear of conspiracies caused the deaths of millions of ordinary Russians, for the massacre of the Kulaks and his purge of the Red Army’s officer corps were catastrophes that….”

It’s easy to write in stock phrases, for the sentences almost write themselves, but as Hemingway said, “Easy writing makes hard reading.” We’re all guilty of this slovenliness to some degree, especially in speech when we’re constructing sentences rapidly, but let’s struggle against this vice. It may be quick and easy to fling together prefabricated mobile homes, but there’s no much pride of ownership in them. Some people seem unable to open their mouths without some dead phrases flopping out, and George Orwell sees this as evidence of staleness of ideas. The corruption of our political oratory is demonstrated by several of the presidents we’ve elected in the past half-century. Richard Nixon (R.) and Lyndon Johnson (D.) were painful to the ear, and I’d rather spend a hot summer in Purgatory than listen to ten words’ utterance by Bush the Second.

We have different levels of aptitude for writing well, and I’m often astounded at the achievements of some writers of little formal education (Lincoln, Twain, Dickens, Austen). But for most of us, writing is like any other skill learned by constant drill and repetition, and not by sound advice only.

So underscore the stock phrases in the following examples, then revise them for greater economy and freshness. Some sentences should be combined as well as condensed, for both long and short sentences have their uses. I’ve taught writing skills for exactly 50 years, and I’ve been collecting pedagogically useful specimens for about 48 of them – most are the works of my former students, long forgotten, but a few may have been borrowed in ages from other critics, to whom I apologize.

3. With regard to Senator Kleven, it should be brought to the attention of the public that he was the recipient of $147,000 in contributions that he did not choose to make known. I don’t want to imply that this was against the law, unless it could be shown that….

I assume that the opening stock phrase (“With regard to”) was used as a pointer only, without implying respect for the Senator, but it’s certainly a dead line, ready for the fire. Also note the tendency to use a phrase in place of a simple verb – “was the recipient of” instead of “received,” or better yet “gathered,” which implies the senator’s intent to enrich himself. In the last sentence the author apparently does want to suggest that his behavior was illegal, or at least improper, but I’d consider the word “criminal” instead, as more vigorous. It’s a minor principal of good prose to avoid many negatives such as “not” and the prefixes “il-,” “un-,” “non-,” “in-,” which may obscure the meaning. The reader must multiply all of these positive and negative terms (-)(+)(-)(+)(-), and if he drops a sign the meaning is 180 degrees wrong. Avoid such ambiguities as this: “It is not clear if the President was not ill-informed by his subordinates of the implications of the Watergate burglary.” State your meaning positively when you can, and shun the “not un-” barbarism. Finally, in line three of example #3, use a single adjective (“secret”) to describe the contributions, not the windy clause “that he did not choose to make known.” Revisions: “The public should know that Senator Kleven gathered $147,000 in secret contributions, which could be criminal if it….”

Underscore the stock phrases in the following, then revise for improved economy and freshness:

4. As far as the age of the planet is concerned, I had made up my mind that the 4.6 billion years of the Earth’s geological history makes the five million years of human evolution seem insignificant, to say the least.

5. In spite of the fact that the Supreme Court should overturn Roe vs. Wade, it should be brought to the attention of voters in each and every state that liberal senators are blocking conservative nominees to the bench.

6. Jake had the dubious distinction of being the worst drunk in Phi Kappa Delta, and when he fell down the stairs to the living room it suddenly dawned upon me, as far as college went, his tuition was wasted. In time the university felt so too, and he had no one to blame but himself when he was expelled in his junior year.

7. Another aspect that must be considered is the “right to work” law, which poses a problem by weakening union memberships. The law’s expressed purpose leaves something to be desired, and the fact that the name sounds appealing should not disguise the law’s sinister purpose. A case in point is the Iowa law which….

8. His facts and figures left something to be desired, and he wasn’t all that he was made out to be, but at long last he looked me straight in the eye, and I couldn’t believe my eyes as I breathed a sigh of relief because I didn’t have a care in the world, though I had mixed feelings about the simple things in life and I could smell a rat so I didn’t mince words when I gave him a piece of my mind, and we went at it hot and heavy with no holds barred despite the fact that I felt cold and clammy and I tossed and turned all night, getting madder by the minute till morning rolled around and we woke up bright and early, but nothing in the world could knock some sense into that hard head of his, though it’s my opinion that he began to have butterflies in his stomach or was just plain scared, but I gave credit where credit was due and said that if he applied himself it would pay off in the long run, but my advice fell on deaf ears, though he nodded in agreement, and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth and it really gets my goat, and I’d like to throw the book at him to let off a little steam for giving me the raw end of the deal, even if boys will be boys, but all good things must come to an end – unlike these damned stock phrases and clichés, which are endless.

All right, I confess that I wrote #8 myself, after too many tutorials with authors who seemed to be trying for pure stock phrasing – I only wanted to help.

Please not that only one or two of the stock phrases in specimens 1-8 would be considered cliches, most of which are hackneyed metaphors and similes or other figures of speech (“It hit him like a ton of bricks” or “It’s only the tip of the iceberg”). Stock phrases are simply idioms, but they have effect as cliches – staleness of expression, and wordiness too. They’re like the phrases that we memorize in French or German, which may be one reason why few authors achieve literary distinction in a second language. A native French student of mine complained bitterly when I attacked the stale phrases which she had been memorizing for years. 

B. Redundancies and Miscellanious Deadwood: These are words or phrases that say nothing, or which are pointlessly repetitious (often indicated by echoes). The redundancies are frequently camouflaged with synonyms or pronouns, but they still exist, though they do not chime so awkwardly. The solution is to cut them out, not to conceal them. In the specimens #1-6 below I’ve underscored the major redundancies and deadwood (which I abbreviate as “dead” on my students’ paper).

1. It is obvious that bad laws may encourage criminals in committing crime, as shown by the era of the 1920s in the time of prohibition – alcohol was easy to make and very profitable. This just goes to show that we cannot eliminate the problem of drug abuse by passing legislation in defiance of elementary chemistry and the common desire to get high.

The first four words in #1 are deadwood, as are the first six of the second sentence. There are many such prefatory phrases which are meaningless, except to promise that soon the author will say something. “I think that…,” “I believe that…,” “It is my conclusion that…,” “It is my opinion that…” and dozens of other dead phrases resemble the little hands pointing to classified ads in Victorian newspapers: amputate them.

They are like the foam on top of a glass of beer, or the meringue on the pie – only bubbles with little or no substance. The most obvious redundancy in #1 is “criminals in committing crime” (note the echo), but others include “era” with “time,” and “problems” with “abuse.” Revision: “Bad laws may encourage crime, as shown by Prohibition in the 1920s – alcohol was easy to make and very profitable. We cannot eliminate drug abuse by legislating in defiance of elementary chemistry and the common desire to get high.”

2. As I have previously stated, the chief difficulty in the elimination of cocaine is the problem of how to patrol our 18,700 miles of borders and coastlines, as well as the task of guarding our airspace from smugglers using small planes.

The first five words are an apology for bad organization, which I don’t accept. The words “difficulty,” “problem,” and “task” are broadly redundant, but this is concealed by using synonyms. Imagine the first draft which may have read, “The chief difficulty… is the difficulty of… as well as the difficulty of….” Don’t conceal the redundancies, but cut them. Revision: “The chief difficulty in eliminating cocaine is the patrolling our 18,700 miles of land borders and coastlines, and guarding our airspace from smugglers using small planes.”

3. It seems to me that another factor we must take into consideration is the cost of the war on drugs. This includes the expense of feeding and guarding a million drug offenders in prison at an annual cost of about $40,000 per year for each of them.

This example begins with two of those little dead hands, and both should be amputated. There is an obvious redundancy in “cost,” “expense,” and “cost” again, and another between “annual” and “per year.” Revision: “The cost of the war on drugs includes feeding and guarding a million prisoners at $40,000 each per year.”

4. I want to emphasize the fact that in the state of Kentucky marijuana growers plant their crops of pot in secluded stretches of the Daniel Boone National Forest in areas that are difficult to detect. They do this  so that the evidence won’t be discovered on their own land.

The redundancies in #4 include “marijuana” with “pot” in line two, “stretches” and “areas” in lines three and four, and “secluded” with “difficult to detect.” The first seven words include a dead hand and a stock phrase – cut them and then condense the two sentences as one. Revision: “In Kentucky, marijuana growers plant their crops in the Daniel Boone National Forest, so evidence won’t be discovered on their own land.” As always, more or less radical revisions are possible.

5. She proceeded to rummage in her purse for the money as she began to wonder if Kelly would ever decide to repay it. They were both alike in being careless about forgetting small debts, or indifference to whether they were ever repaid.

Students never seem to have milked the cow, but always “proceeded to milk the cow” or “began to milk the cow” or “decided to milk the cow.” Unless the action is to be interrupted, on most mornings just milk the damned cow and cut those “proceeded to” constructions. Revision: “She rummaged in her purse for the money, wondering if Kelly would repay it. Both were careless and indifferent about small debts.”

6. In Salinger’s book entitled The Catcher in the Rye, he expressed his thoughts and beliefs on the crassness and hypocrisy of urban American culture. In this novel he emphasized how insensitive and phone the people of our cities have become.

The second sentence repeats the first, which is itself too windy. A student makes a generalization, then repeats it in different words, then says it again in another disguise, like an actor who keeps reappearing on stage in different costume for another role. Finally at the end of the paragraph, the student produces a detail or two to support the generalization, a scrap of evidence with an embarrassed look to it, as if wondering what it’s doing there (to paraphrase Mark Twain). All of us would do well with less repetition and more evidence. Unfortunately most of us have a scanty supply of evidence, but unlimited words. In #6, “book” in line one is redundant with the title (obviously a book) and with “novel” in sentence two. “Thoughts and beliefs” are as transparently redundant as the politician who rants for “freedom and liberty.” “Crassness and hypocrisy” in line two are turned into adjectives “insensitive and phony” in line three. And “urban American culture” is repeated as “the people of our cities.” Cut the second sentence entirely and prune the first: “Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye attacks the crassness and hypocrisy of urban America.” The rest was sound without meaning.

7. A method, which was found to be expedient and not very difficult to accomplish and which possessed a high degree of accuracy in its results, was devised whereby….

This specimen I borrowed about 40 years ago from a book then called A Style Manual for Biological Journals, whose editors railed against the wordiness of the manuscripts they received, which inflated their costs of publication. Their revision for #7 was “An easy, accurate way to…” which I’d endorse with raucous cheers. The following phrases were from the same source, and I’ll give the editors’ revisions:

An innumerable number of tiny veins = innumerable tiny veins

At the present moment = at present (or at the moment)

Bright green in color = bright green

Conducted inoculation experiments on = inoculated

Contemporaneous in age = contemporaneous

It would thus appear that = apparently

Lenticular in character = lenticular

Serves the function of being = is

The fish in question = this fish (ever interrogated a fish?)

The treatment having been performed = after treatment

They are both alike = they are both

Throughout the entire area = throughout the area

I shall, with your permission, offer some brief observations.

I disagreed with the editors on the last example, for they recommended “May I say a few words” – that’s better, but I’d cut the entire line. Of course you may say a few words, but use fewer words. The following lines are empty of meaning – you could drag a net through them and never catch a fact or an idea:

Concerning this matter it may be borne in mind that….

In this connection the statement may be made that….

It is interesting to note that…

With respect to the occurrence of these types, it has been found that….

These are more of the little dead hands alluded to before. We need to recognize when our words mean something and when they do not. Underscore the deadwood and redundancies in the following specimen and condense the remnants without loss of meaning. You may choose to combine these into fewer sentences if necessary to avoid a constipation of style. Short sentences have important uses, such as in dialogue, for we tend to speak in shorter sentences than we write (when speaking, we tend to add afterthoughts, sometimes as fragments). Or an abrupt sentence at the end of a paragraph may confer a special emphasis. But in other cases a long sequence of short sentences may seem awkward, as if the author doesn’t know how to combine independent clauses grammatically.

8. Voting is the essential political freedom an individual must have if he lives under a democratic system of government.

9. He proceeded to grease his hands with cooking oil and began to cut off portions of the bread dough, being careful as he proceeded to twist each piece. He was very proud of the fact that he was getting on in life with only a grade school education.

10. The road as it is currently with ruts and washouts is unsafe to travel on, and there are no road signs at the intersections showing the route to Slippery Rock. One tourist got lost by taking the wrong route and ended up in Washita, a town fifteen miles from Slippery Rock, because of the lack of signs.

11. Both of the two girls were drunk, but they climbed into their Camaro and started off, throwing gravel and making dust from excessive acceleration.

12. The point I’m trying to make is that Welch Hall completely defeated its own purpose when….

13. A recent experience of mine might have been pictured like this: After entering a restaurant I found….

14. When the typhoon struck the ship, MacWhirr took command and saved the ship from the storm. With regard for the crew, however, they showed themselves to be rather cowardly.

C. Weak or nearly meaningless sentences: These are often the “topic sentences” at the beginning of a paragraph, which in the worst cases vaguely announce that you will now say something about Topic X, but without saying it. Begin each paragraph with a meaningful statement. Combine and condense sentences lacking in substance, advice that I abbreviate as “C&C.” Inept writers always seem to begin a paragraph with a vague statement, then slowly, slowly become more specific. Your professors are obliged to read many papers, and this extra verbiage is wearisome.

1. South of Commerce Avenue, two gangs exist, and create a problem. One group calls themselves the Bloods and the other the Latin Kings. They battle nightly to control the market for drugs in Belmont.

The predicate of the first sentence says nothing – if the gangs do not exist, there’s no problem. In the second sentence we would assume that they’ve chosen their own names, and there’s a redundancy between “gang” in line one and “group” in line two. Combine and condense three weak sentences into one: “South of Commerce Ave. two gangs, the Bloods and the Latin Kings, battle nightly to control the drug market in Belmont.”

2. There is a fourth kind of protest that is different from the other three. This is the kind that appears when….

The topic sentence says nothing except to announce that the author is going on to Type #4 – it’s meaningless to say that Type 4 is different from 1, 2, and 3, for otherwise it would not be a fourth. Note the echo of “kind” from the first sentence to the second, which is awkward and reveals wordiness. Condense the two sentences and begin the paragraph with a meaningful statement: “A fourth kind of protest appears when….

3. It was an ordinary barn as far as barns go. It was painted an ordinary white which had become dirty and cracked. Inside the barn, spider webs were numerous. They extended across every rafter in the barn, forming geometrical designs.

The first sentence in #3 is vague, and ends with the stock phrase “as far as barns go” – barns rarely go far, except in tornado season, and the word is echoed from line one to lines three and five. There is no need for it in the third line – we assume that the writer means inside the barn and not inside the cow. The echo of “ordinary” is also awkward, and there’s another redundancy between “were numerous” and “extended across every rafter.” We should prefer the second phrase as more graphic. Revise these four sentences as two: “It was an ordinary barn, painted white which had become dirty and cracked. Inside, spider webs extended across every rafter, forming geometrical designs.

Authors and orators often repeat key words and phrases for rhetorical effect of parallelism or antithesis, as when Shakespeare says that the “greatest scandal awaits on the greatest state,” or when Juliet exclaims “My only love sprung from only hate! / Too early seen unknown, and known too late!” But these devices are best used with caution, and are often oppressive in political oratory when the speaker attempts to create a soundbyte for the media, some slogan to inflame the halfwits of the right or the left.

4. An additional example of Fitzgerald’s fiction that I’d like to consider is “The Rich Boy.” In this story, the author emphasizes the effects of wealth upon character among the Old Families.

Again the topic sentence is almost meaningless, except for the allusion to “The Rich Boy” – obviously it’s “an additional example” that he’d “like to consider.” In the second sentence, “this story” and “the author” are redundant with the previous line. Instead of tediously stalking your subject and surrounding it with vague redundancies, attack it at once: In ‘The Rich Boy,’ Fitzgerald emphasizes the effects of wealth upon character among The Old Families.” Then specify the effects and marshal your evidence.

Revise the following:

5. In Iraq two rival sects of Islam are present today. These are the Sunni and the Shiite faiths. These groups have been at strife for nearly 1400 years since the death of Mohammed.

6. In Babbit, Sinclair Lewis implies that religion is just another form of business, selling a product or promoting a service. To be number one in Zenith, you had to be at the top. Dr. Drew wanted the biggest Sunday school in the city, just as a real estate agent wants increased sales. The evangelist, Mike Monday, was another representative of business in the novel. He boasted that he was the world’s greatest “salesman” of salvation.

7. You can buy anything you desire. There are even metal boxes to bury human ashes or if you want something a little more pleasant you can buy a beautiful topaz ring with a solid gold band. But whatever you choose to buy, you will have to bargain for it, because….

D. Weak nouns and verbs, often propped up with modifiers: “Beginners in Literature are inclined to fumble with a handful of adjectives round the outline of what they want to describe.” – T.E. Lawrence

Effective writers rely on strong nouns and verbs, meaning those specific enough to create images in the mind of the reader. Such a writer is sparing in his use of modifiers. The novice uses weak or all-purpose nouns and verbs which create only vague images at best, then tries to remedy their weakness with a profusion of adjectives and adverbs. A specific meaning may be conveyed by piling up modifiers, but it’s a recipe for awkwardness. The adverb is the most abused part of speech – if the word ends with the suffix “-ly,” make it prove why it’s in there. If you have so many modifiers that you must use commas between them, you’re probably using too many and should find a stronger noun or verb.

1. The loud, low sound of the freight vehicles in the tunnel…

R: The rumble of the trucks in the tunnel…

2. In Mississippi, Luke’s dilapidated little old house…  

Two of the adjectives are redundant since its dilapidated condition suggests its age, but a better noun like “shack” without the adjectives would be better, and “Luke’s shanty” would be better still – the noun is specific enough that it’s not improved by the addition of modifiers, but weakened.

3. A thin stream of waste water from the house ran sluggishly down the pipe toward the river.

“Waste water” sounds like a euphemism (discussed later), and “ran” is a weak verb propped up with an adverb, “sluggishly.” I’d prefer “Sewage from the house trickled down a pipe toward the river.”

4. The toddler moved restlessly in his chair till his mother lightly struck him on the knee with the magazines.

R: The toddler squirmed in his chair till his mother swatted him on the knee with her magazine.

“Wriggled” or “fidgeted” would serve as well in the main clause.

5. The several remaining characters in the story are all presented as various aspects of the false pretenses to be found in upper-class behavior, which we regard as noteworthy only for their polished and amusing dialogue, but totally lacking any valid understanding of the impoverished living conditions outside the boundaries of their property.

Such diffuse prose is common among students who fret about “the flow” of their writing, as they are swept along a torrent of words.

R: The remaining characters are aristocratic shams, notable for their wit, but indifferent to the poverty of the village beyond their gates.

Writing gains force through compression and that is improved by a preference for strong nouns and verbs while cutting modifiers.

6. The unpleasant old lady held tightly onto her purse and said something that I couldn’t quite understand about my parents.

R: The hag clutched her purse and muttered something about my parents.

In the following specimens, replace the weak nouns and verbs with more specific ones and cut needless modifiers.

7. Mrs. Thomas would know that I’d put the paint on the wall instead of on my canvas, so I went hurriedly to my locker for some turpentine and an old piece of cloth to clean it off, and then quickly placed my brushes in my box.

8. After placing the clothes in the washer, I sat down and hurriedly began to skim through the problems in my calculus text for Monday. Then Scott came into the laundry room, apparently still drunk, telling me loudly that I had taken his wallet when he had fallen asleep in the bar.

9. He slowly entered the kitchen and carelessly put down his mother’s newspaper on the table. He sat down, yawning, and heavily put one foot across the other chair, leaving stains on the seat.

10. The loud noise of voices gradually grew in volume and then fell to complete silence when they saw the small, thin, underweight boy on the crutches standing in the doorway. You could clearly see the all-consuming fear in Kenny’s eyes and his great nervousness as his hand perceptibly began to tremble. A small smile appeared on his thin face as he laboriously made his way to the front desk of the classroom teacher Mr. Phillips, who only placed the new kid’s name on the seating chart and said nothing. Then Kenny laid his crutches on the floor and moved with difficulty to the first seat, where he pulled several things out of his backpack and put them away.

These examples are not unusually bad, but only typical, which means bad enough to need revision. In line three of example #10, note the “small, thin, underweight boy” – two of the three adjectives are redundant (“thin” and “underweight”) but all of them could be eliminated with a stronger noun, such as “the runt on crutches.”

A profusion of modifiers might convey your meaning, but it’s an awkward way to be vivid.

There may be exceptions when you’ll wish to violate any of these principles – in Main Street (1920), Sinclair Lewis wrote “Mrs. Bogart was not the acid type of Good Influence. She was the soft, damp, fat, sighing, indigestive, clinging, melancholy, depressingly hopeful kind.” If you choose to flaunt a sound principle, do it with flair.

Strong nouns and verbs: The following specimens are effective. Underscore the words that seem well-chosen, that create an image in your mind and carry the impact of each statement – most will be nouns and verbs. Also consider what words or phrases that a novice might have used instead:

1. The tractor sputtered and popped at a deafening intensity, and billowed a cloud of soot that settled on my clothes and stuck to my suntan lotion.

Some novices write well. This was from a freshman girl’s narrative about a John Deere “B” tractor with a two-cylinder engine. I suggested only one trivial revision – her first draft read “a cloud of black soot,” and I recommended that she cut the adjective.

2. (A pony cart) We trotted on, we crept up Constitution Hill, we rattled down in Lammas Street, and the tailor still rung his bell and a dog ran squealing in front of the wheels. As we clip-clopped over the cobbles that led down to the Towy Bridge, I remembered…

-Dylan Thomas, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog

3. (An eccentric) But grandpa stood firmly on the bridge, and clutched his bag to his side, and stared at the flowing river and the sky, like a prophet who has no doubt.

-Ibid.

4. (Sounds of a Jewish slum) Every sound from the street roared and trembled at our windows, … the screech of the trolley car on Rockaway Avenue, the eternal smash of a handball against the wall of our house, the clatter of “der Italyener’s” cart packed with watermelons, the sing-song of the old clothes men walking Chester Street, the cries of “Arbes! Arbes! Kinder! Kinder! Heyse gutes arbes!”

-Alfred Kazin, A Walker in the City.

Economy does not mean brevity, though the revision of windy paragraphs may make them shorter. What you write may be as long as War and Peace and yet be economical if all the words and phrases serve a purpose. Students quickly learn to recognize stock phrases but are slower to spot the deadwood and redundancies in their work, even when it’s made obvious by awkward echoes of words and phrases. I urge them to read their works aloud, as I do in their private tutorials. They could identify many problems with their ears that they miss with their eyes. If this practice annoys their roommates, then let them mutter it. Courses in speed reading encourage us not to sub-vocalize, but literature should be read with a spoken voice, whether fiction, drama, or poetry, even if the words only resonate within our heads and no sound is uttered. Those who wish to write well should do the same.

A.W. Johns

Why Nobody Can’t Write Good by A.W. Johns

There are a few basic principles in good writing of any sort, among which are simplicity, economy, color, and freshness. This has been true for centuries, despite changing literary fashions and the idiosyncrasies of individual authors. However, the student often concludes from incompetent teaching that there are no standards of excellence in writing, and that prudence only requires him to humor the conflicting whims of each professor. Or he may become a convert and embrace the cliches invented and made immortal by generations of pedagogues. He has been told that he must “make transitions” between sentences, and the way to do this is to haul a lot of cargo from one sentence into the next, which makes his paragraphs echo like a burial vault. And he must never a sentence with a preposition, nor sully the dignity of prose with contractions. To write with color he should use lots of adjectives and adverbs. And of course there is the constant assumption that big words are more eloquent and impressive than simple ones. For organization he must have an “Introduction, Body, and Conclusion,” which require that he must first “Tell the reader what he’s going to tell him,” and in the “Body” (or Cadaver) he must tell him, and in the “Conclusion” he must “Tell him what he has told him,” and so inflict all of his tediousness on the reader for a third time, like Shakespeare’s Dogberry. Thus the student first Introduces the reader to his cadaver, who has little information to offer, and the Conclusion is that there’s no hope of reviving this corpse.

 

The student who wishes to write well should begin by creating a bonfire of those hoary notions, and others. The most useful book of rhetoric I ever saw was called The Modern Stylists, edited by Donald Hall – a simple anthology of comments on writing by real authors who have demonstrated their ability, and thus their authority to advise, including Hemingway, Orwell, E.B. White, Mencken, Churchill and many others, among whom there was widespread agreement on basic principles. This does not mean “Rules” as inflexible as the laws of physics, for they were not brought down by Moses from the mountain. Even in grammar there are few rules which do not admit exceptions – such as when we write dialect (non-standard forms of English). And even educated people sometimes speak in fragments of sentences – thus when we write dialogue most of us choose to preserve the patterns of real speech.

 

The following specimens of good and bad prose were chosen to illustrate the four principles of economysimplicitycolor, and freshness. These are basic to good writing and speaking on the level of individual setences, though if you wish to write the next great American novel there are many other skills to acquire. I include clarity within the concept of simplicity, but if you feel that it requires separate consideration, I have no objection.