Making the Cut: the most common mistakes fiction writers make and
how to avoid them
By Trina Allen Home Portfolio Contact the Author
Consider
yourself a surgeon with a scalpel in hand, ready to remove your patient’s
cancer before it spreads throughout his body. You do not hesitate. You make the
cut knowing that after surgery your patient will be healthier and live longer.
Treat your writing like that patient. Don’t let it die! Make the cut and save
your fiction from the cancer of overwriting.
In
editing manuscripts, I see the same common mistakes: the cancers of passive
voice, over describing and adverbs usage. Many writers would sooner cut off a
body part than delete their words. But if you want to make the cut to
publication, you will have to hit that delete key.
Cut the passive verbs!
Verbs come in two forms, active and passive. Make the active verb
your friend. The subject of a passive verb is the victim of the action.
Something is done to it. A wimpy, timid verb shows
your reader you are afraid. Maybe because passive voice is found in
educational, legal and scientific jargon, new writers
think the passive voice makes them sound intellectual. It doesn’t. You might as
well tattoo, “I’m an amateur. Would you please reject my work,” on your arm.
Bad — passive voice:
1.
Ashley's first memories were of a small, dinky, two-bedroom trailer in Tucson,
Arizona, where her life was begun.
2.
The lawn was mowed
and trimmed.
3.
The poetry reading will be
at eight.
After the surgeon’s cut:
1.
Ashleigh remembered the
trailer in Tucson, Arizona, where she lived as a
child. With passive verbs cut,
Ashley is remembering and living. She is no longer the passive victim of
memories and her life.
2.
Eric mowed
and trimmed the lawn. Eric is in
the sentence once the passive verb was is cut. The lawn is no longer the focus,
Eric is.
3.
The poetry reading is at eight. The poetry reading is central to the
sentence now.
Cut adverbs at all costs!
To quote Stephen King from On Writing,
“The adverb is not your friend.” When you use adverbs, those words that modify
verbs, other adverbs or adjectives, you tell the
reader that you are afraid you aren’t getting your meaning across, or that you
don’t know how to express yourself clearly. You might as well write across your
forehead in black marker, “Please, please reject my work. I don’t want to be
published.”
Consider
the sentence She fought fearlessly against depression. Does fearlessly need
to be there? If you fight, doesn’t that imply fearlessness? Or this sentence, He walked softly. If we can’t tell
from the narrative that came before how he is walking then you haven’t done a good job writing. Perk up your writing— put the scalpel to
your adverbs.
Cut
adverbs in dialogue tags. Keep dialogue attribution simple.
For God’s sake, avoid adverbs in dialogue tags! Please don’t mark
yourself a beginner by putting your enemy the adverb in your dialogue
attribution.
Bad:
1.
“Oh yes, lovely,” Joyce mused quietly.
2.
“You can’t hurt me,” Andy cried
haughtily.
After
the knife:
1.
“Oh yes, lovely, Joyce said.
2.
“You can’t hurt me,” Andy said.
Don’t try to strengthen
dialogue attribution with muscle. The result is similar. Though the following
sentences are better than those with adverbs in the dialogue tags,
they still read like beginner writing. “Stop,
or I’ll shoot,” Rezell yelled. “That’s tight, dude,” Adeshola shouted out. A simple Rezell said
or Adeshola said would work as well. You show whether someone whispers
softly, shouts, reassures, muses quietly, or yells loudly through your
narration. The best form of dialogue attribution is said,
as in Ashley said, he said,
or said Stephen.
Make the cut. Be an underwriter.
Avoid long descriptions, especially in the beginning paragraphs.
You don’t need to set the scene or introduce your characters in the first few
paragraphs. If you try, you’ll bore the reader with details, and a bored reader
stops reading. Give only enough details to let readers create their own sense
of reality. Your readers have imagination. They can fill in the gaps. Your
characters will come to life through dialogue as the story progresses. Don’t
try to do it in one paragraph.
Bad:
Ashley's
first memories were of a small, dinky, two-bedroom trailer in Tucson, Arizona,
where her life was begun. Ashley was an exceptionally
pretty child with emerald green eyes that had gold-specked centers. When she
smiled, her face lit up, dimples decorated her cheeks. Her blond hair curled
around her face in bouncing pale ringlets that shimmered like the sun. Ashley
wore old clothes given her by relatives, or ones purchased at garage sales. Her
mother was a traditional homemaker who washed their clothes in an old wringer
washer and hung them to dry on a clothesline outside their trailer. Ashley
didn't know it then, but that trailer was only twelve feet wide. The family
lived on just loans and scholarships. That wasn't even enough to bring them to
the minimalist poverty level. Ashley knew none of this. She just felt a sense
of safety, well being, and happiness that comes from the love of caring
parents, no matter what their financial status.
After the surgeon’s cut:
Ashleigh was a happy child with emerald eyes and blond curls.
Although the family struggled to survive on her father’s scholarships, she
didn’t mind the hand-me down clothes or the small trailer where she lived until
she was five.
Although the second
paragraph is not perfect, it is more concise. Your readers will thank you for
not bogging them down with overly long descriptions.
Rejection is something that new writers (and old) live with. You
can make rejection less likely to happen by welding that scalpel. Cut out the
cancers of overwriting, passive voice and the overuse of adverbs and you’ll
have a more marketable product.
Publication
Information:
Education Articles. 2006. http://www.edarticle.com
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