"Conversation" by Valery Kenski, November 22, 2013. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/legalcode I’ve decided that on this blog I would like to share some of the editing tips that I’ve come up with over the years for myself. I’d like to do a bit of a series of posts, but as I’m disorganised (the price one pays for creativity), I may get a little lost on the way. I’ll pull through in the end though.
I’ve flogged the importance of character development to death in previous posts. I think that a hundred percent of high order issues in books can be tracked to back to poor character development. When you edit your manuscript for publication – when you edit it before you pitch it to agencies and publishers – take your time to identify these issues. Boring characters or characters that make no sense are the single biggest cause of frustration in readers. Character development, I believe, should have higher precedence than plot planning.
In these posts however, I’m going to pass over the character development issue. I’d like to write about fluency in prose: beautiful prose that flows off the tongue with little effort. If you want your story to feel like it moves faster, fluent prose could be the answer. Consider the following example:
She stared at him, trembling a little. “I have not done anything wrong, Father,” she said rapidly in crisp Vernacular, every vowel perfect. “I did not mean to—”
His hand found her shoulder. “Arlene, my child,” he whispered, “I care for you. I… love you.”
She froze, transfixed. “I have never heard this, Father,” she said.
Fritz laughed suddenly. “I think your memory is ill,” he said.
His grip on her shoulder tightened, and she gasped.
“Never go into my library. Is that understood?” he told her.
“But Father—” she said. She loved his books. She loved reading, knowledge, education.
“Promise me,” Fritz blurted out. “Promise me, Arlene. Never again.”
“Why?” she said brazenly.
Fritz stood up. “You will do as I say,” he said.
She remained where she was, like a statue.
“Do not enter the library again, Arlene,” he said. “Now go to your lessons.”
She turned mechanically and left.
His heart ached.
Now consider it edited:
She stared at him, trembling a little. “I have not done anything wrong, Father,” she said rapidly in crisp Vernacular, every vowel perfect. “I did not mean to—”
His hand found her shoulder. “Arlene, my child,” he whispered, “I care for you. I… love you.”
She froze, transfixed. “I have never heard this, Father.”
Fritz laughed suddenly. “I think your memory is ill.”
His grip on her shoulder tightened, and she gasped.
“Never go into my library. Is that understood?”
“But Father—” She loved his books. She loved reading, knowledge, education.
“Promise me,” Fritz blurted out. “Promise me, Arlene. Never again.”
“Why?” she said brazenly.
Fritz stood up. “You will do as I say.”
She remained where she was, like a statue.
“Do not enter the library again, Arlene. Now go to your lessons.”
She turned mechanically and left.
His heart ached.
What did I get rid of?
She stared at him, trembling a little. “I have not done anything wrong, Father,” she said rapidly in crisp Vernacular, every vowel perfect. “I did not mean to—”
His hand found her shoulder. “Arlene, my child,” he whispered, “I care for you. I… love you.”
She froze, transfixed. “I have never heard this, Father,” she said.
Fritz laughed suddenly. “I think your memory is ill,” he said.
His grip on her shoulder tightened, and she gasped.
“Never go into my library. Is that understood?” he told her.
“But Father—” she said. She loved his books. She loved reading, knowledge, education.
“Promise me,” Fritz blurted out. “Promise me, Arlene. Never again.”
“Why?” she said brazenly.
Fritz stood up. “You will do as I say,” he said.
She remained where she was, like a statue.
“Do not enter the library again, Arlene,” he said. “Now go to your lessons.”
She turned mechanically and left.
His heart ached.
Getting rid of these tiny dialogue tags helped this passage fly by, rather than limp along. It’s incredible how few dialogue tags we actually need. My rule of thumb is that if I have already mentioned the person doing something, I can shove their quotation next to it and have a paragraph that works. This:
Sherwin glared at him. “I’m not yer pawn, Raf,” he said.
Becomes this:
Sherwin glared at him. “I’m not yer pawn, Raf.”
It works in a myriad of situations. However, you’ll notice in the above conversation, I actually left some dialogue tags in. When you cut too much from your prose, you risk making it inelegant and ugly, which is precisely what you wished to avoid in the first place.
Editing Tip for Fluency No #1: Cut all unnecessary dialogue tags from your prose.
Enough said.
I’ve flogged the importance of character development to death in previous posts. I think that a hundred percent of high order issues in books can be tracked to back to poor character development. When you edit your manuscript for publication – when you edit it before you pitch it to agencies and publishers – take your time to identify these issues. Boring characters or characters that make no sense are the single biggest cause of frustration in readers. Character development, I believe, should have higher precedence than plot planning.
In these posts however, I’m going to pass over the character development issue. I’d like to write about fluency in prose: beautiful prose that flows off the tongue with little effort. If you want your story to feel like it moves faster, fluent prose could be the answer. Consider the following example:
She stared at him, trembling a little. “I have not done anything wrong, Father,” she said rapidly in crisp Vernacular, every vowel perfect. “I did not mean to—”
His hand found her shoulder. “Arlene, my child,” he whispered, “I care for you. I… love you.”
She froze, transfixed. “I have never heard this, Father,” she said.
Fritz laughed suddenly. “I think your memory is ill,” he said.
His grip on her shoulder tightened, and she gasped.
“Never go into my library. Is that understood?” he told her.
“But Father—” she said. She loved his books. She loved reading, knowledge, education.
“Promise me,” Fritz blurted out. “Promise me, Arlene. Never again.”
“Why?” she said brazenly.
Fritz stood up. “You will do as I say,” he said.
She remained where she was, like a statue.
“Do not enter the library again, Arlene,” he said. “Now go to your lessons.”
She turned mechanically and left.
His heart ached.
Now consider it edited:
She stared at him, trembling a little. “I have not done anything wrong, Father,” she said rapidly in crisp Vernacular, every vowel perfect. “I did not mean to—”
His hand found her shoulder. “Arlene, my child,” he whispered, “I care for you. I… love you.”
She froze, transfixed. “I have never heard this, Father.”
Fritz laughed suddenly. “I think your memory is ill.”
His grip on her shoulder tightened, and she gasped.
“Never go into my library. Is that understood?”
“But Father—” She loved his books. She loved reading, knowledge, education.
“Promise me,” Fritz blurted out. “Promise me, Arlene. Never again.”
“Why?” she said brazenly.
Fritz stood up. “You will do as I say.”
She remained where she was, like a statue.
“Do not enter the library again, Arlene. Now go to your lessons.”
She turned mechanically and left.
His heart ached.
What did I get rid of?
She stared at him, trembling a little. “I have not done anything wrong, Father,” she said rapidly in crisp Vernacular, every vowel perfect. “I did not mean to—”
His hand found her shoulder. “Arlene, my child,” he whispered, “I care for you. I… love you.”
She froze, transfixed. “I have never heard this, Father,” she said.
Fritz laughed suddenly. “I think your memory is ill,” he said.
His grip on her shoulder tightened, and she gasped.
“Never go into my library. Is that understood?” he told her.
“But Father—” she said. She loved his books. She loved reading, knowledge, education.
“Promise me,” Fritz blurted out. “Promise me, Arlene. Never again.”
“Why?” she said brazenly.
Fritz stood up. “You will do as I say,” he said.
She remained where she was, like a statue.
“Do not enter the library again, Arlene,” he said. “Now go to your lessons.”
She turned mechanically and left.
His heart ached.
Getting rid of these tiny dialogue tags helped this passage fly by, rather than limp along. It’s incredible how few dialogue tags we actually need. My rule of thumb is that if I have already mentioned the person doing something, I can shove their quotation next to it and have a paragraph that works. This:
Sherwin glared at him. “I’m not yer pawn, Raf,” he said.
Becomes this:
Sherwin glared at him. “I’m not yer pawn, Raf.”
It works in a myriad of situations. However, you’ll notice in the above conversation, I actually left some dialogue tags in. When you cut too much from your prose, you risk making it inelegant and ugly, which is precisely what you wished to avoid in the first place.
Editing Tip for Fluency No #1: Cut all unnecessary dialogue tags from your prose.
Enough said.
