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Delving further into Stephen King's book, On Writing, I continue to be intrigued. In a section he calls "Toolbox," he talks about the tools writers should carry with them at all times. And mentions the fact that most of them are things we already have. Let's think for a moment about the top level--vocabulary and grammar.
One of my best grammar lessons came from working with Tricia on my Black Dragon manuscript. She would read a section and get it back to me all marked up with purple ink. She crossed out the adverbs (those pesky ly words), and marked any passive tense. Often she suggested changes that when I read them, I thought "oh yeah, of course. Why didn't I see that?"
Now, as I start revising Free Lunch, I find I have incorporated her voice, those grammar lessons, into my head. Today I got rid of several adverbs (and Steve King would be especially proud of me for getting rid of the ly word in the dialog tag.), and made sure every word mattered.
Vocabulary I don't worry about a whole lot. I do try to make sure I am using words that fit my characters, and since I write about and for teenagers, every once and awhile I have to go back and change things. If it sounds like a mom (me) saying it, it's got to go.
One more point of note from my reading today. King talks about the paragraph being the building block even more than the sentence. The way the text looks on the page, the white space, the chunks of thought (my words, not his. His were more eloquent by far). I've seen some interesting things done with this in YA fiction. There is a book I read to my eighth graders called The Children's Story by James Clavell. It is a little book, but powerful. We read it to introduce a unit on Anne Frank and the Holocaust. In the book, there are full pages of text, as well as pages with a sentence, or even just a word or two. It is all about pacing and the impact of the words on the page.
So as I read Stephen King's advice about paragraphs, that is what comes to my mind. It makes me look at what I am writing in a different manner. Chunks of thought, not just words.
One of my best grammar lessons came from working with Tricia on my Black Dragon manuscript. She would read a section and get it back to me all marked up with purple ink. She crossed out the adverbs (those pesky ly words), and marked any passive tense. Often she suggested changes that when I read them, I thought "oh yeah, of course. Why didn't I see that?"
Now, as I start revising Free Lunch, I find I have incorporated her voice, those grammar lessons, into my head. Today I got rid of several adverbs (and Steve King would be especially proud of me for getting rid of the ly word in the dialog tag.), and made sure every word mattered.
Vocabulary I don't worry about a whole lot. I do try to make sure I am using words that fit my characters, and since I write about and for teenagers, every once and awhile I have to go back and change things. If it sounds like a mom (me) saying it, it's got to go.
One more point of note from my reading today. King talks about the paragraph being the building block even more than the sentence. The way the text looks on the page, the white space, the chunks of thought (my words, not his. His were more eloquent by far). I've seen some interesting things done with this in YA fiction. There is a book I read to my eighth graders called The Children's Story by James Clavell. It is a little book, but powerful. We read it to introduce a unit on Anne Frank and the Holocaust. In the book, there are full pages of text, as well as pages with a sentence, or even just a word or two. It is all about pacing and the impact of the words on the page.
So as I read Stephen King's advice about paragraphs, that is what comes to my mind. It makes me look at what I am writing in a different manner. Chunks of thought, not just words.
6 comments:
Sarah;
Your comments remind me of a Gene Hill story titled "Old Tom." In 346words and 16 sentences, (I forget how many paragraphs) he presents the problem, solution, and the outcome. It's about an old man who has to have his dog put down, but he wants him to have one more bird before he goes. Only problem--well another problem--is the season is closed. He takes the dog anyway and kills a bird for him, then takes the dog to the vet. A very cool story, filled with emotion, that shows the skill of brevity. If you can say it in five words, why use 10? Sometimes we bloviate because we think it makes us look smart and sophisticated. On the other hand, I don't like Hemmingway's choppy sentences.
Thanks for all you do with this blog. I learn a lot from your posting and others too.
Larry, sometimes I bloviate just because I think and talk that way--not because I necessarily think it makes me look smart. I'm just a chatty sort, I guess. : )
And thank you for hanging in there through the long silences. Life gets busy.
Sarah;
I hope you don't think I implied you bloviate. I was referring to myself. Sometimes the long sentence gets away from me. I need to learn to let readers digest it in smaller bites.
Naw, I didn't think you were slamming me--but it is true. Sometimes I do go on a bit. I'm working on that.
OK, I bloviate. As I often say (stolen many years ago from some clever wag on another writing board), "it takes me three pages just to sneeze." --Mark
Yeah, my characters can't seem to get out the damn door in less then 3 pages!
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