Pointless Pastime

One of the features on Kindle I’ve never understood is the constant underlining that shows up in a e-book I’ve just purchased.  I can understand my underlining parts I need to reference, remember, or refer to; however, I really don’t need others’ opinions to colour my experience. For me, it’s like buying something supposedly “new” and finding out later it has been used.

I understand that Kindle provides a way to deactivate the feature, but you must do it for every book! (If you know of a way to deactivate this feature permanently on a laptop, please email me!!!) As an avid reader, I resent the time I have to waste hunting the right formula to deactivate underlining every time I want to read a Kindle book. As a reader, I expect to find underlining in used books I buy at a resale shop, but that kind of underlining usually isn’t in any of the fiction books I purchased. When I buy a new book, whether digital or print, I want it pristine and fresh, not all marked up to make me wonder and wrack my brain why the previous reader marked it.

As an author, that kind of marking is generally useless. If you find an error in my novel, just email me about it. I’m usually pretty good about making corrections for the occasional error that slips through proofreading, but having one reader mark something that every single person reading my novel is going to notice is insulting.

Let me put this in perspective. For several years, I was editor of a small-town newspaper. We had four people reading copy every Tuesday before printing the edition on Wednesday. And yes, stuff still slipped through. It happens to traditional and big publishing houses as well (though most people don’t talk about it); I’ve noticed errors such as the same paragraph repeated, an entire page added twice, an occasional word left out, etc.  The drawback to a weekly paper is that once it’s in print, you can’t fix it.

I had a good friend in another state that received our local paper during my tenure as editor. And every week he would email me an oops-o-gram and point out all the mistakes that slipped through. It was annoying, but he was a friend, so I endured it. The thing is, what good did it do to point out the errors after the paper was printed? We couldn’t fix it; we saw the errors; and only once did we need to print a retraction for a wrong name.

Readers’ underlining of e-books tends to do the same thing. And unless an author goes back and rereads the digital copy or print edition after publication, the chances are he’ll never see the underlying. If a reader really wants to help authors improve, drop us an email. With technology, errors are no longer permanent. We can correct and upload even print versions again with the click of a button. All underlining does is call out the problem to other readers who might not have noticed it in the beginning.

A corollary issue with reader underlining is sometimes they underline things that are not wrong. I have a degree in journalism and have been an English teacher. I’ve been writing for over 40 years, so I’ve plenty of experience with grammatical rules and word usage. I’ve been puzzled more than once to see underlining in one of my books of a sentence that was grammatically correct. There’s no error, however, it sets up doubt in other readers’ due to the underlining that something about the sentence must be wrong.

I’m sure there’s a Kindle algorithm that tracks all this, but can the algorithm determine whether there’s an error or whether the sentence resonates with the reader and is one he wants to keep forever? Yes, readers should have the ability to underline fav passages; however, to automatically make it where anyone who purchases a digital copy can see said underlining doesn’t contribute anything.

I’ve had a couple of readers point out some places that slipped through proofreading and I’ve been greatly appreciative of their efforts. It allowed me to pull the book, make the corrections and return the book to the public arena. Readers who merely underline problem passages are like folks in a crowded restaurant who see me with spinach between my front teeth and yell out so everyone can hear “Hey! You’ve got spinach between your teeth!”

What is that smell?

One of the minor annoyances I have as a reader is an over or under use of smell in a story. Somewhere, some writing coach or English teacher told a class “You should always include all five senses in a paragraph.” While inclusion of all five senses heightens description, all of them shouldn’t be included in a paragraph…unless of course, the main character is in a restaurant or at home eating a meal…and then only if all five are germane to the plot/action. I used to tell my students “3 out of 5 make a strong paragraph.”

For instance, the texture of oysters isn’t really germane except when the heroine is trying to be polite on a first-time date (although if she’s one of my heroines, she would have ordered for herself or spoken up to say she didn’t want oysters).

I guess what annoys me most is the inclusion of scent in most romances between the MC and the love interest. I mean, seriously, who goes around sniffing another person’s body odour? I can understand it if the MC is wearing cologne or perfume and it triggers a strong reaction in the love interest, but unless a person is in direct contact and there’s a reason, it’s just annoying. For instance, I love it (and do notice it) when my husband wears original Old Spice aftershave, but I don’t generally go around deciding what he smells like when he isn’t wearing it.

What role, then, does smell play in a story?

In limited capacity it can add to the description of the setting. The overly sweet fragrance of roses filled the old-fashioned garden.  Now the reader knows there’s a boatload of rose bushes in this garden without the author having to talk about all the varieties.  Smell is like salt—it should be used sparingly in description and used on purpose, not just to fill space.  I’ve always wanted to use the following conversation to describe a faraway city (true story, by the way).

The young bride stood beside her husband, gazing over the boat rail at the mishmash of the foreign harbour city.

“What is that smell?” she demanded, nose wrinkling.

“What smell?”

Can’t you just picture the scene? There’s something horrible she can’t identify, but for him, having grown up in the city, there’s a myriad of smells and he needs her to identify which one and whether it’s bad or good.  I loved this conversation the first time I heard it decades ago and it still sticks with me.

For the most part, I think smell should be used to evoke memories or emotions as its primary usage. The other day I was walking on the woodland trail near our home when a particular scent instantly transported me to my childhood home with a variegated hedge that attracted lightning bugs. I can’t tell you the name of the hedge, but the scent instantly transported me to warm summer days and late nights chasing magical bugs. The fragrance of sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon to create a sense of well-being and being home; the scent of citrus and urine and hot concrete of a foreign city, strange yet simultaneously familiar; the tang of salt spray and fish for the shuddering horror of nearly drowning; or spicy pine and wood smoke combined with the jingle of bells evoking a cozy winter Christmas.

Another use of scent is to further the plot. Fragrance can help motivate decisions, deepen character or provide clues to move along a series of events For example: The detective noted a hint of the outdoors, like cedar shavings, clinging to the woman’s coat.  Most unusual for a librarian who spent her days indoors. And it goes without saying that in a romance novel having the heroine notice a different perfume on her boyfriend’s shirt would definitely create problems!

Here’s a writing challenge for you: go through one day being aware of the scents around you. When do you notice? Why do you notice? Is it a scent that lingers with you or is it just a passing moment that surfaces for a second and is lost the next in the midst of daily life.  Keep a list, then use those moments in time to pinpoint where you need smell in your writing.

Stories that Linger…

I know that somewhere among the blogs I’ve written over the years I’ve mentioned the poignancy of stories that stick in our minds long after we’ve forgotten the title or author, especially in reference to one particular story (and I still can’t tell you the title or author even though I finally located a copy). In reflection on stories that linger, I’ve come to the realization that what is more important to me than the excitement of having people read and enjoy my novels or the thrill of getting a royalty check (no matter how small), is the intense satisfaction if somehow a story connected/resonated with readers so it impacted their lives long after I’m a forgotten memory.

These are the stories that continue to linger, that move me in some subtle way that words can’t define. These stories stir feelings that perhaps the author never intended, yet are now deeply embedded in my life. They are woven into the fabric of my being and I am better for being transformed in some small way:

The research scientist whose compassion is stirred for the Neanderthal child she is studying and breaks all regulations to return to the past with him as “mom”

The beleaguered wife of the future inventor struggling to make ends meet who finds value in the time machine that only returns to one spot across from a butcher shop during the Great Depression

The astronomer studying the remains of a highly advanced civilization preparing for their doom who discovers the supernova that destroyed them was the one spotted in a Bethlehem sky

The dystopian world bent on destroying everything of beauty and the little boy who ends up clutching the only thing remaining of the Mona Lisa…her smile

The priest striving to communicate his faith to an alien species on a distant world through music only to discover they have always been one with the Father

These and others constantly remind me that perhaps an author’s greatest obligation is not merely to tell a good story, but to impart a kernel of wisdom, of truth, of faith to give us something to cling to when the world falls dark around us, something to help us get back up in the midst of the daily struggle, a way to connect to a universe more vast than anything we can possibly imagine.

It is this transformational aspect of story that keeps me reading an intriguing tale even if it’s not well-written by current standards. It offers hope that there are stories that need to be told, even if the format of telling is amateurish or poorly done, for while the “packaging” may be of poor quality that in no way mitigates the value of the story itself.  The value seeps into our subconscious and lingers, melding with us until the story is only whispers, gossamer threads connecting us to feelings, places, people or time.

Attention Span of a Goldfish

It’s said the attention span of a goldfish is about 9 seconds and sometimes I wonder if that’s about the same for modern society. (Actually, according to Microsoft studies, the human span is less than 8) Certainly, technology and social media, not to mention Google, Quora and TikTok have made us an instant society craving immediate gratification. I’m often reminded of Sonic the Hedgehog (I’m waiting….) as we allow less and less time for products to titillate our entertainment circuits.

What does this have to do with writing? (Give it a Sonic second; I’ll get there.) I’m talking about the current dogma that insists if a writer hasn’t grabbed a reader’s attention in the first sentence the book is hopelessly lost. First, we need to realize while a good story does interest a reader early on, those “first sentence hooks” are designed to grab agents and publishers, who sift through thousands of aspiring novels daily and only have a limited number of opportunities for a book deal. Just to make it out of the slush pile an author needs a compelling first sentence to keep agents and publishers reading.  But do readers actually pay attention to the first line of a book and judge an entire book by it?

Let’s look at some first sentence examples:

We came to Birchwood Manor because Edward said it was haunted.

It was a dark and stormy night.

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.

The first thing you learned on the job as a Hollower was to never trust your eyes.

It was a pleasure to burn.

Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy.

One thing about Faerie is that they seem to naturally to drift toward the cliché.

“Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.”

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.

Kali McAlister tapped a wrench against her thigh as she contemplated her invention.

It was glorious fun at the time.

It was love at first sight.

The box was placed in the exact center of the desk.

The first time I watched the television series Downton Abbey, I wept.

Iemasa heard the knock on the door.

Can you tell which are the New York bestsellers, which are classics, which are indie? Which would have you reading the next paragraph? The next page? The rest of the chapter? If the book isn’t in your favorite genre to read or by your favorite author, is it enough to whet your curiousity?

I think if we are honest with ourselves, most of us would answer “No.”  As readers what brings us to the majority of books we read are a favorite author or series, a well-loved genre, sometimes a cover or description or a recommendation from a friend. Even if we hate the first sentence we’ll stick with it because it’s our author, series or genre. If it’s new, we’re liable to keep reading a while to see if it holds our interest.

It is important that we as writers craft the best possible opening, but this isn’t a hill we need to die on. Not everyone is going to find that perfect first line, nor will it grab every reader. But we can craft an interesting first chapter that will keep the reader engaged. I can’t tell you how many English literature stories did NOT engage me that I was forced to read, but there are hundreds of books without a stellar first line that piqued my interest.  Sometimes it was a character, or setting, or just the way the author phrased something that intrigued me and kept me reading; then before I knew it I was invested in the story and had to keep reading.

As we mentor each other in the writing game, polishing our craft and encouraging each other toward excellence, let’s not become OCD about certain “rules” to the point that we cramp style, stifle creativity, or leave new writers mired in the swamp of perfection. While agents and publishers might have the attention span of a goldfish, give readers a bit of credit for sticking with us a little longer.

Adverbs: When One Word Will Do

One of my pet peeves is “absolute” advice from writers, advice that allows no flexibility nor creativity. One such “absolute” concerns the use (or avoidance thereof) of adverbs. An adverb is defined as “a word or phrase that modifies or qualifies an adjective, verb, or other adverb or a word group, expressing a relation of place, time, circumstance, manner, cause, degree, etc” (Oxford Languages). Adverbs have their place in writing and I do understand the constant injunction against them due to lack of experience and misuse.

However, to expunge adverbs from the writing arena is shortsighted. Like any tool, writers should be trained in the use of adverbs. A detailed trim saw is used for fine woodwork, not carving away huge chunks of wood. In the same way, adverbs have their use for fine detailed work and like salt should be used sparingly.

Let me give some examples:

She went blithely on her way vs She left, her thoughts on mundane and trivial matters, the plight of her cousin evaporating from her mind like mists under a summer sun.

Both of these sentences describe a scene and both are correct depending on the tone, setting, action, mood, and voice of the author. If I’m writing a literary piece or period piece or a work that requires a richness of description, then by necessity, I’ll want to use the second sentence.  However, if the scope of the story requires something different, then the first sentence is applicable.

Here’s another:

He smiled grimly. “Over my dead body.” Dirk swung the two-handed sword, blocking Sarl’s vicious cut, the clang of meteor-forged metal ringing in the dim-lit passageway, sparks igniting like miniature fireflies.

In this case, had the writer spent time “describing” grimly, the action would slow and the more important aspect of the description (the actual fight scene) would take a secondary place.

Adverbs are aptly used when the writer chooses to focus importance on a different part of the description, one which adds to the overall mood and tone of the story. Adverbs help move the action along, strengthening the description and allowing the author to vary levels of importance within the story framework. The challenge is knowing when and how to use adverbs.  For writers who desire to improve their mastery of this important writing tool, I suggest taking a passage from one of the classical writers, highlighting every adverb and then dissecting the passage to see how the writer implemented its usage.

I’m also reminded of Bill Watterson’s Calvin and Hobbes artwork and the naysayers who decided he had no art skills because of the way he drew his characters. Their insistence he had to draw in a certain manner fizzled in the face of some well-done panels. His style was necessary for the mood and tone of the comic strip which would not have been as delightful done as tradition demanded.

Sometimes an adverb will do.

Write What You Know

Writing advice comes in many shapes, sizes, and quantities. Some of it is practical, some are designed to weed out amateurs, some help writers polish their craft, but all when taken to the extreme are a detriment to anyone determined to tell a good story in a way that rivets their audience.

Good writers know that while rules aren’t meant to be broken, there are times when they need to be re-evaluated and re-interpreted.  Like pouring cake mix into muffin tins or a bunt pan instead of a 9 x 13 cake pan. The essence of the rule remains, but the form changes shape to craft an exceptional work. This is why newbies often complain about “famous” authors who “break the rules.”

Like so many great and well-intentioned pieces of writing advice, “write what you know” often gets twisted out of perspective. If we take the rule literally, we’ve suddenly limited writing to a small inner circle of gatekeepers who despise anyone who hasn’t followed the same route to success. Or we have inadvertently killed imagination in someone who lacks “experience.” Libraries are filled with books whose authors didn’t have the worldly experience written about in their stories (and yes, I’m speaking of fiction books, not nonfiction treatises).

Write what you know isn’t really about how much knowledge or experience you have. Rather it is about taking the things you’ve lived through, the experiences you have had, the values in your core,  the thoughts, feelings and emotions that make up who you are and re-purposing them in the world of the writer’s imagination. I’ve never lived on another planet. Never been to Mars. But I grew up in rural America, with people who exhibited both the best and worse of family values. Thus, transplanting those same emotions, feelings, responses to another world is easy. While I’m never going to include a scene where the heroine gets tangled with the dog and falls in the garage and splits a knee open (requiring 13 stitches), I can incorporate the same sense of disobedience (I wasn’t supposed to take the dog in the garage), the resulting problems of injury, long term consequences and the emotions. More than simply placing words on paper and recreating a scene, writers touch hearts. We connect emotions and evoke memories in our readers. An injury so deep there is no immediate pain. The pain of disobedience and cringing feeling when justice is brought to bear. The remorse of a bad decision. The ugliness of consequences that last into adulthood. Those feelings can be translated into numerous scenes, none of which involve dogs or garages.

Sometimes as experienced writers, we tend to forget the struggles of the beginner. The burning desire of inexperienced writers to hone their skills. They want a formula to success and we give it to them in sound bites: don’t substitute synonyms for said, only use said, use tags instead of said, don’t use colons, yes ‘em dash, no ‘em dash, only use curly quotes, write what you know… What we fail to do is explain how to use those wise words; we fail to explain the why behind the sound bites. Thus, we end up with inexperienced writers fastening on the sound bites, making a religion out of them, and misusing them to their detriment.

Want a practical example?  I versus me.  Generations of English teachers and parents have hounded children with “my friend and I” until everyone from Hollywood to newscasters gets it wrong today. Why? Sound bites. We failed to explain “I” comes before the verb, while “me” comes after the verb. So we get crazy dialogue and script such as “The CEO interviewed James and I,” when it should be “The CEO interviewed James and me.” And it’s pervasive! It’s everywhere even among folks who ought to know better.

The same principle applies to “write what you know.” “Carol, you aren’t a scientist, so you can’t write about living on Mars. You don’t know enough to be realistic.”  The problem is with the term “realistic.” If I convey a feeling of realism, a feeling of plausibility, then I don’t really have to know a lot. I’m reminded of Bill Waterson’s response to an irate reader about his discussion on spiders. “I only need to know as much as a six-year-old.” I don’t need to know the details. I need only enough research to create a plausible world that works according to the way I built it. Can humans live on Mars? Currently, no although we have the technology, it just needs funding and resources. Will it be easy? No. Will people die? More than likely. We gloss over the large numbers of people who died along the Oregon trail while romanticizing the past. Writers don’t so much write what we know as what we feel, what we imagine. We take the parts of our life that connect to similar parts of others’ lives and season those experiences with the flavour of universal emotion, so we aren’t just writing “scenes” but reaching hearts. Maybe a better sound bite is “Write what you feel.”

Nothing New Under the Sun

A “new” trend in publishing today is the controversial issue of “rewriting” or “updating” popular novels to make them more “politically correct” or “less offensive.”  Unfortunately, this isn’t something new; it’s been going on for generations. Anytime a powerful group decides to tamper with the history of its people, rework ideas to make them less threatening, or craft a socialization theory that was palatable to the masses, changing writer’s words has been a simple case of “make it so.”

But what happens when a writer’s words and story world are hijacked even in small ways? Does this affect the overall story? Does it really matter? Yes, it does. Let me give a simple, non-hot button example.  Back in the 80s a religious denomination decided to update their hymnal. One of the editors decided to change wording in a popular song because it didn’t fit the current doctrinal position. Thus “rapture” was changed to “transport.”  First, changing an author’s writing for any reason isn’t something I’m comfortable with. Second, the proposed change completely missed the author’s purpose. While “rapture” hit the wrong button with certain factions, the author’s intent was clearly one of emotion, not doctrine. And as I pointedly told the editor, “transport isn’t an emotion; it’s an 18-wheeled vehicle.”  The reasoning was evident and off base, as other songs were left with archaic lingo that escape most 20^th (and 21^st) century believers, yet we continue to sing those songs.

When it comes to novels, changing words plays havoc with the entire story world, the atmosphere and feel of the story itself, and sometimes the plot. If the protagonist’s journey is based on addressing ills in the story world society and words are deleted to make them more “palatable,” some of the urgency or import of the hero’s journey is lost.  I understand the folks today are more vocally bothered by the power of words today than even a generation ago. It’s not to say those words did not bother and disturb or hurt previous generations. But apparently, we understood that you don’t change hate with more hate, nor is it always possible to win an argument of words. Sometimes actions do speak louder than words.  My mother always told me “consider the source” when dealing with bullies and their tormenting words. While not always comforting, it did help me to identify those I should listen to and those whose opinions didn’t matter.  It caused me to choose my words carefully and consider their power to bless or hurt others.

It is interesting to note that the biggest attack on changing novels lies in the arena of authors who are no longer alive and who have no infrastructure to protect their works.  Authors choose their words with great care and attention to the craft. Words  are chosen to bring uncomfortable ideas to attention, call out dangerous trends in society, or spur us to consider alternative views. Tampering with an author’s words derails their purpose, their dream, their vision of what could or should be.

It’s a dangerous trend and the first step in censorship, leading to a society where an individual’s opinions and beliefs are outlawed and new ideas are considered treason. 

When Worlds Collide

 The more experiences I have, the harder it becomes to enjoy television programs or movies. The clash between reality and fiction messes with my brain and my initial reaction is “This doesn’t work!” Sometimes I can ignore the reality snark in my head with a simple, “it’s just a movie; shut up.” Other times the contradiction ruins the story for me and I’ll either turn the program off in disgust or grump the rest of the way through the program. One case in point was decades ago. My family was watching a nature program being shown on a local Ecuadorian channel in English, no less. Two things struck me in such a way I couldn’t tell you about the rest of the program. First, the host was touring Ecuador (the reason it was being shown) and made the mistake of patting a Quechua woman on the head. While most Americans think nothing of patting our children on the head or an intimate friend, such behaviour was horribly rude and shocking (Ecuadorians pat animals on the head, never people). Obviously, the wildlife expert’s people hadn’t done their homework in researching cultural situations.  The other incident involved the host discussing the horrible nature of people who used wild animals for profit (a mountain family had a pet anteater and earned a few coins by showing him to tourists). While the TV host went on and on about how horrible this was, I was impressed with a poverty stricken family’s ingenuity in finding a way to feed their family. While these examples are extreme, I’ve run across this “reality clash” phenomenon multiple times. Take your typical FBI or cop show. Burner phones. Really? Just walk into a local Walmart, purchase one and voila! You are suddenly untraceable. We tried purchasing a “burner” phone just to use for Facebook and couldn’t find one.  Wire transfers are another matter. A couple of clicks of the button and instant cash in someone else’s bank account. Reality: not without a lot of paperwork and the address attached to the account you’re sending the money to. Took us several days to get the transfer done, even using Western Union.A related reality clash is the supposition that technology is interchangeable. Just think Star Trek and how easy it is to access alien tech with Federation tech. Recently, I ran into another example of how tech doesn’t know how to talk/interact with strange tech…especially across cultures. American forms who think that maiden names (mother’s name) should go before the last name (married name). If the other culture reverses this, every form gets kicked out of the system or the child gets called by the wrong name. Seen it happen too many times to count and it results in frustration and long hours to correct the issue. Or try opening an old Word file pre-2007. Can’t be done. Or try playing Outpost or Rebel Assault II on a modern computer. Not going to happen. I’m willing to suspend my disbelief during a sci fi show, but I always get a knowing smirk on my face.One of my favourite clashes is the New York/California folks who think Texas is still the Wild West. Obviously, they’ve never been to Lubbock, Houston, or Dallas because they portray those megacities like the small rural town I’ve spent the last 25 years in. And no, we don’t run around calling people “boy,” waving guns, or being bigots.  (Not saying some folks aren’t bigoted, but we’ve better manners than to treat visitors and strangers the way TV thinks we do).  When I see some show that’s totally missed what a Texas town is like (or puts gigantic mountains in the scene) I tend to fall out of my seat laughing.It’s one of the reasons I write science fiction. I’m a bit of a lazy writer. I don’t want to reap a reader’s scorn by messing up a local town or being unfamiliar with local culture or flat out putting something that doesn’t belong. Creating my own little worlds means I don’t have to worry about getting something so wrong readers will heap scorn on my novels. I’m not saying writers have to do massive amounts of research, but with the technology available all it takes is a click to Google view a town and realize tumbleweeds don’t blow through the city streets of Lubbock.

Evolution of Punctuation

Do even a short Google search about changing grammar and punctuation and the articles will hit the big points: use of singular “they”, split infinitives, double versus single spaces, and starting sentences with conjunctions.  But there are a number of other changes that slipped past the grammar gurus, including misunderstanding about starting sentences with conjunctions.

Conjunctions first. I’ve been an English teacher, so I understand the difficulties of instructing young minds in the use of commas and proper grammar. Yet somewhere along the way, it became easier for English teachers to simply say “don’t use conjunctions to start sentences” instead of teaching the use of a comma and a complete sentence. For example: “Because it rained.” is not a complete sentence. Rather than explain yet once again why and how to fix it, teachers merely said, “don’t start with ‘because.”  However, a simple addition to the sentence fragment: “Because it rained, we went to the museum instead of the zoo.” completely redeems the sentence. I do realize that in formal writing, academic writing, and even literary writing, starting sentences with conjunctions is frowned upon. However, even in literature, the use of conjunctions to start sentences can be well crafted.

And sixty cents of it was in pennies. O’Henry. The Gift of the Magi

‘But the Emperor has nothing on at all!’ cried a little child. Hans Christian Andersen. The Emperor’s New Clothes.

‘And what are you reading, Miss —?’ Jane Austen. Northanger Alley.

It amazes me that school children were long inculcated in the proper usage of grammar without confusion until the last half of the 20^th Century at which point adults assumed children were too stupid to memorize and correctly use grammar and punctuation rules. Now elementary and middle school literature is rife with sentence fragments and poor grammar, yet we continue to tell students, “don’t do this!” No wonder they are confused.

As for punctuation rules, pick up any book prior to 1990 and you’ll find a comma inserted before “because” in sentences. Now, students are taught to leave it out. The reverse is seems to be true for using commas between two sentences joined by “and.”  Now it’s include, but I recall learning in elementary school that two complete sentences joined by “and” did not require a comma as the conjunction took the place of the comma.

The ongoing battle between one or two spaces after periods or the “curly” versus “straight” quotations marks has always been a bit ludicrous to me. Having grown up with manual typewriters and later electric ones before the invention of the computer, I know the spaces were based on font sizes and are no longer required for digital work. The quotation marks are stylistic issues with word processing programs.

Still, it goes to show that punctuation, like grammar, is a living entity and one must constantly stay alert for changes. As a writer, I need to be aware that readers don’t always understand or know grammar and punctuation rules, so a bit of grumbling from that quarter can be safely ignored. As a reader, I understand that writers do proofread their stories and sometimes mistakes slip through, and while those mistakes can be annoying, they neither change nor affect the quality of the story.

The only “unforgivable” sin I hold fast to as a reader is the misuse of “me” in a sentence. “I” before the verb; “me” after the verb. This also applies to the use of “us vs we.” “We” before the verb, “us” after the verb. If you’re confused, break the sentence into two separate sentences. That is all. Have a great day!

Multiple POVS: Re-imaging Omniscient

In the not-too-distant past, omniscient point of view was a standard writing tool and readers didn’t seem to have a problem with the writer jumping from one character’s head into another from one paragraph to the next. It was sort of like a film director panning between characters, focusing in on telling glances or facial expressions while the main action is taking place between other characters in the group. It was a writing style that many people practiced. Perhaps, we didn’t seem to mind because often the narrator (author) used trigger phrases like “Dear reader” before switching or since the number of characters in a scene was limited it made sense to see what both people were thinking behind the scenes.

Dastardly Villain: “There is none to save you now.” You are just the bait I need to entrap the hero.

Languishing Heroine: “You’ll never get away with this!” Hero, where are you? I left plenty of clues!

Somewhere along the way the head hopping transitioned to leaving a space between paragraphs if the writer switched POVs to give the reader some sort of heads up.  Then it progressed to complete scene breaks in order to switch POVs and now characters get entire chapters to themselves, so the author can use multiple POV to tell the tale.

When you think about it, it’s still an omniscient point of view. The author is in the heads of all the characters telling the story from multiple view points in order to get all the scenes before the reader. Let’s be real. It is extremely difficult to write from a single point of view, especially if the writer has vital scenes that take place out of the hero’s POV. It’s the reason debate still rages over the ending of Starman Jones, or worse is labelled “info dump”. The critical scenes to the story take place outside of Max’s viewpoint and he has to be brought up to date.  Of course, nowadays, the writer would have merely given Sam a few chapters to himself so the reader could “see” all the events instead of being “told” about them along with Max.

This repurposing of omniscient POV has a few flaws the original didn’t have. First, inexperienced writers have a tendency to use too many characters to tell the story and the reader is lost after the first three or four chapters from a different character starting at different points. (What is this book about anyway?) I’ve picked up and discarded several books that began this way. A new character in every chapter telling a story that seems to have nothing in common with the previous chapters. I’m done, move on. It’s hard enough to get a reader invested in a story and character if the writer keeps switching the character and story. If you must use multiple POVs, make sure the reader can see the connection to the overall story in each arc. Don’t leave the reader guessing.

Second, multiple story arcs lead to wasted words, unnecessary scenes, extraneous description (after all, the writer is literally writing 3-4 different stories in the same book) and frustrating the reader who just wants to get on with the story.  Don’t get me wrong, there are some excellent authors out there who know their craft and can do this multiple story line with panache. (Michael Stackpole and Aaron Alston and their X-wing books, for instance). Most authors, however, never mastered single POV to begin with, so the multiple one becomes a ploy to easily get info and scenes in front of the reader without a struggle. If your MC isn’t omniscient, neither are you, the writer. So what if the villain is unleashing a catastrophe upon the unsuspecting hero? If you are writing 3^rd person POV, your hero isn’t going to know about it until it comes crashing down on his head. Is the catastrophe integral to the plot or is your MC’s response what is integral? No matter how well written the machinations of the villain are, if it happens offstage, neither your MC (nor your reader) should know about it. If it is integral, then you’ll need two POVs, one from the hero and one from the villain and only the writer can decide how much screen time the villain gets. For masterful writing of off-stage villains, check out Earl Stanley Gardner’s Perry Mason novels. The reader never sees the villain, only his handiwork, until the end of the story.

Writers, before you invest in too many character POVs, find out who you truly need. Try telling the story without a character. Can that character’s part be folded into an existing MC? If so, you don’t need the extra POV. Yes, it’s hard to write. You may have to get inventive to bring the information into your MC’s sphere.  There’s a reason television plots had an MC listen to radio and TV announcements to move the plot along, or overhear a bit of gossip. You don’t have to write yourself into a corner, but beware of adding bloatware to your writing style.