Atlanta Nights: Self-editing

By Iola Goulton

This post is part of a series illustrating some of the common fiction editing issues I see, using Atlanta Nights by Travis Tea as our example. For those of you who didn’t read my post introducing Travis Tea and his illustrious novel … you might want to go back and read the post.

The first obvious error in this passage is around the use of point of view, specifically, headhopping. We discussed this in a previous post, which you can find here: Interior Monologue.

There are also creative dialogue tags, which we discussed here, here and here, and last week we talked about description, and you can read that here. Today we're talking about self-editing, because good editing can be the difference between success and failure.

From Chapter Ten:

Irene Stevens starts to pertly walk into the Polo Club. She had long blonde hair and a voluptuous body. She was about 20. She was dressing in an expensive designer cerulean gown and not a bit of jewelry; her beauty needed no jewelry. She tried and signed the guest book.

She had come there from her hotel, where she had checked out that morning. She had driven here down the tortuous roads by all the Civil War monuments and past the pastures where they get the polo horses. They were all thoroughbreds and very beautiful. There had been flowers all along the way: roses and tulips and asters and crocuses and lilies and magnolias. She had managed to park her vehicle in the newest parking lot but she had been compiled to park it where the ferocious sunlight would infernally heat it up while she was leisurely enjoining the Polo Club. The soaring oak trees and maple trees had gloomily, dismally shaded the parking lot.

Elegantly, She walked up the stairs. The gown swished mysteriously about her legs. The sparkling mirror in the stairway considerately let her prudentially endeavor to carefully check her hair and jewelry. The artificial, incandescent light did not become her. It unflatteringly made her verdant dress and gold necklace look ghastly unbecoming.

This passage would make a great editing test. It’s 216 words, and has at least twenty errors. How many can you find?

Really. Reread the passage and count the errors. Write them down if you have time, so you can compare your list to mine.

Done? Then here we go.

1. “Starts” in the first line should be past tense, not present.
2. “Pertly” is a perfect example of why authors are encouraged to avoid adverbs: because so many use them badly. Delete.
3. There’s a point of view slip, from third person into omniscient. Women don’t walk around thinking of themselves as having long blonde hair (hey. We know what colour our hair is. We even know the real colour). We think of ourselves as “voluptuous” even less. Nor would we consider ourselves so beautiful as to not need jewelry. Delete.
4. Twenty, not 20 (spell out numbers under one hundred).
5. Order of adjectives: It should be an (determiner) expensive (opinion) cerulean (colour) designer (qualifier) gown (noun).
6. Better still, be specific. Have her wear a vintage Oscar de la Renta gown.
7. She “tried and signed the guest book”. She tried to sign? She turned and signed?
8. It’s morning? Why is she wearing a gown? Aren’t gowns evening wear?
9. Six sentences in a row starting with “she”. Starting consecutive sentences with the same word or words can be an effective rhetorical device (anaphora), but it’s hard to make that work with sentences starting with common words like he, she or the.
10. “Where they get the polo horses”. Keep? Pasture?
11. “Very beautiful”. Rather than using filler words like very, just, only, really or quite, find and use a specific adjective. Try breathtaking.
12. “Complied to park” her car. Required? Forced? Requested? This is why authors need beta readers and human editors: spell check picks up words which are spelled wrong, not correctly-spelled words used in the wrong context.
13. “Leisurely enjoining”. Enjoying. Again, the word is spelled correctly, so it’s not something spell check will pick up.
14. If the maple and oak trees are sheltering the parking lot, why is her car parked in the sun?
15. The way the "maple trees had gloomily, dismally shaded the parking lot" is two more reasons to bad adverb.
16. The second paragraph is too long (115 words). It should be shortened, or split in two. I'd delete the last two sentences, because they are unintelligible and don't add anything to the scene.
17. "Elegantly, She …" Another unnecessary adverb. Delete.
18. "Elegantly, She …" "She" shouldn't be capitalised.
19. "The gown swished mysteriously about her legs" is another POV slip (unless she's so vain and self-centred as to actually think this). And, yes, another adverb.
20. "The mirror let her…" Is this Harry Potter, that the mirrors have the right to allow or not allow people to use them?
21. "Artificial, incandescent light" is redundancy. All incandescent lights are artificial.
22. "[The mirror] unflatteringly made her …" Cut the adverb—it's the wrong word in this context.
23. "[The mirror] … made her verdant dress and gold necklace look ghastly unbecoming." Either ghastly or unbecoming, not both. Or put a comma between them (to indicate the dress looks both ghastly and unbecoming).
24. Her dress started off as cerulean (deep blue), then becomes verdant (green). Later on, it’s described as vermilion (red). I know shot silk can look different colours from different directions, but this?

Most of these errors are errors the author (or his/her beta readers) could have picked up. Some authors don't bother going through to edit for errors such as these, thinking their editor will correct them. I don't believe this is a good idea:

• If you submit writing like this to an agent or a reputable publisher, they'll reject you (a vanity press will probably accept you … and offer you an overpriced "editing" package which may or may not identify the problems).
  
  
• If you submit writing like this to a freelance editor (like me), they'll quote you a higher fee than if you had a cleaner manuscript, simply because it's going to take them longer to fix. And while they are focussing on the small errors (like compiled), they may well miss larger errors.
  
  As an example, it's taken me over an hour to note the mistakes in this short passage of less than a page. If you're paying your editor by the hour, that's a lot of time spent on things you could have fixed yourself. If you're paying your editor by the word, he or she or she would only have picked out the most obvious errors (e.g. 20, She) and moved on. Some editors charge as little as one cent a word, which means $2.16 for this passage … which means it's not going to get the level of editing it needs.

However, it’s not all bad. There are some things “Travis Tea” has done well:

• The scene starts with the name of the viewpoint character, so there’s no confusion over who is the POV character.
  
  
• The author uses polysyndeton, another rhetorical device in this sentence:

There had been flowers all along the way: roses and tulips and asters and crocuses and lilies and magnolias.

This may have been an accident. The sentence could also have been written using asyndeton:

There had been flowers all along the way: roses, tulips, asters, crocuses, lilies, magnolias.

If you'd like to know more about using rhetorical devices to improve your writing, I recommend Margie Lawson's Deep Editing course or lecture packet. For people wanting to self-edit their fiction better, I recommend Self-Editing for Fiction Writers and Revision and Self Editing for Publication.


Have I missed any editing issues? Do you have any questions about what I have picked up? Let me know in the comments.

About Iola Goulton

I am a freelance editor specialising in Christian fiction, and you can find out more about my services at my website, or follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest  or Tsu.

I love reading, and read and review around 150 Christian books each year on my blog. I'm a Top 25 Reviewer at Christian Book, in the Top 1% of reviewers at Goodreads, and have an Amazon Reviewer Rank that floats around 2500.

Atlanta Nights: Writing Description

By Iola Goulton

This post is part of a series illustrating some of the common fiction editing issues I see, using Atlanta Nights by Travis Tea as our example. For those of you who didn’t read my post introducing Travis Tea and his illustrious novel … you might want to go back and read the post.

Today's excerpt is from Chapter Three.

Penelope was starting to get worried about her friend's habits in eating and drinking. Her cheeks were almost as red as her hair already, like red Delicious apples under green leaves which were her eyes and the dark pupils were like little curled up caterpillars in the middle.

“Do you think it is a good idea to have another 1 Yvonne?” interrogated Penelope.
“Yes one more will not hurt me and then I will quit,” retorted Yvonne.

They did not notice that Steven Suffern was watching them secretly from his table across the dining room. They were at the Polo Club for lunch. The restaurant was a large room with a number of tables and some big windows looking out over the golf course and the lake. Both men and women and couples were eating lunch.

The first obvious error in this passage is around the use of point of view, specifically, headhopping. We discussed this in a previous post, which you can find here: Interior Monologue.

There are also creative dialogue tags, which we discussed here, here and here.

The other obvious error is the use of “1” for “one”—the convention in fiction is to spell out numbers below ten (or below one hundred, depending on which style guide you favour. Yes, there are rules for these things, and the “experts” don’t always agree). There are also punctuation issues, but we’ll save those for another time.

So what are we talking about today?

Description.

It’s important to have description in your novel, as you need to anchor your reader in a time and a place, and give the reader enough character description to allow them to imagine the character for themselves, but not so much that it affects the pace of the story. And not so much that it affects their enjoyment of the story.

In this example, Penelope compares Yvonne’s cheeks to Red Delicious apples—a nice enough comparison, if a little cliché and somewhat childish. But the author carries the image on, comparing Yvonne’s eyes to green leaves—not bad, but definitely not good. Penelope then compares Yvonne’s pupils to “little curled up caterpillars”.

Original? Yes.

Good? No.

Effective? No.

Especially as the caterpillars I’m most familiar with are cabbage whites, which are (wait for it!) white, and monarchs, which are green-and-black striped. White pupils are usually a sign of an eye problem such as cataracts, and green-and-black striped pupils? I have no idea.

And that’s why it’s a bad description: because it jolts the reader out of the story. Instead of becoming engaged in the story, I’m wondering about what colour caterpillars are, and what breed of butterfly or moth might have black caterpillars (assuming that’s the image Travis Tea was looking for).

The next problem is unnecessary description. I don’t know about you, but most restaurants I know are large rooms with tables. It’s not new. Nor is the idea that the restaurant has people in it (men and women, no less), and they’re eating lunch. At lunchtime.

It’s the culinary equivalent of telling us the protagonist has two arms, two legs and one head. Our life experience means we assume certain things (like restaurants having tables and customers, and serving lunch at lunchtime), so this description is redundant. It’s telling us what we already know. And telling is usually a bad thing.

What could the author have done instead?

They could have focussed on something specific, something different. Perhaps the restaurant only had one table. Or perhaps the restaurant was male-only, or female-only. Perhaps the restaurant was circular, or revolving, or at the top of a mountain (or all three …). Those things would be worth mentioning, because they are out of the ordinary.

(As an aside, the Piz Gloria Restaurant at the top of the Schilthorn in the Swiss Alps is a round revolving restaurant at the top of a mountain, and they serve a lovely breakfast. Dress warm: there’s snow up there even in the middle of summer.)

The other thing the author could have done was use the description to deepen characterisation. How could the author have described either Yvonne or the restaurant in a way that would have given the reader the information we need to anchor us in the scene, at the same time as showing us an insight into Penelope’s character?

How about this?

Should Yvonne be drinking this much? Her cheeks were already as red as her hair, the overall effect unfortunately accentuated by the contrast with her bright green eyes.

Or this?

They were at the Polo Club for lunch. The restaurant overlooked the golf course and the lake, and had the same expensive-yet-sterile décor as every other polo club, golf club, and country club restaurant Penelope had ever visited. Except this club also had the delicious Steven Suffern to add variety and his own special brand of ambience.

Can you give an example of outstandingly good (or bad) description? Share in the comments!

About Iola Goulton

I am a freelance editor specialising in Christian fiction, and you can find out more about my services at my website, or follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest  or Tsu.

I love reading, and read and review around 150 Christian books each year on my blog. I'm a Top 25 Reviewer at Christian Book, in the Top 1% of reviewers at Goodreads, and have an Amazon Reviewer Rank that floats around 2500.

Atlanta Nights: Action Beats and Dialogue Cues

By Iola Goulton

This post is part of a series illustrating some of the common fiction editing issues I see, using Atlanta Nights by Travis Tea as our example. For those of you who didn’t read my post introducing Travis Tea and his illustrious novel … you might want to go back and read the post. It will explain why I have no fear of upsetting the author with my critique. 

My previous posts have looked at the opening hook, interior monologue, point of view, dialogue and dialogue tags, and today I’m looking at two alternatives to dialogue tags: action beats, and dialogue cues.

Action Beats

Beats are used in fiction to break up the dialogue and provide a sense of progression and movement. In Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, Renni Browne and Dave King define beats as:

The bits of action interspersed throughout a scene, such as a character walking to a window …

Usually they involve physical gestures, although a short passage of interior monologue can also be considered a sort of internal beat.
While Browne & King recommend the inclusion of beats, they also caution against using so many beats that the pace of the scene is lost. I’ve seen manuscripts where there are no speaker attributions, but an action beat before or after every sentence of dialogue (sometimes before AND after). It gives a choppy feel to the dialogue, distracting the reader from what has been said to what is being done.

Yes, action beats are showing rather than telling, but too many and they become as offputting as creative speaker attributions (discussed in my previous post).

Another issue I often see is combining a speaker attribution and an action beat, as Atlanta Nights does:

“As you've probably heard Yvonne,” began Penelope Urbain. Seriously brushing a gleaming scarlet tress out of her tearful eye “Bruce has come home from the hospital after his accident.”

There is usually no need to have both. The purpose of a speaker attribution is simply to remind the reader who is speaking, which is also the purpose of the action beat. The difference is the speaker attribution (she said) is telling, while the action beat is showing.

The exception would be where the beat is expanding on the attribution in some way.

Dialogue Cues

Writing instructor Margie Lawson coined the term “dialogue cues” to refer to physiological reactions which give the reader a subliminal psychological cue as to what is going on underneath the scene. Dialogue cues create subtext, giving your reader the feeling she is literally reading between the lines as she’s picking up subliminal cues as to the thoughts and reactions of the characters … not from what is being said, but from what isn’t being said.

As a reader, the skillful use of subtext is what separates the good writers from the outstanding. To learn more about writing strong dialogue and dialogue cues, I recommend reading Margie Lawson’s lecture packets, Writing Body Language and Dialogue Cues and Empowering Characters’ Emotions, both available from www.margielawson.com. (If you want more reasons why you should learn from Margie Lawson, read the recent posts from Dorothy Adamek and Andrea Grigg).

Here’s my improved version of the opening to Chapter Three of Atlanta Nights, incorporating improved dialogue tags, action beats, dialogue cues, and the dialogue changes discussed in my earlier post:

“Bruce has come home from the hospital after his accident.” Penelope Urbain brushed a scarlet tress across her face.

“You must be pleased. He was badly hurt.” Yvonne’s tone was the perfect blend of sympathy and encouragement. Anyone who didn’t know her would think she cared.

“Yes, and I’m thankful he’s home,” Penelope said. Deep breath. Don’t cry.

“We need to have a serious discussion about this.” Now Yvonne sounded earnest, even genuine, but what was there to discuss?

As you can see, I’ve also used the speaker attributions to provide some characterisation (well, I’ve attempted to. I’m a fiction editor, not a fiction writer!). The scene is from Penelope’s point of view, and these attributions show something of Yvonne’s character—or how I imagine Penelope sees Yvonne—and provide some insight into the relationship between the two women. Of course, this is open to interpretation: it could be that Yvonne is a genuine person, and Penelope has some emotional issues in her past that mean she misinterprets the actions of other women, which makes her an unreliable narrator.

I've attempted to follow the rules for dialogue tags, incorporating action beats, and attempting dialogue cues. What do you think? Can you suggest any improvements?

About Iola Goulton

I am a freelance editor specialising in Christian fiction, and you can find out more about my services at my website, or follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest  or Tsu.

I love reading, and read and review around 150 Christian books each year on my blog. I'm a Top 25 Reviewer at Christian Book, in the Top 1% of reviewers at Goodreads, and have an Amazon Reviewer Rank that floats around 2500.

Atlanta Nights: Writing and Editing Dialogue Tags

By Iola Goulton

This post is part of a series illustrating some of the common fiction editing issues I see, using Atlanta Nights by Travis Tea as our example. For those of you who didn’t read my post introducing Travis Tea and his illustrious novel … you might want to go back and read the post. It will explain why I have no fear of upsetting the author with my critique.

My previous posts have looked at the opening hook, interior monologue, point of view and dialogue. Today we are looking at dialogue tags, which can also be referred to as speaker attributions: how the author shows the reader which character is speaking. Let’s see how Travis Tea deals with dialogue tags in the passage we looked at last time:

“As you've probably heard Yvonne,” began Penelope Urbain. Seriously brushing a gleaming scarlet tress out of her tearful eye “Bruce has come home from the hospital after his accident.”

“Yes you must be very happy,” said Yvonne sympathetically. “He was badly hurt in that auto accident.”

“Yes he was badly hurt,” responded Penelope honestly. “But he is home now and I am very happy about that.”

“We need to have a very serious discussion about this,” said Yvonne earnestly.“Yes. We have some very serious things to discuss,” agreed Penelope.

Now she sounded earnest, even genuine, but what was there to discuss?

Yes, the dialogue needs work (as previously discussed), but it’s made worse by the speaker attributions. Here are some tips to making your dialogue tags look professional (all quotations are from Chapter Five of Self-Editing for Fiction Writers by Renni Browne and Dave King, Second Edition, Harper, 2004. If you don’t own it … you should.).

Try to avoid creative speaker attributions (e.g. began, responded, agreed)

When you’re writing speaker attributions the right verb is nearly always said. Verbs other than said tend to draw attention away from the dialogue.

The logical exceptions are asked for questions and whispered or shouted for a character who is whispering or shouting.

Why?

Creative speaker attributions are often trying to explain the dialogue, describing the dialogue when that explanation should be in the actual dialogue, in the action, or in the interior monologue. It’s telling when you should be showing. (Of course, if you write dialogue like Travis Tea, drawing attention away from the dialogue could be a good thing.)

Don’t use dialogue tags to explain the dialogue

If the explanation is in the dialogue, explaining the dialogue is unnecessary repetition. If the explanation isn’t in the dialogue, you’ve created a disconnect in the reader’s mind:

If you tell your readers she is astonished when her dialogue doesn’t show astonishment, then you’ve created an uncomfortable tension between your dialogue and your explanation. Your dialogue says one thing; your explanation, something slightly different… your readers will be aware, if only subconsciously, that something is wrong.

Avoid repetition and redundancy

It’s repetition to say “began Penelope”, which makes it redundant. These are the opening words of the chapter: of course she’s beginning (as an aside, you can probably delete any instance of characters starting to or beginning to throughout your manuscript. To misquote Yoda, do not merely begin. Do. If the character is interrupted, that will become obvious--we don’t need to be told).

Avoid Adverbs

Avoid using adverbs in your speaker attributions (e.g. sympathetically, earnestly), as these are, again, telling what should have already been shown:

Too many fiction writers pepper their dialogue with –ly’s … which is a good reason to cut virtually every one you write. Ly adverbs almost always catch the writer in the act of explaining dialogue—smuggling emotions into speaker attributions that belong in the dialogue itself. Again, if your dialogue doesn’t need the props, putting the props in will make it seem weak even when it isn’t. 

For example, “earnestly” is unnecessary because “serious” has already cued the reader in:

“We need to have a very serious discussion about this,” said Yvonne earnestly.

Ensure the words in your speaker attributions are the right way around

Place the character’s name or pronoun first in a speaker attribution (“Penelope said”). Reversing the two (“said Penelope”), though often done, is less professional. It has a slightly old-fashioned, first-grade reader flavour… after all, “said he” fell out of favor sometime during the Taft administration.
For reference, William Howard Taft was President of the USA between 1909 and 1913, so unless your book is set in the 1800’s …

Sometimes less is best

Don't feel you have to have a speaker attribution. Yes, "said x/said y"soon gets tired, and sometimes the best option is no dialogue tag.If it's clear who is speaking (as in this exchange between Penelope and Yvonne), you can safely leave tags off some of the dialogue. 

So here is the updated version:

“You must be pleased," Yvonne said. “He was badly hurt.” Yvonne’s tone was the perfect blend of sympathy and encouragement. Anyone who didn’t know her would think she cared.
“Yes, and I’m thankful he’s home,” Penelope said.
“We need to have a serious discussion about this."


Getting the dialogue tags right is straightforward, and makes your work look more professional. And don’t feel you have to use dialogue tags all the time. Vary your writing by including action beats and dialogue cues … which I’ll talk about in my next post.

About Iola Goulton

I am a freelance editor specialising in Christian fiction, and you can find out more about my services at my website, or follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest or Tsu.

I love reading, and read and review around 150 Christian books each year on my blog. I'm a Top 25 Reviewer at Christian Book, in the Top 1% of reviewers at Goodreads, and have an Amazon Reviewer Rank that floats around 2500.

Atlanta Nights: Writing and Editing Dialogue

By Iola Goulton

This post is part of a series illustrating some of the common fiction editing issues I see, using Atlanta Nights by Travis Tea as our example. For those of you who didn’t read my post introducing Travis Tea and his illustrious novel … you might want to go back and read the post.

My previous posts have looked at the opening hook, interior monologue, and point of view. Today we are looking at dialogue.

Good dialogue is important in a novel, because it is often the first thing a potential publisher will look at. Dialogue is one of the hardest things for authors to get right. The temptation is to write dialogue how we speak, but that’s a mistake. Our speech is full of um’s and er’s, small talk and changes of subject, none of which convert well to the page, and none of which point us towards any kind of information on story, character or theme.

Dialogue is not written how people speak: no one wants to read a court transcript.

The dialogue you’re trying to create has to be much more compressed, much more focused than real speech. In effect, dialogue is an artificial creation that sounds natural when you read it. Let’s look at some dialogue from Atlanta Nights, taken from the opening to Chapter Three:

“As you've probably heard Yvonne,” began Penelope Urbain. Seriously brushing a gleaming scarlet tress out of her tearful eye “Bruce has come home from the hospital after his accident.”
“Yes you must be very happy,” said Yvonne sympathetically. “He was badly hurt in that auto accident.”
“Yes he was badly hurt,” responded Penelope honestly. “But he is home now and I am very happy about that.”
“We need to have a very serious discussion about this,” said Yvonne earnestly.
“Yes. We have some very serious things to discuss,” agreed Penelope.

Well, no one is going to accuse this of sounding natural (even if we edit out the typos). So what’s wrong?

“As you’ve probably heard Yvonne”

If Yvonne has already heard, why is Penelope telling her?

Any time you see (or write) a phrase like “as you know” in dialogue, there are likely to be two problems. First, it is a signal the dialogue is repeating things the characters already know, and the only reason they’d do this (outside of a police station or courtroom) is in order to tell the reader.

Second, it is likely to be out of character—why tell someone what they already know? (Unless your character has an unfortunate personality quirk of continually repeating themselves). It's repetition.

As you can see, Atlanta Nights takes this repetition one step further by having Penelope echo what Yvonne has already said. The only saving grace is that Travis Tea keeps the backstory brief: I read one self-published novel where the author gave two generations of family history whenever she introduced a new character.

And why is Penelope calling Yvonne by name? They obviously have some relationship—they are close enough that Yvonne knows Bruce is out of hospital. Think about the last conversation you had with a friend. Did you call him or her by name? Probably not—it sounds unnatural. We call someone by name if we don’t know them well (partly to help us remember the name!), or to identify someone or attract their attention in a group.

So what would be better?

“Did you hear Bruce was home from hospital?” Penelope asked.

Simple and to the point. However, it could be improved by adding context (information about what else is happening in the room, perhaps through the use of an action beat) or subtext (perhaps through a dialogue cue, something that clues the reader in to Penelope’s state of mind). Good dialogue usually contains as much or even more subtext than it does text. More is going on under the surface than on it. No one would accuse Travis Tea of introducing subtext into this conversation.

The next part of the conversation continues the trend of the two women telling each other what they already know. It’s repetition. It’s redundant. It’s annoying. Very annoying. Particularly the repetition of “very”, which is an empty word (other empty words include just, quite, and really. Think about it: do they really add anything to the sentence? Or are they just filler? Quite often, the sentence would be stronger without the filler words).

Either cut the repetition, or edit it to add subtext and power.

“You must be pleased, said Yvonne sympathetically. “He was badly hurt.” Yvonne’s tone was the perfect blend of sympathy and encouragement. Anyone who didn’t know her would think she cared.
“Yes, and I’m thankful he’s home,” responded Penelope honestly.
“We need to have a serious discussion about this,” said Yvonne earnestly.

Better, but still not good. Why not? Because of the dialogue tags, which will be the subject of my next post.

About Iola Goulton

I am a freelance editor specialising in Christian fiction, and you can find out more about my services at my website, or follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest  or Tsu.

I love reading, and read and review around 150 Christian books each year on my blog. I'm a Top 25 Reviewer at Christian Book, in the Top 1% of reviewers at Goodreads, and have an Amazon Reviewer Rank that floats around 2500.

More Pain: Interior Monologue in Atlanta Nights

By Iola Goulton

This post is part of a series illustrating some of the common fiction editing issues I see, using Atlanta Nights by Travis Tea as our example. For those of you who didn’t read my post introducing Travis Tea and his illustrious novel … you might want to go back and read the post so you don’t think I’m ripping apart some poor author who tried their best to write a staggering work of genius. Clue: say “Travis Tea” quickly, and remember his mother’s name was Senilla. Yes, this book is a joke.

Last week we considered whether Atlanta Nights has an interesting opening hook: does the first page engage you enough as a reader that you would turn the page? My answer: yes, I turned the page … out of morbid curiosity. How bad would it get?

This week we are going to use the same passage—the first page—as the basis for a discussion on interior monologue.

Pain.
Whispering voices.
Pain.
Pain. Pain. Pain.
Need pee--new pain--what are they sticking in me? . . .
Sleep.
Pain.
Whispering voices.
“As you know, Nurse Eastman, the government spooks controlling this hospital will not permit me to give this patient the care I think he needs.”
“Yes, doctor.” The voice was breathy, sweet, so sweet and sexy.

It’s not apparent from this excerpt whether Atlanta Nights is written in first person or third person point of view, because it’s actually making good use of interior monologue (which tells us Travis Tea hasn’t actually managed to write the worst book ever). I have previously discussed point of view in a series of posts on my own blog (and I will discuss it later in this series … if we ever get to Chapter Two).

The purpose of point of view is to create intimacy with the characters, to make the reader care about what happens to the character. One of the ways of getting this intimacy is by showing the reader what the viewpoint character is thinking. The thoughts of individual characters can be written in three ways:

• Quotation marks
• Direct thought
• Interior monologue

Quotation Marks

Schoolchildren used to be taught to punctuate character thoughts in single quotation marks (‘x’), and use double quotation marks for direct speech (“x”). This approach is now considered wrong:

Never, ever use quotes with your interior monologue. It is not merely poor style; it is, by today’s standards, ungrammatical. Thoughts are thought, not spoken. 

- Self-editing for Fiction Writers, by Renni Browne and Dave King

Equally, there is no need to use thinker attributions (e.g. Amy thinks), as readers understand the thoughts are those of the viewpoint characters. Using thinker attributions signals to publishers, editors, and readers that the author doesn’t know (or doesn’t understand) the use of deep perspective point of view. I still see thinker attributions in a lot of the manuscripts I’m asked to assess or edit, and occasionally see thoughts in quotation marks.

Fortunately, Atlanta Nights doesn’t make either of these mistakes. Imagine how awful it could have been …

‘Pain,’ he thought.
He heard whispering voices.
‘Pain,’ he thought again.
‘Pain. Pain. Pain,’ he thought agonisingly.
A new thought came to him ‘I need to pee. And there’s a new pain. What are they sticking in me?’
He slept, and awoke to more pain, more whispering voices.
“As you know, Nurse Eastman, the government spooks controlling this hospital will not permit me to give this patient the care I think he needs.”
“Yes, doctor.” The voice was breathy, and he thought it sounded sweet, so sweet and sexy.

Direct Thought

A more modern convention is to use italics to indicate direct thought.

Pain.
Whispering voices.
Pain.
Pain. Pain. Pain.
Need pee--new pain--what are they sticking in me? . . .
Sleep.
Pain.
Whispering voices.
“As you know, Nurse Eastman, the government spooks controlling this hospital will not permit me to give this patient the care I think he needs.”
“Yes, doctor.” The voice was breathy, sweet, so sweet and sexy.

As you can see, there are disadvantages to this approach as well:

• Italics are only effective for a few words or a short sentence. Any longer, and it becomes difficult to read. It can slow the pacing of the scene, and overuse of italics will annoy the reader. This is only the first page. Imagine what the whole book would look like …
• Direct thought in italics changes the point of view of the scene from third person to first person present tense and back again (this would, of course, be more of an issue if there was anything that wasn’t direct thought). This change can be jarring for the reader.
• Direct thought is telling where the author should be showing. Instead of telling us the character feels pain, show the character feeling the pain (but without using clichés, please) . Describe it viscerally, so the reader can feel the pain as well.

Interior Monologue

This is the recommended approach for expressing thought in modern fiction, whether contemporary or historical. Interior monologue is what your point of view character is thinking, expressed in his or her own voice. There is no need for thoughts to be identified as such, because the rules of first person narration (or third person narration from a specific viewpoint character) imply this is the character whose interior monologue we are reading.

Interior monologue is favoured because:

• It is showing, not telling.
• It doesn’t interrupt the flow of the story the way italics do, because it is the same font and tense as the rest of the story.
• It forces the reader (and author) into the mind of viewpoint character, which helps them know the character better. The better the reader knows the character, the more likely she is to empathise and feel the character’s emotions. It’s stronger writing.
• It is consistent with the market preference for deep perspective point of view.

However, just as there is a skill in writing good dialogue (another subject we’ll cover later), there is also skill in writing good interior monologue. Here are a few tips:

• It shouldn’t go on too long. Some authors write so much interior monologue in the middle of scenes that the reader loses track of the action.
• Interior monologue is reaction, not action: don’t use it where the character should be doing something.
• But don’t ignore reaction entirely, unless the point is that your character is emotionally repressed.
• Don’t repeat thoughts. Once is enough.

Keep thoughts succinct, like an internal version of dialogue. Don’t allow your interior monologue to devolve into a random stream of consciousness, an undisciplined mind travelling hither and thither and I wish the people in the motel room next door would be quiet and go to sleep and is that tap ever going to stop dripping? Shall I have a cup of tea, or just go to bed? Some commentators consider interior monologue and stream of consciousness to be synonymous, but I don’t agree. This pillow is soft and I’m going to bang on the wall if that woman doesn’t stop giggling. Interior monologue has a discipline to it that stream of consciousness lacks. Did I set my alarm clock? If you’ve actually managed to read to the end of this awful paragraph, you’ll understand what I mean. Ah. Blessed silence at last.

Yes, it’s important to keep your interior monologue on topic. We might think in stream of consciousness, but our readers don’t want to read it.

Do you have any thoughts to share on interior monologue? Any lessons you’ve learned from books you’ve read (or written)?

About Iola Goulton

I am a freelance editor specialising in Christian fiction, and you can find out more about my services at my website, or follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest  or Tsu.

I love reading, and read and review around 150 Christian books each year on my blog. I'm a Top 25 Reviewer at Christian Book, in the Top 1% of reviewers at Goodreads, and have an Amazon Reviewer Rank that floats around 2000.

Pain: The Opening Hook in Atlanta Nights

This post is the first in a series illustrating some of the common fiction editing issues I see, using Atlanta Nights by Travis Tea as our object lesson in how not to write a novel. For those of you who didn’t read my post introducing Travis Tea and his illustrious novel … you might want to go back and read the post so you don’t think I’m ripping apart some poor author who tried their best to write a staggering work of genius.

Go ahead. I’ll wait. (Click here to read it.)

You’re back? Good.

We are going to start at the beginning (after all, what better place to start?). For those who have resisted the temptation to download a free copy of Atlanta Nights, here is the first page:

Pain.
Whispering voices.
Pain.
Pain. Pain. Pain.
Need pee--new pain--what are they sticking in me? . . .
Sleep.
Pain.
Whispering voices.
“As you know, Nurse Eastman, the government spooks controlling this hospital will not permit me to give this patient the care I think he needs.”
“Yes, doctor.” The voice was breathy, sweet, so sweet and sexy.

Yes, today’s post is about how not to start your novel, and there are several ways of considering this question. First is the good old journalistic standby:

Does the opening answer the key questions of who, what, when, where and why?

No. We don’t know who, what, when or why. We can guess at the where—a hospital, in Atlanta perhaps? Do we care enough to turn the page and find out? I’m inclined to say no, because there’s no apparent story.

Are you capturing the attention of your reader?

In Wired for Story, author Lisa Cron explains that as readers, we think in terms of story. She gives several questions to ask about your opening paragraph to ensure you are capturing the attention of your reader … in a good way:

• Do we know whose story it is? 
• Is something happening, beginning on the first page?
• Is there conflict in what's happening?
• Is something at stake on the first page? 
• Is there a sense that ‘not all is as it seems’?
• Can we glimpse the 'big picture'?

Atlanta Nights fails on almost all these questions: we don’t know who the protagonist is, not in the first (short) paragraph, and not even by the end of the first page. Nothing is happening—there is no action, and no conflict. Nothing is at stake, as we’ve got no idea who is in pain, or how serious it is. Is there a sense that not is all as it seems? It’s hard to say, as we know so little. Can we see the big picture? No.

The Storytelling Checklist

One blog I enjoy reading is Writer Unboxed (and not just because editing guru Dave King is a contributor). One regular feature is “Flog a Pro”, where the author—and commenters—read the anonymous first page of a recent New York Times bestselling novel, and see if it’s compelling enough to make you want to turn the page. The author of the series, Ray Rhamey, gives us a storytelling checklist:

Evaluate this opening page for how well it executes these six vital storytelling elements. While it’s not a requirement that all of them must be on the first page, I think writers have the best chance of hooking a reader if they are. The one vital ingredient not listed is professional-caliber writing, a given for every page.

• Story questions
• Tension (in the reader, not just the characters)
• Voice
• Clarity
• Scene-setting
• Character

One interesting thing that continually comes out in Ray’s posts is that many of the novels make the bestseller list purely because of the author. The writing, to someone who isn’t already a fan of that author, is often clunky and telling … much like the opening of Atlanta Nights. Ray’s chosen books might be bestsellers, but they aren’t not good enough to attract new readers.

So how does Atlanta Nights fare against this list? Well, it does raise a lot of story questions. Who is in hospital? Why? There is a clear voice … drugged-up, to be sure, but still a voice. The scene has been set—the protagonist (if that’s who he is) is in hospital (we assume the narrator is male, because he thinks the nurse has a sexy voice). But we have little idea of his character (crude, perhaps?),

And the writing is hardly professional calibre, with a steam-of-consciousness opening interrupted by an author intrusion (any time a character says, “As you know,” it’s almost certainly the author getting in the way of the narrator to pass over his or her opinions on a subject, whether relevant or not. But that’s a subject for next week … Interior Monologue.

For those who would like some good advice on how to begin a novel by hooking the reader, may I suggest a trip back into the Australasian Christian Writers archives, to an excellent series of posts from Anne Hamilton:

• Are You a Fisherman?
• Bait and Switch
• Reeling in Your Reader
• First Chapter Blues

How Should Atlanta Nights Start?

How should Atlanta Nights have started? The most obvious suggestion would be to start with the accident that put our painful protagonist in hospital (yes, I admit. I’ve read ahead, and know he was in a car accident). The obvious answer might not be the best answer (I haven’t read that far ahead). But regardless, a novel should start with action. Something should be happening.

What do you think? Does Atlanta Nights have a good opening hook? Would you turn the page? Why, or why not?

About Iola Goulton

I am a freelance editor specialising in Christian fiction, and you can find out more about my services at my website, or follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest or Tsu.

I love reading, and read and review around 150 Christian books each year on my blog. I'm a Top 25 Reviewer at Christian Book, in the Top 1% of reviewers at Goodreads, and have an Amazon Reviewer Rank that floats around 2500.

The Travesty of Vanity Publishers

By Iola Goulton

It has been suggested that I write a series of posts illustrating some of the common fiction editing issues I see, and suggesting improvements. A good idea, yes, but who is willing to put their name next to deliberately bad writing to see it torn to pieces? Or, worse, is there anyone willing see a piece of writing they thought was good attacked by the editor’s figuraitve red pen?

Never fear. Publish America are here to provide the object lesson—in more ways than one. I’ll start with the red pen next week. For now, I’m simply going to give you some background which reinforces my previous posts on the perils of vanity publishing:

• I Wanted to Cry
• Spotting a Vanity Publisher I
• Spotting A Vanity Publisher II
• I Wanted to Sigh

As an aside, Publish America have taken the time-honoured route of improving their reputation. No, they haven’t fired their management and changed their business practices. They’ve rebranded: Publish America are now America Star Books (although searching on America Star Books Scam provides nearly the same level of entertainment as searching on Publish America Scam).

Anyway, to get to the point.

One of the oft-heard refrains of vanity publishers is that they don’t publish everything submitted to them. Terri Blackstock made an astute comment regarding this in a recent blog post:

Their claims that they only publish twenty percent of their submissions (or whatever number they offer) doesn’t disclose the fact that most people walk away when they learn that it will cost them money to publish with them. 

I think Terri's nailed it. However, that’s getting off topic again.

It is the considered opinion of most people who are against vanity publishing that they publish anything someone is willing to pay for. One group of Science Fiction authors decided to put this to the test.

A group of more than thirty members of the Science Fiction Writers Association (SWFA) collaborated in an effort to write the worst book ever, and get a publishing contract from Publish America. Atlanta Nights by Travis Tea (say that quickly) is the result. Each writer was given a broad chapter outline, and told to write badly. A couple of writers didn't make the deadline, so their chapters were missed out. One chapter (apparently) is repeated. One chapter is written by a computer.

Is Atlanta Nights the worst book ever? No. While Atlanta Nights is bad, I’ve read worse (naming no names, but it was published by one of the “Christian” vanity publishers featured in one of my earlier posts).

But "Travis Tea" did succeed in getting a publishing contract from Publish America …

… who promptly rescinded the offer when they found the whole thing was a ploy.

Oops.

Atlanta Nights also has glowing endorsements and reviews … further proof of the famous Abraham Lincoln quote:

In fairness, no one should read endorsements like these and think they're getting a good book:

"The world is full of bad books written by amateurs. But why settle for the merely regrettable? Atlanta Nights is a bad book written by experts."

— T. Nielsen Hayden

"Prepare to be amazed! ATLANTA NIGHTS shows readers a level of storytelling you rarely see in traditionally published fiction. It is an experience you'll never forget."

— Chuck "20" Rothman

and my personal favourite:

"...this... book... makes... for... wondrous... reading..."

— Derryl Murphy

Anyway, thanks to thirty or more enterprising authors (and one enterprising computer programmer—apparently one chapter was written by a piece of software), we have a Really Bad Novel to use for some show-and-tell editing posts. And no one is going to get offended. The “authors” of Atlanta Nights (to use the term broadly) permit—even encourage—others to use Atlanta Nights as a teaching aide. And so we will.

Please be warned: Atlanta Nights is not Christian fiction, and contains language which may offend some people. Actually, it contains a lot of bad words and words used badly, which should offend anyone who holds the English language dear. Sometimes it even spells those words right.

If you’d like your own electronic copy of Atlanta Nights, it’s available free at http://critters.critique.org/sting/. Paper copies are available from Amazon and Lulu, should you need an overpriced doorstop (royalties go to the SWFA Emergency Medical Fund).

I'll be back next week with Pain, the first instalment of my editing series.

About Iola Goulton

I am a freelance editor specialising in Christian fiction, and you can find out more about my services at my website, or follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest  or Tsu.

I love reading, and read and review around 150 Christian books each year on my blog. I'm a Top 25 Reviewer at Christian Book, in the Top 1% of reviewers at Goodreads, and have an Amazon Reviewer Rank that floats around 2000.