I haven’t formally studied singing, but I know several people who have (including my dad, who studied voice throughout my childhood). From what little I do know, diction is a very important aspect of a vocal performance. And what a coincidence, diction (word choice) is very important in writing, too.

In singing, of course, diction means pronunciation and enunciation. When we speak, we often mumble or speak very rapidly, eliding many sounds, and we can still convey our meaning (or most of it). While singing, you have to put more effort into clearly pronouncing the sounds, or you’ll never get the message across. Singing is a stylized form of speech—you manipulate the length and the pitch to add more meaning and emotion (and beauty).

There are some general rules for “good” diction in singing—some of them more widely-accepted than others. For example, holding out the vowels, not the letters (cf. country-western singing, or many Asian styles) is used in most styles of singing. Yes, some vowels are just dang ugly to hear extended over several beats.

But I’ve also been instructed to roll an ‘r’ (and say “Amerrrica or Amedica the Beautiful”), and to avoid such-and-such a vowel (I hope that accurately portrays the esteem I have for that rule) and always sing X instead.

While slavishly following those rules might make your music teacher happy, some of those rules will make actually make it more difficult for most listeners (we untrained masses) to understand the words and appreciate the music (change the vowel in bid or bud, for example—people won’t know what you’re saying). And highly stylized (or just flat out trying-too-hard) diction in writing can actually make it more difficult for readers to understand what we’re trying to say.

I had this problem with a pretty good book I read recently—sometimes the diction flowed beautifully, using stunning new imagery that was still perfect. Other times, however, it seemed like the diction was trying so hard, the author was right there belting out, “Look at me, I can build a simile!”

But that didn’t get his message across—it made me stop reading and shake my head. What was he trying to say?

While writing, you do have to put more thought and care into choosing your words than you would in dashing off an email or writing a research paper. But like in singing, trying too hard can distance your audience instead of drawing them in with your art and your message.

What do you think? How does diction call attention to itself in writing? How can you tell if you’ve “gone too far”?

Photo by apdk

Using “he thought” and “she knew” to reinforce deep POV can actually take our readers out of the story. Eliminate them to let your story shine through.

Our verb series continues!

Think of the differences between these examples:

There are lots of books and websites out there that will tell you that the verb “was” and the construct “was [verb]ing” is passive voice. It’s not.

Can I repeat that? The construct “was [verb]ing” is NOT passive voice.

The passive voice means that the actor is not in the subject position. Instead, the thing acted upon is in the subject position. Most people can identify this:

Passive (obvious): The conversation was heard by him.

Passive (sneakier): The conversation was heard.

Active: He heard the conversation.

Note here, too, that the passive voice isn’t past tense. It’s also seen in the present tense (and all the others): The conversation is/will be/would be/could be/might be heard by him.

There are sometimes occasions when the passive voice is called for, or even necessary—to conceal the actor, or if the POV character doesn’t know who the actor is. But mostly the passive voice is awkward and thus to be avoided. (Catch the passive in there?)

The construct “was [verb]ing” is the past progressive (or imperfect) tense. (Again, it’s NOT the passive voice.) Compare the examples at the beginning of this post. How does “She was crying” differ from “She cried”? To me, “she was crying” means tears were falling. “She cried” is most likely a speech tag. If not, it almost seems like she’s done crying. Maybe my Spanish training is showing here, but can I just clarify that this is the preterite?

Note that the past progressive is necessary to show an ongoing action in the past. In the second example, when does the leaning start? In “He entered the room. She leaned . . .” the simple past tense (preterite) can indicate consecutive actions—he walks in, then she leans. In “He entered the room. She was leaning . . .” the progressive shows an ongoing action that began before the simple past action—he walks in and finds her already leaning. If you really hate the imperfect, you can rephrase this as “He found her leaning against the door, eavesdropping, when he walked in the room,” or some such.

The third example, “He smiled/was smiling/was still smiling” might have a few more shades in it. When I picture these, I see someone break into a smile for “He smiled.” “He was smiling” show someone already grinning. “He was still smiling” is a bit more specialized—we’ve already seen him begin to smile (or just smiling) . . . and he’s still at it. (Don’t you wish he’d stop?)

When using a “was [verb]ing,” be sure it’s on purpose, to generate a specific effect—and don’t overuse it, or it kills that effect. If that’s why you’re using it, and it seems to be working, don’t let anyone bully you out of it, especially if they claim it’s “passive.”

What are some other good uses for past progressive tense and passive voice? Let me know!