Technique

Seeing is believing

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This entry is part 1 of 10 in the series Writing the senses

Using the five senses is an important way to draw readers into your work and help them experience the character’s reality—but writing those senses can be a challenge. So this week we’re going to look at including the five senses in our writing.

I’m starting with sight because I think it’s the most obvious sense we include in writing. Whenever we describe setting or a character, we’re using sight. Our characters’ expressions, body language and movements can be part of sight (though not always).

The challenges of sight
Just because sight is obvious doesn’t mean it’s always easy. As with all description (and all senses), the trick is to slip in that description without slowing the story.

For characters and settings, focus on active and revealing details. “She had dark blonde hair, green eyes, regular features and lots of freckles,” is such a generic description that it almost asks us to forget it immediately. But if we describe her with active verbs (when possible—going overboard is distracting), and focus on characteristics that make her unique, our descriptions—and our characters—will be more memorable and vivid. It may take more words, and you may only convey one or two features, but readers will have a better sense of the character.

Seeing the scene
Focusing on those active and revealing details—or inventing them—can be the hardest part of conveying the sense of sight. Here are some things I’ve done to try to use sight to its fullest in my scenes:

  • Decide what kind of “mood” you want in this setting or scene. The same setting can be home to several scenes of different moods, or it can have a pervasive mood that dominates all its scenes.
  • Consider the characters. What would the POV character notice because of his/her occupation, personality and interests? If it’s another character’s home or other personal space, what kind of furnishings would they use? What are the characters’ emotional states during this scene? Is this the character’s first encounter with this setting or person, or are they so familiar they hardly notice appearances anymore? (Also think of the character’s height—a short, timid character will see a tall fireplace differently than a tall or bold one.)
  • Brainstorm details that would fit that mood or person. Think of more than you think you’ll need. Feel free to close your eyes and place yourself in that place—or better yet, in your character’s shoes.
  • Choose the strongest images and those that best convey the mood or one or more characters. I think three is a good number to shoot for, but depending on the length of the scene and how much you want to
  • Weave them in throughout the scene. Don’t plop them all in the first paragraph of the scene in static description: “She walked in the room. The fireplace stood tall by the imported damask drapes. The Persian rug was a little faded. The wingback chairs were mauve.” Skip, skip, skip.
  • Use not just adjectives and adverbs, but nouns and verbs to convey the POV character’s perception and emotional state, as well as the mood of the scene (again). “The imposing fireplace stood tall . . .” tells us about the room; “The fireplace loomed over me,” lets us experience the character’s reality.

Seeing 20/20
And of course, since sight covers body language and movement, it’s important that those kinds of actions are clear. Time, distance and impartial eyes are usually the best ways to help these things.

What do you think? How do you focus on including sight in your scenes?

Photo by Nicki Dugan

Works

First page blogfest

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Today (Apr 2) is my birthday! I may or may not be around, but I thought it would be fun (and, okay, easy) to participate in another blogfest today, sharing my first page.

Of course, I’ve shared the first page to Saints and Spies a bunch of times—and I used to have the first seven pages here on the site. (What the heck, I’ll post them again for a little while—like I said, it’s my birthday!)

This is a pretty rough draft—I’ve only shown it to one beta reader—but here’s the first page of the book I’m calling Saints and Agents.

Surveillance. Special Agent Zach Saint shifted against the hard gray upholstery. Two hours and thirty-seven minutes of sitting in the car, staring at nothing—and then the pair stepped out of the building down the block. The target. He reached for the keys in the ignition. “Eyes on.”

Next to him, Special Agent Xavier Cason peered through his camera’s viewfinder. “Isn’t that your . . . Molly?”

Zach grabbed binoculars and followed Xavier’s line of sight. Green coat, dark curls, tall. She stopped, dismayed, and turned back to the target couple. mock cover for Saints and AgentsThough she wasn’t “his” anymore, it was definitely Molly.

After she’d abruptly dumped him six months ago, Zach knew he’d probably run into Molly again. But he didn’t think the first time would be on the job—and especially not while she was talking to suspected terrorists.

“You drive.” Zach reached for the door handle.

Xavier caught Zach’s sleeve without taking his eyes from his camera. “Do not approach, Z.”

“She’s three months out of Quantico—I can’t just leave her out there.” He knocked X’s hand away and stepped out of the car into the sharp cold. He needed a cover.

He paused at the street vendor on the corner to buy two pretzels—and buy himself one more minute to come up with an identity, someone with a right to cut in on their conversation.

The target couple was too busy chatting to notice his approach. “So,” said Grace, “are ya seein’ anyone, Molly love?”

Zach slung an arm around Molly’s shoulders. He finally settled on a cover—deep South. “Here ya go, darlin,” he drawled.

Molly looked up at him with her deep blue eyes and only hesitated a moment before smiling and accepting one of his pretzels. Good recovery.

Zach offered the target couple his now-free hand. “Jason Tolliver. Molly’s fiancé.”

Works

Alternate Version Blogfest

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The writing blogosphere seems to be on a blogfest kick, and since the first one up is the Alternate Version Blogfest hosted by Livia Blackburne, I just had to join in. In honor of April Fool’s day, we’re posting the original and “alternate” versions of scenes from our works—and you know how I love to do that.

This is from an old MS (beyond repair, sadly). In this, Margaux is working with her ex-boyfriend, Fredrick, to pull off what she thought was a practical joke. Once things go badly (chapter 2), he ships her off to stay with her parents for a week while he irons out the mess. At her parents’, she sees a news report about a pair of scam artists who cheated little old ladies out of their life savings.

Original:

“I’ve always thought that [police] sketch looked like Sherry,” her father commented after a moment.

Margaux looked at the screen—it did look like her old friend, although it bore the name “Maryanne Walters.” Then the image changed, showing the police sketch of the accomplice.

It was Fredrick.

Chapter 3

Was that even possible?

Margaux shut her bedroom door behind her. Sure, it was possible–they’d met while Margaux and Fredrick dated–but it just didn’t make any sense.

Margaux sank onto her bed.

Her shock (which is always hard to convey, of course), wasn’t explicit enough for at least one of my CPs. So I wrote the alternate version:

It was Fredrick. Fredrick? FREDRICK?! Margaux rent her socks, writhing on the floor in the agony of her own poor choices. Her father looked at her as though she were crazy–and she must be, she MUST be, for how else could she have so foolishly involved herself with Fredrick again when he was, as is abundantly clear from the character sketch, a lie and a cheat and a scoundrel and a murderer?

Margaux threw the television set across the room, taking out her frustrations with herself on the messenger. The medium is the message, after all, just as Marshall McLuhan had said in 1964, just ten short years before this scene unfolded.

“Margaux,” began her father in a warning tone. Margaux cut him off with a look that made it clear she was prepared to strangle him with her socks to silence his censure. If she hadn’t just rent them into small pieces of knit fabric, of course.

I’m so happy with this alternate version. It really clears up a number of issues this CP had—I obviously needed constant reminders that this story was set 30+ years ago, and after only ten pages, this CP already knew my characters better than I did. One of the many ways I learned about how to be such a helpful CP myself!

(My second choice: rewrite the opening to the MS I’m revising right now to have the heroine flirting with the hero over her priest’s dead body. I think that’ll really draw the readers in and make them feel for her, don’t you?)

Feel free to join in—or to add more ways I could push the alternate version even further over the top!

Photo by splityarn

Technique

Diction, distance and—singing?

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

Technique

Learning from the hands of the masters

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Last night, I happened to catch a show that included a brief trip to the Académie Julian. The documentary was retracing the footsteps of some Americans who studied art there. (The Académie no longer exists, because it merged with ESAG Penninghen in 1968, but they still offer classes in the same buildings.)

The administrator they interviewed, an older man well-versed in school history, took the interviewer to the studios where her subjects would have studied in the 1890s, and explained how classes were conducted. The masters here actually corrected their students’ art on right on the canvas. As the administrator pointed out, this was a far more effective way of learning than just sitting listening to lectures—they got to see how to change what they were doing to get something better.

I think this is probably one of the reasons I’ve enjoyed taking Margie Lawson‘s live class on Empowering Character Emotions so much—while the lectures I’ve read are overwhelmingly informative and have really changed the way I look at writing characters’ emotions, the hands-on help from the instructor might make the biggest difference. She helps us fine-tune our writing (albeit in small samples) to add just the right amount of power.

No, there’s no one instructor that you can follow to guarantee publication (unless that instructor works for a publishing company that’s offering you a contract along with that guidance 😉 ), but learning from the hands of the masters—and getting their hands on my work—helps me see more of what my work could be.

What do you think? When do you find hands-on most helpful?

Photo by Andrew Crummy

Technique

Writing friends

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This entry is part 5 of 5 in the series Writing resources

After I’ve written an entire series on bad advice, and a fairly long guide to being completely unhelpful as a critique partner, you may think I haven’t had any good experiences with writing friends. This is not true. (Contest judges are another story.)

I actually have several people (mostly writers, but a few nonwriters) who read my writing and consistently offer excellent analysis, insight and advice. (And, oddly enough, almost none of them actually read this blog. But thank you anyway!)

Their advice has pointed out weaknesses in my writing from phrasing to pacing—and not in the “oh, you suck” way, but in a “Hey, I think you can do this better” way. They’ve helped me see issues that I knew my story had—and find solutions to make my work stronger. They’re more than just fresh eyes to give me perspective—they’ve been a wealth of ideas and insight to improve my story on so many levels.

Each of my critiquers/beta readers is good at spotting different things. Each of them has different strengths—one may be really good at helping me to deepen characterization while another is good at seeing . . . “opportunities” for more suspense. Even nonwriters—i.e. people like your target audience—can offer valuable insight (though they may not phrase it quite the same way a writer would 😉 ).

But I’m sure we all have at least one story. How have writing friends and critique partners helped your writing? (Feel free to share specific examples if you like!)

Photo by Art G.

Technique

Get the most out of conferences

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This entry is part 4 of 5 in the series Writing resources

by Samantha Clark

I love going to writing conferences. There’s something so inspiring about sitting in a large of group of people who all share your same passion. No matter whether it’s a big conference or small, both have their advantages.

My first writing conference was a biggie. Back in 2007, I was living in Los Angeles and attended the big summer conference for the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators there. Three days of information, inspiration, fun, jokes, motivation and creativity. I sat in the big and small gatherings and soaked up everything I could, every word from the speakers as well as the every ounce of excitement in the air. By the end of the conference, I was hooked. It was like drinking a giant Slurpee cup of creativity, and I wanted more.

Since then, I’ve moved away from Los Angeles, but my love of conferences has continued. In my current home near Houston, I’ve found wonderful single-day conferences that give me just as much as that big summer conference, with the added benefit of a more intimate setting. At these smaller conferences, there’s much easier access to the speakers. Generally, at the summer conference, the attendance is so huge, the speakers are swarmed after every appearance. But smaller events are much more relaxed. Our annual Houston SCBWI conference holds a dinner where attendees can chat with the invited speakers over fajitas. What better way is there to get to know someone?

From conferences, you obviously get access to the information the speakers provide, which could be anything from an editor telling you what they’re looking for to an agent giving query letter writing tips. But there are lots of other benefits:

  • Friends. Writing is solitary, and conferences give us an opportunity to get together with other people like us.
  • Writing help. As well as the writing tips speakers often give, conferences usually offer critiques with professionals, including agents, editors and published authors. These usually require additional payment, but they can be worth.
  • Contacts. Conferences are a chance to meet agents and editors you might work with later. Writers have made connections with editors at conferences and later sold them a book or been asked to write on assignment.
  • Inspiration. Every writer has bouts of doubt and times when our creativity pool dries up. Going to conferences is like getting a shot of inspiration in the arm. This is a business of passionate people, and that passion brims over to attendees at conferences. Without fail, even if I haven’t heard anything new at a conference (which is rare), I’ve always left feeling energized, and that was worth the price of entry.

How do you prepare for a conference?

  1. First, research the conferences in your area. The SCBWI website has a list of the group’s events, but you can find others with an Internet search. Research the speakers and make sure they’re people you’d like to hear. There’s no point going to a conference focusing only on picture books if you write novels.
  2. Once you know which conferences you want to attend – and can afford – register early. If you plan to get a critique, registering early means you’re more likely to get the person you want. Also, many smaller conferences sell out, so registering early secures your space.

  3. A few days before the conference, research the speakers again. The conference will have their basic bio, but look around on the Internet for interviews and read their blog, if they have one. Jot down some notes in the notebook you’re planning to take. This way, when you see them speak, you’ll have a better idea of who they are.
  4. If there are any speakers you would like to talk to, perhaps to ask a question or just compliment them on one of the books they’ve worked on that you’ve read, seek out this person in a nice, polite way (i.e. not in the bathroom, not while they’re eating unless you happen to be sitting at their table, and not interrupting their conversation). If they’re talking to another attendee, stand by and wait your turn. Once you have their attention, introduce yourself, tell them what you love about their work, ask them your question, then thank them and say goodbye. Keep it short, sweet and professional. In my experience, speakers are more than happy to talk to attendees as long as it’s on a professional level.

Going to conferences can be a very rewarding way to boost your writing life. Take advantage of the conferences offered in your area, and when you get home, your brain will be begging you to start writing.

About the author
Samantha Clark writes middle-grade fiction and blogs about writing, children’s books and writing conferences at DayByDayWriter.wordpress.com. You can subscribe to DayByDayWriter to read more.

Photo credits: SCBWI conference—Rita Crayon Huang; click—Jordan McCollum

Technique

Writing with class(es)

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This entry is part 3 of 5 in the series Writing resources

If you subscribe to enough writing blogs, you’re sure to see at least one workshop or course recommended. I see a few every week, and most of the time, I dismiss them easily. “Not writing a query,” I tell myself. “Not going to LA. Not spending $375.” Plus, I’d only have the recommendation of that one blogger (who might even be teaching the course).

Finally, there was a course where I ran out of excuses. The blogger posting about it included dozens of testimonials, I’d heard of the teacher before, it was online and it was $30 (which I consider affordable). So I signed up.

From the first lesson, I have found ways to improve my writing and push myself more. The course concepts—portraying character emotions vividly—pushed me to examine my writing, pointing out patterns and opportunities for improvement.

I think the most interesting thing I’ve learned so far is that some of the things I’ve tried to avoid are actually things that best-selling authors do—and do a lot. They’re things that readers actually like, and not violations of those “immutable writing laws” we can only break once we’ve sold 50,000 books.

For example, I actually avoided using more elaborate body language descriptions (although those can take away from a scene and should be used with care) or telling how the dialogue was said (not using adverbs, mostly: sentences like “She used the same patronizing tone she’d use with a two-year-old.”). Some best-selling authors, however, use those to portray emotions powerfully and vividly—and they have more than one of the “dialogue cues” per page.

Something else I love about this class is that it encourages us to look at our manuscripts so we can customize the lessons to our writing—the assignments almost all instruct us to go to our manuscript, so we can analyze how we work, and how we write, so we can discover where we need improvement individually.

About halfway through the course, I was so excited about what I was learning that I went on a big “sign up for classes” kick. I found some free classes online and . . . maybe I’ve gone a little overboard. By April 9, I’ll have been through seven classes. I’m taking classes on things I feel I already do well (can never hurt to get better, right?) to things I want to do better. I’ll let you know if that’s a little excessive—if I live through them all 😉 .

What do you think? What classes have you really enjoyed? What topics have you taken classes on?

PS: the class I’m taking is Empowering Character Emotions from Margie Lawson. Loving it! In addition to an online class, you could also take this as an “independent study” course—it’s $22 for the lecture packet (and no, I don’t get a cut or anything else for this endorsement). The free courses (with a $30 membership), mostly week-long miniworkshops, are on substantive editing, dialogue, revisions, marketing, POV and story structure.

Photo by Dave mcmt