Category Archives: Mechanics

Oh, the intricacies of grammar and mechanics

When to follow the verb rules

There’s a time and a place for everything, naturally, and while I love to talk about flouting stupid rules, most of the rules are actually good advice that’s just a bit . . . misapplied. As Mr Knightley says:

Better be without sense than misapply it as you do.

Right! So, let us understand the so-called rules so that we can apply them correctly, shall we?

Avoid passive voice
This is almost always good advice. Generally speaking, passive voice is awkward. Naturally, there are exceptions to that—sometimes rephrasing the passive into active voice is even more awkward, sometimes we have to conceal the actor, sometimes it’s just not important.

Avoid the past progressive
In general, the past progressive form (was [verb]ing) isn’t the strongest. (How’s that for diplomacy?) There are a few specific reasons to use it—mostly to show an ongoing or interrupted action in the past. Overusing it, though, results in flabby writing.

Avoid the verb “to be”
It’s true that sometimes the verb “to be” can be used to make such evils as the passive voice, the past progressive, and really boring, flat writing. Compare, too:

The stockings were hung by the chimney.
The stockings hung by the chimney.

The first one is passive voice (and The Night Before Christmas, yes?), longer and takes the oomph out a verb. (‘Hang’ isn’t very oomphy in the first place, so let’s try to help it out, eh?)

However, again, “to be” is an important verb that you don’t want to completely excise from your writing—or it’s gonna get really weird.

What other rules do we see that are pretty good advice?

What Will Get You Rejected: Mistakes Not to Make by Janette Rallison, LDStorymakers

Presented by Janette Rallison (blog)

There are six basic types of problems that will get you rejected: point-of-view problems, tag-line problems, motivation problems, story question problems, goal and conflict problems and sentence structure problems.

POV problems—avoid head hopping or authorial insertions. [The trend these days is deep POV in 3rd person—we’re seeing the character’s inmost thoughts, but using 3rd person pronouns. So use your character’s thoughts and vocabulary for . . . well, everything! Never put in something that character can’t know and add a scene break if you’re changing POV characters. Janette probably said all of this, but I missed the beginning of her presentation because I had to run home to feed my baby!]

Tag lines—”90% of the time, tag line should be ‘said.'” Also acceptable, when situation calls for: ask, answer/reply. [But the trend these days is to not use dialogue tags most of the time, instead using action beats to identify speakers.]

Rarely use others—if the dialogue itself can’t show how the words are said, maybe it needs to be revised. Janette gave an example of when one of her characters said something that wasn’t true, but the reader wouldn’t know that, so the line went: “I can dance ballet,” I lied. [Personally, I think it’s acceptable when you have to call attention to the manner in which it was said—specifically whispering, since there really isn’t a way to choose your words to make it read like a whisper.]

Instead of using adverbs or specialized dialogue tags, let the dialogue speak for itself and translate it into actions [those action beats I was telling you about earlier!]. These show so much more powerfully! Janette’s example:

DON’T: “I never want to see your cheating face again,” he yelled angrily.

DO: He ripped the alimony check out of the checkbook with numb hands. He’d written checks a thousand times—for piano lessons, Girl Scout cookies, every elementary school fundraiser that came along. This time it felt as though the ink had come from his own veins. “I never want to see your cheating face again.”

Again, the exception is to use adverbs when the dialogue contradicts tone/facts (like when someone says something cutting in a sweet tone or vice versa).

Motivation problems—Put as little backstory in first chapter as you can. In chapter one, the main character should have a problem and there should be action.

Is your main character an idiot? [We have an acronym for this: TSTL—it means does your character do things that, say, if you saw them in a movie, you would be screaming at the television, “No! Don’t go into that dark attic!”? (Exception: law enforcement officers, who willingly run into danger for us every day. But even they don’t go looking for it if they don’t have to!)]

Story question problems
Your story should have:

  1. Character
  2. Problem—start story on the day your character’s life changed.
  3. Goal—the character has to be proactive, to have direction in life, instead of merely reacting
  4. Obstacles—don’t use coincidence to get people past their obstacles—use it to get people into trouble, but not out!
  5. Antagonist—someone or something that opposes main character’s goals: man v. man, man v. nature, man v. self. The stronger the antagonist, the more intense and exciting the story will be.
  6. Consequences of failure—there has to be a reason why they can’t just give up (this can be the antagonist)

“Fiction is a very dangerous neighborhood to live in.”

You can put these all together into a story question from Techniques of the Selling Writer by Dwight Swain:

When [MC] finds herself in [situation], she [goal]. But will [antagonist and obstacle] make her [consequences of failure]?

This story question should be answered at the climax.

Goal and conflict problems—Don’t let your characters wander through your books without goals. Somebody has to have a goal in every scene. [Even better—all major characters have goals in a scene and they conflict!]

No goals or conflict in a scene? Throw in obstacles, highlight the consequences of failure, hearken back to the antagonist [or give other characters in the scene conflicting goals].

Sentence structure problems—Watch for repeated backward sentences—too many get awkward. [Always vary your sentence structures. Reading aloud is the best way to find repetition like this!]

About the conference: LDStorymakers is a writing contest geared to LDS writers. The conference covers both the niche, regional publishers that cater to the LDS market as well as national publishers.

Debunking a Myth: Avoid the verb “to be.”

By Janga

Avoid the verb “to be.”

Too often I see that command given as well-intentioned advice to some writer who takes the advice literally and begins revising her prose with the goal of eliminating every pesky is/are/was/were from her prose. I’m fairly certain that the advice giver intends to caution the writer against overuse of the verb “to be” and verbs of passive voice, but the warning lacks clarity. A surprising number of people fail to distinguish between “to be” as a state-of-being verb (Jenny is happy) and “to be” as an auxiliary verb used to turn active voice verbs (Jeremy kissed Jenny) into passive voice (Jenny was kissed by Jeremy).

I take every opportunity to make the distinction and to sound the alarm: “to be” is not the writer’s enemy. Yes, even a quick read of many manuscripts reveals that the author has used “to be” excessively, resulting in passages of heavy, dull prose. Few of us who read contest entries have been spared the awkward, confusing sentences created by passive voice. But linking verbs and passive voice are tools the writer needs. Both have their uses. I’d hate to have a character ask “What name do you claim?” rather than “Who are you?”

Take a look at the following passage from Julia Ross’s historical romance The Seduction:

His hair was tied neatly at the back of his neck, but it rippled at the temples where a more elaborate style had been brushed out. The blond waves framed skin with the fashionable pallor of London, enhanced by a small patch high on one cheekbone. Arrogance was reflected in every line of his body, enhanced, not hidden, by the full-skirted riding coat, the tall boots, the fall of white linen at his throat.

A town gentleman, dressed for the country.

His moment of surprised admiration had been masked quickly enough, but it had been there. She had suffered from it all her life. It was the way men always looked at her, as if she were fruit, and ripe, and ready for plucking. Even after she suppressed her moment of panic, it still filled her with fury.

Ross uses four passive voice verbs (“was tied,” “had been brushed out,” “was reflected,” and “had been masked”) and three linking verbs (“had been,” “was,” and “were”) in this brief selection. We can rewrite Ross’s sentences to eliminate the “problem” verbs.

Someone had tied his hair neatly at the back of his neck, but it rippled at the temples where a more elaborate style had been brushed out. The blond waves framed skin with the fashionable pallor of London, enhanced by a small patch high on one cheekbone. Every line of his body reflected arrogance, enhanced, not hidden, by the full-skirted riding coat, the tall boots, the fall of white linen at his throat.

A town gentleman, dressed for the country.

He had masked his moment of surprised admiration quickly enough, but she had seen it there. She had suffered from it all her life. Men always looked at her that way, looked at her like fruit, and ripe, and ready for plucking. Even after she suppressed her moment of panic, it still filled her with fury.

But look at what is lost in the change. First, the rhythm of the prose changes, as does the voice. Moreover, meaning is altered in subtle ways. Does the reader care who ties his hair? I don’t think so, but there is “someone” in a position of strong emphasis. The arrogance of the character is key, but the revision buries the quality in the sentence. And the force of the heroine’s being the object of male gazes is muted in the rewrite.

Ross is a gifted stylist, and she knows how to use action verbs when she needs them. Note this passage from the same chapter as the first selection—every verb but one expresses action:

Her fingers felt clumsy and heavy as she unbuttoned the front of his waistcoat, then opened his shirt at the neck. The strong skin of his throat gleamed smooth and white in the mottled light. She noticed the perfect shape of his jaw at the strangely vulnerable junction where it curved up into his ear and felt a small surge of discomfort, as if she were a young farm girl winked at by a gentleman.

Try this exercise with a writer whose style you admire. My guess is that you will discover the writer uses her full arsenal of verbs.

About the author
Janga started reading her mother’s romance novels the summer she turned ten and has continued to be an avid reader of romance. Even a Ph. D. in English and years in academia were not enough to diminish her love of the genre. The enthusiasm of aspiring romance writers on the Eloisa James bulletin board refired her dream of writing a romance novel. She is in the process of revising her first mss, The Long Way Home, a contemporary with a Southern accent. She blogs at Romance Vagabonds and Just Janga.

To split or to boldly split!

I’ve been pretty bold in our verb series so far, so I won’t stop today. Legend has it that this is a sin against good grammar:

To boldly go where no man has gone before

I know—can you believe it?! They put a modifier between the “to” and the verb in the infinitive form. I know we’ve all committed this venial sin at least once. (Come on, raise your hands—there’s no shame here.)

Good news: I absolve you. Because there’s no such thing as a split infinitive.

I know, right now you’re sputtering in disbelief: “But—but—but my crit partner/mother/English teacher/editor said…”

Your crit partner/mother/English teacher/editor is a lovely person, I’m sure. I’m also quite certain that s/he has a firm grasp upon most of the finer points of the English language, syntax, grammar, etc. In fact, that’s probably why s/he repeated this notorious lie to you.

But the truth of the matter is that split infinitives are not wrong in English. The split infinitive rule, like the “don’t end a sentence in a preposition” rule, is made up.

GASP

Yeah, most of the rules of grammar are made up. They were codified by someone who wrote a book. (My rant on why writing a book doesn’t make you an authority on writing will have to wait for another day 😉 .) The “don’t split infinitives” rule was first written in 1834. In fact, in Middle English, infinitives were split all the time.

Granted, sometimes split infinitives are awkward. If that’s the case, avoid, avoid, avoid! But if it’s more natural to split the infinitive, ignore anyone who cites this pedantic rule.

I’ll be honest: I don’t mind grammatical pedantry over some issues: the subjunctive mood, for example. However, I’m opposed to most grammar rules like the split infinitive rule because they’re artificial and awkward (and not just a little because I have a degree in Linguistics, where we’re not allowed to use rules to prescribe how you should construct language, but to describe how people actually use it).

Join the ranks of John Donne, Benjamin Franklin, William Wordsworth, Abraham Lincoln, Henry James, and Willa Cather and defy this rule. If people can still understand the meaning of your sentence and splitting the infinitive and ending in a preposition are the best way to go, do it! I give you permission. Heck, I’ll even write your editor a note 😉 .

Animus and animacy

One of my favorite “nongrammatical” sentences from my Linguistics textbooks was:

*My theory rolled down the hill.

(The asterisk denotes it’s nongrammatical.)

Nope, that’s not just nonsensical, it’s nongrammatical. Why? A little thing I like to call “animacy mismatch.” Theories can take verbs (oh, look, it just did):

My theory is awesomer than yours.
My theory explains everything that has ever happened.
Your theory disappoints me.

So why can’t theories roll down hills? Because rolling requires a certain amount of “animacy”—being alive/moving/changing as opposed to being . . . well, inanimate.

Animacy mismatches extend to other grammatical areas. You can have an animacy mismatch with an object (“He thinks the book” as an attempt at a complete sentence.), or a wh-question word (“What thinks the book is stupid?”—”What” questions are answered with objects; “who” questions are answered with people. Does an object or a person think the book is stupid?).

Sometimes, however, animacy mismatches aren’t as clear as theories rolling down hills. Anything strike you as funny about these examples?

  • Jerrica is a glut of information.
  • The pie, which was only $7.99 full price, so $6.29 didn’t seem like a great deal, ran the sale.
  • The stench of week old garbage brushed her nostrils.
  • Her euphoria ebbed.

To me, these examples sound a little off. Can a stench brush (if so, that’s one powerful smell!)? Have you ever seen a pie run anything? They might be okay—animacy can be a slippery thing. Can “a feeling of well being” really “fall back or fall away”? Maybe, if you’re writing in a somewhat literary register (even then, unless you’re already using liquid words to describe emotions [“elation flooded her heart”] it’s still a bit of a stretch—you might want to go with a verb requiring a little less animacy, such as fade).

In our search for the right word, sometimes we have to get a little creative. And of course, the style we’re writing in (genre vs. literary fiction, Shakespearean iambic pentameter vs. prose) can play a big role in what is acceptable. But if ever you’ve been wondering how Jerrica turned into a collective noun, now you know why!

What “animacy mismatches” have you found, in your own work or in others’ (I swear someone is putting mistakes in my writing 😉 )? What phrases just never seem right to you?

Mystery/Thriller Panel, LDStorymakers

Mystery/Thriller Panel

Moderator: Kerry Blair
Panelists:
JoAnn Arnold, Josi S. Kilpack (Josi’s blog), Julie Coulter Bellon, Liz Adair and Stephanie Black (she blogs V Formation; Stephanie, Kerry and Julie all blog at Six LDS Writers and a Frog.)

Our esteemed panelists also have expertise in romance, historical, nonfiction. Plus, I’ve gotten to talk to Kerry, Julie and Stephanie, and they’re all really nice, wonderful people!

Note: This was one of the first sessions after many of the attendees received their critiqued contest entries back from the conference first chapter contest, so many of the questions here focus on that.

“My book isn’t a thriller”—It’s about a girl who feels guilty for initiating her mother’s death. On my chapter critiques, some loved the cliffhanger—not knowing if she’d actually killed her mom—others couldn’t connect to her because they didn’t know that—How soon do you reveal your major plot points?

  • Josi—Are the judges divided? (Yes.) Is the book finished? (No.) Keep writing it and see if your attitude changes. First chapters are notorious for being rewritten.
  • Julie—It is important to connect with your readers and hook them on the first chapter. Make sure your characters can connect with your reader.

I’m writing a romantic suspense novel—my chapter critiques indicate there are some lulls in the action, and I’m having a hard time because the “lulls” are the romances—don’t want a bomb to go off every chapter. How do you even that out, creating tension with romance and suspense?

  • Julie—(Dubbed the romantic suspense expert) That’s hard for her because she loves the action—it’s hard to find a balance so your reader can catch their breath for just a second. Don’t leave your characters just sitting around mooning at each other. On the other hand, it’s tricky to build a relationship while the bombs are going off.
  • Liz—Even the romance needs to forward the plot. Don’t have romance just for romance’s sake.
  • JoAnn—I don’t write romance thrillers, but I write thrillers with a little romance—the romance gives you a break, but you don’t take away from the thriller. Let it have its place in the book.

I have a romance thriller submission for first chapter contest. Some reviewers loved the fact that it was a thriller. One outlier loved that it was a romance, but they were ticked off they didn’t know all the answers. How do you indicate genre/hook in first chapter?

  • Stephanie—Look for the genre you want to place it. In first chapter, lean more on how you see this being. Mingle romance and danger and choose how you’ll market this.
  • Josi—Rmember when your book is being sold, it’s going to have a cover, back copy cover, etc. First chapter has to have movement, action, something happening. You have to set up expectations and give readers what they think they’re getting.

When you’re getting different opinions from reviewers?

  • Liz—complete the book, be true to the book, and then take it into account. What’s important is that they want to read on after the first chapter.
  • Josi—She’s going to disagree. You know your story and style and direction best, but be open minded. Weigh out the feedback to try to understand it. Don’t try to meet all their expectations, but give each a fair shake. You could learn something from that feedback. Even if they don’t agree, don’t discount them—or your opportunity to learn from them.
  • Kerry—Julie just went through a crazy crit experience—
  • Julie—As someone who looked over all those evaluations, I thought they were an incredibly valuable resource. The judges were editors, authors and other professionals. The feedback is amazing. I hope you take it in the spirit it was given. Kerry’s talking about my manuscript I submitted to Covenant. I got my reader comments and some of them, I was like “Did they even read the book?” [I wonder that a lot on those off-the-wall crits!] One said there was too much LDS in the book, another said not enough. I asked my editor what to do, and we went through it together. You have to take into consideration where your book is going, what you want to portray and project.
  • Stephanie—Ultimately, evaluate the feedback and step back from it a little bit. I have to brace myself when I read evaluations. You do get widely varied responses—one says the characters are wonderful, one says they’re cardboard. Sometimes I’ve found the feedback that hurts the most can help the most too. Ex: someone went on and on about how Stephanie was wordy, so she went back and looked at the scene this person used as an example and she was able to cut 800 words from the scene without changing anything.

If you think of your fave book or the most well-received book you’ve done—did you come up with a hook and write a story to it, or did you write the story and come up with the hook?

  • JoAnn—I write from the imagination. My hook may be somewhere else at the time and I have to go back and find it. I start with an idea and then I introduce my characters, and I ask them where they want to go. My story make take a whole different path than what I’d planned. Don’t ever force it or make it stick—this is how it’s got to be no matter what? How much can you put in a first chapter? You have to be careful. Let your story take its path and you may find your hook later.
  • Liz—My first few books that I wrote, I didn’t know that I had to have a hook. I had one but I didn’t know I was putting it in—there was no decision.
  • Josi—Same. In my most recent book, Lemon Tart, it came about because of a writing contest. Jeff Savage—Murder mystery with food and the hook has to be a death happening offstage. Took second in contest, but it worked out okay. (Kerry adds that Lemon Tart has been the #1 best seller on DB list for weeks now).
  • Stephanie—ideas come in different ways. My first book came from a short story she started in high school. She highly recommends Jack Bickham (same as Josi—3The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes, and Scene & Structure) Learn how to shape a compelling story—chapter structure, scene goals, what characters want. Each chapter should have an end hook. With my last couple, I just brainstormed about characters and their goals and their obstacles and the story grows out of that conflict.
  • Julie—I don’t know if you can focus so much on a hook, though. I think you just have to have a well-written beginning. In the editing process, things get changed around—the beginning you start with might not be the one you get published.

Define the difference between mystery and thriller. Are they shelved together?

  • Josi—
    • Mystery: driven by curiosity, want to know what happens next. Death (may be less frequently that serious if it’s YA) OR big crime takes place off stage, the rest of the book is figuring out whodunnit. One point of view. Reader knows about as much as the main character does.
    • Suspense: whatever the crime/hook/conflict is happens onscene. Typically the reader knows a little more than the main character, so we know what kind of danger they’re facing. May get POV from bad guys. Motivated to keep reading by fear, anxiety, worry.
    • Thriller: Suspense novel that if it were a movie, it would be big budget—higher stakes: the world. The FBI infiltrated by terrorists, big ramifications. Exploding cars, buildings falling, etc. More intense action.

This was my question! What kind of mysteries are you selling right now or have you sold recently (romance, cozies, police procedurals, etc.)?

  • Josi—culinary cozy, includes recipes
      Sidebar—what’s a cozy?

    • Josi—cozy: cats and food, LOL. Basically, means it happens in one place, people in a little house, amateur sleuth, small cast, small-scale ramifications, driven by curiosity, not a lot of thrills, not keep you up—Murder She Wrote)
    • Stephanie—also, no intense violence, warm and fuzzies.
  • Stephanie—Recently sold contemporary suspense comparable to Mary Higgins Clark. Female protagonist trying to do the right thing
  • Julie—”romantic thriller.” About French agent in Paris who has found out a plot to poison water going to troops in Iraq.
  • Liz—romance “intrigue.” Heavy on romantic content, but puzzle/mystery to solve, a little bit of danger
  • JoAnn—Patriotic mystery a year ago—fascinated with Constitution and Declaration [I was an American Heritage TA; don’t even get me started on this topic!]. Way back when they had watchers to protect the constitution. Her story, today is these people are watching still.

Back to the very first question: Some readers thought a secondary character, an FBI agent, was falling in love with the main character in first chapter, but it wasn’t something she intended. What happens if a subplot appears?

  • JoAnn—When she was writing Journey of the Promise, the main character started as a grandma, but by chapter 3, she wanted to be 21. The grandmotherly subplots went away, but because she changed the main character, other characters began to approach her
  • Stephanie—My outlines are really broad. I have to know basic idea of story direction, but I don’t know the specifics of the story until I write it. My first drafts are a hideous mess because I change my mind mid-book. I make myself notes at the top of my MS on things I need to change. By the end, I know what I want the story to be and I do a lot of rewriting. Some of my best ideas come as I’m writing. These connections occur to you, etc. With your FBI guy, could this add some complications to the story? Or tweak chapter one 1—could this make my story better? Can I use this?
  • Julie—I’d definitely look at that to see if it adds another layer.
  • Kerry—Notes that Liz had first detective series, the Spider Latham series, on LDS market. How’d you intro the series?
  • Liz—You get to know the characters so well, I have more books blocked out for him, but Deseret Book isn’t interested. Plots spring to mind all over the place.

In this genre, do the ideas come from your imagination, the news, current events (national, murders)?

  • Liz—Both. You just have to start with a body, then you have to figure out how it got there and who done it.
  • JoAnn—comes somewhere inside of me, in my imagination. I think because I was on the stage a lot growing up, I could see the person that would be that character and I would become that person while I’m writing.

Is it easier to have a female protagonist or male in LDS market?

  • Josi—depends on specific genre. Cozy or basic mystery, depends on the book—in the LDS market, women buy mysteries. Male readers read a smaller genre pool than women do—fewer genres. Motivated by action, fast paced. Plenty of women readers for that, too. Go with what works best with your story. Her audience is women and they typically prefer women protags. Women are more likely to read male protags than vice versa (generalization).

Do you have a background in English and does that help?

  • Julie—I have an English teaching degree, but that doesn’t really make a difference. It’s how well you can write. Going back to Gale’s question—I get ideas everywhere. As a journalism professor, I read them everywhere.
  • Liz—I went in to Deseret Book hoping they’d want another Spider Latham. This was just as [Mark Hacking] happened, and they’d just found that he’d killed his wife. Editor said “You don’t know how many letters I get from women who marry someone they think is wonderful and he turns out to be just not, not the man they thought they married. I want you to write a book with that underlying theme.” Mr. Cory Harper—what kind of a man did she marry?
  • JoAnn—Wrote something with similar themes, had women call her to say that happened to them. Helps women understand they’re not alone.
  • Kerry—what’s your background?
  • JoAnn—stage, community theater, pretending. Artist—paint stories. High school grad. My husband is an English major, but I try to ignore him as much as possible. Came to writing through ghostwriting.
  • Liz—yes, I was an English major, but I didn’t learn how to write until I joined American Night Writers.
  • Josi—Nope, I’m completely uneducated. Salt Lake county public library system.
  • Stephanie—I majored in History, but I’ve forgotten everything I’ve learned. I think it comes down to learning to write fiction. There’s a difference between knowing the ins and outs of commas and knowing the structure and techniques of fiction. Editors and agents couldn’t care less. All they want to know is can ou write a good book
  • Josi—I wish I had a degree in English. I do think editors like to see that. They like to see they have that credential. I don’t have a college degree, and people with these do know things about the English language that I don’t. Learn about it so you can do a better job so you’re not learning as you go. But most of us are past college age. It’s okay, you can write a novel without an English degree.

Last question—Kerry: One minute each: tell the most important thing about writing:

  • JoAnn—Never quit, never give up, believe in yourself.
  • Liz—Write, write, write, write, write. And then rewrite. Less is more
  • Josi—Read a lot, keep learning, keep an open mind. there’s always something new to learn. Watch the markets, see what people are reading, stay on top of those things so you’re constantly growing. It was such a thrill for the chapter contest to see how many people that won this have been coming to this conference for years—these people are learning and applying it and improving and doing it.

  • Stephanie—Jack Bichkam? “I don’t know any writers who have failed, but I know many who have quit.” If you love it, don’t quit. Don’t edit yourself to death in your first draft. Let it happen. Give yourself permission to write a cruddy first draft. Don’t polish a chapter obsessively before going on. Get the story down and don’t be afraid of rewriting—polish it later. Don’t edit yoruself into oblivion. Study the technique. Read great books out there—read, study, practice, have fun, enjoy what you’re doing. Have fun!
  • Julie—Be willing to work hard. A lot of people think you can be a writer just because they put pen to paper. Be open to changes and suggestions. Be willing to self-edit and rewrite and put in the time.

Kerry—W. Somerset Maugham said, “There are three rules for writing a novel: unfortunately, nobody knows what they are.”

About the conference: LDStorymakers is a writing contest geared to LDS writers. The conference covers both the niche, regional publishers that cater to the LDS market as well as national publishers.

Past progressive (imperfect) vs. passive

Our verb series continues!

Think of the differences between these examples:

She was crying. She cried.
He entered the room. She leaned toward the door, eavesdropping. He entered the room. She was leaning toward the door, eavesdropping.
He smiled at her. He was smiling at her. He was still smiling.

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!

Wait, it’s passive and tensed? The layman’s guide to verb words

If we’re going to spend the merry, merry month of May talking about verbs, it’d be pretty useful to have some working vocabulary, right? I’ll be the first to admit that though I have a degree in Linguistics with a minor in English, I can never keep “intransitive” and “transitive” straight. Even a Word Nerd can learn some new tricks (although I’m sure Annette does know these terms 😉 ). And yes, we’re going to start really simple—although I’m sure you already intuitively know most of this stuff!

The following are all properties of verbs:

Tense expresses when the action occurred. Past tense, for example, means the action happened in the past. (Told you we’d start simple!)

Person and number determine how we conjugate the verb: the first person, plural, form of “to walk” (present tense) is “walk” as in “we walk.” (English verbs are tricky, since I walk, you walk, we walk, y’all walk, they walk. Only he, she and it walks 😉 .) Because we like everyone to get along, verbs must agree in person and number—the conjugated form of the verb must match the subject. None of that “I walks” stuff.

Voice can have this really long, technical definition, but let’s just put it this way: voice tells us if the subject of the sentence is doing the action or being acted upon. And there’s a great example in that sentence there: the guy IS DOING the action is active voice. The guy IS BEING ACTED upon is passive voice—the guy, the subject of the sentence, isn’t doing anything.

Aspect can indicate an ongoing action: this is the “progressive” tenses—I am walking vs. I walk.

Mood is complicated (and not just because I’m a woman). If you know what the word “subjunctive” means, good for you! That’s a mood. And that’s all I’m gonna say.

Transitive and intransitive are two verb classes that tell us whether or not the verb will have an object. Okay, say it with me now: transitive verbs take objects (the thieves!). Transitive verbs transfer the action of the verb to something later in the sentence. For example:

Transitive: Joe took the bicycle. (The bicycle is the object.)
Intransitive: Joe died. (Don’t steal bad, bad Leroy Brown’s bike, dude.)

When this gets messed up . . . it’s pretty funny:

Transitive abuse: Joe took. (Yeah, okay, sometimes it could work where the object is understood, but not in isolation like this.)
Intransitive abuse: Joe died the bicycle. (He did what now?)

And now for the finale: the ones you’re going to want to remember for future posts here are tense, voice, and (in)transitive. They just seemed lonely without the full complement of verb qualities 😉 .