FOR EDITORS, PROOFREADERS AND WRITERS

Your novel’s written in first person. Here are some tips for how to ensure your narrative doesn’t become overloaded with ‘I’ but remains immersive.

• Why reduce the ‘I’
• Why ‘I’ still has a place front and centre
• Focusing on the exterior rather than the interior
• Reducing the use of filter words
• Removing speech and thought tags
• Applying the principles of free indirect speech
• Taking the 'I' out of introspection
• Balancing ‘I’ with ‘we’

We might think that the mention of ‘I’ would always make prose more immediate, and draw the reader in closer to the viewpoint character. But sometimes the opposite is true.

Too much ‘I’ is a tap on the shoulder, one that says to the reader, ‘Just in case you’ve forgotten who the narrator is, here are lots of reminders.’
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The consequence is that readers are pulled away. And that can actually increase rather than reduce narrative distance.

I confess to being a huge fan of first-person narrations. When done well, the pronoun is almost invisible, even if it’s used frequently. Certainly the books I’ve borrowed excerpts from here allow ‘I’ to take centre stage.

However, they don’t rely on a first-person pronoun to convey experience, thought, speech and action. Below, I'll show you some examples – ones that ensure the intimacy of the narration style is left intact.

And so while we don’t want to obliterate ‘I’, because avoiding it completely would render the prose awkward, inauthentic and overworked, too much ‘I’ can be repetitive and interruptive. What’s required is a balance.
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This post aims to offer you choice – fitting alternatives that retain intimacy and immediacy when you’re concerned you’ve overdone it.

With a first-person narration, what’s reported must be through the lens of the narrator. Since their presence is a given, we don’t always need to be reminded that ‘I’ is involved.

A little peppering in a more objective report will suffice because the reader knows that it’s coming from the narrator, and only the narrator. It has to be.

And while writers can make space to explore the viewpoint character’s emotional behaviour, the exterior world is what grounds their experience in the novel’s physical world. It gives the novel substance, and the reader something to bite into.
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Instead of focusing on who’s doing the reporting, shift the prose towards what’s being reported.

What and who else is in the scene? Why are they there? How do they behave? What do they look like? This information can be reported without ‘I’ so that the reader experiences the physical world within which the narrator is operating.
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Here’s an example from To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee, Pan, 1974, p. 11).

Notice the (almost) absence of ‘I’. Scout – our narrator – tells us about the town she lived in: Maycomb. The recollection is hers certainly –  ‘when I first knew it’ anchors it as such. It’s therefore intimate.

And yet because there’s only one I-nudge, we’re allowed enough emotional distance to step back and pan, like a roving camera, across Maycomb’s vista. We’re dislocated from Scout’s doing the experiencing and encouraged instead to focus on what she’s experiencing.
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What’s happening here is a shift from the subjective to the objective.

​Here’s an example of a short excerpt that’s subjective. The focus is on the I-narrator. ​

​And here’s the real excerpt from David Rosenfelt’s Play Dead (Grand Central, 2009, p. 19). Now the focus is objective, yet in no way does this distance us from the centrality of the first-person narrator’s experience. We’re still deep in his head.

Filter words are a clue that an interior rather than exterior focus is in play. They’re verbs that increase the narrative distance, reminding us that what we’re reading is being told by someone rather than experienced, or shown, through the eyes of the character.

Examples include noticed, seemed, spotted, saw, realized, felt, thought, wondered, believed, knew, and decided.

Filter words focus the reader’s gaze inwards (interior focus) on the manner through which the viewpoint character experiences the world – the how.

They come with a pronoun: I saw, they believed, we decided, she knew, he noticed.

By removing filter words, the reader’s gaze is shifted outwards (exterior focus) and onto what is being experienced. That can make for a more immersive read. Plus, the omission means we say goodbye to their accompanying pronoun: 'I'.

Here are a few examples to give you a flavour of how you might recast in a way that avoids first-person filtering.

Dialogue tags are what writers use to indicate which character is speaking. Their function is, for the most part, mechanical. If the reader can keep track of who’s saying what in a conversation, you can omit dialogue tags.

This will work best if there are no more than two characters. Most writers don’t extend the omission for more than a few back-and-forths before they introduce a reminder tag or an action beat.

Watching out for unnecessary tags is good practice regardless of narration style, but with a first-person narration it’s a particularly efficient way to declutter ‘I’-heavy prose.

​Take a look at this excerpt from David Rosenfelt’s Play Dead, pp. 194–5. There are two characters in this scene: Andy Carpenter, the protagonist and narrator, and Sam Willis, the non-POV character on the other end of the phone.

The exchange involves 19 speech elements within the thread, but only 3 speech tags, and only one of those marks our first-person narrator.
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At no point do we lose track, and at no point are we distracted by repetitive ‘I said’s.

If you’ve played with free indirect speech (also called free indirect style/discourse) in third-person narratives, call on your craft for first-person narration.

In a nutshell, free indirect speech offers the essence of first-person dialogue or thought but through a third-person viewpoint. The character’s voice takes the lead, but without the clutter of speech marks, speech tags, italic, or other devices to indicate who’s thinking or saying what.
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Here’s an example of third-person narration. Notice the filter words ‘glanced’ and ‘noticed’, the italic present-tense thought, and the thought tag:

Let’s change that to a first-person narration. The filter words are still there and there’s a thought tag with the ‘I’ pronoun.

Here’s what the third-person version could look like in free indirect style. The filter words and tags are gone. It feels like a first-person thought but the base tense and third-person narration remain intact.

And now the first-person version. All I’ve done is swapped out the pronoun ‘his’ for ‘my’. 

There’s nothing wrong with contemplation and introspection. Authentic characters ruminate just like real people.

However, when prose is littered rather than peppered with constructions such as I wasn’t sure if, I didn’t know whether, I wondered if, it can feel muddled and be laborious to read. The reader might respond: Well, of course you’re wondering. Who else could it be? You’re the narrator.

Worse, readers might think the narrator’s rather self-absorbed and unsure of themselves. While that might be necessary now and then, it’s problematic if it’s a staple because a narrator who’s always focused on themselves, and who never instils confidence in us, can’t tell the story as effectively.
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Look out for ‘I’-centred introspection and experiment with statements and questions that allow the ‘I’ to be assumed.

Here are a few examples to show you how it might work.

Another option is to consider whether your narrator’s lived experience at particular points within the novel involves others.
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This is an opportunity to frame the narrative around ‘we’ rather than just ‘I’.

Here’s an excerpt from To Kill a Mockingbird (p. 162) in which Scout, Harper Lee’s first-person narrator, frames the recollection around not just her own experience but those of the people she was hanging out with.

The effect is powerful because we’re shown rather than told a sense of her belonging, of her being in a group, of the togetherness of that experience. And that intensifies our immersion in her world.

There’s nothing wrong with ‘I’, but a first-person narrator can tell a story without relying on their pronoun all the time. Since they’re the ones doing the reporting, the ‘I’ can often be assumed.
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Try recasting sentences that start with ‘I’ more objectively, so that the focus is on the what – the emotion, the object, the person, the action and so on – rather than the sense being used to experience it or the I-narrator doing the experience.

Use the principles of free indirect speech to reduce your ‘I’ count. It’s a tool that encourages a narrowing of narrative distance to such a degree that the reader feels deeply connected to the viewpoint character – more like we’re reading a thought than straight narrative.

As for speech and thought tags, you might not need as many as you think. The speaker can usually be identified without them if there are only two people in the conversation. Removing redundant tags is worth considering whichever narration style you’re writing in.

• ​3 reasons to use free indirect speech
• ​6 ways to improve your novel right now
• Author resource library (includes links to free webinars)
• ​Editing Fiction at Sentence Level: A Guide for Beginner and Developing Writers
• ​Filter words in fiction: Purposeful inclusion and dramatic restriction
• Making Sense of Point of View: Transform Your Fiction 1
• What is head-hopping, and is it spoiling your fiction writing?
• ​Switching to Fiction: Course for new fiction editors

Do you know your brand colours? They’re part of what makes you recognizable, so they’re worth paying attention to – and sticking to. Here’s one way to keep track of your choices and enforce consistency.

A brand palette is the group of colours you use across your business materials, including the following:

If we’re communicating in online spaces that we don’t control, we’re limited to a certain extent by the platform’s own brand palette.

For example, we can upload on-brand images to our Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn headers, but we can’t change the colour of the links or icons on our posts.

And members of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading who advertise in its Directory of Editorial Services can upload on-brand headshots, videos and images to their listings but must work within the CIEP’s unique brand palette.
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Do the best you can in the spaces you don’t control. In those you do, go for consistency. Here’s why it’s important.

Think about brands like Coke, Reese’s Pieces, Cadbury, McDonald’s, IKEA and Aldi. You can probably reel off the colours you associate with those companies, and that means you can identify them from afar or with just a glimpse.

Editorial brand palettes work the same way. They make us recognizable such that our colleagues, clients, friends and business partners can identify us in online spaces before they’ve dug into the detail of our messaging.

If we’ve already built trust with those people, they’re more likely to take the time to engage with our content because they know who it’s from.
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Of course, they can also decide not to engage with us when our brand colours pop up in their social feeds or email inboxes because they’re not interested in us. Being recognizable means we don’t waste their time, and they don’t waste ours! 

Once you’ve decided which colours are in your brand palette, consider your rules. 

My brand palette comprises grey, white, grape, maroon and teal. My brand-palette rules include the following:
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• Brand-colour gradients are allowed on some sections of my website
• Tints, shades and tones of my brand colours are allowed if UX will be improved
• Buttons on my website must always be solid teal
• Linked text must always be maroon with a teal hover
• Blog-post images take grape boxes on greyscale images

If you’re the kind of editor who can hold several hex colours in your head, all power to you. I’m not. I need to record them so I can access them quickly and remind myself of the ‘rules’ I’ve created.

That's why I built a brand book. 

A brand book isn’t the only way of recording your brand colours, but it’s useful if you want a single space in which to keep track of your brand colours, something you can access every time you create content related to your business. Mine's bookmarked so I can get to it quickly.

It's also a one-stop-shop you can send to creative consultants if you’re commissioning artwork or design services.

Don't stop at colours! Use it record all your editorial business's brand essentials. For example:

Here's what mine looks like. Use the thumbnails to move through the slideshow. If you’d like a free copy to mimic, head over to the branding page in my resource library and select the FREE BOOKLETS icon.

If it’s not something you think you can create for yourself, the Canva template is included free with the following courses:

• Branding for Business Growth​
• Editor Website Essentials
• Marketing Toolbox for Editors

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If you’ve already bought one of them, log in to access the template, then copy it and edit it to create your own brand book quickly.

A brand palette ensures your editing business is consistently recognizable across multiple media. That means those who already know and trust you can spot you from afar or with a glimpse. And those just getting to know you understand what to expect.
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Pick your colours and stick to them. Then keep a record of your choices. It means you can be sure you’ll be on brand everywhere! 

Novel dialogue is not like reality, where much of what we say is of little consequence to the bigger picture of our lives. Here’s how to check that all your dialogue needs to be there. Then remove the mundane!

Artful dialogue requires balancing realism with engagement and ensuring that every word spoken by a character pushes the novel forward rather than making the reader feel like they’re eavesdropping on a mundane conversation at the bus stop

Every line of dialogue should have a purpose. If it doesn’t, it probably shouldn’t be in your book.

It can take courage to remove words you've spent an age crafting but as I hope to show in the example below, readers don't need every little detail. Less is so often more!

My favourite way of assessing whether dialogue is working is to think in terms of voice, mood and intention. 

When we focus on those three things, we avoid dull dialogue – conversations about the weather, how someone takes their tea or coffee, and courtesy statements such as ‘Hi, how are you?’

Let’s look at an example of dialogue that represents the kind of conversation one would expect to hear in real life. It includes the polite chitchat that people indulge in before they get down to business.

Were you enthralled by the welcome and refreshments section, or did you just wish we could get to the point? I think I know the answer!

Now let’s look at how author David Rosenfelt actually wrote this excerpt from Play Dead (Grand Central, 2009, p. 175), and beautifully too:

Rosenfelt knows that none of his readers care about the weather, the coffee, or whether people say hello to each other or not.

And so he leaves all of that out and lets the reader imagine that this stuff took place. And it’s enough. In the published novel, as opposed to the version I butchered, the first line of speech is “And you believed him.”

With that, we’re straight into Kevin’s incredulity and concern, and his desire to understand what the team is dealing with in regard to Petrone.

Meanwhile, Andy has his lawyer hat on. His initial reply is succinct, so that we are left in no doubt about his belief that Petrone was telling the truth, and that he is determined to reassure Kevin.

This is no-messing dialogue that focuses on story, not whether the speech is what we might actually hear – in its entirety – in real life.

It’s an excellent example of an author ensuring that every word counts and that there’s no bus-stop-talk filler.

To declutter dialogue and make every word count, ask yourself the following:

• Is every line relevant to the story?
• Is the character speaking with purpose or taking up ink/pixels on the page?
• Can mundane chitchat be removed without damaging sense and flow?
• Could the dull stuff be replaced with speech that deepens character?

Want the booklet version of this post? It's available on my Dialogue resources library. Click on the cover below to hop over to the page. Once you're there, choose the Booklets icon.

• Editing Fiction at Sentence Level
  
• Making Sense of ‘Show, Don’t Tell’
  
• Making Sense of Point of View
  
• Making Sense of Punctuation
  
• How to Write the Perfect Fiction Editorial Report
  
• Switching to Fiction
  
• The Differences Between Developmental Editing, Line Editing, Copyediting and Proofreading (free webinar)
  
• How to Punctuate Dialogue in a Novel (free webinar)
  
• Resource library: Dialogue and thoughts

Your novel features characters from different countries. Should their dialogue, thoughts or narration be spelled differently just because their voices are regionally distinct and they come from different places? The answer’s no. Here’s why.

In this post, I explore the following:
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• How there are multiple Englishes with different spellings
• The difference between spelling style and voice
• A case study from the 007 files
• Overcoming ‘But it looks wrong’
• Adding regional flavour to voice
• 3 examples of when spelling inconsistency works
• A note on suffixes, dashes and quotation marks

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There are multiple Englishes each with their own spelling conventions: British, Indian, Canadian, American and Australian are just five examples of English.

Most words are spelled the same regardless of which English is in play, though there are many that aren’t, for example ‘color’/’colour’, ‘judgment’/‘judgement’, ‘harmonize’/‘harmonise’, ‘behavior’/‘behaviour’, ‘gray’/‘grey’, 'liter'/'litre'.

None are right or wrong, better or worse, or correct or incorrect. Rather, the way each version of English is spelled is about convention and style.

This post uses examples of American English (AmE) and British English (BrE) style to explain how to approach spelling/voice conundrums in fiction.
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Strive for a mindset that separates style and character voice.

• How the words in a novel are spelled is for the most part a question of style.
• What a character says, thinks, feels, and the words used to report this on the page, is a question of voice. This is the case for dialogue and narrative.

Voice isn’t something that’s spelled. Rather, it’s something the reader experiences, ‘hears’ with their mind’s ear. It therefore follows the base spelling style, regardless of where the character comes from. With that in mind:

• If you’re writing fiction, decide on your spelling style and stick to it.
• If you’re editing for an author, identify the spelling style and aim for consistency.

​The easiest way to illustrate how spelling consistency works is with a case study. Let’s take a peek into the world of 007!
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I’ve chosen Jeffery Deaver’s Carte Blanche, a continuation novel featuring Ian’s Fleming’s British MI6 agent, James Bond.

The version from Hodder & Stoughton (part of Hachette UK), published in 2011, is styled as follows:

​Here’s are three snippets from Chapter 2.

The version from Pocket Star Books (a division of Simon and Schuster), published in 2012, is styled as follows:

Bond’s words haven’t changed. Bond’s nationality hasn’t changed. Bond’s job hasn’t changed. Bond’s narrative voice hasn’t changed. All that’s changed is the novel’s styling.

Later in the novel (Chapter 26), Felix Leiter, an American, joins Bond on his mission. Here’s how Leiter’s dialogue is rendered in the AmE version:

​And here it is in the BrE version. Leiter is still American and still has the same distinct voice, but now the spelling has changed (as has the punctuation; note the spaced en dash and single quotation marks). 

Our brains can mess with us when we associate a particular spelling style with a character’s place of birth or residence, particularly if their voice is regionally distinct.

For example, perhaps they use idiomatic phrases that wedge them firmly in a country, state/province/county or even town/city that we’re from.

The British editor working on a book set in Southern California and written by an American author who writes in AmE might well struggle when a viewpoint character from Norfolk (the UK one where I live) turns up in Santa Barbara and mutters the following on seeing a cluster of huge ladybirds:

“Look at the color o’ them bishy barnabees. And big as a thruppence too!”

The spelling of ‘color’ might jar because ‘thruppence’ is so clearly unAmerican, so very British, while ‘bishy barnabees’ is particular to Norfolk. And yet the spelling is (and should be) AmE if that’s how the novel’s been styled overall.

An editor colleague recently reported this kind of problem in a Facebook group discussion. The novel was set in AmE, but the British viewpoint character spoke, thought and talked to herself in a Yorkshire accent. The first-person narration style deepened the voice still further.

‘The character's voice is really strong,’ the editor said, ‘and the US spelling seems at odds.’

The editor slept on it and the next day announced a simple but clever solution that had enabled her to overcome her resistance.

‘I mentally changed the British voice to a South African one so that I'm not so conscious of spelling variations, et voilà! It's suddenly clear as day.’
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It’s a neat trick, a way of breaking the false connection between spelling and voice. If you come up against a similar situation, try it!
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If you’re still worried that a spelling choice looks odd, remember that voice lies not in how the text is spelled but in what the character is saying, the turns of phrase they use, and the emotions and motivations behind their action (whether that action comes through speech, thought, movement or narration).

It’s worth bearing in mind, too, that language is often borrowed to the extent that some words no longer feel like, say, Britishisms, Americanisms, Canadianisms or Indianisms when they roll out of our mouths, regardless of how we identify or where we live.

Would I, a Brit, ever use the terms ‘cell phone’ and ‘movie’ rather than ‘mobile’ and ‘film’? Yes, I would.

How about ‘elevator’ rather than ‘lift’, ‘sidewalk’ rather than ‘pavement’, ‘aluminum’ rather than ‘aluminium’? Would I refer to ‘my mom’ rather than ‘my mum?’ Not while roaming around Norwich, but on a visit to Chicago, possibly, if I wanted to ensure people understood me. And almost definitely if I'd made my home there for some time.

Perhaps, then, the trick is not to be too precious about it, either when we’re writing or editing. Instead, we can consider the character’s environment and the degree to which the ‘local’ language flavour is something they’re likely to have assimilated into their speech, thoughts and narratives.
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Those choices aside, the spelling style will be consistent. Unless …
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There are instances where inconsistent styling will be called for. Here are 3.

The character is spelling a spelling
Imagine a Bond novel is styled in BrE. Bond and Leiter are speaking to each other on the phone and the line is terrible. Bond thinks Leiter has said ‘dissenter’. Leiter’s dialogue might go like this: ‘Not dissenter. The centre. C-E-N-T-E-R. Move to the centre.’

A proper noun is being referenced
Now imagine Bond’s telling Leiter that he’s received intelligence about a heist in the Rockefeller Center. Even if the novel’s styled in BrE, the AmE spelling of ‘Center’ should be retained because it’s referencing the name of a building.

Excerpts from written materials have been transcribed
Excerpts from diaries, newspaper cuttings, reports, letters, texts and so on can be rendered in the spelling style most likely used by whomever in the novel wrote them because they’re supposed to be authentic transcripts.
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Imagine that Bond’s reading a document written by an American CIA operative. Even if the novel is styled in BrE, the spelling in the report would be AmE, unless referencing a proper noun that required a BrE spelling.
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Finally, a quick note on style and how writers and editors need to consider whether they're being overly prescriptive. I recommend thinking in terms of common conventions rather than rules.

Suffixes
In AmE, it’s standard to spell with -iz- suffixes.

In BrE, both -iz- and -is- are standard. Again, it’s a matter of style.

Thus, in the Night Action alert excerpt above, if Hodder had elected to use ‘authorized’ instead of ‘authorised’, this would not have been a slippage into American spelling but a style choice – an accepted BrE variant that’s been around since the sixteenth century.

Dashes
While most US publishers favour closed-up em dashes and most British publishers favour spaced en dashes when used parenthetically (see the Leiter snippet in the case study), it’s not wrong to used unspaced em dashes when writing in BrE style; it’s Oxford’s preference, for example.

Quotation marks
Again, while it’s more common to see single quotation marks in BrE styling and doubles in AmE, this isn’t an unbreakable rule. Indie authors can choose, for example, BrE spelling and double quotation marks if they wish.
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In all three cases, consistency is what counts.
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Voice can be flavoured by what is said, thought and narrated, and it can show us aspects of a character’s personality, emotions, motivations and background – regardless of how the words that convey it are spelled.

Spelling is about style. The goal is consistency in the main, complemented by good-sense deviation when necessary.
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That’s how the mainstream publishing industry approaches it, and editors and writers will do well to follow their lead.
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• Author and editor resources library
• Blog post: How do I find spelling inconsistencies when proofreading and editing?
• Blog post: How to convey accents in fiction writing: Beyond phonetic spelling 
• Blog post: What's the difference between a rule and a preference? Advice for new writers
• Booklet: British English and US English in your fiction, and why you should be consistent
• Podcast: Think it’s American? Think again!
• Podcast: Linguist Rob Drummond on grammar pedantry, peevery and youth language

Visit the grammar and spelling page in my resource library to download a free booklet summarizing suffix variations in American and British English.