Louise Harnby and Denise Cowle talk about two more zombie rules that have no place in a professional editor's toolbox.
|
Learn about how to use grammar and punctuation to amplify prose rather than butchering it with a rule book.
|
Marketing can be learned! Here are some of my most popular teaching tools, all created specifically for editors and proofreaders working in a global freelance market.
|
WITH FILTER
|
FILTER REMOVED
|
Danni knew there was a door in the back of the hut that led into the woods. She could make her escape there.
[Reader’s gaze focuses inwards on Danni’s doing the action of knowing.] |
There was a door in the back of the hut that led into the woods. She could make her escape there.
[Reader assumes it’s Danni doing the knowing since she’s the viewpoint character, and focuses outwards on the solution – the door.] |
The backdoor – it leads to the woods, Danni thought.
[Reader’s gaze focuses inwards on Danni’s doing the action of thinking.] |
The backdoor – it leads to the woods.
[Reader assumes the thought belongs to Danni, and focuses on the substance of the thought.] The backdoor – it led to the woods. [This alternative uses free indirect style; it frames the thought in the novel’s base tense and narrative style – third-person past.] |
He flung open the door and saw the gunman standing over by the window, rifle trained on the street below.
[Reader’s gaze focuses inwards on the man’s doing the action of seeing.] |
He flung open the door.
The gunman stood over by the window, rifle trained on the street below. [Reader assumes it’s the man doing the seeing since he’s the viewpoint character, and focuses outwards on the gunman.] |
ALL THE TAGS!
|
REDUCED TAGGING
|
‘There’s a door at the back of the hut,’ Danni said.
‘You’re sure it isn’t locked?’ I said. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Trish never locks it. Not since the fire.’ ‘And that’ll get us into the woods?’ I said. ‘Yup. There’s a track. It’s overgrown but I know the way. Used it all the time when I was young and foolish,’ she said. ‘What do you mean was?’ I said. ‘You’re too funny,’ she said, and pulled a face. |
‘There’s a door at the back of the hut,’ Danni said.
‘You’re sure it isn’t locked?’ ‘No. Trish never locks it. Not since the fire.’ ‘And that’ll get us into the woods?’ ‘Yup. There’s a track. It’s overgrown but I know the way. Used it all the time when I was young and foolish.’ ‘What do you mean was?’ I said. Danny pulled a face. ‘You’re too funny.’ |
TAG TAKES CENTRE STAGE
|
DIALOGUE TAKES CENTRE STAGE
|
‘Watch out!’ Danni warned.
|
‘Watch out!’ Danni said.
|
‘Yup. There’s a track. It’s overgrown but I know the way. Used it all the time when I was young and foolish.’
‘What do you mean was?’ I joked. |
‘Yup. There’s a track. It’s overgrown but I know the way. Used it all the time when I was young and foolish.’
‘What do you mean was? |
EXPRESSION TAG
|
ACTION BEAT
|
‘No,’ Danni grimaced. ‘Trish never locks it. Not since the fire.’
|
‘No.’ Danni grimaced. ‘Trish never locks it. Not since the fire.’
|
EXPRESSION TAG
|
SPEECH TAG
|
‘Yup. There’s a track. It’s overgrown but I know the way. Used it all the time when I was young and foolish.’
‘What do you mean was?’ I laughed. |
‘Yup. There’s a track. It’s overgrown but I know the way. Used it all the time when I was young and foolish.’
‘What do you mean was?’ I said. |
ACTION BEATS THAT INTERRUPT DIALOGUE
|
ACTION BEATS THAT AMPLIFY DIALOGUE
|
Danni pointed at the back of the cellar. ‘Over there. The door. It leads to the woods.’
‘You’re sure it isn’t locked?’ Max rubbed his forehead. ‘Maybe we need a Plan B.’ ‘No.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Trish never locks it. Not since the fire.’ Max tilted his head. ‘The fire? What happened?’ ‘It was years ago.’ She waved his question away and jabbed a finger towards the door again. ‘Out back there’s a track. It’s overgrown but I know the way. Used it all the time when I was young and foolish.’ ‘What do you mean was?’ he said, and smirked. She pulled a face. ‘You’re too funny.’ |
Danni pointed at the back of the cellar. ‘Over there. The door. It leads to the woods.’
‘You’re sure it isn’t locked?’ Max said. ‘I dunno, maybe we need a Plan B.’ ‘No. Trish never locks it. Not since the fire.’ ‘The fire? What—’ ‘It was years ago. Whatever. Focus. Out back there’s a track. It’s overgrown but I know the way. Used it all the time when I was young and foolish.’ ‘What do you mean was?’ She pulled a face. ‘You’re too funny.’ |
The memories arrive in a blink.
One moment nothing. The next, he knows exactly where he is, the full trajectory of his life since Helena found him, and exactly what the equations on the blackboard mean. Because he wrote them. They're extrapolations of the Schwarzschild solution, an equation that defines what the radius of an object must be, based upon its mass, in order to form a singularity. That singularity then forms an Einstein-Rosen wormhole that can, in theory, instantaneously connect far-flung regions of space and even time. |
There was more tapping, more tracking, and then colours on the screen were almost too much. The blacks were up so far that gray spots bubbled through the midnight fields.
Charlie suggested, “Use the blue on the lockers as a color guide. They’re close to the same blue as Dad’s funeral suit. Ben opened the color chart. He clicked on random squares. “That’s it,” Charlie said. “That’s the blue.” “I can clean it up more.” He sharpened the pixels. Smoothed out the edges. Finally, he zoomed in as close as he could without distorting the image into nothing. “Holy shit,” Charlie said. She finally got it. Not a leg, but an arm. Not one arm, but two. One black. One red. A sexual cannibal. A slash of red. A venomous bite. They had not found Rusty’s unicorn. They had found a black widow. |
Respect, yes. Bow, no. I also don’t use these techniques,
per the platitude, “only for self-defense,” an obvious untruth on the level of “the check is in the mail” or “don’t worry, I’ll pull out.” I use what I learn to defeat my enemies, no matter who the aggressor happens to be (usually: me). I like violence. I like it a lot. I don’t condone it for others. I condone it for me. I don’t fight as a last resort. I fight whenever I can. I don’t try to avoid trouble. I actively seek it out. After I finish with the bag, I bench-press, powerlift, squat. When I was younger, I’d have various lifting days—arm days, chest days, leg days. When I reached my forties, I found it paid to lift less often and with more variety. |
“You had to stick your fucking neb in, didn’t ya? You had to open your big yapper. Can’t you fucking take a hint? After all them ciggies we give you too,” he said.
He raised the gun. I closed my eyes. Held my breath. A bang. Silence. When I opened my eyes again Bobby Cameron was staring at me and shaking his head. Billy White was dead to my left with the back of his head blown off. |
The next morning, to my undying shame, I did not withdraw my request. I had the time of my life at camp that summer, and I know now that my father, so desperate for me to go that he was in terrible pain, had millions of dollars that he refused to touch.
Money that he did not make delivering newspapers. [Chapter ends] |
|