A BLOG FOR EDITORS, PROOFREADERS AND WRITERS

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise chat with Tim Storm about the concept of unearned writing, and how to craft prose that's authentic and plausible.

Click to listen to Season 3, Episode 4

RATE AND REVIEW

Other ways to listen
STITCHER | APPLE PODCASTS | SPOTIFY | CAPTIVATE
Or check out the show via your favourite podcast platform.

Listen to find out more about ...

The writer’s responsibility to the reader and the story
Story events and character reactions in relation to plausibility and authenticity
Salvation events
Unnatural character realizations
Contrived plot turns
Thematic insertions or digressions
Turning unearned writing into earned prose
Idea flow in non-fiction

Resources related to the show

2 Comments

What is a fiction line critique?

28/10/2019

6 Comments

Story-level critiques focus on the big picture – plot, pace, characterization, voice. Line critiques evaluate a book at a micro level, focusing on sentence construction, word choice, and readability. Here’s an overview of what to expect.

Story first ...
Think of your book as a construction project.

First you lay the foundations and build the walls – writing and redrafting to ensure the structure of your storytelling is sound. It’s where you and your editor (if you have one) focus on the big-picture stuff such as:

Plot
Pace
Characterization
Voice
Tense choices
Viewpoint decisions

At this macro stage, you might end up adding, deleting or shifting sections of your prose.

Some authors do their own structural editing because they’re good at it and have studied story craft via writing courses, groups or books. Others seek professional help, either because they’re at an earlier stage of their authorial journey or because they feel they’re too close to the book to see the problems.

One thing’s for sure – there’s no right or wrong way. Every writer has to make their own choices.

If a full, done-for-you developmental (or structural) edit isn’t the path you take, you might still decide to work with a specialist editor who analyses your book and provides a detailed report on its strengths and weaknesses at story level, and offers suggestions about how to improve your writing.

That’s where story-level critiques come into play. You might also hear them called manuscript evaluations and manuscript assessments.

Line level second ...
Once the foundations and walls are in place, it’s plastering time – smoothing at sentence level to ensure that a reader’s journey through the pages is satisfying. In a sense, it’s still structural work but at a micro level. This is where you (and your editor if you have one) focus on nuances such as:

Viewpoint
Spelling, grammar, syntax and punctuation
Dialogue
Narrative readability
Character description
Thoughts
Action beats
Shown and told prose
Tenses
Formatting

Again, some authors do their own line editing because they’re good at it and have studied line craft via writing courses, groups or books. Others seek help.
If a full, done-for-you line- and copyedit isn’t an option, a line critique could be just the ticket.

A line critique, like its story-level sister, is an assessment or evaluation of your story but at sentence level. Your report will include examples from your novel that show what’s holding you back.

You’ll also be offered suggestions on how you can fix any problems identified. Then you can implement what you learn throughout the rest of your book.

Critiques are about learning, not criticizing
Some authors are nervous about critiques. Pro editors get it – it can be tough to put your book in the hands of another and ask them to tell you what’s working and what’s not, especially when you’ve put in so much hard work.

The thing to remember is that a critique (whether at sentence or story level) is not about criticism. It’s about identifying strengths and weaknesses, and offering solutions so that you can move forward to the next stage of your publishing journey with confidence.

And critiques are a long-term investment. They enable you to improve your self-editing skills. That’ll save you time and money further down the line because anyone else you commission will have less to do.

The line critique: the process and the report
What follows is an overview of the way I handle line critiques. Every editor has their own process, but the basic principles will be similar.

1. The service: Mini line critique
Authors email a Word file comprising, say, 5K words of their novel. It’s in a writer’s best interest to include a section that includes both narrative and dialogue. That way we can assess whether both are working effectively.

Furthermore, if there are multiple viewpoint characters in the novel, and different viewpoint styles and tenses have been used, a sample that represents these choices will enable us to provide a report that evaluates the success of those decisions.

2. First readthrough
The first stage of the process is a complete readthrough of the 5K words. It’s not about micro-level reporting, not yet. Rather, we’re getting a sense of the author’s writing style, the characters’ voices, and the flow of the narrative.

3. Second pass: Identification tagging
We go back to the beginning and start the analytical process, identifying the strengths and weaknesses of the author’s line craft.

We work through the sample, tagging sections of the text with Word’s commenting tool. The author won’t see these tags – they’re just a tool that allow us to locate the sections we’ll pull from the text and into the report for demonstration.

The text in the image below has been blurred in order to respect confidentiality, but you can see the tagging process in the margins of just one page of one of my reports.

TAGGING IN A MINI FICTION LINE CRITIQUE

4. Writing the report
Now that we’ve tagged the sample, we can create a report. My line critiques are usually between 20 and 30 pages long, depending on the length of the text samples I’m pulling in and offering recasts for.

Each report is divided into sections that address the strengths and weaknesses of the following:

NARRATIVE

Clarity of narrative viewpoint
Tense choice
Showing and telling
Character description
Filter words
Action beats
Sentence length, flow and rhythm
Adverbs and adverbial phrases
Tentative language in relation to a told narrative

DIALOGUE AND THOUGHTS

Voice, mood and intention
Dialogue layout
Dialogue punctuation
Effectiveness of dialogue tags
How thoughts are styled

TECHNICAL ELEMENTS

Spelling
Punctuation
Grammar
Syntax

FORMATTING

Pre-proof layout recommendations
Using Word’s styles tool

The tags in the sample allow editors to search for and locate the text we want to use as examples of good practice and to highlight areas with improvement potential.

Here’s an example of one of those sections (I’ve disguised the identifying traits of the original in order to respect the author’s confidentiality):

CLARITY OF NARRATIVE VIEWPOINT
What worked
You held narrative viewpoint well and I commend your decision to separate the two viewpoint characters with chapters. This ensured the narrative voices remained distinct.

Using a present-tense second-person POV for your transgressor and a past-tense first-person POV for your protagonist worked extremely well. Have you read Complicity by Iain Banks? He does the same thing! It’s effective because it makes us wonder whether that first-person narrative is reliable, though you don’t give the game away until the denouement, which I loved.

The second-person POV also lent a rather creepy voyeurism to the transgressor chapters, and though these were demanding to read, you did give your readers plenty of breathing space with the contrasting protagonist chapters. Nicely done!

What could be improved
Your protagonist narrative was laboured at times because of the abundance of ‘I’. Overusing this pronoun can lead to an overly told narrative in which the reader is forced to experience everything via the character’s experience of it. This can be distancing. I’m not suggesting you remove every instance of ‘I’ plus the verb – not at all. Instead, consider toning it down and removing some of the filter words so that the reader can experience some of the doing with the character rather than through the character. Here are two examples and suggested fixes:

ORIGINAL (p. 14): I looked up and saw a shooting star zipping through the night sky.
SUGGESTED EDIT: I looked up. A shooting star zipped through the night sky.

Notice how I’ve suggested removing ‘I saw’, which feels redundant given that we already know that Marcus is looking up, and only tells us of more seeing being done. Instead, you can focus the reader’s attention on the immediacy of what’s seen once the looking up’s happened: the movement of the shooting star. That allows you to show readers what Marcus sees rather than telling them.

ORIGINAL (p. 24): I scuttled towards the garage and hid behind a large oak tree. I heard the sound of Phil’s boots on the gravel underfoot and smelled the sharp aroma of his awful aftershave. I realized he was close, about two feet away from me.
SUGGESTED EDIT: I scuttled towards the garage and hid behind a large oak. Gravel crunched. Rank aftershave tickled my nose. Phil was close, a couple of feet at most.

Notice how in the original there’s a lot of telling of what ‘I’ did. I like your use of a strong verb to introduce tension – ‘scuttled’ – but that tension dissipates with the more distant told narrative that follows. There’s telling of sound, smell, and realization. I’ve suggested you tighten up the paragraph by retaining the original anchor in which Marcus hides; perhaps follow that with a shown narrative that, again, allows the reader to experience the sounds and smells at the same time as Marcus rather than through his ears, nose and brain’s doing hearing, smelling and realizing.

Recommendation
Bear in mind that a first-person narrative, by definition, puts the reader in the character’s head. If you keep that in mind, you’ll save yourself a lot of work because you’ll need fewer words on the page.

Have a read through all the protagonist chapters and consider where you can tighten up the prose in order to limit some of the telling of doing being done. You can still anchor the first-person viewpoint with ‘I’ in places, of course, but you might recast some of writing that follows with shown action.

5. Wrapping up and emailing the report
When the report is complete, we save it as a PDF and email it to the author. PDF is the tool of choice for many editors because it can’t be edited. If the client wishes to refer back to it during future writing projects, they can do so safe in the knowledge that nothing’s been accidentally removed.

Summing up
If you want to hone your line craft and polish your book at sentence level, but a full line- and copyedit is beyond your budget, consider a more affordable alternative: the line critique.

Think of a critique as another form of authorial development, of book-craft study. And what you learn from your critique won’t be something you can apply just to the current book. It’s a tool you can use with every story you write thereafter.

And here’s a free booklet that outlines the various levels of editing. Just click on the cover to get your copy (and, no, you don’t have to give me your email address!).

6 Comments

British English and US English in your fiction, and why you should be consistent

21/10/2019

It doesn’t matter a jot to me which kind of English an author wants to write in. What does matter is their readers' expectations and perceptions, and being consistent.

This free booklet shows you how to stay on track.

0 Comments

The Editing Podcast: 10 things an author needs to tell an editor

30/9/2019

In this bonus episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise chat about 10 things an author needs to tell an editor about so that both parties can work out whether they're a good fit.

Other ways to listen
STITCHER | APPLE PODCASTS | SPOTIFY | CAPTIVATE
Or check out the show via your favourite podcast platform.

Listen to find out more about ...

Word count
File format
Genre or subject
Previous rounds of editing
Type of editing required
Audience and publishing path
Time frame
Other published works (online or in print)
Sourcing editorial assistance

Mentioned in the show

The links above take you to The Editing Podcast website but you can catch up with any of the episodes on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher, Podchaser, or your preferred app.

Music credit
‘Vivacity’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com). Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License.

0 Comments

The Editing Podcast: Point of view – fact checking. With copyeditor Laura Poole

24/9/2019

3 Comments

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise talk to Laura Poole about the importance of fact checking.

Other ways to listen
STITCHER | APPLE PODCASTS | SPOTIFY | CAPTIVATE
Or check out the show via your favourite podcast platform.

Summary
Find out more about:

What a copyediting service includes
When fact checking takes place in the editorial process
Fiction: place names, historical accuracy, idiom, dates, etymology
Non-fiction: people names, obscure terms, place names, dates, protecting author reputation
Differences between spot checking and fact checking
Fact checking for consistency across series
Print versus digital: preventing reputational damage in the long term
Tools for fact checking
Who’s responsible for fact checking?
Effective and sensitive querying of facts in non-fiction
Artistic licence with facts in fiction

The Editing Podcast: Point of view – editing erotica. With editor Maya Berger

23/9/2019

In this bonus episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise talk to editor Maya Berger about editing erotica.

Listen here ...

Other ways to listen
STITCHER | APPLE PODCASTS | SPOTIFY | CAPTIVATE
Or check out the show via your favourite podcast platform.

Summary
Find out more about:

Why authors shouldn’t fear approaching an editor
Why erotica deserves the same editorial rigour as any other genre
The rise of romance and erotica in mainstream publishing
How to find an editor who specializes in erotic fiction
Subgenres and the benefits of specialist editing: LGBTQ, kink and taboo (BDSM and powerplay dymanics)
Sensitivity reading: representing voice and identity

Tenses in fiction writing: Present, past, past perfect and habitual past

16/9/2019

8 Comments

You have a choice when it comes to tense in your fiction’s narrative. Here’s an overview of the tenses you’ll most likely be working with, and some guidance on the benefits and challenges of each.

The present tense
Here’s an overview of the present tense, with basic examples:

Simple present: I write a novel; he writes a novel
Present progressive (also called present continuous): I am writing a novel; he is writing a novel
Present perfect: I have written a novel; he has written a novel
Present perfect progressive: I have been writing a novel; he has been writing a novel

The present is immediate, and that right-nowness forces the reader to stick close to the viewpoint character. We’re in the moment with them. That’s why it appeals to some fiction authors, and why others find it restrictive.

With second-person viewpoints, the present tense is intensely voyeuristic, invasive even. Here’s an excerpt from Iain Banks’s Complicity (p. 60). This is a transgressor narrative with a difference – the narrator is anonymous, at least until later in the novel:

You stand up, reach forward and take the neatly folded handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his jacket, flick it open and wipe the blade of the Marttiini on it until the knife is clean. The knife comes from Finland; that’s why the name has such a strange spelling. It hasn’t occurred to you before, but its nationality seems appropriate now and even funny in a grim sort of way; it’s Finnish and you’ve used it to finish Mr Persimmon.

And in this example from a later chapter (p. 90), we’re back with the protagonist. Here, the main narrative tense is present. The viewpoint is first-person:

The next day I scrounge a Lambert & Butler off Rose in the Foreign News section, smoke it at my desk and get a real hit off it, then feel disgusted with myself and vow that’s the last one I’m going to smoke.

RECOMMENDATION
The present tense is great if you want to shorten the distance between the reader and the viewpoint character.

Present tense works particularly well for short fiction because space is limited. I use it often in my own shorts and flashes because it enables me to pack an immersive punch quickly.

However, it’s tricky to manage if there are multiple viewpoint-character chapters or sections, all operating in the present tense. You’ll need to keep a close eye on the timelines so that the reader’s clear on what ‘now’ really means. If your plot twist hinges on deliberately duping them via your use of tense rather than story craft, you’ll break their trust.

The present tense can also be tiring for readers because it’s emotionally immersive. If you’re writing a novel, you might consider using it only for certain viewpoint characters – your transgressor or victim, for example.

In Let Me Lie, Clare Mackintosh mixes it up: the Anna-viewpoint chapters are set in first-person present; the Murray-viewpoint chapters are third-person past.

The past tense
Now let’s turn to the past tense, starting with some basic examples:

Simple past: I wrote a novel; he wrote a novel
Past progressive: I was writing a novel; he was writing a novel
Past perfect: I had written a novel; he had written a novel
Past perfect progressive: I had been writing a novel; he had been writing a novel
Habitual past: I would write a chapter every week; he would write a chapter every week; I used to write a chapter every week; he used to write a chapter every week

The past tense is the choice of most contemporary commercial fiction writers. What’s interesting is that readers are so used to this style that they can still immerse themselves in a past-tense narrative as though the story is unfolding now.

Here’s an excerpt from T. M. Logan’s 29 Seconds (p. 73). We’re given a past-tense narrative with a third-person limited viewpoint (Sarah’s):

At the last moment, just as Sarah thought he was going to tear open her door and attack her, he turned and bent down to his injured friend.

WHEN PAST TENSE FLOPS – UNDERSTANDING PAST PERFECT
Less experienced writers can end up in a pickle when referencing events that happened earlier than their novel’s now.

The crucial thing to remember is that when we set a novel in the past tense, anything that happens in the story’s past will likely need the past perfect, at least when the action is introduced.

What you want the reader to experience	What tense you should write in
Now – the present of your novel	Simple past or past progressive (she stood; she was standing)
Something that happened before now (i.e. in the novel’s past)	Past perfect (she had stood; she had been standing)

Here’s an excerpt from The Wife Between Us (p. 57) by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen. This chapter’s primary narrative tense is past (see underlined verb):

She stood there for a moment, taking in the white Christmas lights Samantha had wound through the slats of her bed’s headboard, and the fuzzy green-and-blue rug the two of them had found rolled up by the curb of a posh apartment building on Fifth Avenue. “Is someone actually throwing this out?” Samantha had asked.

When we’re told that ‘She stood’, that’s the novel’s now. But when the narrator recalls events that happened further back in time (bold) – Samantha’s decorating her bed, and the two women’s procuring a rug – these need to be anchored in the past-perfect tense: had, had been.

When authors fail to anchor past events in a novel whose now is already set in the past tense, the reader will be confused.

RENDERING BYGONE ROUTINE – UNDERSTANDING HABITUAL PAST
Now and then, you might want to reference events from your novel’s past that happened routinely or habitually. This is where the habitual past tense comes into play, and the tools are would and used to.

This excerpt from The Templar's Garden by Catherine Clover illustrates the usage. The narrative is set in third-person past but the viewpoint character is recalling regular journeys taken earlier in her life:

Sometimes Père Charles would accompany me and we would explore the countryside around Brill or the wooded depths of Bernwood Forest. But lately the bookkeeping necessary for managing the Boarstall estate kept him occupied, and I was often unaccompanied on my frequent rides.

And in Time To Win (p. 62), Harry Brett uses the simple past and past progressive for the most part, but then Frank, the viewpoint character, recalls something he’d done habitually in former times:

Tatty was talking to Simon. Frank couldn’t hear what they were saying. He looked down the road, towards the harbour and the dead end, the industrial buildings laid low by the unexpected weight of late summer sun, and somewhere over to his left the top of Nelson’s Monument, clear of cloud for once. He used to enjoy driving down South Denes Road and curving back round onto South Beach Parade, accelerating past the old Pleasure Beach and into a different era.

Like the past perfect, the habitual past acts as an anchor, so that readers don’t mix up the reminiscence of a routine event with the novel’s now.

To see that confusion in action, replace ‘used to enjoy’ with the simple past: ‘enjoyed’. It reads as if Frank is enjoying driving down South Denes Road right now.

If you don’t want to use the habitual past, then an alternative anchor is necessary. Here I’ve added an anchoring clause and changed the tense to past perfect (he’d, or he had):

Back in the day, he’d enjoyed driving down [...]

RECOMMENDATION
The past tense is flexible; it’s easier to shift narrative distance (the distance between the reader and the narrator) than is the case with the present tense, though this does increase the risk of flatter writing. Dramatic scenes – fights, escapes, arguments – could end up laboured if the writing isn’t lean and rich.

Still, it’s traditional and readers are used to it. No one will get tired of reading in the past as long as the line craft is strong.

Do take care, however, with rendering events that have taken place in your novel’s past. Use the past perfect or the habitual past when necessary to ensure your readers know what happened when.

Summing up
Write in the tense you feel most comfortable with, and that you think readers of your genre will be most comfortable reading. The past and the present both have their challenges and their advantages. The most important thing is that readers know where and when they are in the story.

Cited sources

29 Seconds, T. M. Logan, Zaffre, 2018
Complicity, Iain Banks, Abacus, 1994
The Templar’s Garden, Catherine Clover, The Holywell Press, 2017
The Wife Between Us, Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen, Pan, 2018
Time to Win, Harry Brett, Corsair, 2017

8 Comments

The Editing Podcast, S2E8: Publishing with an independent press: In conversation with Salt

19/8/2019

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise talk to Jen Hamilton-Emery, co-director of Salt, one of the UK's premier independent literary publishers.

Click to listen to Season 2, Episode 8

Can we ask a favour of you? Would you rate and review us on iTunes, please? It would mean a lot to us. Thank you!

Other ways to listen

Summary
Listen to find out more about:

The Salt story: awards, authors and publishing goals
Author retention
Indie publishing and the digital revolution
The submission process
The author–publisher relationship
The publishing process
Rights, sales and royalties
Print runs
Resources for authors

Find out more

Visit the Salt website

Editing bites

Typographic Style Handbook: A Guide to Typography by Michael Mitchell and Susan Wightman
Understanding Show, Don’t Tell by Janice Hardy

Other resources

Ask us a question
The easiest way to ping us a question is via Facebook Messenger: Visit the podcast's Facebook page and click on the SEND MESSAGE button.

Denise and Louise

Music credit
‘Vivacity’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com). Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License.

0 Comments

The Editing Podcast, S2E7: So you want to change your editor ...

12/8/2019

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise offer guidance on how to change your editor, and manage the process in a way that ensures everyone comes out smiling!

Click to listen to Season 2, Episode 7

Can we ask a favour of you? Would you rate and review us on iTunes, please? It would mean a lot to us. Thank you!

Other ways to listen

Download transcript
Prefer to read rather than listen? No problem. You can download the transcript from the show by clicking on the button below.

Summary
Listen to find out more about:

Why authors change editors
Planning ahead and giving notice
Whether the editor should get involved in sourcing a replacement
Checking T&Cs and cancellation policies
Information and tools to share with the new editor

Editing bites

The NCW Podcast (National Centre for Writing)
Oxford Dictionary of English Idiom
Cambridge Dictionary of American Idioms

Other resources

The Editing Podcast, S1E1: The different levels of editing
The Editing Podcast, S1E10: How to find an editor
The Editing Podcast, S1E7: Style sheets for writing and editing
Blog article: How do I find a proofreader, copyeditor or developmental editor?
Blog article: What's a style sheet and how do I create one? (includes a free downloadable style-sheet template)
The different levels of editing (free booklet: click on image below to download)

Ask us a question
The easiest way to ping us a question is via Facebook Messenger: Visit the podcast's Facebook page and click on the SEND MESSAGE button.

Denise and Louise

Music credit
‘Vivacity’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com). Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License.

0 Comments

The Editing Podcast, S2E3: How to edit for consistency and style with PerfectIt (with guest Daniel Heuman)

15/7/2019

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise talk with Daniel Heuman, founder of Intelligent Editing and developer of PerfectIt – consistency-checking and style-enforcing software for editors and writers.

Click to listen to Season 2, Episode 3

Can we ask a favour of you? Would you rate and review us on iTunes, please? It would mean a lot to us. Thank you!

Summary
Listen to find out more about:

What PerfectIt does
Who uses PerfectIt
What’s new with PerfectIt 4
Using the onboard styles
The PerfectIt 4 interface
How to access PerfectIt on PC and Mac
How much a subscription costs and what’s included
Where to download PerfectIt

Find out more about PerfectIt

Ask us a question
The easiest way to ping us a question is via Facebook Messenger: Visit the podcast's Facebook page and click on the SEND MESSAGE button

Denise and Louise

Denise Cowle Editorial Services (non-fiction)
Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor (fiction)

Music credit
‘Vivacity’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com). Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

0 Comments

The Editing Podcast, S2E2: 4 kinds of writer, and how editing helps

6/7/2019

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise discuss four different kinds of writers and how identifying what kind you are can help you work out the kind of editing that’s the best fit for you.

Click to listen to Season 2, Episode 2

Can we ask a favour of you? Would you rate and review us on iTunes, please? It would mean a lot to us. Thank you!

Download transcript
Prefer to read rather than listen? No problem. You can download the transcript from the show by clicking on the button below.

Summary
Listen to find out more about:

The confident writer
The nervous writer
The reluctant writer
The impatient writer

Editing bites

Ask us a question
The easiest way to ping us a question is via Facebook Messenger: Visit the podcast's Facebook page and click on the SEND MESSAGE button

Denise and Louise

Denise Cowle Editorial Services (non-fiction)
Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor (fiction)

Music credit
‘Vivacity’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com). Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

0 Comments

The Editing Podcast, S2E1: How to prepare your book file for editing

1/7/2019

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise discuss how to prepare your book file for editing ... whether you're doing it yourself or working with an editor.

Click to listen to Season 2, Episode 1

Can we ask a favour of you? Would you rate and review us on iTunes, please? It would mean a lot to us. Thank you!

Download transcript
Prefer to read rather than listen? No problem. You can download the transcript from the show by clicking on the button below.

Summary
Listen to find out more about:

When to do interior layout
Where to do your editing
Whether to edit in a single document or multiples
Using styles
Font choice
Colour choice
Paragraph design

Spacing
Defining headings
Page numbering
Section breaks
Pictures and images
Tables of contents
Indexing

Editing bites

Editing in Word, 2nd Edition, by Adrienne Montgomerie
How to Market a Book, by Joanna Penn

Other resources

Review of Montgomerie’s Editing in Word, 2nd ed. by Louise Harnby (blog post):
How to use styles (video tutorial)
How to use styles (blog post)
PerfectIt
The Author’s Proofreading Companion (booklet containing raw-text tidy-up tips)
Proofreading checklist (PDF)

Ask us a question
The easiest way to ping us a question is via Facebook Messenger: Visit the podcast's Facebook page and click on the SEND MESSAGE button

Denise and Louise

Denise Cowle Editorial Services (non-fiction)
Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor (fiction)

Music credit
‘Vivacity’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com). Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

0 Comments

How to write good dialogue in your novel

3/6/2019

Is your dialogue pushing your novel forward or making the reader feel like they’re eavesdropping on a mundane conversation at the bus stop? Here’s how to ensure your dialogue pops.

How to write good dialogue in your novel

What good dialogue isn’t
Good dialogue is the icing on the cake of a well-structured novel. Bad dialogue will mar a well-structured narrative and bury a story that is barely hanging in there. Before we look at what makes great dialogue, let’s look at what dialogue isn’t:

WHAT DIALOGUE IS NOT

It’s not everyday conversation – much of that is boring and has no place in a novel.
It’s not a narrative – that tells us what’s happening in a story. Dialogue should show us how characters respond to those events.
It’s not a tool to set up the next character’s lines – that’s a waste of words on the page. Every line should have a purpose, whoever’s speaking it. Every line should tell us something about the character – who they are, how they’re feeling and what they want.
It’s not a backstory-delivery mechanism that the characters are already familiar with – that’s maid-and-butler dialogue and a misfire.
It’s not a monologue – that’s best left for viewpoint characters mulling things over in their own time, unless your intention is to show one person being bored rigid by another. If only one person’s doing all the talking, ask yourself why the other person on the page is still in the room.

3 components of effective dialogue
‘Dialogue should be the character in action,’ says John Yorke in his must-read Into the Woods (p. 151). Yorke’s talking about the art of screenwriting but the advice is just as pertinent for novelists. I recommend you read it even if you have no intention of writing for the screen because it’s a masterclass in storytelling, whatever the medium.

When we stop thinking about dialogue as words spoken – as conversations – and instead frame it in terms of characters, we create something that’s fit for a novel.

What does your dialogue tell readers about who your characters are, how they’re feeling, and what their motivations are?

3 COMPONENTS OF EFFECTIVE DIALOGUE

Character voice: How characters speak tells us about who they are, what makes them tick – their fears, frustrations, hopes and dreams, identity, preferences. Perhaps their speech is abrupt, rude, measured, polite, sweary or seductive. When we change the way a character speaks, we change their voice. And that means we change them.

Character mood: How characters speak tells us how they’re feeling. Dialogue that conveys emotions allows us into their heads, even if they’re not the viewpoint character.

Character intent: How characters speak tells us what they want to do. Perhaps they’re asking questions for the purpose of discovery and understanding whodunit (doctors, lawyers, PIs and police officers regularly use dialogue in novels to this end), but dialogue can express a multitude of motivations. Ask yourself what your character wants every time they open their mouth.

Unreliable dialogue
What a character expresses through dialogue need not match their true voice, mood or intent. Unreliable dialogue is powerful precisely because it jars the reader by masking the truth (which the characters themselves may even have buried).

Imagine this scenario: John has been kidnapped by Jane. They met in a club where she spiked his drink. He started to feel unwell and she offered him a ride to the Tube station. He never made it. He’s been held captive for several days, during which time he’s been physically abused and deprived of food. He’s frightened out of his wits, and weak to boot.

The dialogue between John and Jane could go as follows: John raves and rants, telling Jane her behaviour is monstrous, that Jane’s going to pay for her actions and that he’s going straight to the police as soon as he’s escaped. Jane responds in fury, telling John he deserves it all and how there’s no way he’ll ever escape.

Or the dialogue could be unreliable. John might be polite, sycophantic even, as he thanks her for the water she provided, compliments her on her appearance, or asks her about her life. Through that speech, we are shown his desperation. It’s about keeping her on side and calm in order to save himself.

And Jane’s verbal response might be chipper, seductive even. Through that dialogue, we are shown her psychosis.

The result is a sinister verbal exchange that allows us to explore the inner workings of the characters’ minds without it being forced down our throats via an all-to-obvious narrative that’s centred around the viewpoint character.

Breaking free of viewpoint limitations
Most novelists opt to hold third- or first-person narrative viewpoints. That means the story in a chapter plays out through one person’s perspective.

When authors drop viewpoint, readers end up playing a game of narrative table tennis in which they bounce from one character’s head to another. We know who everyone is (voice), what everyone’s feeling (mood), and what everyone wants (intention) all of the time. Readers become disengaged because they don’t have time to immerse themselves in any one character’s experience.

Good dialogue allows writers and readers to break free without head-hopping. Through dialogue, readers can intuit the voice, mood and intention of multiple characters, yet the singular narrative viewpoint remains true throughout. That keeps the reader engaged and the writing taut.

Purposeful dialogue in action
Here’s an excerpt from Lee Child’s Never Go Back (pp. 457–8). I chose it because I’ve also seen the movie, which allowed me to compare my experience of the screen dialogue (and the advice Yorke gives) with the novel’s, and because there are no action beats, only two speech tags and no narrative. It’s just dialogue between a teenage girl and Jack Reacher.

Note on what reader already knows: Following a lawsuit filed by Candice Dayton, Jack Reacher believes that the teenager in the scene, who’s running for her life, may be his daughter. He also cased out the diner and the staff the evening before, so the servers’ faces are familiar.

‘Am I in trouble?’
Reacher said, ‘No you’re not in trouble. We’re just checking a couple of things. What’s your mom’s name?’
‘Is she in trouble?’
‘No one’s in trouble. Not on your street, anyway. This is about the other guy.’
‘Does he know my mom? Oh my God, is it us you’re watching? You’re waiting for him to come see my mom?’
‘One step at a time,’ Reacher said. ‘What’s your mom’s name? And, yes, I know about the Colt Python.’
‘My mom’s name is Candice Dayton.’
‘In that case I would like to meet her.’
‘Why? Is she a suspect?’
‘No, this would be personal.’
‘How could it be?’
‘I’m the guy they’re looking for. They think I know your mother.’
‘You?’
‘Yes, me.’
‘You don’t know my mother.’
‘They think face to face I might recognize her, or she might recognize me.’
‘She wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t.’
‘It’s hard to say for sure, without actually trying it.’
‘Trust me.’
‘I would like to.’
‘Mister, I can tell you quite categorically you don’t know my mom and she doesn’t know you.’
‘Because you never saw me before? We’re talking a number of years here, maybe back before you were born.’
‘How well are you supposed to have known her?’
‘Well enough that we might recognize each other.’
‘Then you didn’t know her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why do you think I always eat in here?’
‘Because you like it?’
‘Because I get it for free. Because my mom works here. She’s right over there. She’s the blonde. You walked past her two times already and you didn’t bat an eye. And neither did she. You two never knew each other.’

WHAT WE LEARN

Viewpoint: Reacher is the viewpoint character. However, through the dialogue, readers are able to access information about him and the teenager.
Voice: Both characters speak in a no-nonsense fashion. Reacher might think he holds the balance of power, given his job and age, but the girl’s streetwise tone suggests she thinks otherwise; they’re equals.
Mood: Reacher is calm (we’d expect nothing more) and measured, but there is emotional engagement; he seems keen not to give too much away (probably in respect of the fact that he’s talking to a child, perhaps his daughter). As for the girl, she’s almost disinterested. I imagine her stuffing fries into her mouth, as focused on her food as she is on the conversation ... until she thinks her mother might be in trouble. Child doesn’t tell us, but I can see her in my mind’s eye, mouth full, looking at him, just a twitch of alarm registering in her expression. There’s almost a sense of the traditional mother/daughter relationship reversed; this is a kid who’s used to looking after herself. There’s movement in this dialogue; the speech is infused with its own action beats.
Intent: Reacher wants to find out who the mother is. This exchange is all about building trust with the girl in order to achieve that. The girl needs someone she can turn to because bad people are watching her and her mother. She wants to know how Reacher might know Candice; Reacher wants to keep the possible sexual encounter and his resulting paternity to himself. The girl’s not stupid and picks up on his vague inference to a sexual encounter. As the conversation and the chapter close, Reacher and the readers discover that Candice and our protagonist have never met, and that the girl can’t be his daughter.

This is characters in action, expressed through speech. Child makes every line count towards the chapter denouement. If he was tempted to introduce narrative and action beats that ensured we’d get it, it doesn’t show. In fact, they would have been interruptions and slowed the pace. Instead, he trusts us to do the work because the dialogue gives us everything we need.

Here’s an excerpt from The Poison Artist by Jonathan Moore (pp. 244–5). I chose this because of the contrast between Kennon and Emmeline’s speech.

Note on what reader already knows: There’s another man in the room with torture devices attached to him; he’s twitching. Caleb is the viewpoint character, but he’s handcuffed and out of play. Nevertheless, we have access to two more characters’ voices, moods and intentions through the dialogue.

“Don’t move,” Kennon said.
This time, his voice wasn’t much more than a whisper.
[...]
“Inspector, you’ll hit somebody,” Emmeline said.
[...]
“You look sick, Inspector,” Emmeline said. “I could get you something to drink. A glass of water, maybe? Something a little stronger?”
Kennon fired again and Emmeline didn’t even flinch.
The bullet missed her by ten feet, punching a hole in the back of the building.
“Stop—”
“You should be more careful what you touch,” Emmeline said. “Some things can go right through the skin.”

WHAT WE LEARN

Viewpoint: Even though Emmeline isn’t the viewpoint character, we get to access her transgressor headspace through the dialogue, and the result is powerful and sinister.
Voice: Kennon doesn’t say much, but what he does say is what we’d expect from a trained inspector, though it’s offered quietly. Emmeline, however, is pathologically measured. We’re left in no doubt that she’s dangerous.
Mood: We sense Kennon’s fear and desperation through his truncated, whispered speech. There’s almost exhaustion in play. Emmeline, in contrast, is seductive (offering him a drink as if she were hosting a dinner party). Given the torture in evidence, her dialogue is obscene.
Intent: Kennon is trying to save himself, Caleb and the twitching man, but he’s playing by the rule of law, warning Emmeline that he will fire his gun. Emmeline wants to finish her game, and her desire to play is evident in her speech. Of course, this may be unreliable; it could be masking a deep-seated fear that she’ll be harmed or killed.

This, too, is characters in action, expressed through speech. Moore draws us deep into the transgressor’s mind – even though she’s not the viewpoint character. Her dialogue, juxtaposed with Kennon’s exhausted near-silence, generates a powerful scene that oozes with sickly tension.

Here’s a third example from Harlan Coben’s Run Away (pp. 68–9):

Note on what reader already knows: Simon and Ingrid are married. They hold Aaron – a corrupt and possessive addict who’s been murdered – responsible for their daughter’s breakdown.

“The murder,” Simon said. “It was gruesome.”
Ingrid wore a long thin coat. She dug her hands into her pockets. “Go on.”
“Aaron was mutilated.”
“How?”
“Do you really need the details?” he asked.
[...]
“According to Hester’s source, the killer slit Aaron’s throat, though she said that’s a tame way of putting it. The knife went deep into his neck. Almost took off his head. They sliced off three fingers. They also cut off ...”
“Pre- or post-mortem?” Ingrid asked in her physician tone.
“The amputations. Was he still alive for them?”
“I don’t know,” Simon said. “Does it matter?”

WHAT WE LEARN

Viewpoint: Simon is the viewpoint character but through Ingrid’s speech we learn how she uses her professional mindset to manage stressful situations.
Voice: Simon’s voice is emotional and verbose; Ingrid’s is precise and clinical.
Mood: Simon’s disgust and distress are evident. You can almost feel the words falling out of his mouth. Ingrid’s speech exudes clinical detachment. She’s in doctor mode.
Intent: Simon wants to unload. Ingrid wants to understand.

Again, through speech we see the characters in action. The contrasting voices and moods show us Simon and Ingrid’s different intentions. There’s no need for more than a peppering of supporting narrative.

Summing up

Make your characters’ speech count. Use it to show who the character is (voice), how they feel (mood) and what they want (intention).
Play with unreliable dialogue if it will enhance our understanding of characters’ emotions and motivations. Those deliberate juxtapositions will deepen our engagement.
Realistic everyday speech, while authentic, is dull, invasive and will disengage your reader. Remove it!

Free dialogue enrichment tool
To help you think about your characters' voices, moods and intentions, and how these will enrich your dialogue, download this tool. It's a fillable PDF with ready-made examples and space for you to record your own decisions.

CLICK TO DOWNLOAD YOUR FREE PDF

More dialogue resources

Cited sources

Into the Woods by John Yorke (Penguin, 2013)
Never Go Back by Lee Child (Bantam, 2014)
Run Away by Harlan Coben (Century, 2019)
The Poison Artist by Jonathan Moore (Orion, 2014)

Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with independent authors of commercial fiction, particularly crime, thriller and mystery writers.

She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Society for Editors and Proofreaders (SfEP), a member of ACES, a Partner Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and an Associate Member of the Crime Writers’ Association (CWA).

Visit her business website at Louise Harnby | Fiction Editor & Proofreader, say hello on Twitter at @LouiseHarnby, or connect via Facebook and LinkedIn.

2 Comments

Two ways to write about physical violence in crime fiction and thrillers

6/5/2019

4 Comments

Not every reader can stomach violence in fiction, and not every writer wants to go the whole hog with it. Here are two ways to approach it: compressed reporting after the fact; and showing it all as it happens.

2 ways to write about physical violence in fiction

Compressed reporting after the fact
Reporting the outcome of violence after the fact can be a superb alternative to detailed descriptions that might upset or sicken authors and their readers. This technique is used on the screen too.

In Series 5, Episode 3 of Line of Duty (BBC1), the perpetrator breaks into the home of a core character’s ex-wife. The transgressor proceeds to torture the victim. There’s a drill involved and lots of screaming. It’s gross. Well, it would be if we saw it. But we don’t. All we see is the outcome.

The ex-wife lies in a hospital bed, bandaged from head to toe. We glimpse patches of skin, her flesh swollen and angry. Her face is physically untouched though trauma is etched into it. And even the slightest movement results in a whimper and a wince; despite the medication, she’s in pain. All we know so far is that something awful has happened to her but we don’t know what.

The scene cuts to two police officers listening to an audio file of the torture. Now we hear the drill and the screams. The officers play a little of the audio then switch it off and express their horror. A phone conversation with the victim’s husband ensues and we discover a little more about what’s been done to the woman. They finish the call and discuss the crime between themselves. Then the audio’s back and we hear a few more snatches. Off again, and there’s more analysis.

It’s a powerful rendition of extreme violence that protects viewers from the gory detail but leaves us in no doubt about the suffering that’s been endured.
This method can work just as beautifully in a novel. It’s not that the violence is diminished but that we access less of it.

Harlan Coben’s Run Away (Century, 2019, pp. 68–9) provides an excellent example. Aaron, a corrupt and possessive junkie, has been murdered. Coben elects not to show us the violence as it plays out. Instead, we learn what happened via a later conversation between Simon and Ingrid.

Two things stand out about this scene:

The question that Simon asks Ingrid (‘Do you really need the details?’) is the same one Coben’s asking his readers. He decides to give us just enough to shake us up, but not so much that we’re hurling into a bucket. The ellipsis is a well-placed pause that forces us to do some of the work. Overall, it’s lean but rich. The author doesn’t over-egg it for the sake of grossing us out.
The violence is not diluted, yet Ingrid’s clinical detachment – she’s gone into doctor mode – gives us a breather and contrasts with Simon’s higher emotional state. The dialogue acts as a framework within which the horror is divulged; but it also gives us insights into the characters’ personalities. In other words, it’s not all about the murder.

Cosies are a subgenre that bend particularly well to compressed after-the-fact reporting. Yes, people get hurt and die in grisly ways but most of the horror is left to the imagination.

Here’s an example from Emily Brightwell’s The Inspector and Mrs Jeffries (C&R Crime, 2013, pp. 1–3):

Witherspoon leaned forward and examined the dead man. It was not a chore he relished. The fact was, he was rather squeamish about dead people, but as corpses went, this was a rather nice one. At least it wasn’t covered in blood.
[…]
“The doctor was obviously reading when death occurred,” Witherspoon said. “See how his head is resting on that book. Except for the rather peculiar way his arms are flopped out, one each side, you’d think he was merely taking a nap.”
“Well he isn’t napping,” snapped the doctor, glaring at Witherspoon. “He’s dead and the circumstances are very suspicious.”
“Suspicious?” Witherspoon echoed. He didn’t think there was anything suspicious about a dead person in a doctor’s surgery. Mind you there were more dead people in hospitals, but surely, if one couldn’t die in a hospital, a surgery was the next best place.
[…]
“Inspector Witherspoon,” Hightower began slowly, as though talking to a thick-skulled child, “if you’d trouble yourself to lift Dr. Slocum’s head, you’ll see why I considered his death suspicious.”
Witherspoon swallowed hard and rolled the dead man’s head to one side. He tried not to shudder as a pair of open, beady gray eyes gazed up at him. The face surrounding those eyes was puffed up like bread dough, and the flesh was flushed a bright pink. A hideously swollen tongue protruded from between lips that had been stretched in a horrible parody of a smile.
Inspector Witherspoon quickly turned the face away and stepped back.
“As you can see, he’s swelled up like a bullfrog,” Hightower continued. “He may well have actually died of heart failure, but I assure you, it was brought on by something else. […] Dr. Slocum’s been poisoned.”

Brightwell focuses on the impact of the poison on the body; unlike in the Line of Duty screen example, there’s nothing that tells us about the suffering endured. That’s the cosy way.

And as with the Coben example, the implied violence is balanced by dialogue that unveils character personality. It’s not just the readers who shy away from the horror; Inspector Witherspoon does too. We also learn how he’s perceived by others in the scene – as a bumbling buffoon who can’t see the obvious. This sets the scene nicely for Mrs Jeffries’ more capable intervention later on in the novel.

Showing it all as it happens
Some acts of violence – such as fight scenes – work best when we’re shown everything as it plays out. Rendering a fight after the fact (as in the examples above) would destroy the dramatic tension.

Still, a fight scene needs to hold the reader’s attention. That means paying attention to pacing and providing just enough stage direction to enable the reader to understand the choreography.

This extract from The Poison Artist by Jonathan Moore (Orion, 2014, pp. 244–5) appealed to me because it avoids high-octane, kickass tropes. Rather, the author captures the transgressor’s mysterious sensuality in the violent narrative. Her psychotically calm speech and composed movements have an ethereal quality. In sharp contrast, the protagonist’s actions are punctuated with sentence fragments that elevate the pace and introduce tension.

He bent forward, suddenly, and caught himself with one hand on his knee. Like a runner who hits his limit. Winded and beaten. When Kennon looked up, Caleb could see veins and tendons bulging in his neck. Their eyes met.
“Don’t move,” Kennon said.
This time, his voice wasn’t much more than a whisper.
Emmeline stood to her full height and took a step toward Kennon. He fired the gun at her. Caleb didn’t know if he was trying to hit her or not. A candle inside a glass sphere exploded three feet from Emmeline’s ankle. Closer, in fact, to Caleb’s head. Behind her, the man on the mattress went on twitching. The device clamped to his face was made of iron. Thumbscrews ran along both its sides in double rows.
“Inspector, you’ll hit somebody,” Emmeline said.
She kept coming toward him. Her dress was cut long in the back, so that its hem trailed on the floor behind her, a black train. Emmeline stepped carefully between the candles, but her dress swept over them. They tipped, spelling wax, sending up smoke as they went out. Caleb got to his back and struggled until his cuffed hands were behind his thighs. He didn’t take his eyes of Emmeline.
“You look sick, Inspector,” Emmeline said. “I could get you something to drink. A glass of water, maybe? Something a little stronger?”
Kennon fired again and Emmeline didn’t even flinch.
The bullet missed her by ten feet, punching a hole in the back of the building.
“Stop—”
“You should be more careful what you touch,” Emmeline said. “Some things can go right through the skin.”
Kennon fell onto his knees. His face was purple.

Moore, like Coben, doesn’t overwork it. The scene never drags even though the pace changes depending on who we’re watching.

Here’s a high-octane example from Robert Ludlum’s The Matlock Paper (Orion, 1973/2005, pp. 268–9). Ludlum never bores us, just tells us straight. The pace is quick and every word counts.

But the man came closer. He wasn’t sure. And closer. The beam of light was just above Matlock now. Then it moved to his midsection and Matlock could see the large barrel of the ugly black automatic.
It was the second, the instant he’d waited for.
He whipped his right hand up towards the weapon, simultaneously springing his whole body against the legs of the man in the raincoat. He held the automatic’s barrel, forcing it with all his strength toward the ground. The gun fired twice, the impact of the explosions nearly shattering Matlock’s hand, the sounds partially muted by wet earth and the slashing rain.
The man was beneath him now, twisting on his side, thrashing with his legs and free arm against the heavier Matlock. Matlock flung himself on the pinned arm and sank his teeth into the wrist above the hand holding the weapon. He bit into the flesh until he could feel the blood spurting out, mingled with the cold rain.
The man released the automatic, screaming in anguish. Matlock grabbed for the gun, wrested it free, and smashed it repeatedly into the man’s face.

Ludlum keeps the stage direction lean and the pace consistent. But I also love how he introduces the earth and rain into the narrative, but only briefly. The weather doesn’t distract us. The mentions are just enough to ground the violence in a physical environment that can be felt and heard; the men aren’t fighting in white space.

Lean is good but not too lean! Omitting the detail would render the scene inauthentic.

Imagine reading this:

Lamaison saw his chance, and he took it. But Reacher was ready and took him down. Game over.

Really? So how did he manage that? Was is that easy? Jack Reacher’s good but he’s human. Readers still need to know how he won the day, how he was challenged, what obstacles he had to overcome. That way we can rally behind him.

Here’s the real extract from Lee Child’s Bad Luck and Trouble (Bantam, 2007, p. 492). Child gives us the detail, shows us the choreography of the fight, but it’s focused. None of the steps are repeated so we don’t get bored.

Lamaison saw his chance, and he took it. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and scrabbled his heels on the carpet, trying to get his feet under him. But Reacher was ready. Readier than he had ever been. He kicked Lamaison hard in the side and swung an elbow that caught him on the ear. Wrestled him face down on the floor and got a knee between his shoulder blades and jammed the SIG against the top of his spine. Lamaison’s head was up and Reacher knew he was staring out into the void. He feet were drumming on the carpet. He was screaming. Reacher could hear him clearly over the noise. He could feel his chest heaving.
Too late, Reacher thought. You reap what you sow.

Child uses sentence fragments to accelerate the pace, and polysyndeton to introduce a sense of rampancy. And he deepens our interest by shifting the narrative distance – we move from observers in the wings to right inside Reacher’s head.

Summing up
For showing-it-all violence:

Provide stage direction and choreography but avoid repetition.
Play with narrative distance (using thoughts and free indirect speech).
Experiment with commas and conjunctions (asyndetic and polysyndetic constructions) for rhythmic effect and to introduce tension.
Alter sentence length and evaluate the impact on pace.
Don’t forget the environment – will glimpses of it enrich a reader’s experience of the violence?

For reporting-after-the-fact violence:

Focus on outcomes. Even if we haven’t followed the violence as it occurred, what are the after-effects? Think bodily injury, emotional trauma, and damage to the environment (though consider genre).
Use dialogue to explore the violence through other characters’ perceptions of and responses to it. Might you introduce contrasting emotions to unveil character traits?
Keep it short. While a show-it-all fight scene might fall over one or two pages, trust your reader to do more of the work in this case. Give them nudges that enable them to join the dots.

A final word. If your scenes of violence include weapons or specialist fighting techniques, do your research. Some of your readers will know their guns and martial arts. Placing suppressors on pistols that don’t take them or getting your martial arts moves wrong will pull readers out of your story and provide the pedants with excuses to knock stars off your Amazon reviews.

Further reading

Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with independent authors of commercial fiction, particularly crime, thriller and mystery writers.

She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Society for Editors and Proofreaders (SfEP), a member of ACES, a Partner Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and an Associate Member of the Crime Writers’ Association (CWA).

4 Comments

Filter words in fiction: Purposeful inclusion and dramatic restriction

29/4/2019

7 Comments

If you’re looking for ways to inject some drama into your novel’s sentences, omitting filter words could be just the ticket. Do so judiciously though. Including them can add texture to mood and voice.

What are filter words?
Filter words are 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, decided.

I see more extensive filtering in books written by less experienced novelists who’ve not yet learned to trust their characters’ voices, who are uncomfortable about playing with devices such as free indirect style, or who are still learning the craft of injecting drama into narrative.

I’ve taken some examples from published fiction and introduced filtering so you can see the difference, and how by avoiding filter words the writers have brought immediacy to their narratives:

ORIGINAL UNFILTERED	FILTERED BY ME
When the dark mellowed, he shuffled inside and sank onto the seat that a long-dead troglodyte had hewn into the cave wall. The familiar coldness seeped through his trousers and into his flesh. *Roz Watkins, The Devil’s Dice, p. 1*	When he saw that the dark had mellowed, he shuffled inside and sank onto the seat that a long-dead troglodyte had hewn into the cave wall. He felt the familiar coldness seeping through his trousers and into his flesh.
The address is typed on a sticker, the postmark a smudge of ink in the top right-hand corner. *Clare Mackintosh, Let Me Lie, p. 15*	I notice the address and realize it’s typed on a sticker, the postmark a smudge of ink in the top right-hand corner.
Earlier that morning, she’d groaned at the invasive ringtone from her partner’s iPhone. […] How could such a small slab of silicone produce so much noise? *Val McDermid, Insidious Intent, p. 14*	Earlier that morning, she’d groaned at the invasive ringtone from her partner’s iPhone. […] She wondered how such a small slab of silicone could produce so much noise.

When filter words distract
Filter words – particularly when they’re used as a narrative staple – tap the reader on the shoulder and say, ‘You’re not in this book. Someone else is experiencing this.’ They’re a reminder that doing is being done.

Of course, we as readers know this to be true. Still, there’s nothing like immersing yourself in a character’s journey.

Here’s an extreme example I made up:

John realized he needed to tell Marie. He’d wondered about how awful it would be. He’d long felt the weight of guilt bearing down on him, but now he’d decided it was time to let that go. He’d become aware that he’d fallen out of love with her months earlier and thought about what had gone wrong between them as soon as Mark had come into their lives.
He recalled their most recent argument and felt himself shudder. He’d looked on as she’d screamed abuse at him, seen the spittle fly from her mouth. He’d felt sadness at first but that had turned to fear when he’d seen her pick up a knife from the table.

The text is horribly laboured – overly cluttered with doing being done. When confronted with a novel filled with filtering, readers will be tempted to skim, which means they might miss something crucial. A worst-case scenario is that they’ll give up because it’s not an enjoyable experience.

Now let’s tighten it up by removing the filter words:

John was dreading telling Marie. The guilt had been eating him alive, but he was done with that. He’d fallen out of love with her months earlier, Mark’s entrance into their lives the trigger.
He shuddered, recalling their most recent argument. At first, there’d been only sadness as she screamed abuse at him, spittle flying from her mouth, but that had turned to fear when she’d reached for the knife on the table.

We’ve lost none of the detail but now the prose is more emotionally immersive. We can better feel John’s predicament because we’re not repeatedly told that he’s doing the doing. It’s narration that feels less narrated.

When filter words add texture
I’m not suggesting you ban all filter words. When used intentionally they have a layering effect that can enrich a novel.

You might want to pepper your narrative style with some telling filters to mix things up.
Perhaps the narrative distance in much of the surrounding text is close and you want to ease the tension and pull the reader back.
You might use filter words to introduce a different mood, for example, more enquiring or deliberative.
You might even need them so that your prose makes sense – sometimes a character does realize or watch or think something, and we need to know that.
Filter words can deepen character voice, especially in a first-person narrative.

The Mackintosh example above is in first person. I think my filtered version works; it’s just different. Or perhaps it would be stronger with only one of the filters. Either way, one might argue that it imparts a deeper sense of the character’s scouring the envelope for clues.

I still prefer Mackintosh’s approach because I like my crime fiction on the nose, but the experiment demonstrates that filter words aren’t wrong or right, but rather devices you can use to play with the reader’s experience of your story and the characters moving around within it.

Here’s an example from Philip Prowse’s Hellyer’s Trip, p. 194:

Then the interrogation ceased. He knew he should have been scratching lines on the cell walls to mark the passing of time. But what was the point? He wasn’t the Count of effing Monte Cristo.

Prowse uses a filter word here: knew. He then follows through with free indirect style to close the narrative distance and take us right inside the character’s head while still maintaining a third-person viewpoint.

So let’s look at what happens when we remove ‘He knew’.

Then the interrogation ceased. He should have been scratching lines on the cell walls to mark the passing of time. But what was the point? He wasn’t the Count of effing Monte Cristo.

I think the unfiltered version works very well but it does change the feel of the writing. Gone is the sense of deliberation. All four sentences are immediate. To my ear, the rhythm accelerates. And although there’s a feel of telling with the inclusion of ‘He knew’ in the published version, there’s also an increased sense of despondency, as if the character has had time to think this over and arrive at this knowledge.

I mentioned character voice above. Here are two examples from Play Dead by David Rosenfelt:

When the movie is over, I realize I haven’t called Karen to ask if she can put me in touch with Keith Franklin. (p. 111)

Rosenfelt’s writing is tight. He never drops a beat. When he uses a filter word it’s with intention. Those who’ve read the Andy Carpenter series will know that this fictional attorney’s voice drips with a delicious acerbity, and the character thinks, acts and speaks with purpose.

When we’re told he realizes something it’s because the author wants us to have a sense of dawning awareness, not because he couldn’t be bothered to cast the sentence in a way that avoided it.

I’m so pissed at Vince that I don’t talk to him for the twenty-minute ride to our destination. He spends most of the time whistling and listening to the Mets game; I don’t think my silent treatment is bringing him to his knees. (p. 163)

Most of the time, Rosenfelt avoids filter words: ‘I’m so pissed …’ not ‘I feel so pissed …’; ‘He spends most of the time …’ not ‘I listen to him …’. However, he chooses to tag ‘I don’t think’ onto the beginning of the final sentence rather than going with something like ‘My silent treatment isn’t bringing him to his knees.’ And, actually, the protagonist’s thinking is what deepens the voice and the immediacy.

Summing up
To keep your prose tight, look out for filter words that tell of doing being done. Then consider whether a gentle recast without them will improve your prose. How does the revised text make you feel? Is the meaning still clear? Is the mood you’re seeking evident?

If the prose feels more dramatic and immersive, you’ve done your novel and your readers a favour. If you lose something in the revision, like voice, mood or intention, reintroduce your filters at the appropriate points.

Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with independent authors of commercial fiction, particularly crime, thriller and mystery writers.

She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Society for Editors and Proofreaders (SfEP), a member of ACES, a Partner Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and an Associate Member of the Crime Writers’ Association (CWA).

Visit her business website at Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor, say hello on Twitter at @LouiseHarnby, or connect via Facebook and LinkedIn.

7 Comments

Using adverbs in fiction writing – clunk versus clarity

15/4/2019

12 Comments

Adverbs and adverbial phrases sometimes get a bit of a pummelling, and yet they needn’t intrude and shouldn’t be removed indiscriminately. An adverb is no more likely to spoil a sentence than a poorly chosen adjective or noun.

Use them purposefully in your writing when they bring clarity, but remove them when they create clunk.

Are there rules? You won’t find any in this article, just common-sense guidance to help beginner writers make informed decisions.

The fiction writer – and the fiction editor – who takes a formulaic approach to the treatment of adverbs is heading for trouble.

A note on form
Not all adverbs end in –ly (e.g. backwards, inside) and not all words ending in –ly are adverbs (e.g. deadly is an adjective and anomaly is a noun).

That’s one good reason not to eradicate all –ly words from your writing.

To work out whether a word or phrase is behaving adverbially, focus on what it’s modifying not on how it’s spelled.

Verb and adverbs – a quick refresher
A verb is a doing word; it describes a physical or mental action or state of being.

He swam in the sea.
That young boy believes in fairies.
My throat hurts.
She considered the question and responded accordingly.
It appeared from nowhere.
‘It was a joke, you fool.’

An adverb is a word that describes a verb (just as an adjective describes a noun).

To boldly go where no one has gone before.
Mr Bradshaw died suddenly.
He spoke eloquently.
‘James, sit there.’
She blinked rapidly.
Roy leaned backwards into the chair.

An adverbial phrase behaves in the same way but uses two or more words to describe the verb (or verb phrase).

Jonas sat in silence.
He laughed like a hyena.
The guy’s been shot in the back.
Maria stomps her feet in fury.
We strolled under the light of the silvery moon.

Clunk: Telling us what we already know from dialogue
Here are four examples where the adverb (in bold) attached to the speech tag is redundant because the information in the dialogue does the same job:

‘Hand over the fifty thou by Thursday or I’m telling your wife,’ she said threateningly.
‘That’s your final warning, son,’ said Jake in a cautionary tone.
‘I mean, really, it’s a privilege to breathe the same air as you!’ he said gushingly.
‘Take it or leave it – I couldn’t care less,’ said John dismissively.

These aren’t rules but guidelines. Test it. Remove the adverb and read the sentence aloud. Is the intention still clear from the dialogue you’ve written? If so, great – you can lose the adverb. If it’s not, can you recast the dialogue? Consider the following:

‘Take it or leave it,’ said John.
‘Take it or leave it,’ said John dismissively.
‘Take it or leave it – I couldn’t care less,’ said John.
‘Take it or leave it – I couldn’t care less,’ said John dismissively.

In (1), dialogue and supporting speech tag seem a little flat. In (2), the adverb helps us to understand John’s mood. In (3), we lose the adverb but the mood intention is supplied by the additional dialogue. In (4), the adverb repeats the mood intention.

None of above four examples is grammatically incorrect, but (1) is possibly underwritten and (4) is definitely overwritten.

Context is everything though. If you’re writing a high-octane crime-thriller scene in which the pace is fast and furious, (1) might just be perfect, (2) and (3) would slow the reader down, and (4) would still be a non-starter.

Clunk: Telling us what we already know from the speech tag
Here are three examples where the adverb (in bold) is redundant because the verb (in italic) provides the same information:

‘I love you,’ she whispered softly.
‘Stop it at once!’ she yelled loudly.
‘I don’t understand. Are you sure that’s right?’ she asked questioningly.

Beginner writers sometimes trip up with double tells in speech tags because they’re trying not to overuse ‘said’. A replacement verb is introduced but the clarifying adverb (which served to give intention to ‘said’) is left intact even though it’s no longer needed.

‘Said’ is a rather delicious speech tag because it’s almost invisible. (For an examination of tagging, read: ‘Dialogue tags and how to use them in fiction writing’.)

Readers are so used to seeing ‘said’ that they slide over it without a glance. And that means they stay immersed in the conversation on the page, which if you’re writing dialogue is exactly where you want them.

Clunk: Telling us what we already know from the verb
Here are three examples where the adverb or adverbial phrase (in bold) is redundant because the verb (in italic) provides similar information in the narrative:

Magne galloped quickly across the heath.
She inched step by step down the narrow alley.
He gasped breathily as Mark’s lips grazed his neck.

Slips like these can occur because the writer is still learning to trust their reader. They fear there are too few words or that the description isn’t rich enough. And sometimes writers just run away with themselves, so deeply are they immersed in the world they’ve created and what their characters are experiencing.

This is why drafting and redrafting are so important, and why a fresh set of professional eyes can give the writer courage. I hire people to check most of my own writing because I know that even when I’m writing educational non-fiction I’m so desperate to get my point across that I can sometimes end up in a right old tangle!

Self-editing is hard – professional editors know this. Don’t beat yourself up if you’re prone to double tells – you’re only human. Instead, cross-check your adverbs against your verbs to make sure you’re not repeating yourself.

Clunk: Dragging us away from immediacy
Some adverbs like suddenly, immediately and instantly can do the opposite of what's intended. Overuse can make the action less sudden, less instant. I cover this in detail in Why ‘suddenly’ can spoil your crime fiction: Advice for new writers.

In brief, these adverbs can act like taps on the shoulder that prevent the reader from moving through a story at the same pace as the character. The suddenness of the action is told to us first instead of being experienced by us.

Compare these examples. They demonstrate how removing the adverbs can leave the immediacy of events intact.

WITH:
A damp mist had settled but he was snug enough. The parka would keep the edge off until the sun rose.
Suddenly, the phone trilled in his pocket, jolting him.

WITHOUT:
A damp mist had settled but he was snug enough. The parka would keep the edge off until the sun rose.
The phone trilled in his pocket, jolting him.

WITH:
Jimmy immediately slammed on the brake, fighting with the wheel as the car careened around the corner.

WITHOUT:
Jimmy slammed on the brake, fighting with the wheel as the car careened around the corner.

Purposeful adverbs
Adverbs, used well, can show motivation, indicate mood, and enrich our imagining of a scene.

I love books that tell it straight because every word pushes me forward. David Rosenfelt is a writer who never disappoints. His Andy Carpenter series features a tenacious lawyer with a dry wit.

The author’s prose is sharp as a knife. Does he use adverbs? Absolutely, though sparingly and they’re always purpose-filled.

‘Most of that time we’ve been in my house, which I’ve selfishly insisted on because that’s where Laurie is. Kevin had no objections, because it’s comfortable and because Laurie is cooking our meals.’ (Play Dead, p. 119. Grand Central Publishing; Reprint edition, 2009)	MOTIVATION: The adverb tells us about the emotional motivation behind Carpenter’s insistence (Laurie is his lover), which contrasts with Kevin’s motivation: convenience.
‘I accept his offer of a glass of Swedish mineral water and then ask him about his business relationship with Walter Timmerman. He smiles condescendingly and then shakes his head.’ (New Tricks, p. 110. Grand Central Publishing; Reissue edition, 2010)	MOOD: Removing the adverb might lead us down the path of thinking that Jacoby, the smiler, is being congenial. He’s not. The scene is confrontational, though measured.
‘Milo is digging furiously in some brush and dirt. The area has gotten muddy because of the rain, but he doesn’t seem to mind.’ (Dog Tags, p. 291. Grand Central Publishing; Reprint edition, 2011)	SCENE ENRICHMENT: The adverb enables us to imagine how manic the dog is – we can see his legs pumping, muck flying everywhere, perhaps some doggy drool swinging from the corners of his mouth. That single modifier enriches the narrative.

Summing up
Use adverbs when they help your reader understand more than they would have without them. A well-placed adverb or adverbial phrase will help you keep your prose leaner because it will nudge a reader towards imagining the action, the mood of the characters and what their intentions are.

If they’re repetitive clutter that add nothing we couldn’t have guessed, get rid of them. If the narrative or dialogue feels flat, head for a thesaurus and find alternative verbs that will bring your prose to life.

Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with independent authors of commercial fiction, particularly crime, thriller and mystery writers.

She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Society for Editors and Proofreaders (SfEP), a member of ACES, a Partner Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and an Associate Member of the Crime Writers’ Association (CWA).

Visit her business website at Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor, say hello on Twitter at @LouiseHarnby, or connect via Facebook and LinkedIn.

12 Comments

6 tips on writing process to help you grow as an author. With Kristina Adams

8/4/2019

Every writer has a process. What works for you might not work for someone else, and your approach might change over time. Here are 6 tips from indie author Kristina Adams that show how changing your writing process to suit mindset and circumstances can help you grow as a writer.

When I set out to publish my first book, I had no idea what I was doing. I made the whole thing up as I went along, absorbing as much advice as I could in the short space of time I had.

I’d set myself a tight deadline – to write, edit, and publish a book in a year – which, when you have no idea what you’re doing and you’re a one-woman band working a full-time job, is pretty insane.

Fast-forward to now, and I’ve published four books and have a somewhat better idea of what I’m doing. I’m no expert, but I have come to accept that my writing process changes as I mature as a writer, as I grow as a person, and as my circumstances in life change.

So let’s take a look at what's changed, and what you can learn from my ever-changing writing process ...

1. Planning is your friend
I never used to plan my writing. My dissertation tutor tried to convince me of the importance of planning, but I wouldn’t listen to him. (Pro tip: always listen to people more experienced than you, especially when you’re paying them.)

When I started writing a book with multiple points of view and several spin-offs involved, his advice finally sunk in.

Now, I don’t write anything without at least the hint of a plan first. Sometimes that plan is simply what the ending will be. Other times it’s so elaborate that there’s no room for missteps.

It’s important to plan properly, though.

A few years ago, I took part in NaNoWriMo. I was so excited that I’d planned my novel weeks in advance. When I went to write it in the October, I discovered – to my horror – that I hadn’t planned it very well at all. The Big Reveal scene was described as ‘Poppy finds out who the murderer is’. That was it. I’d spent all that time planning but hadn’t actually worked out the most important detail in a crime novel. Insert face palm here.

The draft ended up being all over the place. I forced myself to hit the NaNoWriMo word count, but hated the piece so much that I almost quit writing fiction all together. (Another lesson learnt: don’t force yourself to finish a piece that you really, really don’t like any more. Not unless there’s someone else’s money on the line.)

You don’t need to know every step along the way when you plan. I like to see it as akin to planning a journey: you know the destination and what stops you’ll make along the way, but you don’t know the other cars, the scenery, or the people you’ll come across.

Planning is your friend, folks. It doesn’t dampen the creativity; it just stops you from digging yourself into a massive hole.

2. Listen to your body
This may seem like an odd thing to say in a post about writing, but as someone with six chronic health issues, I really do need to listen to my body.

Too much stress exacerbates my fibromyalgia, which then means I’m too tired and in too much pain to function. It’s therefore imperative that when I start to feel weak, the pain gets too much, or the room starts spinning, I go to bed and close my eyes.

Sometimes that rest is a couple of hours; other times it’s days. Either way, if I didn’t rest, I’d end up in a much worse state and wouldn’t be able to write or publish at all.

So many people come to me and say, ‘I feel tired all the time’. If you fall into this category, I have three pieces of advice:

Listen to your body. It’s telling you to sleep, so sleep. Lack of sleep does nothing but make you more ill.
Talk to your doctor because chronic tiredness can be a sign of anything from a vitamin D deficiency to chronic fatigue syndrome.
This is the perfect time to write! When you’re half asleep you’re too tired to self-edit, which means you’re less critical of your ideas. You should never, ever write and edit as you go along because these are two very different skills that require very different mindsets. The one upside to being tired all the time is that your brain just doesn’t have the attention span to write and edit. It’s easier for you to tap into your subconscious, making it easier to write and harder to be critical.

3. Abandon your book (just for a while)
It’s amazing how many things you can spot when you’ve taken a break from working on something. The longer you leave something in the drawer for, the more you’ll spot and the easier it is to work through any issues that you may or may not know about.

I didn’t have much time to do this when working on What Happens in New York, but with more recent books I’ve written a first draft, then gone on to write another first draft of something else before going back to it. This means I’m working on first drafts while in a writing mindset; then I can switch to an editor’s mindset.

Switching rapidly between writing and editing can be difficult, which is why I like to do them in bulk for longer projects. It strengthens my skills in both as I’m in that mindset for longer. It also means I’m less likely to overthink things during the crucial (but ugly) first-draft stage.

4. Ask for help
My local writing community has been pivotal to my growth as a writer. Whenever I get stuck on a particular issue, there’s always someone who can help. I have one friend in particular who’s brilliant at fixing plot holes, and so when I was unsure of something in my most recent book, she was the first person I went to. She helped me to figure everything out, and suddenly the book wasn’t so intimidating any more.

I can’t emphasize enough the importance of a support network. Even if your support network doesn’t consist of other writers or editors (although it helps), having people in your corner that you go to for help when you need it makes a huge difference to your growth and your confidence as a writer.

If you don’t have access to a physical writing community, there are plenty available online. Facebook, Twitter, and even Second Life have writing communities, and there are a plethora of websites that are dedicated to writing, too.

5. Be realistic with deadlines
When I set myself a 12-month deadline to publish What Happens in New York, I had no idea how much work was involved in self-publishing (unless one has a budget that far exceeds my monthly salary). Had I known, I would’ve set myself a different deadline.

I ended up rushing a lot of processes early on and making rookie mistakes that make me cringe when I look back on them.

Nowadays, I don’t put anything up for pre-order until the book is in a state that I’m happy with and only requires one last read-through to check for any niggling issues that might have been missed.

Having a public deadline definitely helped to motivate me. Had I not had it, I may well have kept procrastinating, coming up with an abundance of excuses why I shouldn’t hit the ‘Submit for pre-order’ button.

These days I don’t make my deadlines quite so public – I tell a few close friends that I know will hold me accountable instead. These are both fans of my writing and fans of me, which encourages me to keep going while also offering moral support when things go wrong.

6. Accept that you know nothing
The less you know, the more room you have to grow.

The more room you have to grow, the more you can succeed.

Everyone knows something that you don’t know, which is why it’s important to take advice from as many sources as you can. If someone has said something mean, acknowledge it, then ignore it. But if someone offers constructive criticism, take some time to think about their comments. It may be hurtful, but often the greatest pain comes from the greatest truths.

No one likes their writing to be criticized, but it’s the only way you’ll improve as a writer.

If those comments come from your target audience, it’s especially important to listen since they’re the ones that will download your book. If they don’t like something, they’re the ones you really need to pay attention to before you do something that could dampen your sales.

As time goes on, you’ll learn the difference between constructive feedback and someone who's just got an axe to grind and you just happened to be their unfortunate target.

In the end ...
Everyone’s writing process is different. That’s part of what I find most fascinating about writing. I love hearing how different people write in different ways. I have some friends who plan their books in so much depth that they only need one or two edits. I have others who love editing but can’t stand first-draft stage.

What really matters is that you find a writing process that works for you. Your writing process will change as you grow, and as your circumstances in life change. That’s natural. When you accept that, it becomes a lot easier to get your writing done.

It also means you’re kinder to yourself, which means that you’re more relaxed. When you’re more relaxed, you can write better because you’re not putting too much pressure on yourself. Then, when you write better, you achieve more. And in the end, isn’t that what we all want?

Kristina Adams is an author, blogger, and reformed caffeine addict. She’s written four novels poking fun at celebrity culture, one nonfiction book on productivity for writers, and too many blog posts to count. She shares advice for writers over on her blog, The Writer’s Cookbook.

2 Comments

The Editing Podcast, Season 1, Episode 12: How long does editing take?

8/4/2019

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise discuss how long it takes to complete an edit – whether you’re doing it yourself or working with a professional – and how to plan ahead.

And check out the cheeky bloopers that Denise included of me messing up my words! I’ll get my revenge!

Click to listen to Episode 12

Can we ask a favour of you? Would you rate and review us on iTunes, please? It would mean a lot to us. Thank you!

Download transcript
Prefer to read rather than listen? No problem. You can download the transcript from the show by clicking on the button below.

Summary of Episode 12
Listen to find out more about editing time in relation to:Word count

Complexity of the project
Level of editing being carried, including referencing, style-guide adherence and fact-checking
Publishing imperfect written content
Working with agents
Collectives and agencies: fast turnaround, high quality
The length of the editing day
Scheduling editing in advance, and allowing time to deal with queries

Editing bites

Self Publishing Journeys (podcast hosted by Paul Teague)
ELT Teacher 2 Writer

Plus:

Writing for business. When is good enough, enough?

Ask us a question
The easiest way to ping us a question is via Facebook Messenger: Visit the podcast's Facebook page and click on the SEND MESSAGE button.

Other ways to get in touch

The Editing Podcast on Facebook
The Editing Podcast on Libsyn
The Editing Podcast on YouTube

Denise and Louise

Denise Cowle Editorial Services (non-fiction)
Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor (fiction)

Music credit
‘Vivacity’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com). Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with independent authors of commercial fiction, particularly crime, thriller and mystery writers.

She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Society for Editors and Proofreaders (SfEP), a member of ACES, a Partner Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and an Associate Member of the Crime Writers’ Association (CWA).

Visit her business website at Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor, say hello on Twitter at @LouiseHarnby, or connect via Facebook and LinkedIn.

0 Comments

The Editing Podcast, Season 1, Episode 11: Does location matter when working with an editor?

1/4/2019

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise discuss location and whether where your editor lives actually matters.

Click to listen to Episode 11

Can we ask a favour of you? Would you rate and review us on iTunes, please? It would mean a lot to us. Thank you!

Download transcript
Prefer to read rather than listen? No problem. You can download the transcript from the show by clicking on the button below.

Summary of Episode 11
Listen to find out more about:

Local, regional and national knowledge
Face-to-face meetings
University policies
Spelling, idiomatic and dialectical variance
Pronunciation problems
Communicating with global audiences
Refining searches for editors
Financial transactions
The type of editing being carried out
Times-zone advantages

Editing bites

Ask us a question
The easiest way to ping us a question is via Facebook Messenger: Visit the podcast's Facebook page and click on the SEND MESSAGE button.

Denise and Louise

Denise Cowle Editorial Services (non-fiction)
Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor (fiction)

Music credit
‘Vivacity’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com). Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with independent authors of commercial fiction, particularly crime, thriller and mystery writers.

She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Society for Editors and Proofreaders (SfEP), a member of ACES, a Partner Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and an Associate Member of the Crime Writers’ Association (CWA).

Visit her business website at Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor, say hello on Twitter at @LouiseHarnby, or connect via Facebook and LinkedIn.

2 Comments

The Editing Podcast, Season 1, Episode 10: How to find an editor

25/3/2019

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise discuss how to find an editor if you decide you want professional help.

Click to listen to Episode 10

Can we ask a favour of you? Would you rate and review us on iTunes, please? It would mean a lot to us. Thank you!

Download transcript
Prefer to read rather than listen? No problem. You can download the transcript from the show by clicking on the button below.

Summary of Episode 10
Listen to find out more about:

National editorial societies
Google and other search engines
Writing networks
Social media
Refining your search by subject/genre specialism: editor portfolios
Refining with sample edits
Refining with testimonials

Editing bites

Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook
Alliance for Independent Authors (ALLi)

Other resources

Episode transcripts
You can access transcripts of all the episodes via Denise and Louise's websites:

Ask us a question
The easiest way to ping us a question is via Facebook Messenger: Visit the podcast's Facebook page and click on the SEND MESSAGE button.

Other ways to get in touch

The Editing Podcast on Facebook
The Editing Podcast on Libsyn
The Editing Podcast on YouTube

Denise and Louise

Denise Cowle Editorial Services (non-fiction)
Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor (fiction)

Music credit
‘Vivacity’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com). Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with independent authors of commercial fiction, particularly crime, thriller and mystery writers.

She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Society for Editors and Proofreaders (SfEP), a member of ACES, a Partner Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and an Associate Member of the Crime Writers’ Association (CWA).

Visit her business website at Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor, say hello on Twitter at @LouiseHarnby, or connect via Facebook and LinkedIn.

0 Comments

The Editing Podcast, Season 1, Episode 9: How to save money on editing

18/3/2019

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise discuss the order of play for the different levels of editing, and some ideas about how you can keep costs down.

Click to listen to Episode 9

Can we ask a favour of you? Would you rate and review us on iTunes, please? It would mean a lot to us. Thank you!

Download transcript
Prefer to read rather than listen? No problem. You can download the transcript from the show by clicking on the button below.

Summary of Episode 9
Listen to find out more about:

The different levels of editing
The order of play – when to do what
Who else can help – beyond the pro editor
Planning ahead
Getting comparative quotations for the job
Honing story craft
Manuscript critiques or evaluations
Learning through example – commissioning mini edits
Word’s onboard tools, macros and add-ins
Style sheets

Editing bites

PerfectIt (consistency-checking software)
Proofreading checklist (free PDF booklet)
Ask A Book Editor (Facebook group)

Other resources

A nifty little proofreading and editing macro: ProperNounAlyse (blog post)
Creating your own style sheet (scroll to bottom of blog post)
Free downloadable style-sheet template (scroll to bottom of blog post)
How do I find spelling inconsistencies when proofreading and editing? TextSTAT (blog post)
How Not to Write a Novel (Howard Mittelmark and Sandra Newman)
Self-editing your fiction in Word: How to use styles (video tutorial)
Should a writer hire a freelance editor before submitting to an agent? And should editors accept the work? (blog post)
The different levels of editing: Proofreading and beyond (blog post)
The Magic of Fiction (Beth Hill)
Using proofreading macros: Highlighting confusables with CompareWordList (blog post)
Write to be Published (Nicola Morgan)

Ask us a question
The easiest way to ping us a question is via Facebook Messenger: Visit the podcast's Facebook page and click on the SEND MESSAGE button.

Denise and Louise

Denise Cowle Editorial Services (non-fiction)
Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor (fiction)

Music credit
‘Vivacity’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com). Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with independent authors of commercial fiction, particularly crime, thriller and mystery writers.

She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Society for Editors and Proofreaders (SfEP), a member of ACES, a Partner Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and an Associate Member of the Crime Writers’ Association (CWA).

Visit her business website at Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor, say hello on Twitter at @LouiseHarnby, or connect via Facebook and LinkedIn.

0 Comments

How to go mobile with audio: Book-editor podcasting on the go

14/3/2019

4 Comments

You don't need a lot of equipment to create superb audio content. A fellow book editor and I recently recorded 5 episodes for our podcast with nothing but a couple of mics, a splitter and our cell phones. Here's how to do it.

Mobile podcasting at ATOMICON
Denise Cowle and I were at ATOMICON, a one-day digital marketing conference hosted by my two favourite marketers, Andrew and Pete.

The venue was the Assembly Rooms in Newcastle. 300 business owners, all with an interest in being visible online, gathered from near and far to learn, and have a good laugh doing it – Andrew and Pete don’t do anything without putting a smile on people’s faces!

Creating content ... while learning about creating content
In January, Denise and I launched The Editing Podcast. We're both experienced book editors and we use our knowledge and experience to make indie authors' publishing journeys easier by offering writing and editing tips, tools and guidance.

Our target audience is anyone who writes. That means we’re creating audio material related to fiction and creative non-fiction, business, education and academia.

We tackle editing issues from the viewpoint of print and digital publishing because we recognize that our listeners work in a variety of formats and use a range of platforms to distribute their writing.

Now, we'd already planned to invite guests onto The Editing Podcast in Season 2 and beyond, but ATOMICON was too good an opportunity to miss.

Since some of the 300 delegates had published books – fiction and non-fiction – we thought it would be great to hear their experiences of the editing and publishing process so that other indie authors might understand the various approaches taken and the challenges faced.

DENISE COWLE, TIM LEWIS AND LOUISE HARNBY

EDITORS DENISE COWLE AND LOUISE HARNBY WITH AUTHOR TIM LEWIS

The question we asked ourselves was could we do it on the fly? The coffee breaks were short, the venue busy, and the atmosphere buzzing. That meant there’d be a lot of background noise to contend with.

What equipment did we use?
We turned up in Newcastle with our very own micro podcasting studio! It consisted of the following:

2 x RØDE Smartlav+ mics; one for us and one for each of our interviewees (available on Amazon for £39.99)
1 x RØDE SC6; allows the connection of two mics to one iPhone (available on Amazon for £11.15)
1 x smart phone
1 x RØDE Reporter app (free via Apple’s App Store, though we could have used our onboard voice recorders)

Total cost: £51.14

RØDE Smartlav+ mic

RØDE SC6

iPhone 7

Reporter app

That’s a small investment for an audio studio that fits in your pocket! And we can use the equipment over and over.

So did it work?
Yes, it did! RØDE didn’t disappoint. We plugged in the mics, hit the RECORD button on the Reporter app, and away we went.

Our voices come across clearly, and while the background noise of the convention is audible, it doesn't interfere with the conversation. In fact, we think it adds texture to the recordings because listeners can appreciate the atmosphere of a live event.

Who did we talk to?
The following lovely people were kind enough to let us interview them about their book revision and publication journeys:

Tim Lewis, host of the Begin Self-Publishing Podcast and author of Social Media Networking
Simon Raybould of Presentation Genius and author of Presentation Genius
Antoinette Oglethorpe, a leadership coach and author of Grow Your Geeks
Kenda Macdonald of Automation Ninjas, and author of Hack the Buyer Brain
Kia Thomas, a fiction editor and author of Wings

You can listen to the bonus POINT OF VIEW episodes on The Editing Podcast via your preferred podcatcher.

Editing and publishing the recordings
The recordings are .WAV files that sit in the Reporter app’s library. Download them to your computer or email them to yourself.

We edit our audio files in Audacity – this is free, open-source, cross-platform audio-editing software. The dashboard does have something of a NASA feel to it, but it’s easy to learn how to do the basics with any number of free tutorials available on YouTube.

Here’s one example from by David Taylor: Audacity: Complete Tutorial Guide to Audacity for Beginners.

Audacity dashboard

To upload to most audio platforms, you’ll need to convert the WAVs to MP3s. You can do this in Audacity at export stage.

Publishing audio content
Denise and I chose Libsyn to syndicate our podcast content because it’s cheap as chips ($5 per month for the basic package) but still enables – post set-up – automatic delivery to the following:

You don’t have to go down that route, of course. If you’re creating audio content more sporadically for the purpose of author book promotion or to communicate your editing knowledge/services, you could go direct to, say, SoundCloud or another free audio-streaming service, and embed the audio on your website rather than going for full syndication. And it won’t cost you a penny.

Why should you use audio?
Audio is a powerful engagement tool because it allows your listeners to hear your actual voice ... your accent, your pitch, your inflection and, perhaps most important, your emotion.

That enables authors to connect with readers, and editors to connect with authors.

When a conversation takes place, listeners can hear that connection, and enjoy it. Lots of The Editing Podcast's listeners have told me and Denise that they love not just the learning points we share but also the way our friendship plays out on air. It's a richer experience than words alone can provide.

Learn how to do marketing better
We had a great time at ATOMICON, and our mobile podcasting experiment was a huge success, with over 300 downloads of the author interviews in the first 2 hours of appearing on air.

If you’re struggling to be visible online, Andrew and Pete will show you the way. Denise and I are heading back to ATOMICON in 2020. I'm certain we'll be doing more mobile podcasting, too!

Click on the image below if you fancy joining us.

Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with independent authors of commercial fiction, particularly crime, thriller and mystery writers.

She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Society for Editors and Proofreaders (SfEP), a member of ACES, a Partner Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and an Associate Member of the Crime Writers’ Association (CWA).

Visit her business website at Louise Harnby | Proofreader & Copyeditor, say hello on Twitter at @LouiseHarnby, or connect via Facebook and LinkedIn.

4 Comments

The Editing Podcast, Season 1, Episode 8: Page proofs and the proofreading process

11/3/2019

In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise talk about about page proofs and the proofreading process.

Click to listen to Episode 8

Can we ask a favour of you? Would you rate and review us on iTunes, please? It would mean a lot to us. Thank you!

Download transcript
Prefer to read rather than listen? No problem. You can download the transcript from the show by clicking on the button below.