Monthly Archives: March 2016

March 30, 2016 · 6:45 am

#amwriting: too many words

My Writing LifeI have been accused of using too many words to say what I mean—and my critics were right. For the last four years, I have been on a quest to learn how to convey a story and keep my reader involved. I’ve had some successes and also failures. The successes keep me going, and every failure inspires me to figure out what went wrong.

Most of the time it was my love of playing with words that derailed my story. Today’s example is a passage from an early work of mine. I will be rewriting this book over the course of the next few years, once the three books I am currently working on are published.

When I rewrite this book, I will eliminate the verbosity. I won’t change the basic story, only pare down the wordiness. This book was written for my first NaNoWriMo and was completely unplanned. I had no idea of what I was going to write until 12:01 a.m. on Nov. 1st, when I began writing it. In the back of my mind lurked Fritz Lieber’s great character, Fafhrd, although he’s not represented in this tale. Yet, Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser influenced this tale.

It still shocks me that over the course of 21 days, a 92,000 word story about a group of mercenaries in a medieval Alternate Earth emerged from my subconscious mind.

The original manuscript is a great example of everything that is both wrong and right about a  stream-of-consciousness first draft.

  1. Positive: It has a great, original plot,
  2. Positive: It has wonderful characters,
  3. Positive: It (surprisingly to me) has a basically good story arc.
  4. Positive: It ends well.
  5. Negative: I led off with an info dump.
  6. Negative: I used no contractions (Doh!)
  7. Negative: I made way too free with my adverbs and modifiers. This fluffed up the word-count by about 15,000 unnecessary words.
  8. Doubly negative: I used hokey phrasing, because I was trying to write well.
  9. Negative: Oh, and another info dump was inserted toward the end.

The example:

“I’ve brought along something so that we shall not have to boil the water to drink it,” ventured Lackland as he uncorked a bottle of wine. “Chicken Mickey was right about the trots you know, but I will never tell him that; the old thing enjoys mothering us so. It would take away the joy of nagging us to death if he thought we were able to care for ourselves.”

What? We shall not? From what hell hath this beast arisen? Still, once the hokey crap is pared away, something worth reading can be found.

SO, let’s take that unwieldy, 70-word behemoth of a paragraph apart and trim it down.

“I brought something so we won’t have to boil water to drink.” Lackland uncorked a bottle of wine. “Mick was right about the trots you know, but I’ll never tell him. It would take away the joy of nagging us to death.”

_72982736_vikings courtesy of BBCI trimmed it from 70 words to 42, and made it stronger without changing the meaning or intention. I changed the way Lackland refers to an absent friend, Chicken Mickey, the Rowdies’ supply-master. By this point in the ms, there is no need to use his full mercenary nickname every time he’s mentioned. Everyone knows Mick’s nickname and why he has it (he retired from the Rowdies to be a chicken farmer for a while, but that didn’t work out) so going with the short version of his given name, “Mick,” immediately helps that paragraph.

In the process, I axed one of my favorite sentences: “The old thing enjoys mothering us so.” It’s redundant as the sentiment is expressed in the sentence that follows, which also shows Mick’s character despite his absence.

Also of great benefit is the cutting away of unneeded words: along, to drink, ventured, as—these are words that can “go without saying” in the context of that paragraph. The reader understands they are there as silent partners: unwritten but understood. At this point, I feel that no dialogue tag is needed because Lackland has an action to perform, showing both who speaks and setting the scene.

Using contractions makes dialogue more natural. Some people would go even further than I did, and make “It would” a contraction. I don’t like the way “It’d” looks or sounds so I won’t do that—and that is part of what I think of as my voice. It is a deliberate usage choice, one that I prefer.

When I wrote the first draft of this manuscript, I was at a different stage in my writing development than I am at now. I had never been involved with a writing group, and I had never studied the mechanics of writing. The rudimentary skills I had were developed from trying to copy the styles of my favorite authors, but I had a limited understanding of the mechanics of writing fantasy fiction. The only writing I had done was for myself and my children, although I had done a lot of that.

While I had a standard high-school education and some college and had done a bit of writing in the course of my work, I realized I was woefully uneducated about the craft of writing. I made it my business to get an education, via the internet. It’s free and available to anyone who wants to learn. You just have to want to learn.

I began attending seminars, and writer’s conventions. I scavenged garage sales for books on the craft of writing and I joined local writing groups. I found other writers and made life-long friends, learning a great deal from them.

Nowadays, I have my own voice and my own style. I write far leaner prose in my first draft than I did in those days, and the editing process is not nearly such an ordeal as it was the first time I had one of my manuscripts edited professionally. I continue trying to learn the craft, updating my education constantly.

leonard elmore quoteChoose your words carefully, so they express what you want to say clearly, and in as few words as is possible, while still conveying the atmosphere and mood.

  1. Nothing can be included that does not advance the plot.
  2. There can be no idle conversations “just to show they’re human”: conversations must advance the story.
  3. We don’t need a chapter detailing the history behind the core conflict. Let that emerge as needed.
  4. Never use three words when one suffices.
  5. If you’re in love with a passage you wrote because it’s “great writing,” it probably should be cut.
  6. Ax all redundancies. It only has to be said once, unless the character has forgotten it, and that “forgetting” is a core part of the plot.
  7. Adverbs are important. They need to to be chosen carefully and used sparingly.
  8. If you occasionally love to wax poetic, go ahead and write poetry—just not in the middle of your political thriller. You have permission to love action-oriented genre fiction written with lean, mean prose, and still appreciate (and write) poetry.

What I didn’t know when I first began this journey is this: deleting the excess verbiage will add up to large gains, reducing the overall length of the book, increasing readability and (hopefully) the reader’s enjoyment.

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March 28, 2016 · 6:45 am

#amwriting: Verbs: when to use “if I was” and “if I were”

epiphanyMost of my ideas for blog posts arise during work, or in conversation with other writers. Usually, these revolve around concepts I have a basic understanding of but haven’t really given a lot of thought to. Writing about them helps to clarify and cement them in my mind.

Every now and then a grammar topic comes up that I’ve never really thought about. If it’s a subject I am not really clear on, I will research it, and then try to distill my discoveries into bite sized chunks.

We writers often operate by instinctively using the knowledge we gained in school. Often, as in my case, that knowledge is a bit tarnished and worse for the wear.  Today’s topic is one fabulous instance of that very thing.

Last Tuesday, we were standing around the virtual watercooler at the virtual offices of Myrddin Publishing. We have authors and editors on three continents, so we use a virtual office. A grammar question arose, and this is how the conversation went:

Shaun Allan (UK) said: Grammar question, please. ‘As if it were’ or ‘as if it was’ ?

Ross Kitson (UK) said: Would it depend upon the subject of it? If it were an individual then I’d say “was” whereas if ‘it’ were an event then I’d say ‘were.’ Might be best to ask a non-Northerner.

Connie Jasperson (me) (US) said: Ross Kitson is correct (in my opinion).

Stephen Swartz (US) said: were.

Gary Hoover  (US) said: A HUGE issue with most people is the subjunctive tense. Anything that is not actual but could be is subjunctive (as your phrase indicates). “If I were a carpenter.” Is correct because the singer isn’t actually a carpenter. “I was a carpenter” is correct if he actually was. (Gary inserted the link to Wikipedia’s article on “English Subjunctive”)

Alison DeLuca (US) said: I’m a subjunctive slore! ‘Were’ all the way.

It turns out this conversation revolved around the “Past Subjunctive Tense.” Gary, Stephen, and Alison had it right.

As a result of this conversation, I did a little more digging, wanting to know more about this oddly named construct. It just so happens that on Saturday morning, Stephen Swartz and I both happened (at the same time) upon an excellent blog post by the Grammar Girl, Mignon Fogarty.

When you go out to Wikipedia the whole subjunctive verb thing looks quite complicated, but it doesn’t have to be. The subjunctive (in the English language) is used to form sentences that do not describe known objective facts. For the purposes of this post, we are only looking at Past Subjunctive definitionSubjunctives: the verbs was and were.

But first, what does “subjunctive” mean?:

Dictionary.com defines “Subjunctive.” as:

adjective

1.(in English and certain other languages) noting or pertaining to a mood or mode of the verb that may be used for subjective, doubtful, hypothetical, or grammatically subordinate statements or questions, as the mood of ‘be’ in ‘if this be treason.’

Compare imperative (def 3), indicative (def 2).

noun

2.the subjunctive mood or mode.

3.a verb in the subjunctive mood or form.

First, let’s consider what Past Subjunctive Tense covers: how to use the words ‘was’ and ‘were.’

Which is correct?

  • I wish I were a penguin. I would fly through the water.
  • I wish I was a penguin. I would fly through the water.

If I am only  only wishing I were a penguin, were is correct. If I actually could be a penguin, was would be correct and I would have to rewrite my sentence, by deleting ‘I wish’ and changing ‘would’ to ‘could.’

The Grammar Girl goes farther. She says: Believe it or not, verbs have moods just like you do. Yes, before the Internet and before emoticons, somebody already thought it was important to communicate moods. So, like many other languages, English has verbs with moods ranging from commanding to questioning and beyond. The mood of the verb “to be” when you use the phrase “I were” is called the subjunctive mood, and you use it for times when you’re talking about something that isn’t true or you’re being wishful.

I love that clue—that verbs can be wishful.

fiddler onthe roof soundtrackThe Grammar Girl gives us a great example: Think of the song “If I Were a Rich Man,” from Fiddler on the Roof. When Tevye sings “If I were a rich man,” he is fantasizing about all the things he would do if he were rich. He’s not rich, he’s just imagining, so “If I were” is the correct statement. This time you’ve got a different clue at the beginning of the line: the word “if.”

However, there are times when we use the verb ‘was’ even though the subject of the sentence has not yet happened, or may not happen at all. Grammar Girl says:  But “if” and “could” and similar words don’t always mean you need to use “I were.” For example, when you are supposing about something that might be true, you use the verb “was.”

Past subjunctive verb forms express a hypothetical condition in present, past, or future time:

  • Don’t complain about the food. What if I was a chef?
  • I wish I were reincarnated. What if I was a penguin?

If it’s only wishful thinking, we use “were.” If it might be true but we don’t know or it hasn’t happened, we use “was.”

So now, thanks to a bunch of editors hanging around the water cooler and the miracle of the internet, we know how and when to use our moody, past subjunctive verbs.

If you are a grammar junkie (as I am becoming) I highly recommend you check out Mignon Fogarty’s Grammar Girl blog, or pick up her books.

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March 25, 2016 · 6:45 am

#flashfictionfriday: Dreams and Shadow Truths

Neil Gaiman Sandman quote memeTales, dreams, shadow-truths…the fabric of the multiverse. One universe touches upon another, and the dreamer dreams. The faerie queen leads her court though the forest and one more mortal falls in love.

Books are evidence that once upon a time a mortal slept, and dreamt. Within the pages of dusty, leather-bound books lies proof that the philosophers’ stone exists in the realm of imagination spinning words of straw into gold, and bequeathing immortality to those who possess it.

The multiverse is yours for the taking if you believe, and are unafraid to dream.

Open a book, and  step into a realm unknown.

 

“Dreams and Shadow Truths”  by Connie J. Jasperson © 2015 was first published on Aug. 10, 2015 on  Edgewise Words Inn

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March 23, 2016 · 6:45 am

#amwriting: The Garden Path

Plum Trees in Blossom, Pissaro 1894 via Wikimedia Commons

Plum Trees in Blossom, Pissaro 1894 via Wikimedia Commons

Today we are looking at the second of two creatively named structural errors that can introduce ambiguity to our work. On Monday we looked closely at “squinting modifiers” and today we are walking the “garden path sentence.”

Most of us are aware that many times a sentence is made stronger by the elimination of relative pronouns, such as that, which, and whom. Often, these words are understood and are therefore unneeded.

However, overzealous new authors recovering from a severe ego-bruising at the hands of a writing group sometimes get a little crazy and slash every instance of the “offending word” from their narrative. Such a knee-jerk reaction is ridiculous and can create the “garden-path sentence.”

Spring Hedges in Bauerngarten, Heinrich Vogeler 1913 via Wikimedia Commons

Spring Hedges in Bauerngarten, Heinrich Vogeler 1913 via Wikimedia Commons

From Wikipedia, the fount of all knowledge:

“A garden path sentence, such as “The old man the boat,” is a grammatically correct sentence that starts in such a way that a reader’s most likely interpretation will be incorrect; the reader is lured into a parse that turns out to be a dead end or unintended.

“Garden path” refers to the saying “to be led down the garden path,” meaning to be deceived, tricked, or seduced.

After reading, the sentence seems ungrammatical and makes almost no sense, requiring rereading to fully understand its meaning after careful parsing.”

pac-man jpgIn this case, confusion arises because we read like Pac-Man eats: one word at a time, as fast as we can, following the line. We attempt to understand sentences as we are reading them. The “garden-path sentence” begins by taking you toward a particular destination, but midway through it takes a turn for the bizarre.

Disambiguation memeThere are two types of garden path sentences.  The first is “locally ambiguous,” meaning that it can be cleared up with minimal changes to the sentence. Many times the addition of a word or punctuation will resolve the issue:

  • “The raft floated down the river sank.”
  • “The raft that floated down the river sank.”
  •  “We told the man the dog bit a medic could help him.”
  • “We told the man whom the dog bit that a medic could help him.”

Wikipedia offers the sentence: “The old train the young fight.”

  • When you add a comma it reads: “The old train, the young fight.” The addition of the comma makes sense of the words.
  • One could also argue that the sentence means “The old train the young to fight.”

ambiguityThe other type of garden path sentence is “globally ambiguous” because when it is taken out of context the meaning is still unclear no matter how many times you reread it . It requires a complete rewording.

A sentence should always be understandable. Context is extremely important to the meaning of an ambiguously phrased sentence. What happens to a sentence when you take it out of context? It has to stand alone, and still make sense.

Again, Wikipedia offers an example of confusion: “The cat was found by the shed by the gardener.”  This sentence is open to several interpretations. Perhaps the cat was by the shed, or the shed was by the gardener, or both the cat and the gardener were next to the shed. When this sentence is isolated from its paragraph and taken out of context, the meaning is unclear.

Consider a more active phrasing and reword the sentence to say “The gardener found the cat near the shed.”

The way to resolve the garden-path sentence is to

  • Insert a relative pronoun (such as “that”) for clarity.
  • Insert proper punctuation for clarity.
  • Reword the sentence to make the meaning clear.
The Garden of the Author, by José Benlliure Gil via Wikimedia Commons


The Garden of the Author, by José Benlliure Gil via Wikimedia Commons

Readers want to read without bumps and hiccups. Anytime they have to stop and reread something you risk losing them. Sentences that are ambiguous stop the eye.

We never want to introduce haziness into our work, and because we wrote it, we sometimes don’t see that it is confusing. If you have asked a beta reader to read a section of your work, and he flags a portion as being unclear, don’t just look at it and wonder why he can’t understand what seems so clear to you.

You must “parse” it. Tear that passage down to its component parts and find out what it is that the reader doesn’t understand. When you take the offending sentences out of their context, you can see if they will stand on their own. If they don’t, a simple rewording may be all that is needed.

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March 21, 2016 · 6:45 am

#amwriting: squinting modifiers

Squinting ModifiersThis week we are going to look at two structural errors that introduce ambiguity into our narrative.

First up is the hilariously named squinting modifier.  Who thinks up these things? The first time I came across that expression, I thought it was a joke. However, in the world of writing, a “squinting modifier” is simply a type of misplaced modifier. According to Neal at Literal Minded, the term can be traced back to George Campbell’s The Philosophy of Rhetoric, published in 1776.

It is a common error that can be difficult for the author to spot in their work because the author’s mind sees what was intended, not how it appears to an unbiased eye.

This structural error introduces ambiguity:  it seems to qualify the words both before and after it.

  • Students who skip classes rarely are reprimanded.

Does this mean students who rarely skip classes are reprimanded? Or, perhaps those students are rarely reprimanded.

Mignon Fogarty, the Grammar Girl, offers this example:

  • Children who laugh rarely are shy.

Is the author talking about children laughing rarely, or rarely being shy?

ambiguityMisplaced modifiers (frequently adverbs) make our work unclear, or “ambiguous.” The best way to avoid that ambiguity is to move the modifier so that your meaning is clear, or completely reword the sentence.

  • Children who laugh are rarely shy.
  • Students who skip class are rarely reprimanded.

When you introduce a large number of modifiers into your work you run the risk of

  • Introducing passivity to your narrative
  • Unintentionally introducing ambiguity

If you haven’t figured it out by now, there is an easy way to identify adverbs. Most, but not all, end in the letters “ly.” Knowing this makes it fairly easy to identify adverbs in sentences.

As I said, not all adverbs end in “ly.” Some frequency adverbs, do not follow this rule.

  • always
  • never
  • often
  • sometimes
  • seldom

Still, knowing that ‘ly’ at the end of a word indicates an adverb will help you avoid overusing them.

You may wonder why we want to limit the modifiers in our prose—and it’s a good question. How we use modifiers is part of the voice of our work.

If we are writing genre fiction (i.e. romance, mystery, sci-fi, fantasy) your prospective readers will not endure fluffed up prose written for the beauty of the words. They want lean prose, with an active voice, and to achieve that active phrasing, we cut back on the “ly” modifiers. Instead of telling you how the scene looks, an active voice shows you what the protagonist sees.

Telling: The night was hot and damp. Darren entered the alley, which was awfully dark and smelly. “Rafe?” he asked quietly.

“Over here,” said Rafe. He was all raggedy and dirty.

Showing: Darren entered the alley, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The odors of overripe privies and decomposing garbage lingered in the humid air, along with the reek of despair. “Rafe?” he whispered.

A pile of rags stirred and a familiar voice said, “Over here.”

When we use active phrasing, we are better able to convey atmosphere.

Adverbs ending in “ly” are often called “adverbs of manner.” Despite the rants of some self-proclaimed gurus in certain writing forums, these words have a place in active prose, and anyone who says they don’t is not fully informed.

This is where it becomes a matter of style and the author’s voice. We choose our words deliberately to convey the story the way we see it, precisely placing modifiers to achieve a certain effect.

Perhaps you are trying to convey a character’s lack of conviction regarding his plan of action: Rafe is a down-on-his-luck confidence man, a reformed scam-artist drawn in to do a job only he has the skills for.

“I’m fairly sure this will be safe.” Rafe crossed his fingers for luck. “It’s not that much dynamite.”

Several authors I know well would never use the word “fairly” because its an indecisive word. That indecisiveness is what I want to convey. This is the difference in our “voices.”

The way I see it: Rafe could say “I’m almost sure” but to me, that phrasing feels clunky and obvious–it does show his doubt. But, in  my opinion, what it doesn’t convey is Rafe’s desire to sell his reluctant partner the plan he has little confidence in. He has to convince Darren to go along with it because they have no other option. Rafe is a conman, trying to reform. He has an important reason to not just lie about it, so he wants to be as truthful as he can be and still sell Darren on the plan.

Writing involves words of all kinds and using them properly.

Adverbs are a powerful seasoning to add to your prose–be sparing and make the best use of them. Those you do use should go unnoticed in the narrative.

Your readers will thank you.

List of common adverbs

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March 18, 2016 · 6:45 am

#FridayFiction: The Dunes at Westport

P.S. Krøyer, Summer Evening at Skagen Beach – The Artist and his Wife (1899) Via Wikimedia Commons

P.S. Krøyer, Summer Evening at Skagen Beach – The Artist and his Wife (1899) Via Wikimedia

The Dunes at Westport

Hidden where the dune grass grows

Beside the salty sea

Tall, the dune grass shields our tryst

Beside the wide, grey sea.

 

Hard and sweet, the wind does blow

From off the tumbling sea

The path is lined with strawberries

Wild and thriving in the lee.

 

A basket filled with simple foods,

Bread, and wine, and cheese,

A blanket spread upon the sand

Sheltered from the breeze.

 

Seabirds glide upon the wind

Calling from on high

Pipers step at water’s edge

With plovers they do vie.

 

We’ve slipped the bonds of modern life

And come down to the sea

Sheltered in the dunes we’ll rest

My only love and me.

 

A secret tryst, my love and I

Beside the salty sea

A day beneath the wide, blue sky

My dear, dear man and me.

“The Dunes at Westport” © 2016 Connie J. Jasperson, All Rights Reserved

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March 16, 2016 · 6:45 am

#amwriting: rejection is not the end of the world: keeping track of submissions

lasceax prize

Recently I realized I had submitted a short story to two places. One place was a magazine that pays per word, the other was an anthology that offered no remuneration, but was being published by a well-respected professional group.

Quite often publishers prefer that you not make simultaneous submissions, although some don’t care. Most will want a story to be new and previously unpublished, but again, some don’t care.

Fortunately, this particular tale was not what the anthology was looking for–no money was involved there and I try to concentrate on submitting my work to paying gigs as often as possible.

Thus, I have begun to keep a list of what short story was submitted to what magazine or anthology. If it is rejected with comments, I consider the remarks, address them if they are valid and immediately submit it elsewhere. The fact is, rejection can be a positive thing.

Of course, I have enough rejections to wallpaper an outhouse. Not everyone will love your work. You have to keep trying, but eventually you will sell a story.

When I first began this journey I didn’t understand how specifically you have to tailor your submissions when it comes to literary magazines, contests, and anthologies.

When you have a great story that you believe in, you must find the venue that might be interested in your sort of work. This means you must buy magazines, read them, and write to those standards.

Go to the publisher’s website and find out what their submission guidelines are and FOLLOW THEM. (Yes, they apply to EVERYONE, no matter how famous, even  you.) If you skip this step, you can wait up to a year to hear that your ms has been rejected, and they most likely won’t tell you why.

Formatting your manuscript is crucial. If you are unsure how that works, see my blogpost of July 24, 2015,  How to Format Your Manuscript for Submission.

It’s not worth a publisher’s time to teach you how to be a writer–you have to learn that on your own.

A sci-fi magazine like Analog Science Fiction and Fact will not be interested in fantasy from an unknown author. If you read Analog, you can see they mostly publish hard, technology driven sci-fi. If they publish a fantasy piece at all, it will be by one of their regular contributors, and will likely have been solicited by them for a particular feature.

Analog’s Submission page clearly says: “Basically, we publish science fiction stories. That is, stories in which some aspect of future science or technology is so integral to the plot that, if that aspect were removed, the story would collapse. Try to picture Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein without the science and you’ll see what I mean. No story!

The science can be physical, sociological, psychological. The technology can be anything from electronic engineering to biogenetic engineering. But the stories must be strong and realistic, with believable people (who needn’t be human) doing believable things–no matter how fantastic the background might be.”

You have been warned. They want science, not magic.

Therefore, I never submit to this magazine as I don’t write hard science fiction. I don’t enjoy the kind of work they publish, and that is an important clue: If you don’t read what they publish, you likely can’t write it to their standards.

An excellent article that addresses that well is  “What Editors Want; A Must-Read for Writers Submitting to Literary Magazines.”

Because I have so many short pieces floating around in the ether, I now keep a list, organized like this:

Submissions log

Remember, only submit your best work. If you have a well-written piece that reads smoothly when read aloud and is rejected for whatever reason, find a different magazine, contest, or anthology to submit it to. Chances are it simply didn’t resonate with the editor at that place, and who knows–it may be exactly what the next place is looking for.

If you are stumped for places to send your work, there are several sites that offer classified ads calling for submissions:

NewPages Calls for Submission

Every Writer’s Resource

Let’s Write a Short Story

Lascaux 2015If you are new to this, a good place to start is the Lascaux Review. This is a literary magazine, but they have great contests, and their rules are fairly relaxed:

The Lascaux Prize in Flash Fiction http://lascauxreview.com/contests

The Lascaux Prize in Flash Fiction is presently open for submissions. Stories may be previously published or unpublished, and simultaneous submissions are accepted. Winner receives $1,000, a bronze medallion, and publication in The Lascaux Review. The winner and all finalists will be published in The 2017 Lascaux Prize Anthology.

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March 14, 2016 · 6:45 am

#amwriting: son and sir: to capitalize or not?

Tom Hiddleston MemeTerms of endearment are often used in casual conversation. Each has their own implications which are highly dependent on tone of voice, body language, and social context.

They can be fairly impersonal, denoting a friendship. Conversely, they can be intimate, indicating a close relationship.

Used by perfect strangers they can also be patronizing and rude.

These words vary in creativity from the sublime to the ridiculous:

  • dear
  • mate
  • chum
  • darling
  • honey
  • baby-cakes
  • sweetheart
  • sugar
  • wuvvy-dovey

From Wikipedia, the fount of all knowledge: Saying “Hey baby, you’re looking good” varies greatly from the use “Baby, don’t swim at the deep end of the pool!” Certain terms can be perceived as offensive or patronizing, depending on the context and speaker. (end quoted text.)

This brings us to the word “son.” Again, as in so many other aspects of the writing craft, context is everything.

  • “I love you, Son,” said the doting father.

The_Chicago_Manual_of_Style_16th_editionFrom the Chicago Manual of Style, Section 8.35: Kinship names are lower-cased unless they immediately precede a personal name or are used alone:

  • my father and mother
  • Aunt Jane
  • the Bronte sisters
  • I believe Grandmother’s name was Marie
  • Please, Dad, let’s go.
  • She adores her aunt, Maud

But, in the past, instead of a boy’s name, men commonly called boys boy, kid or son, not as a name but as a neutral term of endearment. My interpretation of the word “son” in casual conversation is like this: I feel it should not be capitalized if it is being used to indicate friendship, or in a patronizing fashion.

Wikipedia claims that in an informal setting, such as a pub or gym, the use of terms of endearment is a positive politeness strategy among men. A term like “mate” or “son” shifts the focus toward the friendship existing between the speakers, yet maintains a slight emotional distance.

The problem here is the term “son.” In some cases, it is used when speaking to a man not related, but indicates friendship on the part of an older speaker in regard to a younger companion. I feel that, when used as a neutral form of endearment, the word “son” falls into the same class as:

  • Hand me the scissors, darling.
  • Have a beer, mate.
  • Gloria, dear—how’s your mother?
  • Grab that remote for me, love.
  • How’ve you been, old son?

The above endearments are not between speakers with a deep emotional attachment. They indicate camaraderie and nothing more–they are neutral. Therefore, “son” should not be capitalized if it is being used as a neutral term of endearment when speaking to a person you are not related to.

  • “Okay, son. Tell your ma I stopped by,” said his neighbor.
  • “Get off your high-horse, son,” said man next to him.

As stated above, The Chicago Manual of Style’s preference has always been to lowercase pet names, (which are terms of endearment) but in reality, you can’t go wrong unless you’re inconsistent, since the issue is guided by preference rather than rule.

The word preference means:

  1. a greater liking for one alternative over another or others.

synonyms: liking, partiality, predilection, proclivity, fondness, taste, inclination, leaning, bias, bent, penchant, predisposition

So, if you do choose to capitalize the word “son” when used as a term of endearment, be consistent. But also be aware that it’s not necessary.

Then there is the question of the word “sir.” It is an honorific. From the Chicago Manual of Style section 8.32

Portrait of Henry VIII (1491-1547) by Hans HolbeinHonorific titles and respectful forms of address are capitalized in any context with several exceptions:

  • sir
  • ma’am
  • my lord
  • my lady

Always capped:

  • Madam Speaker
  • Your Honor
  • Your Excellency
  • Her (His, Your) Majesty; His (Her, Your) Royal Highness
  • The Most Reverend William Ronstadt (Roman Catholic Bishop)
  • Lord John Davies; Lady Mary Shelton
  • The First Gentleman; the First Lady
  • The Right Honourable John Carter

Where king/queen is used as part of someone’s name, it is always capitalized:

  • King Bob, and Evelyn, the Queen of Darkness

Where king/queen is used as part of a general reference it is lower-cased:

  • “Hello,” said the king.

Should one capitalize the word sir when it’s used in dialogue? Which of the following would be correct? “Yes, sir.” OR “Yes, Sir.”

Paul-McCartney-on-playing-Rock-BandIf the reply is to a respected person in general, it is written with no capital, as it’s not a formal name. But you do need a comma just as you would with a formal name:

  1. “Yes, sir.” (General politeness.)
  2. “Yes, Sir Paul.” (Formally agreeing with a knight.)
  3. “Yes, Larry.” (Proper use of comma.)

When writing dialogue: if your speaking character is in the military and the person he/she is addressing has a military rank above them, THEN you must capitalize it.

If you are writing about Sir Paul McCartney’s favorite brand of socks, capitalize it.

You must also capitalize the words “sir” and/or “madam” when beginning a letter or an email. My favorite internet example of this is:

Dear Sir or Madam,

I am writing to inform you that you a related to a Nigerian prince. (Grammar Party Blog)

Just refer to me as “my lady” from here on out. Email doesn’t get better than that!

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March 11, 2016 · 6:45 am

#flashfictionfriday: A Little Love Story

In the long ago days, before every home had a word-processor, and even before I had my beloved secondhand typewriter, I wrote stories. My writing was for myself, or for my children, as it never occurred to me that I could ever really “be a writer,” although that was what I always answered when asked.

My handwriting was better in those days, perhaps because I wrote daily. Some of my short tales were good, some were bad, and most have vanished over time.

This little tale survived the many moves and purges, and dates back to 1984.

Duet, by David Teniers de Jonge - (1640s) via Wikimedia Commons

Duet, by David Teniers de Jonge – (1640s) via Wikimedia Commons

A LITTLE LOVE STORY

An old man and his wife of many years sit on a rough bench outside the door to their home.  It’s a rough cabin, just one large room with a large attic. The furniture is rough but sturdy and clean from daily scrubbing as is the rest of the home.  Everything in their home they built or made for themselves, right down to the small flute the old man plays as the old woman mends his rough, homespun shirt.

It’s just the two of them now; their son has long since married and moved away. Occasionally they walk the two day’s journey to see him and his family, but it’s unlikely they will ever do so again.

To look at them it would be hard – nay – impossible to believe they ever were young and beautiful or strong and handsome but once upon a time they were just that.

Once upon a time, the old woman had abundant dark hair, thick and curling to her knees when it was unbound.  Her dark eyes were full of fun and her red lips smiled often.  When she thought of what her life would be like, she knew without a doubt she would be as rich as a queen, and as happy as any woman could ever be.  To her, the future was as bright as new-minted gold; all things were possible.

Her laughter made the grumpiest person smile.  The entire village loved her, and though many a handsome, well-to-do young man wanted her for his wife, her eyes saw only the poor but hardworking son of the carpenter’s widow. Whenever she was asked, she vowed she would only marry the young man with the easy smile that charmed all who saw him.

Once upon a time, the old man was handsome, tall and strong, with a smile to melt the hardest heart. But no matter how many beautiful girls danced with him, or tried to kiss him, he only saw her – the merchant’s daughter. She filled his dreams and he vowed to all that he would wed only her.

Everyone said theirs was a story of true and eternal love.

He worked hard, and built the small house for her with his own hands, swearing it was only the beginning of the fine mansion he would build for her and vowing she would live a life of ease and luxury.  Her father was pleased and gave him her hand in marriage.

She didn’t care. She would have lived in a mud hut if it meant she would be with him.

One beautiful spring day and they were married and the entire village celebrated. They lived blissfully for the first year, and the following spring they were blessed with a child.

It is sad but true: to know what happiness is, a person must understand sorrow and pain. Their infant son didn’t live for more than a day. Heartbroken, they buried their child and tried to go on with their life.  Over the next five years, they buried three more children. Only the love she had for her husband kept her going. In his arms, she found solace and peace.  His steadfast love and support carried her through those dark days, and though she was not the merry girl she once had been, she was still a good-natured, loving wife.

The good old king died, and his son took the throne. The young king’s rule was not as kind or as benevolent as his father’s rule had been.  He taxed the people cruelly and life became hard, but still their home was their haven.

Each night they fell asleep in each other’s arms and in the morning they woke happy.

One spring the brash young king’s men came to the village and took her husband to fight the war in a land far away. Bereft and alone, she struggled to keep the home they had built, taking in sewing and laundry, working hard and praying morning and night for her husband’s safe return.

After two seasons had passed, the goddess heard her prayers. Though she feared he would be lost to her, her husband came home, wounded and with a limp which he never lost, but alive and still strong in his love for her. His smile had grown melancholy while he was away, but still melted her heart whenever he smiled at her, which he did at every opportunity.

At long last they were blessed with a healthy boy, and not only did he survive, he thrived in the sunshine of his parent’s love.

And their days passed, turning into years. The king’s taxman saw to it they never grew rich, but he could never steal their true wealth. The boy grew to be a strong, handsome lad and one day he married, leaving his parents somewhat lonely but happy for their son.  And still time passed.

In middle age the woman was still striking; strong and nice to look at, though she had grown somewhat stout. Her laugh was jolly, and her smile still as free as it had always been and she was known by all to be a good and generous woman. When good advice was needed the village sought her out, and her wisdom never failed them; she was as a mother to them all.

The man was still strong but needed a straw hat when working, as his hair was growing thinner with the years. The younger men admired his strength and heeded his wisdom.

Each night the man and woman kept each other warm and every morning they woke happy, knowing they would spend it working together in the little kingdom which was their home.

The old woman’s hair became thin and white, and her smile lacked all the teeth she once had, but the old man still saw the most beautiful girl in the world.

The old man’s pate became as bald as an egg, and his scraggly beard white as snow. He too lacked some teeth, but when she looked at him she saw the one boy in the world who made her heart skip a beat; the boy for whom she would have done anything to have for her own.

An old man and his wife of many years sit on a rough bench outside the door to their home.  When they sit there, they are rich.  Their home is finer than any castle ever known and their lives more blessed. Every promise the man ever made to his wife was kept, if not in the manner he once had planned, although he has only just recently come to understand that.

Every dream she’d ever had came true, though she too only realized it as she became an old woman.

The Goddess of Hearth and Home looks on them and smiles.  One day soon, they will be young and strong, and merry and free again. One day soon they will rise from the bench hand in hand and walk into the sunlight, together forever and always, leaving old shells behind, no longer needed.

One day, soon.

A Little Love Story, © 2016 Connie J. Jasperson

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March 9, 2016 · 6:45 am

#amwriting: using repetition as a literary device

fitzgerald-great gatsby memeUnconsciously using the same words too often in our descriptions is one of the pitfalls of writing. It happens to all of us, and for me it occurs most often when I am laying down the first draft. I’m hurrying and trying to get the ideas out of my head and onto the paper and my vocabulary can’t keep up.

Many common words (the, and, etc.) don’t really stand out when used more than a few times in a paragraph, and you couldn’t write well if not for those words. However, some words will always stand out more than others, and if you use them more than once in a paragraph it looks like you’re unimaginative or a lazy writer. This is especially true if the word in question has a lot of synonyms you could have used instead of repeating the same word. Having a good thesaurus at hand is a great help to the brain-stranded author.

Scottish claymore replica Albion Chieftain, Søren Niedziella, CC BY 2.0

Some words don’t have a lot of obvious synonyms so you get hung up on the few you can find.  In my own work, the word sword is one of the main culprits. The type of blade my characters wield in the World of Neveyah books is a claymore, and four ensorcelled blades figure prominently in the Tower of Bones series.

Therefore, some obvious synonyms will not work as these are distinct blade types that are in no way like a broadsword.

  • Rapier
  • Epee
  • Foil

Because of this constraint, I am limited to:

  • Sword
  • Blade
  • Weapon
  • Steel (if I’m desperate, but I despise using that to reference a weapon that isn’t an epee or a rapier)

ozford american writers thesaurusHowever, sometimes we use intentional repetition:

Sometimes we want to emphasize a concept and repetition is the way to do it. Some of the best authors use the repetition of certain key words and phrases to highlight an idea or to show the scene. This technique is an accepted rhetorical device and is commonly found in mainstream fiction. It is used to evoke an emotional response in the reader, and can be exceedingly effective when done right.

Literarydevices.net says, “The beauty of using figurative language is that the pattern it arranges the words into is nothing like our ordinary speech. It is not only stylistically appealing but it also helps convey the message in much more engaging and notable way. The aura that is created by the usage of repetition cannot be achieved through any other device.”  (End quoted text)

Also according to literarydevices.net, repetition as a literary device can take these forms:

  • Repetition of the last word in a line or clause.
  • Repetition of words at the start of clauses or verses.
  • Repetition of words or phrases in opposite sense.
  • Repetition of words broken by some other words.
  • Repetition of same words at the end and start of a sentence.
  • Repetition of a phrase or question to stress a point.
  • Repetition of the same word at the end of each clause.
  • Repetition of an idea, first in negative terms and then in positive terms.
  • Repetition of words of the same root with different endings.
  • Repetition both at the end and at the beginning of a sentence, paragraph, or scene.
  • A construction in poetry where the last word of one clause becomes the first word of the next clause. (End quoted text)

Some famous examples of repetition as a literary device:

“Every book is a quotation; and every house is a quotation out of all forests, and mines, and stone quarries; and every man is a quotation from all his ancestors.”  Ralph Waldo Emerson, Prose and Poetry

f scott fitzgerald The Great Gatsby“About half way between West Egg and New York the motor-road hastily joins the railroad and runs beside it for a quarter of a mile so as to shrink away from a certain desolate area of land. This is a valley of ashes—a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens, where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and finally, with a transcendent effort, of men who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air.” F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

When an author writes it intentionally to drive home a point, repetition is an effective tool. It is when words are inadvertently used with a lack of creativity that repetition ruins a narrative.

Consider buying a thesaurus or make use of the many online thesauruses that are available.

I have a well-worn copy of the Oxford American Writer’s Thesaurus. This book has become just as important to me as my copy of the Chicago Manual of Style. This large book of synonyms can be purchased used from Amazon, for as little as $9.99 in the hardcover form. I do recommend purchasing this as a paper book rather than an ebook. Once you see the amazing variety of words at your disposal, it’s one you will refer back to regularly.

 

 

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