Tag Archives: writing craft

July 20, 2026 · 6:00 am

Random thoughts on why some novels stink #writing

I’ve mentioned before that I don’t review books I don’t like. So let’s talk about why some books are not on my review list: first-draft issues that occasionally find their way into published works. For me as an author, the easiest part of writing is inadvertently slipping a clumsy bit of phrasing into my narrative, having an action scene go hilariously (and impossibly) wrong.

I don’t usually notice the awkwardness until my editor points it out.

One: passive phrasing. I’ve said this before, but in real life, people don’t “begin” to pick up that hammer. They don’t “start” to walk away.

  • They reach for the hammer or take it from the toolbox.
  • They walk

We’re thinking and writing the story as it falls from our heads. Because we get into storytelling mode, the dog begins to bark, and the neighbors start to complain. In real life, the dog barks, and the neighbors complain.

Two: not showing a character’s emotions. When laying down the first draft, it’s easy to “tell” the story instead of showing it: “Hugo was mad.” That is concise, but it tells us nothing about Hugo.

Then there is the opposite extreme, showing far too much. I once read a 250-word description of a purple velvet suit of dubious origin. I had trouble not going to sleep. I could see what the author was trying to say, but the host’s suit was the least of the travesties in that train wreck of a novel.

They could have written the entire 250-word encounter this way: Vincent wore a suit of purple velvet, threadbare, and looking as if it came from his grandfather’s closet. A good investment for the author would have been to hire a professional editor.

I don’t care for minute details describing facial expressions: “Marge’s eyebrows drew together, her lips turned down, and her cheeks popped a dimple. Hate glared from her eyes.”

Not a good visualization.

Three: wimpy word choices. Some authors swamp us with an avalanche of prettily written descriptors: “-ly” words. In the 18th and 19th centuries, “ly” words in literature were often rife, a natural and expected component of narrative flow.

But times have changed. A few adverbs and adjectives ending in “ly” are unavoidable, but as authors grow in the craft of writing for modern readers, they begin to find alternate words that sound more forceful: power words.

Power words can be found beginning with every letter of the alphabet and usually don’t end in “ly.” In English, words that begin with consonants convey strength. What are some “B” words that convey a hint of danger, but aren’t “telling” words?

  • Backlash
  • Blinded
  • Blood
  • Blunder

When you incorporate any of the above “B” words into your prose, you post a road sign for the reader, a notice that “ahead lies danger.” Mingle them with other power words, and you have an air of danger.

New writers sometimes want to show their characters as human. They have them natter on about nothing: “Remember when….” If the memory doesn’t pertain to the story or explain something about a character that has been a mystery, it doesn’t advance the plot. Rather than showing them as human, it pads the word count, stalls the momentum, and the reader stops reading.

Four: use of clichés. Speaking as a reader, no matter how perfect it is, please don’t use the word alabaster to describe a white woman’s skin. Don’t describe a black woman’s skin as chocolate. Make an effort to find a different way to describe her appearance. It’s an easy word that says smooth and pale, or smooth and dark.

Overused words and phrases become clichés.

Most readers will tell you that it’s not usually necessary to describe a character’s skin other than with broad generalizations. This is because you want the reader to imagine them for themselves, and we all have different ideas of beauty.

Clichés and catchphrases will appear in the first drafts of our work, but they are signposts for the second draft. They tell us to spend some time finding a creative way to show a person or an event.

Five: events that occur for no reason and take the story nowhere. One of my favorite sci-fi series is “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” series of books written by the late Douglas Adams. The storylines across all the books have a random feel, but they are anything but random.

The books detail the adventures of Arthur Dent, a hapless Englishman traveling the galaxy in his pajamas. He and his friend are transported off the earth just in time to miss the destruction of the planet by the Vogons, a race of unpleasant and bureaucratic aliens, to make way for an intergalactic bypass.

Douglas Adams understood that there must be a reason for the protagonist to leave his home wearing his pajamas and a robe. He used that opportunity to show the cozy, comfortable environment Arthur was about to be thrust out of.

Adams understood how to write a compelling story. First, he showed us Arthur in his happy home, and then his protagonist had to be quickly yanked out there and placed on that Vogon Constructor Ship. Every event in Arthur’s story exists for a reason.

Six: Inadequate research presented as fact. Don’t say you’re writing real science if you are skimping on research. Yes, true research is time-consuming. Writing true history, writing medical dramas, and using police and military procedures involves effort. You must glean research from more sources than Wikipedia and old CSI episodes.

If you are writing historical fiction, you must know the true history of your subject. Make notes as you read each, noting the book title, the author, and the page number where you found the info, as you may need to know those things later. You can write fiction around it, but major historical events have well-known timelines. It’s work to learn the facts, but this is a job where you can’t skimp.

A research side note: Storyboards are your friend.

If you are writing speculative fiction, fantasy, or even a contemporary novel set in your town, you will accumulate background information in your world-building process. You will want to keep it organized, and this is where the style sheet or storyboard comes in handy.

What the style sheet/storyboard should cover:

  • All names, created or not: Aeos, Aeolyn, Beryl, Carl, Edwin, etc.
  • Real and created animal names: alligator, stinkbear, thunder-cow, waterdemon
  • Created words that are hyphenated: fire-mage, thunder-cow
  • All place names, real or created: Seattle, Chicago, Ragat, Wister, Sevya, Arlen, Neveyah
  • Any maps, calendars, and research notes you have accumulated.

See my post, Designing the Story,” for more on how to make a storyboard or style sheet.

Keep your notes/stylesheet in a clearly labeled file, and back them up on a thumb drive or file them in the cloud via Dropbox, OneDrive, or Google Docs. I use and work out of a file-saving service, so my files won’t be lost no matter what happens to my computer.

Turning those notes into your story is an integral part of the writing process.

Seven: plagiarism. This is most important: never copy lines from another person’s work and pass them off as your own. That is plagiarism, and you never want to be accused of that. If you must quote someone verbatim in your book and the work is not in the public domain, contact their publisher and get their legal permission to do so, and credit them by using proper footnotes. If you do not receive written consent, do not use their work.

Keep this written permission on file with any other legal papers that pertain to that book. An excellent article on this can be found here: Cite Unseen: 3 Bits for a Better Bibliography.

So, there they are, a few random thoughts on the reason some published novels don’t resonate with me, no matter how affordably they are priced.

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June 15, 2026 · 6:00 am

The infinity arc, or double-circular story arc #writing

We as writers must resonate with the stories we tell. They have to mean something to us or they won’t mean anything to a reader.

Lately, life has been a little hectic, and I’ve been unable to focus on my longer work. But I have been able to write and complete short stories in a variety of genres and lengths.

While my longer work is “resting” and going nowhere, there is an upside to this: I’ve had a chance to experiment with writing and delve more deeply into how my favorite authors construct their work.

I am a wordy writer. To counteract that problem, I set myself a wordcount goal and do my best to stay within it.

In microfiction, the author must build a world in fewer than 100 words, show mood and atmosphere, and give the reader a story with a complete arc.

This sharpens my skills in writing longer pieces because I must convey as much information as possible in as few words as I can. No matter the story’s length, my chosen words must be powerful and visual, showing the setting, combined with a strong theme, and conveying the intended atmosphere and mood.

My ideas usually fall out of my head in an outline form. This skeleton becomes the first draft. Other times, I write the story as it unfolds in my mind. Then, I make an outline and rewrite it so that it makes sense.

I’ve written several stories lately that have a “circular arc.” This kind of story takes us through an experience and returns us to where we began. For better or worse, we are changed by the events we have undergone.

Most of these pieces are essays on my real-life experiences and may someday end up in a published collection, but may just be put into a book for my grandchildren. They began as handwritten entries in my notebook. I put them into a Word Document and saved them in a file labeled Essays 2026.

My personal essays usually have a circular narrative arc and rarely run more than 500 words. The story begins at point A, takes the reader through an occurrence, and brings them back to where it started.

In this type of story, the characters return to where they began but are fundamentally changed by the story’s events.

The infinity arc is similar to the circular arc but presents one story from two different viewpoints: a double-circular arc.

The story begins with Character One, takes them through an occurrence, and brings them back. At that point, the story shifts to Character Two and retells the events from their perspective, returning them to where they began. (Two circular story arcs joined by one event.) If we graphed it out, it would look something like an infinity sign, a figure-eight lying on its side: ∞

The story I’m using for today’s example is one I wrote about ten years ago. It features two protagonists, and I had intended to tell both stories in only 1,000 words. I was not entirely successful, but managed to keep it down to 1,025 words.

As I mentioned above, in the infinity or double-circular arc, two stories begin at the same place: the center of the infinity symbol. They experience the event simultaneously. Both characters are tested and changed by what they have lived through.

The characters in this story do not meet. In many stories with this kind of story arc, the two characters do meet and interact. Relationships across time are a popular romance trope.

But they don’t have to, and I think that makes a more interesting story.

In this tale, my characters briefly occupy the same patch of ground during a glitch in time. It ends where it began, but with two sets of characters having seemingly experienced two different events. Their perception of the meeting is colored by the knowledge and superstitions of their respective eras.

How is the story constructed?

  • It opens in the center of the infinity sign. In this tale, the antagonist is the catalyst, the place and moment where two realities meet.
  • The opening sentences establish the world, set the scene, and introduce the first protagonist.
  • The following three paragraphs show the situation and establish the mood. They also introduce the antagonist.
  • At this point, our first protagonist knows he must resolve the problem and protect his people, and he does so.

But the infinity arc presents us with a story from two viewpoints.

  • Again, I had to set the scene and establish the mood and characters. Here, we meet the second protagonist. He has the same needs as our first and must also resolve the problem.

Neither character would have understood the strange physics of what they experienced had Brian Cox been around to explain it.

  • The final paragraphs of the first half contribute to the overall atmosphere and setting of the story’s second part.
  • Each character’s understanding of what they saw and experienced is firmly grounded in the beliefs and lore of their era, and both do what they must to protect their people.

As a practice piece, the story had good bones. However, it’s not the right kind of story for submission to a magazine or contest, as it’s not commercially viable. In fact, much of what I write isn’t commercially viable, but I love writing it.

The act of writing something different, a little outside my comfort zone, forces me to be more imaginative in how I tell my stories. We should all have a little fun with writing. Give that double circular arc a shot and see what you come up with.

Credits and Attributions:

IMAGE: The  Hero’s Journey, Public Domain. Wikimedia Commons contributors, “File:Heroesjourney.svg,” Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Heroesjourney.svg&oldid=1013027507 (accessed June 14, 2026).

 

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June 1, 2026 · 6:00 am

#Writing Interior Dialogues

I write in several genres, and I read nearly any book I come across. It’s a habit from the years of working two jobs. It was a time when I could only fit one book purchase a month into my meager budget, but I read the books in my favorite genres faster than the library could stock them. My small bit of excess cash was reserved for a $5.99 fantasy paperback and a $2.00 grocery bag of second-hand books with the covers torn off.

I was always a sucker for great cover art. Nevertheless, a bag full of coverless books was like a treasure hunt. Chain Bookstores used to rip the covers off books that didn’t sell, and they often ended up in second-hand bookstores.

The bag could contain a wide range of novels that had been sitting on shelves for too long. There might be five Harlequin Romances a Jack Kerouac novel, two by Nora Lofts,  three Regency bodice-rippers by Georgette Heyer, a Jaqueline Suzanne novel, an Ian Flemming’s James Bond novel, an ancient copy of Gone With the Wind, several Isaac Asimov novels, an Anne McCaffrey Brain and Brawn novel, and if I was really fortunate, a classic fantasy, such as a Gormenghast novel or a Jack Vance novel.

Oddly, I never found a Tolkien novel in one of those bags.

The books I loved the most were those that let us into the characters’ heads. I still gravitate toward character-driven books. I’m interested in what they think is going on and how they lie to themselves. I love an unreliable narrator and am hooked when the truth is dangled just out of reach.

I love characters who go through the events, with arcs that grow or decline as the facts are revealed. We have so many clues, and yet we don’t know what is really going on until the final pages, when the characters themselves discover or reveal the truth.

One modern writer who is a master at this is Canadian novelist Shari Lapena. I have read every book she has written since I first came across 2016’s The Couple Next Door. Lapena takes us through the crime, the victim, and the people surrounding them. She raises the blinds on what polite society allows the world to see, opening a window on what lies beneath the image of propriety and perfection.

Many people won’t like her style or the way she spends most of her time inside her characters’ heads.  I like the way Lapena uses interior monologues to shed light on hidden sins and motives that drive an outwardly respectable person to commit murder.

Each character’s surface thoughts are open to us, yet not so open that we can guess the truth. As the book progresses, what is hidden is gradually revealed, illuminating less-than-flattering aspects of all the people involved and muddying the waters.

What I have learned by dissecting her work is that internal dialogue must never be an opportunity for an info dump. This is crucial for writers of mysteries. Yes, a character’s thoughts must show us their mental state in real time, but they will lie to themselves as often as they do to us. The thoughts and conversations of those surrounding them must offer some foreshadowing, small hints that all may not be as it appears. In a Lapena murder mystery, these hints gradually become unpleasant truths.

Opinions abound in online writers’ forums regarding interior monologues. It’s true that beginning authors can rely too heavily on them as an easy way to dump information into a narrative, rather than deploying it. A few people are blunt and loud about their dislike of them, and while I disagree, I do see their point.

In Sci-fi, Fantasy, and YA novels, it is an accepted practice to italicize a protagonist’s thoughts, and readers expect them to be presented that way. However, we need to be aware of how daunting it is for a reader to face a wall of italics.

A rather vocal contingent at any gathering of authors will say that thoughts should not be italicized, as it creates greater narrative distance, setting readers outside the character and the events of the scene.

As an avid reader, I disagree with that statement when applied broadly and will argue the point, though more than a sentence or two of italics does exactly that. This is a personal style choice you, as an author, must make, based on the genre you are writing in and the preferences of your intended audience.

So, what, in my opinion, is the best way to indicate that a sentence or two of interior monologue in the middle of a scene is the viewpoint character’s thoughts and not the narrator speaking?

We can write the thought in first person, present tense, which is the way we actually think them. This is how Shari Lapena writes them. OR we can write it in third person, past tense if that is the mode you are using for the rest of the text.

We can use italics or normal text, or a “she thought” tag. Or we can choose not to.  I do not recommend using quotation marks to set interior monologues off, as that can confuse some readers and make them think it is spoken dialogue.

Interior monologues are crucial to the flow of novels in which the author wants the reader planted firmly in the protagonist’s mind. This is where skill, intention, and the ability to craft what we want our work to say comes into play.

For most of my work, the thoughts of my characters can be shown through their actions. However, this is a case where actions don’t always speak louder than words, so  I do include internal monologues as needed.

The observations our characters make can be an aspect of worldbuilding. My opinion is that interior monologues are an organic component of some kinds of narratives, but not necessarily all narratives.

I feel that when they are done well, interior monologues can create an intimate connection with the characters.

My final opinion is that italics should never be used for long passages, as long stretches of leaning letters are difficult for people with compromised vision to read.

How you choose to use interior dialogues is up to you. It is your work, and you know what you want to convey to the reader at each stage of the story. Now, go forth and write!

 

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May 25, 2026 · 6:00 am

A few thoughts on the craft of #writing

This week I found myself looking at random notes I had taken when reading. Some were from trade paperbacks and others from cheap eBooks. Only one was a deal breaker. All had one issue or another, but their good points far outweighed the flaw.

So, one book made the “Oooh! Gross!” list in my notebook, and it happened to be from a traditionally published author. It contained all of the fatal flaws within the first two chapters. I confess I didn’t finish it.

One: Be careful to not write self-indulgent drivel. Go lightly with the praise, adoration, and general lauding of your characters’ accomplishments throughout the book.

Please. We know they are the children of your creative heart, but truthfully, they may be unruly, spoiled little monsters. An author who constantly praises a character and rehashes their accomplishments is asking for readers to put their book down without finishing it.

An author I love occasionally indulges in various side characters repeating how much everyone admires the main character. He rehashes that character’s exploits whenever a new side-character is introduced, which detracts from an otherwise stellar story. I can’t give his work more than a three-star review because of that failing.

Two: Don’t waste words describing each change of expression and mood. Consider this hot mess of fifty-four words that make no sense: Joan looked at Gary with concern. His voice changed so much in the telling of the story as his emotions came to the surface that it still seemed so raw, as if his son’s death had happened only days ago. In addition, his expressions also changed, and his current one was akin to despair.

It could be cut down to sixteen words that convey the important parts of the sentence, and it won’t feel choppy: Gary’s raw despair concerned Joan, seeming as if his son’s death had happened only days before.

Three: Commas and Conjunctions: Some people don’t know what to do with commas and attempt to do without them altogether. Don’t fall into the snare of the lazy author, the one who doesn’t have the patience to learn a few simple rules of punctuation. Commas are to clauses what traffic signals are to streets: they govern the flow of traffic.

  1. Commas follow introductory words and clauses. Instead, they took a left turn.
  2. Commas set off “asides.” Her sister, Sara, brought coffee.
  3. Commas separate words in lists: We bought apples, oranges, and papayas for the salad.
  4. Commas join two complete sentences, and once joined, they form one longer sentence. When used too freely, linked clauses can create run-on sentences.
  5. Commas frequently precede conjunctions, but only when linking complete clauses. When linking a dependent clause to a complete clause, don’t insert a comma. “I intended to go back to Seattle but found myself here instead.”

Once an author knows and understands how sentences are constructed, they can choose to break those rules, IF doing so conveys their idea more clearly.

This is where an author’s “intention” comes into play.

If a client tells me they want a comma in a place where it wouldn’t ordinarily go, I don’t argue. I say this because an author’s voice is as much how they break the rules as it is their word choices and the rhythm of their habitual sentence structure.

Conjunctions need the same kind of attention as commas. How many sentences have you linked together with the word and in that paragraph? Could brevity strengthen your prose? Conjunctions and commas are the gateway to run-on sentence hell. This is where the revision process sometimes fails. It often takes an unbiased eye to see that a sentence or paragraph doesn’t make sense. However, if you are deliberate in how you use these connectors, your work will be readable.

We all want our work to be readable. However, sometimes the pacing of our narrative demands that we break them. Knowing the mechanics and rules of grammar well enough to break them with style is what sets an author apart from the crowd. Craft your prose, but for the sake of your readers, use grammatical common sense.

Four: Use active phrasing. There were Small colorful fish swimming swam in a large, clear pond.

All the forms of the word “be” must be used carefully. “There were” is a form of the verb “was” and must be used with care.

Five: If you are writing genre fiction, simplicity is sometimes best. Please don’t write something like, “Delicious sounds captivated their eardrums.” Just say the music touches the protagonist’s soul, or something similar. We want to convey the feeling that the music was wonderful, or the smells were mouthwatering, etc., but let’s not get too artsy.

No one wants to write boring prose. However, when we try to get too highfalutin, the prose can become awkward. Odors and sounds are part of the background, the atmosphere of the piece. While they need to be there, we don’t want them to be obtrusive, in-your-face. This is an instance of prose working better when it isn’t fancy.

BUT feel free to go for the gusto if you are writing poetry! Use all those fabulous words you have been saving for a special occasion. Rhyme them if you want or don’t.

It’s your poem and your choice.

So, thanks to the hard work of several authors I have never met, I was able to compile a few thoughts to get your writing week started.

Now, go! Write like the wind!

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May 11, 2026 · 6:00 am

Books I have read and struggled with #writing

I often tell new and beginning writers to read widely, including genres they don’t normally gravitate toward.  I have a reason for this.

The more you know about how other writers construct their work, the better you will be at expressing your own ideas. Having a large vocabulary is important. Knowing more words helps you express yourself with less repetition.

You gain that knowledge from reading and looking up the words you don’t know.

But knowing how to use that large collection of words effectively is most important, and that is where reading comes into it.

I have read so many novels that I can’t begin to count them. I’ve read biographies, autobiographies, books on natural history, and those are just the books I read as a bored schoolgirl during the long summers of the late 1960s. My first choice was genre works, such as sci-fi, fantasy, mysteries, but when those ran out, even the sad excuse of a newspaper that was our town’s scandal sheet would do.

I was a member of the Nancy Drew Book Club, and we received a new book every month.

My sister and I risked our lives to sneak paperback books out of my parents’ bedroom. A tough one was Robert J. Donovan‘s PT 109.

We read Heinlein, E.E. “doc” Smith, Fritz Lieber, J.R.R. Tolkien, Jaqueline Suzanne, Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, Anne McCaffrey, Nora Roberts, Mary Stuart … we read every book or magazine that came into the house.

Thank you, Dr. Ruth, and Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex (but were afraid to ask). Mom didn’t have to go to the trouble of explaining it to us. She just left the book out where we could steal it.

Education handled.

When we ran out of stolen gold, we read the Encyclopedia Britannica and Grolier’s Great Books of the Western World.

The books we read all contained words we didn’t understand until we looked them up in the dictionary.

You can do that online now, but I am a dinosaur. Back in the olden days, we had big fat dictionaries to thumb through.

Here is where I make my confession. I had to take a college class to get through James Joyce’s work, and I’m not sure I exactly understood it. I’m not sure the professor did either.

I read the Diary of Samuel Pepys (pronounced Peeps) when I was fourteen. It was a volume in the Great Books, and I read it because my father insisted. Dad felt my fascination with my mother’s Elizabethan and Regency Historical romances should be tempered with a dose of reality.

Once I had finished the damned thing, he questioned me about it, as if it were a final exam. I didn’t enjoy the book because I didn’t like Mr. Pepys as a person. I felt he was sneaky and would go whichever way would benefit him the most.

But I have always loved history, and I did learn a great deal about the real politics and society of seventeenth-century Britain, and the Restoration of the monarchy after the death of Cromwell.

There have been other well-regarded books I didn’t enjoy too much, but I benefited from reading them.

Unfortunately, I grew frustrated and resorted to listening to the audiobook of Alexander Chee’s The Queen of the Night. Not setting dialogue apart with quotes?

(Insert primal scream here.)

I’m an editor, and it’s my job to notice those things. It’s difficult for me to set that part of my awareness aside, but listening to the audiobook resolved that issue. This is a case where the audiobook is much better for an ordinary reader like me.

I can hear the grumbles now. I just mentioned literary authors, and you are writing a cozy mystery, a fantasy, a romance, women’s fiction, or sci-fi. Shall I toss out a few more names?

One author I love is Tad Williams. He mixes his styles. His Bobby Dollar series is Paranormal Film Noir: dark, choppy, and reminiscent of Sam Spade. In this series, he writes in a style reminiscent of post-WWII crime authors, such as Raymond Chandler or Dashiell Hammett. Each installment is a quick read for me and is commercial in that casual readers would enjoy Bobby’s predicaments as much as I did.

Yet Tad’s Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn Trilogy was a groundbreaking series that inspired countless fantasy authors. Those first three books and the subsequent novels set in that world are solidly epic literary fantasy. They are written for serious fantasy readers, people who want big stories set in big worlds.

These readers are like me and crave BIG books. In that series, Tad Williams employs lush prose, multiple storylines, and dark themes. Beginning slow and working up to an epic ending is highly frowned upon in local writing groups addicted to genres that embrace straight-forward prose and rapid-fire storylines, but Tad broke that rule, and believe me, it works. His powerful writing has generated millions of fans who are thrilled that he’s written more work in that amazing world.

Roger Zelazny wrote one of the most famous fantasy series of all time, the Chronicles of Amber, and numerous other sci-fi-fantasy novels. He was famous for his crisp, minimalistic dialogue. He was clearly influenced by his contemporaries, wisecracking, hardboiled crime-fiction authors. Yes, it’s misogynistic, but it was written in a time when misogyny was the norm.

As my father told me when I was reading the Diary of Samuel Pepys and offended by his hypocrisy and innate assumption of superiority, you can’t judge the literature of the past or the society that produced it by today’s values.

You, as the reader, are an observer, not a participant. But that is a difficult thing to remember when their writing sucks you in and makes you feel like a participant.

Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, Alexander Chee, and George Saunders each have a unique voice in their writing. Each of these writers has written highly acclaimed work that requires you to think.

But they can be difficult for an ordinary reader like me to read.

Ernest Hemingway used commas freely, passing them around in his narratives like party favors. Alexander Chee employs sentences that run on forever and doesn’t use quotation marks when writing dialogue.

James Joyce wrote hallucinogenic prose and, at times, dispensed with punctuation altogether.

George Saunders writes as if he is speaking to you. He is almost poetic in one place and choppy in others.

F. Scott Fitzgerald used too many Jazz Age slang terms that must be looked up to understand what he was referring to. Yes, he lifted some of his prose from Zelda’s letters, but try to read it without that bias. He’s dead, so chastising him is useless.

We are writers with our own voice. Our style has its own rhythm, and it may not be popular with everyone. An editor might ask you to change something you did intentionally.

There will be times when you choose to use a comma in a place where a line editor might suggest removing it. If asked, you should explain that you did this to emphasize a point or make it clearer. Conversely, you might omit a comma for the same reason.

Editors know that you are the author, and it’s your manuscript. If you understand the rule you are breaking, you will be able to explain why you are doing so.

Craft your work to make it say what you intend in the way you want it said. But be prepared to defend your choices if you deviate too widely from the expected.

Above all, read. Read everything you come across, whether you love it or not. Dissecting the books you don’t love is a free education if you have a good library in your town.

Reward yourself for all that hard work by indulging in your favorite comfort books. Then, curl up on the sofa and spend the day reading a book by your favorite author.

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April 20, 2026 · 7:05 am

#Writing Advice: the good, the bad, and the ugly

We humans find it easy to remember simple sayings, little proverbs, if you will. New authors are bombarded with many axioms about the craft of writing. Some will be good, and some will lead to later problems.

The commonly repeated writing proverbs were originally intended to encourage writers to craft stories that readers would understand and enjoy.

Writers must know the basic rules of grammar. You don’t have to memorize the Chicago Manual of Style. With so much information available online, you don’t necessarily have to buy it unless you are an editor. However, knowledge of the most basic rules enables a reader to understand your work.

It is also true that writers should develop a broader vocabulary, work on character arcs, and use words to show the visual world in which the story is set.

If we are open to learning, we gain knowledge and confidence, and our work improves.

The craft of writing is a vast subject. It fascinates me, and I know I’ll never learn all there is to know about the subject.

I’ve been writing professionally for more than twenty years. Online writers’ forums are usually good places where good people offer good advice. However, there are a few gurus, those whose voices are so loud they override the rest, and they are often too harsh in applying the “rules of writing.”

One must use common sense when writing. I’ve seen many an online kerfuffle between strong egos, especially if they are protected by anonymity in a forum.

Cover of Book, Steering the Craft by Ursula K. LeguinToday, I’m discussing the eight commonly repeated mantras found in these forums. They are fundamentally good but also have the potential to backfire. An author with too rigid a view of these sayings won’t be able to see beyond the rules that imprison them and limit their creative existence.

The rules most likely to backfire (in my opinion) are as follows:

  • Remove all modifiers.

This advice is complete crap. Use common sense, and don’t use unnecessary modifiers. Why do I say this? Some adverbs and adjectives are necessary. When we refer to modifiers, what do we mean?

Any word that modifies (alters, changes, transforms) the meaning and intent of another word is a modifier. Adjectives modify nouns, and adverbs modify verbs. These words can add emphasis, explanation, or detail to an otherwise bald statement.

List of words ending in "ly"We also use them as conjunctions to connect thoughts: “otherwise,” “then,” and “besides.” However, the overuse of “ly” words can fluff up our prose and ruin the taste of our work.

  • Don’t use speech tags.

What? Who said that?

Too many speech tags, especially odd and bizarre ones, can stop the eye. When the characters are snorting, hissing, and ejaculating their dialogue, I will put the book down and never pick it up again. My favorite authors seem to stick to common tags like ‘said‘ and ‘replied‘. Or, they show who was speaking by including an action or other visual in that paragraph.

  • Show, Don’t Tell. Don’t Ever Don’t do it!

Nothing is more disgusting than a scene where a person’s facial expressions are described in minutia. Yes, lips do stretch into smiles, and eyebrows draw together, and that is an important part of showing mood.

But expressions are only part of the signals that reveal the character’s interior emotions.

Another extreme is the scene where the author leans too heavily on the internal, describing the stomach-churning, gut-wrenching shock and wide-eyed trembling of hands.

And don’t forget the recurring moments of weak-kneed nausea.

For me, the most challenging part of writing the final draft of any novel is balancing the visual indicators of emotion with the more profound, internal clues.

  • Write what you know and don’t dare to write something you don’t.

Please, use your imagination.

Cover of book, the Hobbit by J.R.R. TolkienYour life experiences shape your writing, but your imagination is the story’s fuel and source. J.R.R. Tolkien understood senseless conflicts and total warfare because he had experienced them.

His books detail his view of the utter devastation of war. However, they are set in a fantasy environment and feature elves and orcs, neither of which abound in England.

We must understand what we’re writing about. Are you writing a police procedural? Research the subject, and if necessary, interview people in that profession.

  • If you’re bored with your story, your reader will be too.

That’s NOT true. You have spent months, years even, immersed in that story. You know it inside and out, but your reader doesn’t.

And the commonly bandied writing proverbs go on and on.

  • Kill your darlings.

We shouldn’t be married to our favorite prose or characters. Sometimes we must cut a paragraph, a chapter, or even a character we love because it no longer fits the story. But remember, people read for pleasure and because they love good prose. If a sentence that you particularly like works, keep it. If you must cut a character, use them in another story.

  • Cut all exposition.

Exposition informs both the reader and the characters. The timing of when we insert the exposition into the narrative is crucial. The reader wants to know what the characters know. But they only need that knowledge when it becomes necessary, and they don’t want paragraphs of information dumped on them.

Bad advice is good advice taken to an extreme. But all writing advice has roots in truth.

  • Too much telling takes the adventure out of the reading experience.
  • Too much showing is tedious and can be disgusting. It takes effort to find that happy medium, but writing is work.

Cover of Book, Damn Fine Story by Chuck WendigProverbs help us educate ourselves because they are easy to remember. Unless an author is fortunate enough to have a formal education in the subject, we must rely on the internet and handy self-help guides to learn the many nuances of the writing craft.

That is what I have done. I buy books on the craft of writing modern 21st-century genre fiction and listen to the advice of the literary giants of the past.

But we have to use caution. While the majority of online writers’ forums are great, some aren’t helpful because they have become a soapbox for a few self-proclaimed gurus. These are people armed with a bit of knowledge, a large ego, and a loud voice.

My advice? Be careful, and don’t share your work with any group until you have seen how they treat each other.

Cover of boo, Activate by Damon SuedeI study the craft of writing because I love it, and I apply the proverbs and rules of advice gently. Whether my work is good or bad, I don’t know. But I write the stories I want to read, so I am writing for a niche audience of one: me.

However, I read two or three books a week. I love books where the authors clearly know the rules but break them when necessary.

So, my friends, go forth, and write. Now, more than ever, the world needs your stories.

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January 26, 2026 · 6:00 am

Bringing emotions to life #writing

To create characters with emotional depth, you must swim with the sharks of show-and-tell. Most authors who have been in writing groups for any length of time become adept at writing emotions on a surface level.

We work to show our characters’ facial expressions, whether happiness, anger, or spite, etc. We show their eyebrows raise or draw together. Their foreheads crease and eyes twinkle; shoulders slump and hands tremble; lips turn up and dimples pop; lips curve down and eyes spark … and so on and so on.

When done sparingly and combined with conversation, this can work. But no more than one facial change per interaction, please. Nothing is more off-putting than reading a story where each character’s facial expressions take center stage.

Writing emotions with depth is a balancing act. Expressions and body language can only hint at the internal thoughts and feelings of a character, as showing the outward physical indicators of a particular emotion is only half the story.

This is where we write from real life. When someone is happy, what do you see? Bright eyes, laughter, and smiles. When you are happy, how do you feel? Energized, confident.

Conversation is about something we didn't know and offers us clues.How do we show it? Through the observations, both spoken and unspoken, of the main characters and those close to them.

In revisions, I look at each scene and try to combine the physical evidence of personal mood with the deeper aspect of the emotion. I combine spoken dialogue and internal dialogue with physical cues to offer hints as to why a character is feeling a certain way.

The hard part is to write it so I don’t tell the reader what to experience. I love it when an author makes the emotion feel as if it is the reader’s idea.

Here is a short list of simple, commonly used, easy to describe, surface emotions. These are easy to show through conversations and physical cues.

  • Anger
  • Anticipation
  • Awe
  • Confidence
  • Contempt
  • Defensiveness
  • Denial
  • Desire
  • Desperation
  • Determination
  • Disappointment
  • Disbelief
  • Disgust
  • Elation
  • Embarrassment
  • Fear
  • Friendship
  • Grief
  • Happiness
  • Hate
  • Interest
  • Love
  • Pride
  • Revulsion
  • Sadness
  • Shock
  • Surprise

Other emotions are tricky because they are more difficult to show physically unless some background information is included. They are complicated and deeply personal, but these are the gut-wrenching emotions that make our work speak to the reader.

So, here is an even shorter list of complex emotions:

  • Anguish
  • Anxiety
  • Defeat
  • Depression
  • Indecision
  • Jealousy
  • Ethical Quandary
  • Inadequacy
  • Lust
  • Powerlessness
  • Regret
  • Resistance
  • Temptation
  • Trust
  • Unease
  • Weakness

When I began writing seriously in the 1990s, I had no idea how to convey the basic emotions of my characters other than through dialogue, a form of telling. Other writers have the opposite problem, and their characters smile, and smile, and grin, and smile. It is showing … but not showing very much other than a lack of inspiration on the writer’s part.

I had good mentors and editors in those days, and through their kind suggestions, I have learned ways to combine the showing and telling. The key is to think of them as salt and garlic powder: a little of each makes the soup delicious but too much ruins it.

Book Cover, Emotion thesaurus.If you are just starting out, and don’t know how to include physical cues in a scene, a good handbook that offers a jumping off point is The Emotion Thesaurus by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi. This book is affordable and full of hints that you can use to give depth to your characters, which makes the story deeper as a whole.

Just don’t go overboard. They will offer nine or ten hints that are physical indications for each of a wide range of surface emotions. Do your readers a favor and only choose one physical indicator per emotion, per scene.

I say this because it is easy to make a mockery of your characters, turning them into melodramatic cartoons.

  • Subtle physical hints, along with some internal dialogue laced into the narrative show a rounded character, one who is not mentally unhinged.

Each of us experiences emotional highs and lows in our daily lives. We have deep-rooted, personal reasons for our emotions.  Our characters must have credible reasons too, inspired by a flash of memory or a sensory prompt that a reader can empathize with.

Why does a blind alley or a vacant lot make a character nervous?

  • Perhaps they were attacked and robbed in such a place.

Why does a grandmother hoard food?

  • Perhaps her baby sister died of starvation.

Why does the sight of daisies make an old man smile?

  • He might be remembering the best day of his life, sixty years before.

motivation definition: the reason one has for behaving a certain way.Writing genuine emotions requires practice and thought. I’ve mentioned this before, but motivation is key. WHY does the character react with that emotion? Emotions that are undermotivated have no base for existence, no foundation.

The story feels shallow, a lot of noise about nothing. Hints of backstory offered through dialogue, either internal or spoken, can resolve this.

Another thing to consider is timing. The moment to mention the character’s memory is when the physical response to the emotion hits and the character is processing it. That way, there is a reason for their sudden nausea. With small hints, you avoid the dreaded info dump, and the reader begins to see the needed backstory. They want to keep reading to discover the whole truth.

Phrasing and word choices can convey emotional impact in your narrative. If you use powerful words, you won’t have to resort to a great deal of description.

  • I don’t worry about this in the first draft. The second draft is where I check for weak word choices.

weak words - all forms of the word be. Look for their context and decide to keep or toss them.Passive phrasings are first draft clues, places where I was just trying to get the story on paper. If they are left in the final draft, they separate the reader from the experience, negating the emotional impact of what could be a powerful scene.

The trick is to avoid writing maudlin caricatures of emotions, and over-the-top melodrama.

Cartoon: I am their creator. Why do they not obey me?The books I love are written with bold, strong words and phrasing. The emotional lives of their characters are real and immediate to me. Those are the kind of characters that have depth and are memorable.

A good exercise for writing deep emotions is to create character sketches for characters you currently have no use for. I say this because just as in all the many other skills necessary to the craft of writing a balanced narrative, practice is required.

Practice really does make the imperfections in our writing less noticeable, and you may find a later use for these practice characters. They may be the seeds of a marketable short story.

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November 10, 2025 · 6:00 am

Revisiting Voice, Word Choice and Placement #writing

 

This week’s post is a reprint of a post on voice and how we phrase things. It first appeared here on February 17, 2020.

Writing is journey.

When I began writing, the way I placed my words slowed my prose, made it more passive. As I have grown, I have learned to place my verbs in such a way that the prose is more active. I say the same things, but my style is leaner than it was.

My weekend was spent with my hubby at the hospital (all is well now) and I had no time or inclination to write a new take on how word choices form our writing voice. I hope you enjoy this second look at one of my favorite subjects.

We are drawn to the work of our favorite authors because we like their voice. An author’s voice is the unique, recognizable way they choose words and assemble them into sentences.

With practice, we become technically better at the mechanics (grammar and punctuation) but our natural speech habits shine through. Voice is how we bend the rules and is our authorly fingerprint.

When we begin the editing process with a professional editor, most will ignore the liberties we take with dialogue but will point out our habitual errors in the rest of the narrative.

Many times, what we want to say is not technically correct, but we want that visual pause in that place, in that sentence. Casual readers who leave reviews will have gained some understanding of grammar but if your voice is consistent, they will accept your choice. However, they will notice inconsistencies and illiterate writing.

This is why the process of editing is so important. Knowledge of the mechanics of writing is crucial. If you don’t understand the rules, you can’t break them with authority. (For the first part of this series, see my post Revisions: Self-Editing.)

Consider Raymond Chandler’s dismay when he discovered his grammar had been heavily edited by a line editor and then published without his input in the corrections:

“By the way, would you convey my compliments to the purist who reads your proofs and tell him or her that I write in a sort of broken-down patois which is something like the way a Swiss waiter talks, and that when I split an infinitive, God damn it, I split it so it will stay split, and when I interrupt the velvety smoothness of my more or less literate syntax with a few sudden words of barroom vernacular, this is done with the eyes wide open and the mind relaxed but attentive. The method may not be perfect, but it is all I have.”  – Raymond Chandler, in a letter to Edward Weeks, Editor of The Atlantic Monthly, dated 18 January 1947. (Read the letter in its entirety here.)

When we self-edit, we don’t have to wrestle for control of our work, true. But I have to be honest—I have worked with many editors over the past ten years, and only one tried to hijack my manuscript.

What is the mood you want to convey with your prose? Where you place the words in the sentence greatly affects the mood. Active prose is Noun-Verb centric. Compare these sentences, two of which are actively phrased, and two are passive. All say the same thing, and none are “wrong.”

I run toward danger, never away.

I never run away from danger.

Danger approaches, and I run to meet it.

If it’s dangerous, I run to it.

Can you tell which are passive and which are active? Which phrasing resonates with you? Could you write that idea in a different way?

Where we choose to place the core words, I run to danger, changes their voice but not their meaning. The words we choose to surround them with changes the mood but not their meaning.

Other ways to use the core concept of I run to danger:

Danger draws me. I race to embrace it, to make it mine.

If it’s dangerous or stupid, I will find it.

Danger—who cares. Running away is stupid; it always finds you. Meet it, grab it, and make it yours.

I saw him, and in that moment, I knew I’d met my destiny. He was the embodiment of danger, and I wanted him.

We could riff for half an hour on just four words, I run to danger. Each of us will write that idea with our own brand of brilliance, and none of us will sound exactly alike.

One of the things we must look at in our work is consistency. Is our narrative comprised of a smooth pattern? We don’t want our work to be jarring, so we want to think push, glide, push, glide.

Once you have established the mood you are trying to convey, look at how you have placed your verbs in the majority of your sentences.

Some are: noun – verb – modifier – noun. I run to danger when I see it. (Active)

Some are: infinitive – noun – verb –  modifier – noun. When I see danger, I run toward it. (Passive)

NOTE: PASSIVE VOICE DOES NOT MEAN WRONG!

Good writing is about balance. How we combine active and passive phrasing is part of our signature, our voice. By mixing the two, we choose where we direct the reader’s attention.

Some work you want to feel highly charged, action-packed. Genres such as scifi, political thrillers, and crime thrillers need to be verb forward in the way the words are presented. These books seek to immerse the reader so more sentences should lead off with Noun – Verb, followed by modifiers.

If you clicked on the link and read Raymond Chandler’s letter in full, you will see it is aggressive and verb-forward, just the way his prose was.

In other genres, like cozy mysteries, you want to create a sense of comfort and familiarity of place with the mood. Perhaps you want to slightly separate the reader from the action to convey a sense of safety, of being an interested observer. You want the reader to feel like they are the detective with the objective eye, yet you want them immersed in the romance of it. To do that, you balance the active and passive sentence construction, so it is leaning slightly more toward the passive than a thriller.

Weak prose makes free with all the many forms of to be (is, are, was, were).

  • He was happy.
  • They were mad.

Bald writing tells only part of the story. For the reader to see and believe the entire story, we must choose words that show the emotions that underpin the story.

To grow in the craft, we learn to convey what we see through words.

Passive voice balances Active voice.

It is not weak, as weak prose distances the reader from the experience, and when active prose is interspersed with passive, it does not.

Voice is defined by word choice, and Passive or Active prose is defined by word placement, not how many words are used.

Weak prose usually uses too many words to convey an idea. So, we want to avoid wordiness no matter what mood we are trying to convey.

  • One clue to look for is the overuse of forms of to be, which can lead to writing long, convoluted passages.

How many compound sentences do you use? How many words are in each sentence? Can you see ways to divide long sentences to make them more palatable?

A wall of words turns away most readers. Look at your style, as you work your way through your revisions, and see what positive changes you can make in how you consistently phrase things.

Take a short paragraph from a work in progress and rewrite it. Try to convey that thought in both passive and active voice. Then blend the two. You might learn something about how you think as a writer when you try to write in an unfamiliar style.

The following is a  list of words I habitually use in a first draft and then must look for in my own work. I look at each instance and decide if they work as they should or weaken the sentence. If they weaken the prose, I change or remove them.

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September 29, 2025 · 6:33 am

Notes on Managing Submissions #writing

Do you have a backlog of short stories? One of the best ways to build a reputation as an author is to submit your work to magazines and anthologies.

At first, finding places to submit your work can be challenging, but it’s not impossible. Here are links to two Facebook groups where publishers post open calls for short stories. I have posted these before, and they are still relevant.

Open Submission Calls for Short Story Writers (All genres, including poetry)

Open Call: Science Fiction, Fantasy & Pulp Market (speculative fiction only)

  • You must answer some questions to prove you are legitimately seeking places to submit your work if you apply to be accepted into these groups.
  • Once you are in, you must follow the rules of good conduct for a happy coexistence. Troublemakers and trolls are unceremoniously ejected.

A word of warning: some open calls will be for charity anthologies and are not paid. Do your due diligence. Some “charity” anthology mills have fancy websites featuring “glowing” reviews designed to trick you into publishing with them. Be wary and carefully research the unpaid ones to ensure that the publisher is reputable and that there is a good reason why you are being asked to donate your work for no compensation.

When an author is new to the mean streets of publishing, a vanity anthology mill can seem like a miracle. After all, your work will definitely be published by these predators, no matter how poorly edited it is. Worse, they sometimes offer that service for a steep fee (a BIG red flag). The only volumes they sell are the ones that the individual authors can pressure their friends and families to purchase.

Legitimate publishers do not charge for editing or any other aspect of the publishing process.

Before you sign a contract, remember this: your author name will be listed on the cover and forever associated with that book.

However, legitimate publishers are out there, and they are worth your time and effort. These publishers will pay industry-standard royalties and will offer reasonable contracts.

And on that note, be sure any contracts you sign limit the use of your story to that volume only, and you retain all other rights.

  • You should retain the right to republish that story after a finite amount of time has passed, usually 90 days after the anthology publication date.

SFWA maintains a list of predatory publishers to avoid doing business with. They also provide useful information on potential red flags in predatory contracts. You don’t need to be a member to access these. https://www.sfwa.org/

There are legitimate calls for extremely short fiction by highly reputable publishers. Flash fiction, works of 1000 words or less, is easier to sell to online magazines. Royalties will be paid by the word and might be small as the work they are contracting for isn’t long, but it is payment.

Reputable publishers often have open calls for charity anthologies, which are worth submitting to. These anthologies typically feature one or two well-known authors donating a short story, with work by up-and-coming writers comprising the rest of the book.

You could be one of those up-and-coming authors. But in order to achieve that goal, you must write something worthy of submission.

If a publisher is looking for work that explores a particular theme, such as “escape,” you must think creatively. Consider an original angle that will play well to that theme and then write it.

When you submit your work to various places, you should keep a record of it. Most publishers won’t accept simultaneous submissions. To avoid that, you should list:

  • what was submitted,
  • links or email addresses of where it was sent to,
  • when submissions close.

To that end, consider creating a database for your work. I use an Excel spreadsheet that lists the title, word count, completion date, where and when I submitted the work, how much I earned for it, etc.

Below is a screenshot of what my list of submitted work looks like. I started this file in 2015 and continue to use it to track my submissions.

In extremely short fiction such as drabbles and other flash fiction, you must include only the most essential elements of a story. This kind of constraint teaches us to write concisely and still show an engaging story.

As a poet, I find it far easier to tell a story in 100 words than in 1,000. That 100-word story is called a drabble and is an art form in its own right.

You can find publications with open calls at Submittable. Unfortunately, that site is no longer as useful for speculative fiction as it was several years ago. However, I have seen anthology calls for spec fic there. Still, poetry collections, literary anthologies, and contests use Submittable, so that is an option. https://www.submittable.com/

Some social media platforms are useful, as you may hear about open calls that way. I know many people are avoiding social media these days, but you don’t have to go nuts. Use it just for business (and yes, writing is a business). Follow editors on LinkedIn, Facebook, Instagram, and their Twitter feeds, if you are still using that platform. (I no longer use Twitter, but I do use Bluesky.) Consider following the magazines you submit to (or would like to send work to) on each social media platform you use.

A fellow author keeps a networking notebook. It includes the names of people in the industry she has spoken to, their affiliations (if they work for an agent or editor), their emails and/or business cards, and other relevant details. This information comes in handy when she has to write cover letters to go with submissions to these editors, as she can reintroduce herself as having met them at a specific seminar or conference.

This list of suggestions is meant for authors who intend to write professionally. It’s a business, so these habits help keep me focused and on track.

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September 8, 2025 · 6:00 am

Walking the path to becoming an author #writing

This last week I was asked what it takes for an ordinary person to be an author. My first thought was, no one is more ordinary than an author.

But I didn’t say that.

Authors are crafts folk, people who work at the craft of writing and take the time to turn out a finished product that is as good as we can make it. You wouldn’t enter a half-finished quilt at the county fair. You would go through all the steps to finish the job and take pride in your creation.

A serious writer takes the book through all the steps needed to make it readable, salable, and enjoyable because we love what we do, and we take pride in it.

It’s a lot of work.

Some writers are better than others, not unlike those crafters who work with wood. A good author is like a carpenter who makes a piece of furniture that will be handed down for generations.

Today seems a good day to revisit an article from February of 2020 on this very subject. Nothing has changed since I wrote this article, so here it is, a rerun that I hope you enjoy.

People often say they want to write a book. I used to say that too.

In 1985 I came across my first stumbling block on my path to becoming a writer. I didn’t know it, but to go from dreamer to storyteller is easy. Anyone can do it.

But if we choose to become an author, we’re taking a walk through an unknown landscape.

And the place where we go from dreamer to storyteller to author is the hardest part.

At first the path is gentle and easy to walk. As children, we invent stories and tell them to ourselves. As adults, we daydream about the stories we want to read, and we tell them to ourselves.

That part of the walk is easy. At some point, we become brave enough to sit down and put the story on paper.

The blank screen or paper is like an empty pond. All we have to do is add words, and the story will tell itself.

The first impedance that would-be authors come to on their way to filling the word-pond with words is a wide, deep river. It’s running high and fast with a flood of “what ifs” and partially visualized ideas.

If you truly want to become a writer, you must cross this river. If you don’t, the path ends here. While this river flows into the word-pond, the real path that takes us to a finished story is on the other side of this stream.

Fortunately, the river has several widely spaced steppingstones. Landing squarely on each one requires effort and a leap of faith, but the determined writer can do it.

The last thing you do before you step off the bank and begin crossing that river is this: visualize what your story is about.

The first stone you must leap to is the most difficult to reach. It is the one most writers who remain only dreamers falter at:

  • You must give yourself permission to write.

We have this perception that it is selfish to spend a portion of our free time writing. It is not self-indulgent. We all must earn a living because very few writers are able to live on their royalties. If writing is your true craft, you must carve the time around your day job to do it. All you need is one undisturbed hour a day.

The second stone is an easy leap:

  • Become literate. Educate yourself.

Buy books on the craft of writing. Buy and use the Chicago Manual of Style. You can usually find used copies on Amazon for around $10 – $15, passed on by those who couldn’t quite make the first leap.

I freely admit to using the internet for research, often on a daily basis, and I buy eBooks. However, my office bookshelves are filled with reference books on the craft of writing. I buy them as paper books because I am always looking things up. The Chicago Manual of Style is one of the most well-worn there.

Most professional editors rely on the CMOS because it’s the most comprehensive style guide—it has the answer for whatever your grammar question is. Best of all, it’s geared for writers of all streaks: essays, novels, all varieties of fiction, and nonfiction.

The third stone is the reason we decided to write in the first place:

  • Good writers never stop reading for pleasure.

We begin as avid readers. A book resonates with us, makes us buy the whole series, and we never want to leave that world.

We soon learn that books like that are few and far between.

The fourth stone is an easy leap from that:

  • We realize that we must write the book we want to read.

As we reach the far bank, we climb up and across the final hurdle:

  • We finish the work, whether it’s a novel or short story.

Over the years since I first began writing, I’ve labored under many misconceptions. It was a shock to me when I discovered that we who write aren’t really special.

Who knew?

We’re extremely common, as ordinary as programmers and software engineers. Everyone either wants to be a writer, is a writer, has a writer in the the family, or knows one.

Even my literary idols aren’t superhuman.

Because there are so many of us, it’s difficult to stand out. We must be highly professional, easy to work with, and literate.

Filling the pond with words and creating a story that hooks a reader is as easy as daydreaming and as difficult as giving birth.

Because writers are so numerous, every idea has been done. Popular tropes soon become stale and fall out of fashion.

A study by the University of Vermont says there are “six core trajectories which form the building blocks of complex narratives.” These are:

  1. Rags to riches (protagonist starts low and rises in happiness)
  2. Tragedy, or riches to rags (protagonist starts high and falls in happiness)
  3. Man in a hole (fall–rise)
  4. Icarus (rise–fall)
  5. Cinderella (rise–fall–rise)
  6. Oedipus” (fall–rise–fall)

No stale idea has ever been done your way.

We give that idea some thought. We apply a thick layer of our own brand of “what if.”

It’s our different approaches to these stories that make us each unique.

Sure, we’re writing an old story. But with a fresh angle, perseverance, and sheer hard work, we might be able to sell it.

And that is what makes the effort and agony of getting that book published and into the hands of prospective readers worthwhile.

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