The Fun of Something New

In every story I like to try something a little bit different, but I have learned a couple of things about this that I have to keep in mind.

First off, the shiny something new is always more attractive than finishing up the something current–and I have to resist that urge. The something new seems better because it is in my imagination. Once it gets on paper the story in my head disappears and I have to deal with what is on paper. In other words, time to fix things and make it better, which is really the most difficult part of writing. I also hit with every story the point at which I can no longer tell if it is good or bad–it simply just is. That’s the time to trust in the process. There’s a quote from the movie Shakespeare in Love that seems to sum it up best. The wonderful Geoffrey Rush gets all the best lines, but as the play producer Philip Henslowe he notes that even when it is a disaster heading for ruin, somehow it all works out in the end. “It’s a mystery.” (He also says all you really need in a good play is love and a bit with a dog, and it’s hard to argue with that.)

Secondly, as for something new to try out I try to limit this. When I was first struggling with the craft of writing the technical challenges often overwhelmed me. There’s dialogue to get right–perhaps the most important skill since that brings characters to life–and description to make snap, and then there’s viewpoint to handle and scene structure and pacing and dealing with foreshadowing and making sure the characters and the plot makes sense, along with all the bits of punctuation to handle. I quickly learned that taking on one technical challenge at a time served me well. I could work on just that in a story and everything else could be handled in edits.

What if a couple interacted over the years, how would the relationship develop? What obstacles would keep them apart for long periods of time? How would they reconnect? Would they be friends who could just pick up right where they left off no matter how much time came between?

With my novella Remember the technical challenge I set was dealing with time…so many love stories seem to happen over days not weeks or months or years, but what if a love story did take place over years? That idea intrigued me, and I started to dive into the lovely game of “what if?”.

I’m not knocking the instant attraction of first glance, and there are people who know right on the spot ‘this person is for me’ while others don’t get that bolt from the blue. But the slow burn appealed to me as something I had not tried before. It was a something new technical challenge.

Chapter breaks helped a lot with that–new chapter, new year–but then I had to sort out the timeline and figure out what was going on in the world that could cause gaps in the relationship without breaking the relationship. I also had to decide what obstacles, such as age of the characters or status or background or goals, might be slowing down the immediate desire to become more than friends.

All of that ended up being a lot of fun–and some work in editing to make certain I wasn’t putting things out of order. So Remember ended up being a sweet story–I do like a story where not much happens other than lots of banter and getting there eventually. While it is fun to write some action and adventure, love and a bit with a dog goes a long way to pleasing audiences even to this day.

Plot vs. Pants vs. Why Pick?

There’s the old writer argument about which is better–plot out a story in advance or just write and see what develops. Personally, I’ve found a mix works best for me, and here are the merits, and drawbacks, I’ve found in each method.

Plotting–this is where you figure out the actions and motivations and put things together. To me–an old-time jigsaw puzzle fan–there is an attraction here. It is fun to work out pieces, and for action stories or mysteries this is important. The drawback here is that the plot can become a shiny object that pushes characters into the background–it is too easy to end up with undeveloped stereo-types who are forced into actions and situations just to make the plot work.

Pantsing–this is the approach were nothing is planned and the story is allowed an organic growth. The fun side of this is that the story–and the characters–have room to surprise the author, and since the story comes from character they have more freedom for development and growth. Characters get the focus. There is a downside here, too, however. Just allowing a story can flow can lead to a dead-end or to a tangle that makes no sense. The writer has to control tension and pacing with a more instinctive approach–and sometimes what that means is fixing a lot of things with revision.

Why Pick? The mix I’ve found works best for me is to write about 50 to 100 pages–that gives me enough information about the characters to know if I have an actual story and if the characters are likeable and strong enough to hold up in the story. Then I go back and start to sort out things like conflicts, backgrounds, and main story points or turning points that may work. These are not set in stone. I found out early on that if I knew too much about my characters they turned wooden, but if I knew too little the story stalled out. The trick became to sort out just enough–and also to occasionally to have to write some background scenes that I needed but which weren’t needed in the story.

Some pantsing, or winging it, is both freeing for the story and allows for really nice twists to come from the characters. Some plotting allows more control of the story tension and pacing with the action. With this mix, I still have revisions–new ideas pop in that will need to be foreshadowed, and sometimes I will abandon a plot I though would work because there’s planning and then there is making the characters come to life, and that’s always the harder task.

Writing styles evolve as well–after doing this for some time I have more technical skills I can lean on, I have useful habits, and I know the habits I have to watch out for since they are not the helpful ones. It also helps to keep the writing interesting by trying new things–by mixing it up. At one time night-owl writing worked best for me, but these days I’m up before dawn with my coffee and ideas and the fresh day. But I’m still open to changing that up–and trying something new.

This entry was posted on October 17, 2023, in Uncategorized. Leave a comment

My Fair Regency (or Short is Harder)

On October 12, 2023 I have a new novella coming out in an anthology, My Fair Regency. It was fun to write, and something a bit different, and writing short always has its challenges. In this case, I wanted to write a story that takes place over eight years. The first challenge in that was keeping track of the timeline, and what was happening in each year. The next was keeping track of the settings over those years and what the characters and secondary characters might be doing. These were technical issues, but they do matter in that you don’t really want the reader noticing this stuff.

The other thing is that I like stories that focus mostly on the characters, and this means the conflicts are often subtle and not earth-shattering–it’s the small things that can matter a lot. I also wanted it to be a somewhat light, fluffy story–in other words, a lot of talking and ‘piffle’ and yet it has to have enough substance to stand up (even a meringue needs that). This meant it needed the theme to weave into the scenes, and the characters needed things that mattered to them–and those wants had to both evolve slightly, yet had to remain over eight years. That was the core challenge–dealing with the growth and evolution of the characters, yet having them hold to some core guiding lights.

Now, I like a technical challenge–but I try to keep it to only one per book. I found out early on when I started writing that if I bit off too many challenges (and I often did), the characters and story tended to bog down in those issues. I ended up forcing characters into a plot due to the technical stuff. This includes trying to deal with viewpoint, scene arcs, dialogue, conflicts, theme, paragraph and sentence construction, descriptions, and even word choices. Technique needs to serve the story–meaning it has to serve the characters. If it takes over, it can take the life right out of a story–the story steps into being an intellectual exercise instead of an emotional experience. But how does one get technique out of the way?

I think it’s possible to deal with technique in a couple of ways. The first is to become skilled with it–meaning write a lot. If you write enough, you stop having to worry about certain things. They become automatic skills. How you handle transitions, viewpoint, scene arcs, dialogue all becomes automatic functions that you can allow your writer’s instinct to deal with–you get that internal nudge when something isn’t quite right. The other way is to handle it with edits. Get the important stuff for the characters–their emotions, desires, personality–onto the page. Edits will allow you to check for rough bits, for things that don’t quite work. With edits comes the need for copy edits and proof readers to help out and point to mistakes and what’s missing–but don’t neglect a potential read from a beta reader who may find emotional moments that may be missing.

The other factor with a novella is that short is harder than long–there’s less room to go off on interesting tangents and amusing secondary characters. Every word has to count, and pacing is vital.

How did all this apply to my novella?

Well, you’ll notice there’s actually more than one technical challenge here, so I split them up. I left sorting out the timeline to the edits–I could more easily fix that during revisions. This allowed me to focus just on the characters while I was writing, and since I like to treat setting as a character that was included. I split up the other technical issues as well, but that is my habit–I have found I can write dialogue or I can write description, but I can’t do both at the same time. It is easier for me to write the dialogue, sharpen it, and then come back and put in any action or description I need to weave in subtext or contrast or use setting to amplify emotion or motifs. Or I can do the descriptions to set up a scene or create a mood, and then I’ll figure out the dialogue when the scene starts. Polish for all of this comes in another edit–and that’s where I have to use care to keep the mood the same and not edit out emotion.

Finally, about the fun bits here–the anthology uses the Regency England setting of different holidays and fairs, so my holiday was Guy Fawkes Night, with its bonfires and crackers (fireworks to those of us in the US), and the other holidays used some of the lesser known events, such as Cheese Rolling, along with the better known May Day and Twelfth Night. For Guy Fawkes, I did do a bit of research–it’s still a rather rowdy event in England–but even more fun was weaving in events across the years from 1805 to 1813. With a bookish heroine, I was able to dive into scientific events, publications, and use apt quotes to mirror what was going on in her life. The hero is a more active person, out wanting to go places and do things, and join up with army during the Napoleonic Wars–a dangerous ambition. They were a nice pair, but when it comes to bringing them together, Guy Fawkes Night served nicely for that–it is a night when the unexpected can happen.

Hopefully, that is what this anthology is all about–the unexpected delights of new stories and new authors.

ABOUT THE ANTHOLOGY–MY FAIR REGENCY

Celebrate Regency romance all year long with this collection of short stories set during holidays and festivals throughout the four seasons! Fans of sweet romance will enjoy stories set from May Day all the way to Twelfth Night, featuring some of your favorite tropes—enemies-to-lovers, second-chance romance, forbidden love, friends-to-lovers, and more! The collection includes:

May Day Mayhem by Ann Chaney—Intrigue, death, and love come to Horsham-Upon-the-Thames as the small English village anticipates their May Day celebration. Home Office agents the Duke of Doncaster and governess Helen Stokes join forces to uncover a missing list of French agents before an enemy discovers it. Mired in May Day preparations while chasing hoodlums and gentry, Helen and Doncaster try to fight their mutual attraction in a romantic farce worthy of Covent Garden.

My Favorite Mistake by Courtney McCaskill—Sixteen years ago, lady’s maid Fanny Price was swept off her feet by a handsome horse trainer named Nick Cradduck. The very next day, he shattered her heart. But now, at the Cooper’s Hill Cheese Rolling and Wake, who should Fanny encounter but the man she crossed all of England to avoid… A second-chance love story featuring Fanny, the scene-stealing lady’s maid from How to Train Your Viscount!

His Damsel by Charlotte Russell—During her annual visit to Bartholomew Fair, Eliza Cranstoun is mistaken for a lady in distress when in fact she was attempting to avenge the honor of her cousin. Now, she insists Anthony Ripley, her savior, help her bring down a lordly scoundrel. Amidst the scheming however, the independent Eliza and the confirmed bachelor Anthony, discover that love finds even those who choose not to seek it.

When I Fall In Love by Cora Lee—The Harvest Festival is a chance for reunions and love, but perhaps not for childhood friends Sylvie Devereaux and Kit Mathison. When Kit returns to renovate the home he inherited, Sylvie’s financial burdens prompt Kit to propose a marriage of convenience. But Sylvie has always wanted to marry for love, and they don’t love each other…do they?

Remember by Shannon Donnelly—Over the years, Beatrice Foxton keeps meeting up with Andrew Cliffs on Guy Fawkes Night, but these two friends are separated by her family’s expectations for her to marry a well-born lord and his family’s background in trade. And, yet, they can’t stay away from each other…

The Aeronaut’s Heart by Regina Scott—Josephine Aventure was on her way to earning a place in England’s Aeronautical Corps until the dashing smuggler she’d once loved showed up. Etienne Delaguard risked much to help England win the war against France. Over a Twelfth Night masquerade, can a gentleman of the sea win the heart of a lady of the air

This entry was posted on September 26, 2023, in Uncategorized. Leave a comment

Tension in The Story

One of my favorite quotes about writing comes from Kurt Vonnegut (and if you haven’t read the classic Slaughterhouse Five, I recommend it highly). In Vonnegut’s 8 Rules for Writing, he notes, “Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.” That is a brilliant observation, and this provides natural tension for any scene or the opening of a story.

The actual definition of tension is anything stretched tight. This gives any writer a lot of room. The reader’s curiosity about a character’s background can be stretched out until it becomes tight. A character’s quest for a goal can be stretched very tight with failure after failure. The reader’s interest in how a romance achieves a satisfying ending is yet another way to stretch tension.

All this means is that every character always needs to want something in every scene—this creates automatic tension since the question exists of will that character get it or not, and if so how will the character go about getting that desire.

The other brilliant part of Vonnegut’s rule here is that the want can be simple—it doesn’t have to be world peace or victory over evil, although those are certainly options. Small wants can lead to stories with lots of tension if that want means a lot to the character—or to the reader.

In any romance, the tension is never will they end up together. The tension comes from the HOW—how will this romance end in up a relationship that lasts. In a murder mystery, the tension is HOW will the murder be caught, and this can be wonderfully dark in a mystery where the murderer is also the protagonist. In a horror story the tension is about HOW will the evil be defeated—and it must be defeated, not just avoided, for the world to come back to normal.

All this leads me to the summary that tension needs to start with the first line of the story—that is where the first pull on the reader needs to happen. This means this is a great place for the protagonist to express a desire that is going to lead to the reader asking about how that character is going to get

The desire doesn’t have to be stated as the obvious—it can be implied. The opening line for Slaughterhouse Five is, “All this happened, more or less.” The reader knows there is a narrator who wants to tell a story—and the tension is started with a tug on reality. What is the more, what is the less? That question pulls on the reader, giving us some tension.

It can also be the first paragraph that gives the tug on the reader—that first start of tension in the story. In a novella I write, Border Bride, it starts: “She had been mad to agree to this. Stark, staring mad. So of course it must be love.” The inference is that the viewpoint character wants this madness to be love—she has a desire. The tension is set in the doubt underneath this that perhaps she is wrong, which is why she is doubting the action she is taking. That is the first tug that not all is right in this character’s world.

I think too often writers who are just learning their craft think they have to have big conflict, or big tensions, when it is often the tug, tug, tug of smaller events that better build the tension of the story, taking the reader along step by step into another world.

This is one reason why I love writers such as Elizabeth Daly, a mystery writer who set her books in the 1940s—when she was writing. Check out this wonderful opening line to Unexpected Night, “Pine trunks in a double row started out of the mist as the headlights caught them, opened to receive the car, passed like an endless screen, and vanished.” Wonderfully understated. The want is implicated—the viewpoint character wants to get somewhere. It doesn’t need the obvious stated. It’s also moody, sets the tone for a mystery, and the reader can settle down to enjoy a master story teller at work, caught in the subtle tension of where are we and who is heading into these mists?

Elizabeth George, another master of the craft, opens What Came Before He Shot Her—a why done it—with, “Joel Campbell, eleven years old at the time, began his descent towards murder with a bus ride.” We have tension galore in this line—and we wonder why this boy might want to kill someone. A want, and a tug on the reader. In the opening to The Vine Witch—a luscious novel that should be read and reread—by Luanne G. Smith, we have, “Her eyes rested above the waterline as a moth struggled inside her mouth. She blinked to force the wings past her tongue, and a curious revulsion followed. The strangeness of it filtered through her toad brain until she settled on the opinion that it was best to avoid the wispy yellow-winged ones in the future.” The tug is the, that bit of tension—a toad? Why is she a toad? What happened? She—the toad—might want a meal, but not out of this moth. What will happen next? The promise is here of a world that beckons us inside.

We also have Jane Austen who gives us the much quoted opening from Pride and Prejudice, “It is truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” Again, we have a narrator’s voice—an assurance from the first line that we can settle back and trust we will be amused and entertained. But the tension is there. Why is this such a truth—is it really? Who is this man with a good fortune, and what wife does he want? The questions are implied, which is what makes this such a good draw. The reader gets the fun of reading the implications behind the statement.

So this is what the opening of the story should do—it should start to tug on the reader with a want, an implication, a promise of a good read ahead in this story. The tug can be a big one, or a small one, but it must be there. This is the start it says, this is the beginning of the ride—this is not all the stuff that came before, or the background. It offers the tension of want unfulfilled, a need unmet, a curious moment that beckons the reader to step into another world. The background is teased in with other tugs on us—we want to know more because of that tension introduced, and always made greater with more and more tugs. It can be a slender thread that keeps pulling on the reader, but pull we must by offering characters who want things, and questions we raise with a promise of answer coming later if you but keep reading.

Tips to Show More & Tell Better

I believe that both showing and telling (narrative) have their uses in any story. We often need to use both tools–for example, in the image at left, do you tell the reader about the waterfall or do you show the person feeling the spray of water? What serves the story best–that’s the real question.

Here are some tips to decided when to show more and what telling better can help with in a story.

SHOWING

  • Showing means convening the character in action and words.
  • Showing takes more words because the goal is to create a picture and feeling in the reader’s mind with only words.
  • Showing requires good visualization by the writer.
  • Showing is strongest when all five senses are used: smell, touch, taste, sight, hearing.
  • To better show a character, give your characters mannerisms (physical and verbal habits) that reveal their inner person.
  • Showing is the continual search for how to reveal what your character feels and how that character displays (or doesn’t display) those feelings.
  • Use of deep viewpoint allows the reader to ‘discover’ your characters through showing that inner person.
  • A character’s actions always speak louder to the reader than any thoughts or narrative about that character; actions reveal true character.

TELLING

  • -Telling means conveying exact meaning to the reader; it is, literally, telling the story.
  • -Telling compresses word count (useful in short stories and a synopsis).
  • -Telling, in a synopsis, is the ultimate compression of your story.
  • -Telling alerts the reader that the information, or the character, is relatively unimportant.
  • -Telling can smooth transition in time, distance, or viewpoint.
  • -Telling can establish a mood or setting when you do not wish to do this in any character’s viewpoint.
  • Telling is the continual search for fresh ways to give your reader information.
  • If dialogue is only about plot exposition, it is really telling a plot point to the reader.

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To know if you’re telling vs. showing, look for “clue” words that tip off you may be telling more than showing, such as was, were, are, to be. As in, The sun was hot.

Showing and telling do not have to be absolutes; mix show, use more show than tell, or use more tell than show; part of the choice is your style, and part is the effect you want to have on the reader.

-In general, most people respond to any motivating stimulus (something happening) with FEELING, ACTION, SPEECH, so that’s how you want to structure scenes, so that a character feels something, acts on that feeling, then says something.

-Words and sentences and paragraphs that do not add anything actually detract from what is there–the end result is to weaken the good stuff.

-Multiple edits are your friend; it’s not necessary to get everything into one pass.  Make one edit about dialogue, the next edit about punching the narrative (telling), the next edit about adding more showing details.

7 Common Dialogue Mistakes

We all know great dialogue when we read it—and the best dialogue seems effortless. But good dialogue takes work, sometimes needing multiple edits and thinking it over and totally revising a scene. It also takes a few key ingredients. There are a few things that can help you punch your dialogue into shape—and that means editing out these problems.

1) Chit-chat. We get plenty of this in real life. The “Hi, how are you?” stuff is boring in fiction. You want dialogue that’s better than real life—that means bigger, too. You need to dramatize without going over the top to melodrama. You want the dialogue to be sharp—meaning you may need to really look at the words coming out of your characters’ mouths and take an edit just to punch the dialogue.

2) Poor Punctuation. Nothing will throw a reader out of a story faster than poor technique. Commas go inside quote marks and are used when the tag is part of the same sentence (action modifies the dialogue). He said, “I know how to use a comma.” And not: He said. “I know how to use a comma.” Put in a period when the action is its own sentence. He gave a sigh. “I wish more folks knew how to use commas.” And not: He gave a sigh, “I wish more folks knew how to use commas.” Cut the double punctuation, too!? It’s the mark of a writer who is still learning. And get a copy of Strunk & White’s Elements of Style so you know exactly how to write dialogue and internal dialogue so the reader gets into the story instead of being stopped by clumsy writing techniques.

3) Weird Paragraph Breaks. This is related to poor punctuation. Keep the action of a speaker with that person’s dialogue—use paragraph breaks when starting a new topic. In other words, you want your paragraphs to flow, as in:

        In a deliberate move, like slipping under a punch, Josh fixed his stare on Marion, wet his lips and asked, “Marion? As in librarian?”

            Marion’s mouth flattened and he lifted the Beretta higher. “Hey—gun here, Mr. Charming.”

            Josh didn’t look cowed by the threat, but that might have been due to the cool shades. “I thought you were interested in selling my skills, not shooting me.”

            “My line of work, it’s like a tightrope walker. You have to stay lean and flexible.”

            “That’s why you keep that name? You’re—?”

            “Nope. Not.”

            Marion didn’t look as if he’d say more, but Felix glanced at Josh. “He admires the late John Wayne, a man birthed with greatness and under such a name.”

4) Awkward Tags. Don’t trip a reader with awkward tags that clunk. Things like “he shouted miserably” and “she wailed” need cutting. This is a sure sign you’re trying to prop up weak dialogue with tags that hit the reader over the head. Make the dialogue stronger instead. Or give your characters stronger actions that contrast and highlight the dialogue. Show your characters expressing emotion through their words and their actions. Also, do remember that if you have three women in a conversation “she” is not going to be a clear pronoun, so use proper names. (Same goes for multiple of any gender.) If you only have two people speaking you need fewer tags, so you can use just action to better show what a character is feeling.

5) Obvious Clunkers. The worst offender here is dialogue that is there just for backstory or exposition. “Do you remember when we were ten and mom came after us with a butcher knife?” Why is this character saying this? Why bring up an obvious past? Is there a point to be made or are you (the author) looking to slip in backstory? Do you have the bad guy explaining her motivation in a monologue? Do you have the good guy explains the clever plot just to get it on the page (without any motivation for why he’s saying all this)? Are you forcing your characters to say things because the plot demands it? Instead of this, think about using dialogue to let your characters express emotion. Let your characters avoid answering questions, let them change topics, and let them meander. Let your characters be a little more real and not just be puppets pushed into saying things because the plot demands it.

6) Accents, Ye Olde English, and the Wrong Slang. While great dialogue has a flavor of an individual, too much of this can come across with as bad a taste as over-salted soup. One too many “mayhaps” can throw a reader right out of a story. Same goes for a cliché Scottish accent. When in doubt, go for telling the reader, “She had a lovely Scottish burr.” And leave it at that. Do your research for local dialect and slang but use it to just give a little flavor. A guy from Georgia will swear differently from a Jersey girl, and you want to nail this. You also want your slang to fit both the era and the person. A military man from 1940 will talk different than a lady from 1800. If you get that wrong, readers might not know what exactly is wrong, but they also might not believe your characters or your story. So look up words and phrases—etymology is your friend.

7) Overdone Internal Dialogue. Remember to give great lines to your characters to say and not just to think. Internal dialogue can be a wonderful thing. Writers like Mary Balogh are masters at it. But too much thinking can slow your story’s pace, particularly if a character thinks and thinks and thinks about the same thing. Know the type of story you’re writing and what works best for your characters and your story.

A Good Narrative

Narrative is one of those flexible words. The basic meaning is the same as a story, but narrative can be use as a noun or as an adjective. it is an account of events, experiences and details. But as an adjective, narrative describes the style of the story being told. A good narrative means in part a good style in the story and style matters.

I’m teaching my workshop on showing and telling in February for Outreach International Writers, and I’ve also been reading The Paper Magician, which is a wonderful book to illustrate great narrative, which relies on really excellent telling mixed with showing. That’s right–it’s not only show your characters to the reader.

Now, too much narrative can indeed slow the pace of any story–but it is also useful to set the pace. That includes the details that make up the style. Style is partly a matter of work choice, and also how do you structure your sentences, and how do the paragraphs connect and flow. What are the modifiers you use–are they fresh and specific? Do you vary sentence structure, using shorter sentences to speed action and longer to slow the reader? What words to you choose to set the mood for not just the scene but the entire story? All these details matter.

You may not be too concerned with style when you are just trying to get words on the page and get started, but it’s something to look at as you edit and revise. The style of the story is what pulls in a reader–this is your writer’s voice.

There is a danger here–too much style can become a burden to the reader. This is where the writing gets “writerly”–the writer is drunk on words and this can trip up readers, throwing the reader out of the story. Sometimes the right word is an unusual word–sometimes the unusual word is just the writer getting in the way of the story. This is where the phrase “kill your darlings” can be helpful. It’s a lot like choosing the style of your clothes. That extra watch or scarf or colorful hat may be the right touch–or it may just be one step too far over the edge. But we are back to style. There are writers who can take things far too far and still make it work.

Narrative is all about the details. Is the sky black or inky? Or purple edged? Or pale blue-white, dotted with fluffs of gray? Those are the details that put the reader into the world, and that’s all about telling the reader those exact details. Don’t forget to layer specific details that weave into the style–the sense of smell is one of the strongest to evoke an emotion. Sounds can also act to bring in mood and emotion onto the page. We all have good and bad connotations associated with sounds. Taste and touch are also often neglected as “telling” details that help put the reader into the world. Smells can connect to a taste, bringing in a a bitter taste or a anticipating taste of something delicious. Touch puts the reader in touch with the world–the air, the weather, the heat, the chill, and all the reactions to the setting.

Again, this goes back to style. Some writers have a sparse style–the focus is more on dialogue and action and more on showing. Others have a talent with description and can weave a spell that keeps the reader going. Part of this is about the genre of the work Stories set outside the normal world tend to need more details–and often a slower pace that appeals to the reader–to bring the reader into the world. While action-based stories usually put the action first. It’s all about knowing what is your writing style, and using what you’re good at.

That all starts with being able to know how to show the character to the reader, but also knowing how to use great telling to pull the reader into the fictional world. More on that in February.

Setting the Mood

An open iron gate leads to an enchanting secret garden surrounded by ivy covered trees.

Something what sets a good story apart from a great one is the use of setting as a character. A setting is not just description of a place—it gives the reader more emotion on the page. It uses mood and vivid details to put the reader into the story. Setting is also as much about theme and motifs as anything else.

Let’s take a look at one setting, but given two very different moods and themes. Let’s put the main character into a summer garden—or, actually, two different summer gardens:

She pushed open the gate. It groaned on rusted hinges, barely yielding to her shoves. Ivy dangled low from the wall, browned and gnarled, and a willow tree in the corner sagged against the bricks as if braced for her. A wind whispered, dry and cool, brushing through the leaves as if warning the garden against her presence. Sweat trickled down her back and gathered on her brow, and the bees swarmed to her right, the buzz an angry sting of noise to break the quiet.

That’s garden one—now, same time of year, but a very different mood for this garden:

She pushed open a gate that squeaked on rusted hinges, yielding to her shoves as if grateful for someone to come at last. Ivy curled down from the wall in splashes of green against the red bricks. The willow tree in the corner stirred, the long fronds of leaves beckoning with a luxurious shade away from the heat that pressed down on her. The breeze brushed her cheeks, dusting away her sweat, bringing a sweet tease of wild roses and lavender and honeysuckle. Bees hummed through the dazzling colors at her feet, their legs heavy-bright with pollen, wobbling like drunk sailors in a welcoming port.

This summer garden has gone from a touch ominous to a lush romantic spot through word choices—this lets the reader into the world through the character’s senses. Obviously, in the first garden description, the mood is one of danger and tension. We’re going to have a theme of danger and suspense. The second garden offers a lighter mood—this is going to be a fun story, possibly with some hints in the theme of magic or romance.

That’s what description can do for a story—that’s what setting can do. Setting can anchor the reader into the world. It draws the reader into a place and time and into sensations that make the world come to life. It becomes a vivid character if the writer takes the time to develop all the characters.

All this starts with asking a simple question—what is the mood here? You can follow this up with—what would my character notice? You can overwrite—that’s always possible. But by remember mood and what is important to the story, that will tell you what you need in your setting.

Theme will also help you in that it will tell you what motifs you want to use over and over to better weave theme into your story. Perhaps your theme is about the masks we all wear to protect our inner selves, and so masks and their collection or use, or things hidden with shadows and shading will be part of the settings to bring this theme to the reader without hitting the reader over the head. Or perhaps the theme is about rebirth of self, and you want setting to move from winter to spring several times over to bring that them into the story in subtle ways. All this means the writer must pay attention to the real world and the fictional world.

When thinking about setting, bring in something more than sight. We all lean too much on the physical description of things we see, but very often it’s the aroma floating in the air or the notes of music lingering that really capture our imaginations. A touch of jasmine incense could bring in the exotic, or the sour note from an out-of-tune piano clattering adds a jarring feeling to the reader’s mood. Maybe it’s the taste of something—a spice that goes from nose to tongue. Or maybe it’s the shiver of fog on the skin. Go for the very specific detail.

When you’re editing, look at the writing to remove clichés and look for fresh modifiers—and watch those weak verbs.

Notice that in the garden above, I never write: “The garden was overgrown.” That is flat telling and robs the description of the vivid touches the reader needs to be inside that garden. “Was” becomes a weak verb in such a case. Notice the fresh modifiers—a breeze that dusts away sweat, a sting of noise. You may not come up with these in the first draft, so as you edit, look for fresh ways to convey the mood you want the reader to get from that scene.

By vivid, I mean VERY specific. If you don’t have the specific in mind, go hunting in your experiences or in your imagination.

Never been to the Redwoods, but need them in the story? It’s time to get a really good travel guide, or watch a very detailed documentary. Do the same for any profession you might give a character, or for that character’s background. This is the truth in the phrase “write what you know.”

Whenever you can, pull from where you have been and use your own experiences to give you that perfect smell, that right feeling on your skin, the sounds you heard, and the taste in your mouth. A vivid imagination can help, but so can stepping outside—close your eyes and put your other senses to work. What birds do you hear? What about traffic, or the lack of it. If you’re near the ocean, that tang of salt in your mouth will be noticeable—and perhaps that sand itching under your swimsuit as it dries. Think about what details will best realize your setting as a character and a mood, and reveal something to the reader without “telling” the reader that information.

Maybe your protagonist is an artists and the world is vivid colors—teal, azure, verdant green. Or what if your antagonist has perfect pitch and the least dissonate voice is a screech to her? Be picky about word choices, particularly when editing. In a second or third draft, that is a great time to read your work aloud and write in the margin the emotion you want, and then decide if the words pile into the correct cadence and mood.

Look for overused words. Do you repeat the same phrase too often? Is there a “pet” word you fell in love with that starts to hammer on the reader?

Remember that each new scene needs to be “set” for the reader—the reader won’t be happy if left floating in a void. It doesn’t take much—look at the paragraphs above for the garden. Four or five sentence can do the job. If you have a character in that description and that character’s viewpoint to layer in tension, the reader is going to be caught up in the moment.

Above all, take the time—don’t feel that you have to worry about “oh, it’s a slow pace with too much description.” That description allows the reader to settle into the story and the scene. If your setting is a character, that character can bring forward so many more layers to your story that it can move from just okay to a book a reader can’t put down.

It Really is Just Cricket

The phrase “it’s just not cricket” applies to anything that’s just not fair—such as excluding women from a good number of entertaining sports. However, cricket was one sport where ladies did play. The print of a match held in 1779 and organized by Elizabeth Smith-Stanley, eldest daughter of the 6th Duke of Hamilton, and wife of the Earl of Derby, got me started down this rabbit path.

Cricket match, ladies in Georgian dresses and hats. Bowler kneels at right to bowl underhanded. Lady at left with bat. Wicket-keeper is ready behind the wicket, double rods stuck into the ground. and fielders are at the ready.

As noted by Naomi Clifford on her website, “Women’s cricket was not unknown, the first recorded match being between Bramley and Hambleton in Surrey,” in 1775. Held at Moulsey Hurst, near West Molesey, Surrey, “there was a match between teams of six married and unmarried women, with the singletons winning. Betting was ‘great’.” (The betting note comes from The Recreative Review, or Eccentricities of Literature and Life (1822). Vol 3. London: J. Wallis. Quoting Dodsley, 1774.) She also mentions a women’s match that took place in 1811 at Ball’s Bond, near Newington Green between teams from Hampshire and Surrey

As noted in Pierce Egan’s Book of Sports, and Mirror of Life Embracing the Turf, And Mirror of Life (1836), Ann Baker was ‘the best runner and bowler’ on the Surrey side. However, Hampshire won, after which the players went to the Angel, Islington for a what was accounted to be “slap-up entertainment.”

Back to the Countess of Derby and her match. According to The Pebble in My Shoe: An Anthology of Women’s Cricket, by Roy Case, the other women in the painting include “two teams drawn entirely from upper-class society”. Miss Elizabeth Ann Burrell was said to have ‘got in more notches (meaning a run) in the first and second inning than any other Lady’ which seems to have earned her the admiration of the 8th Duke of Hamilton who married her “before the next cricket season began” according to Case.

In Women’s Sports: A History, Allen Guttman notes that women’s cricket matches were not always  genteel—a match held in July, 1747 was interrupted by “crowd trouble”. Heavy betting might be involved—wasn’t it always for any game—and prizes for the winning team could range from pairs of lace gloves to money to barrels of ale.

A print at the British Museum by Thomas Rowlandson shows “rural sports” of a women’s match with skirts hiked up and flying and the crowd cheering:

“’On Wednesday October 3rd 1811 A Singular Cricket Match took place at Balls Pond Newington. The Players on both sides were 22 Women 11 Hampshire against 11 Surrey. The Match was made between Two Amateur Noblemen of the respective Counties for 500 Guineas a side. The Performers in the Contest were of all Ages and Sizes.’”

“The scene shows batswomen running hard, while one of the field leaps to attempt a high catch; the wicket-keeper crouches behind the wicket, hands on knees. The players have petticoats kilted above the knee, bare heads, necks, and arms; they wear flat slippers. All the fielders look or run towards the ball; one has fallen with great display of leg; another, running headlong, trips over a dog. Eleven are playing, including those batting.”

It does make sense that girls would grow up knowing how to play cricket. After all, if you need 11 players to make a full team, you’d want to draft every player around, regardless of age and sex (and yes, it is recorded that some women played into their 60s). Even for a less official team, the girls might well need to be drafted to play so there’d be enough for a batter and a bowler, and don’t forget the wicketkeeper, the slip, and all the fielding positions.

Back to the countess—she was a bit of a rebel for her era. By 1778, rumors were already going around of her affair with “the most notorious rake of the day” (to quote Alan Crosby’s book Stanley, Edward Smith, twelfth earl of Derby). That man was John Sackville, the Duke of Dorset, and the story went that he would disguise himself as a gardener at Knowsley Hall and climb into the window to visit the countess. That story is generally discounted, but what is true is that Elizabeth separated from her husband, and that was one scandal too many. She had to move abroad, and didn’t return until her husband kicked up a worse scandal by taking up with an actress.

Cricket remained cricket, however, and official women’s clubs would sprint up in later Victorian years.

Do More With Descriptions

Descriptions and narrative can be a wonderful tool for a writer. It is often overlooked by beginning writers—or those still learning their craft—in favor of going for scene after scene after scene. We’re all influenced by both the fast pace of modern life and the fast pace of movies and TV, but stories in print have advantages that the screen lacks. What can great description do for your stories?

"Use the right word, not its second cousin." -- Mark Twain

Set the World—Vivid, specific descriptions put the reader into the world you build. While you may be able to assume much if you’re writing in the modern world, you may still have unique places you want to bring to life. Don’t assume the reader knows what your fictional seaside small town looks like, or what the big city feels like—you may have readers who have never been and want to be transported. In a historical or fantasy setting, you have to build the world for the reader, and you don’t just want the reader to “see” the world, but to experience the sounds, the smells, to feel the weather, to have the touch of the wind on their skin and all of this takes vivid details. You want to layer in sensations for the characters, so they become the stand-in for the reader in that world.

Reveal Your Characters—What a character notices tells the reader a lot about that character. Is your main character a baker, and smells really matter? Does your character have an artistic bent and colors stand out right away? Is your character someone who pays a lot of attention to sounds, or to the clothes of others, or to cars, or to the status of others? Figure that out and weave that in. Maybe your main character is a little bit of a snob and the frayed cuff of a coat sleeve stands out. Or maybe your main character notices the laugh lines around a woman’s face before she sees the diamond and sapphire necklace around that woman’s neck. Again, vivid specific details matter the most. You don’t want to overwhelm the reader, but you want the right description to pull the reader into your character’s thoughts.

Control Pacing—A story can move too fast. If the reader doesn’t care about the characters, the action just becomes action without any emotional stake in the outcome. The reader also can use a breather between too much action—you can wear a reader out if it’s just one thing after another with no relief. Descriptions can help you slow the pace as much as you need by bringing in a change of scene where descriptions matter to put the reader into a time and place. It can help you slow the pace between scenes to give the main character time to regroup and make new plans. It can also help you weave in backstory.

Set the Mood—A great story has a theme and it has a tone or mood. Descriptions are a huge part of this, ranging from the storm battered coast with a leaden sky and a crumbling castle outlined in a brief flash of lightning to the rolling, endless prairie grass dancing in a breeze scented by a cascade of wildflowers that dot the landscape, to the crowded streets of a city with gleaming skyscrapers and the rush of buses and taxies and the blare of sirens in the background. The details you weave in can set an ominous mood or a romantic one, or can increase tension or layer in the details that make the reader want to cozy up on the couch with a tea and dive into your world. We are back again to needing vivid specific detail. If you don’t know your world you must invent or you must research so that you can bring this world to life. You need to know not just the sights, but the sounds, the aromas, the feel of the place.

Is a Vital Part of Voice—A writer’s voice is one of the most powerful tools to hook a reader into wanting more of your stories. You have to discover your voice and develop it—writing is a craft to learn, and then can become an art to practice. Is your voice best suited to sly comedy or to tense drama? Look at your bookshelf for what attracts you most. Do you have a voice better suited to the modern world or to a historical era? Is your voice best for the old west or for a pirate’s adventure on the high seas? Every writer has to figure this out, and then use description as part of that voice. This is how you phrase things, how you view the world, how your characters view the world. Do not be afraid if your voice works better with omniscient viewpoint instead of third person, or go for first person if that’s the voice where you feel comfortable. Beware following trends—if a voice isn’t right for you that story’s not going to work.

Description takes all your skill as a writer to make the writing disappear for the reader, to bring the reader into your fictional world and show the reader this world through your characters’ eyes and through the vivid details that you weave into your story. You have to choose the right descriptions for the place and time—not just the era, but the month, the week, the day, the hour. Vivid, specific description—not just yellow, but vibrant lemon—make the world come to life for the reader, and that’s one step closer to making your characters come to life.