The Trouble with Real Life by Diana Flegal

Truth is often stranger than fiction.

I have received countless promising submissions that I end up turning down for this reason; the character encountered a situation, and dealt with it in an unbelievable manner.

When questioning the writer about this part of their story they often tell me, “But it really happened like that!” I have no reason to doubt them. My own personal story holds many such incredible circumstances, but they would not come across as believable by any stretch of the imagination to a reader of fiction.

“It’s no wonder truth is stranger than fiction, fiction has to make sense.”― Mark Twain  

A writer must be willing to edit out the unbelievable. And for some, that feels like they are being untrue to themselves. But if their personal life experience brought them to a good story, it has served a grand purpose and the writer needs to be content with this.

Cardinal Rule: A good writer must keep their reader in mind.

“Sometimes the truth isn't good enough, sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded”. – Batman-The Dark Knight

Remember: ALWAYS keep your reader in mind. And be willing to cut those unbelievable segments of your story out.

Here is a list of articles a Google search supplied on writing believable characters.

Read through a few when you have the time. There will certainly be a nugget or two here that might, when applied, strengthen and enrich your story and characters.    

And be encouraged, Spring is around the corner!

Writing and Winter Car Washes

How could you make your project shine?

This weekend I finished judging more than 130 pieces of published writing for a national magazine contest. A few days earlier, in mid-February Colorado, I took advantage of a break in the weather to wash my winter-encrusted minivan.

This morning I reflected on the relationship of car washing and writing — especially revising.

I’ve been driving that minivan for nearly twelve years. While never flashy, it’s fabulously practical. I’ve hauled cargo for conferences and friends to concerts. With regular upkeep and occasional repairs, it’s still running strong.

But midweek, all I saw was the grime from four months of winter. Yet the forecast called for unseasonable warmth. Thursday after lunch the thermometer said 71 degrees. Time for me to wash the van.

The water from the hose was cold, but the sun shone brightly. I began spraying the van to loosen the crust. The suds, sponge, and spray performed their magic. In a half hour, my minivan shone.

But it wasn’t perfect. Yesterday before I drove to see a friend in a medical facility, I noticed a few spots I’d missed. A few moments with a damp towel, and those flaws disappeared. I drove to Denver no longer distracted by the van’s appearance. I could concentrate on my driving and the reason for the trip.

Purpose ranked high as a criteria as I judged the writing contest: how fresh and powerful was the idea being conveyed. Equally important was the writing’s result for a reader: the takeaway.

For the idea to connect required two components: the method used to convey the content and the quality of the writing. Were readers invited into the piece, made to feel welcome, and transported smoothly to the end?

All the contest articles had been published. All conveyed some potentially useful information. But few of them really shined.

Yet they could have. Most of the problems were obvious — and potentially easy to fix:

● Beginning on topic

● Staying on topic

● Speaking the reader’s language

● Taking a consistent approach

● Citing specific examples

● Using simple, direct prose

● Maintaining eye contact

When I washed my van, I did the best I could for February. With other projects pending, I had only a half hour. But that fixed the biggest problems.

My van wasn’t transformed into a new Lexus or a custom ’57 Chevy convertible. Just a clean Plymouth minivan ready to do its job. That was enough. As I drove to see my friend, I enjoyed the ride.

Check Your Blind Spots by Andy Scheer

While reading someone else's book, have you ever caught yourself skimming? I thought so.

The next time you find yourself not reading every word, take advantage of the opportunity. Try to figure what went wrong – why this passage doesn't hold your attention:

● The author stepped away from dramatization and dumped a long passage of summary or backstory.

● She let a character deliver a speech.

● He wants to explain something in numbing detail.

● She spent too many pages exploring a subplot instead of advancing the story.

Whatever the problems, store them in a self-editor's checklist, and use that list to examine the nearly complete pages of your work in progress.

If you're fortunate, you'll find pages to revise. But don't trust yourself. You have blind spots – especially about your own work.

That's where beta readers come in. Or they should.

I doubt the author of the nonfiction manuscript I recently edited used beta readers. Or heeded their advice. Most of Chapter 2 expounded basic information his target readers should already know. It interrupted the flow between Chapters 1 and 3, and he'd done nothing to set it in context.

He was impassioned about the information, and the entire chapter sat squarely in his blind spot. After a paragraph or two, readers will skim. If the author is fortunate, they'll peek ahead to Chapter 3 – and check back in.

If you've secured an agent and anticipate traditional publishing, you're working with a safety net that independent authors may bypass. But you're working with gatekeepers who set the bar high.

They'll expect you're aware of your biggest blind spots—and have taken steps to address them.

There's no point in writing words your audience will want to skim.

Edit It Cold

My writing, like me, could stand to lose 30 pounds.

Try as I might to write lean and edit leaner, surplus words still slip in.

Ironic, since much of my time as a freelance book editor goes toward liposuctioning fat from another's writing.

“Overwriting is certainly one of my literary vices,” my current client said after I'd emailed him a sample of how I'd edit his novel, “so please feel free to apply a chainsaw (rather than a scalpel) as you see fit.”

He may not realize I do the same with my own words.

At my day job, I sometimes adapt articles from material I first posted here. I open the file hoping I won't have to change much. I'm almost always wrong.

The difference? Months have passed, giving me a fresh perspective. Instead of viewing the words as my own, I can see them more objectively.

Instead of seeing what I meant to write, I see what I actually wrote.

Time to start cutting.

New York Times bestselling novelist Jerry B. Jenkins advises writers to print their work, put the pages in the freezer overnight, then look at them cold.

With some metaphoric allowance, that works for me.

Beware of the Dangling Modifier!

            As conference season begins for me this weekend, we are often asked to provide a list of writing resources we recommend.

Proofreading Secrets of Bestselling Authors by Kathy Ide is on my list.

Kathy offers us a helpful tip here.

Beware of the Dangling Modifier! 

            As a writer, words and punctuation marks are the tools of your trade. Right? Actually … wrong! Grammatically, anyway.

            When you start a sentence with a modifying word or phrase, the subject of the sentence is what has to be modified by that word or phrase. An introductory phrase that doesn’t modify the appropriate word is called a “dangling modifier.”

            The opening phrase in the above sentence is “As a writer.” The subject of the sentence is “Words and punctuation marks.” Since words and punctuation marks are not “a writer,” we’d need to rewrite that to something like “Words and punctuation marks are a writer’s tools of the trade.”

            Now that you’ve been reminded of a rule you probably barely paid attention to in high school, let’s try a tricky example:

Six months after attending Mount Hermon, Kim’s article was accepted by a publisher.

            “Kim’s article” did not attend Mount Hermon. So you’d want to rewrite that too.

            Timing is crucial when it comes to modifiers. Any action in the introductory phrase must be accomplished at the same time as the action in the rest of the sentence. For example:

Hugging the postman, Delilah ripped open the box containing her new novel.

            Delilah cannot simultaneously hug the postman and rip open a box.

            Once you get a handle on these dangling dilly-dallies, you’ll be spotting them everywhere! Maybe even in your own writing.

            For more tips on proofreading for typos, inconsistencies, and errors in punctuation, usage, grammar, and spelling, check out Kathy’s new book, Proofreading Secrets of Best-Selling Authors, which just released on January 31st from Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Stop by and visit Kathy's website/blog at www.KathyIde.com.

Leave Out the Good Stuff by Andy Scheer

That principle served me well on my latest book project.

I'm assembling a photo gift book for my father-in-law, based on the 10-day, 2,700-mile trip we took this fall in his 1930 Ford Model A. I served as navigator, co-driver, and photographer. Along the way we explored five antique car museums.

At the end of our trip, thanks to digital photography and a pair of cameras, I'd shot some 2,700 photos.

How could I make the decisions to assemble a photo book? Simple. First eliminate the bad stuff: photos with poor composition, focus, or exposure. But that still left more than 2,600 photos. So I had to eliminate the good stuff.

My book would have no room for images that are merely good. Or that overlap with better photos.

Today as I saved the final draft, my photo book has 56 pages and 203 photos. Each earned its place by telling an essential part of the story in a distinctive way.

I expect my target reader will keep turning pages, all the way to the end.