1e. Repeating the
first word of each paragraph
This is generally the issue when dealing with scenes that
only has one character in it. We centre the world around them, and often –
wrongly – make them the apex of everything. You end up getting paragraphs
starting with ‘He wasn’t sure where…’ and ‘He bent down to pick it up…’ as well
as ‘He hadn’t thought of this before…’ blah blah blah
Go down the page and make sure to change it up a bit. Start
the paragraph with another character, or with opening a scene, or even focusing
on an item. It doesn’t always have to be from the main character’s perspective.
1f. Words that
mean the same thing
Many of these are clichés. Like ‘he went up north to
Scotland’. Up and north are the same thing.
Try
‘ He went north to Scotland ‘
Or
‘ He went up to Scotland ‘
Safe Haven is another one to look out for. Words that may
not be the same thing, but are descriptions that aren’t necessary. Havens are
always safe, so just write ‘haven’ instead. It’s a bit like saying ‘you’re a
stupid silly person’. It’s too much and spoils the reading.
1g. Too much
needless or outright wrong descriptions
I’ll always remember this line from Fifty Shades of Grey
(which is a book everyone should read if they want to learn how NOT to write)
“Desire pools dark and deadly in my groin”
Okay, those are words, yes, and that’s a sentence, check,
but NONE OF THAT MAKES SENSE.
Yes, desire and deadly go together rather well. Our emotions
are often linked with dangerous descriptions because to think with our hearts has
traditionally been viewed as a risky thing to do. Desire can be dark, yes. In
fact, the most erotic form of desire tends to be of the darkest variety. And
we’ve got desire and groin, which… well I’ll grant you that desire is sexual
(often enough) and groins are places we tend to find our sexual organs, so
fine, I’ll grant you that one. But let’s link up the other descriptions.
Pools and groin. Gross. I don’t want to think of pools
(which can be stagnant and smelly) in connection with groins (which can get
foisty, ew). So that’s a massive turn off right there.
How about deadly and groin? This actually made me laugh. She
has a deadly groin! Rofl. Nope. That’s a dead weight where my libido’s
concerned.
Dark groin? I ain’t going anywhere near that one. Makes it
sound like a spooky cave.
Either way, this is a good example of how too much
description (and descriptions that are just plain wrong) will ruin the flow of
your story. I couldn’t get beyond that sentence and it took me out of the world
the writer was trying to make.
Can we improve this sentence? How about
My dark desires were manifesting into borderline deadly
ideas that caused powerful reverberations in my…groin.
Okay no, I can’t improve that sentence. Groin is just not a
sexy word. It would’ve sufficed to say ‘The arousal I felt from my dark desires
could’ve been considered deadly.” Still corny, but at least we lost the groin.
Say it slowly, groin….
1h. Basic
paragraph structure.
Ask yourself is there tension in this scene? Is it romantic?
Are people trying to be stealthy? Is a bomb about to blow? Or is someone
slipping peacefully into death? How we build the paragraph will influence the
flow of the scene and directly affect the mood.
Writing is like sculpting. Some people throw a wad of clay
on a board and go hell for leather. No form, no structure, they just get the
shape made and will work on the finer details later (or not in some cases, see
50 Shades of Grey lmao). Others have trained their inside voice to operate in a
certain fashion every time they start typing. It’s taken me years to come to
this realisation, but once I did, I made it a habit and now I can’t help it.
My Standard paragraph tends to look like this.
This is how I write my paragraphs. I start with a short
sentence, then I use a longer one with a comma. The third sentence will
typically follow the same style as the second, but I’ll lengthen it quite a
bit. Depending on what I’m writing, I may even use two commas in the third
line, but I usually like to wait for the fourth line to do this. I typically
limit the length of my sentences to that of the fourth, though I will on
occasions make them longer, but only if it flows and there’s plenty to explain.
But don’t be afraid to drop in short sentences. Sometimes, it’s all right to be
abrupt.
The above paragraph is typically how I like to write. This
format is standard, so I’m not trying to relay any emotion here. I’m simply
explaining. If I break it down, it looks like this,
1.
This is how I write my paragraphs.
2.
I start with a short sentence, then I use a
longer one with a comma.
3.
The third sentence will typically follow the
same style as the second, but I’ll lengthen it quite a bit.
4.
Depending on what I’m writing, I may even use
two commas in the third line, but I usually like to wait for the fourth line to
do this.
5.
I typically limit the length of my sentences to
that of the fourth, though I will on occasions make them longer, but only if it
flows and there’s plenty to explain.
6.
But don’t be afraid to drop in short sentences.
7.
Sometimes, it’s all right to be abrupt.
Lines 6 and 7 aren’t part of my standard usually. I drop
back into abrupt lines depending on what information I’m relaying, as this can
slow down the reader.
In consideration to the above, it’s important to remember
this rule;
Comma’s slow you down, periods stop you.
Paragraphs reset.
(be mindful that this applies to readers who read as if
they’re speaking out loud. This is a flow many will adopt, except those who
speed read, to which the flow is still important, but for a different reason.
See ‘speed readers’ for that).
View a comma like a speed bump; it’s only a slight pause
before you continue along your way, without interrupting the flow.
But periods are breathers. When you see a full stop, it’s an
indicator that you should take a breath. This is all the time you need before
continuing onto the next sentence, and should be only marginally longer than a
comma.
Paragraphs, however, should reset you. When reading
verbally, you should adopt the action of taking a breath, find the beginning of
the paragraph, and read around three to five words ahead before you start
speaking them. This is particularly important when reading dialogue. Why?
Because the ‘he said’ ‘she said’ is typically at the end of the sentence, and
it’s important to know who’s speaking before you commit a voice.
Putting these rules into action.
Say the scene calls for panic. When there’s panic, we don’t
want to be dragged along. Because of this, what we’re reading needs to meet the
right pace, and this applies to both punctuation and the execution of the
story. It can’t be achieved simply by ‘reading faster.’
Short sentences will kill the panic. If you write like this,
it’s too slow. The reader wants speed. No stop-start. Stop-start…
Let the sentences flow properly, using a few commas whilst
ensuring the meat of the drama is being told.
Paragraphs that call for panic could go like this
‘ There was a wealth of noise, but no one noticed it. The
mother was in agony and she was panicking, no one could deny that, but right
then, no one could help her. The nurses and doctors in that room were like
soldiers in the field, rushing to fill needles with adrenaline, attaching new
saline bags, monitoring machines, and calling for additional support.
“What’s happening with my baby?” the mother cried through
lips wet from running tears and sweat, but whatever answers were given were
done so mechanically, reading off a script as their minds were stuck with the
danger that this baby would suffocate even before it was born. Right then, a
room that’d seen the birthing of life dozens of times a week may well see
death. ‘
If I break some of it down we see
1.
There was a wealth of noise, but no one noticed
it.
2.
The mother was in agony and she was panicking,
no one could deny that, but right then, no one could help her.
3.
The nurses and doctors in that room were like
soldiers in the field, rushing to fill needles with adrenaline, attaching new
saline bags, monitoring machines, and calling for additional support.
Just like in my standard paragraphs, we’re following a
structure. We’re still building up as the paragraph continues, and this helps
ease the reader in, even when our intention is to take them on a ride. But look
closely at the sentences; fewer full stops, more commas, and more words. If we
were to change that to more periods and less commas, how would that read?
‘ There was a wealth of noise. No one noticed it. The mother
was in agony. She was panicking. No one could deny that. But, right then, no
one could help her. The nurses and doctors in that room were like soldiers in
the field. They were rushing to fill needles with adrenaline. Nurses were
attaching new saline bags. Some were monitoring machines, and additional
support was being called. ‘
The flow is stuttering. Is this bad writing? Not really.
This method could be better used in a scene that calls for calm and
thoughtfulness. How about
‘ The heart monitor was bleeping steadily. It was the only
noise in that dim room. The bed was well made. Her body made a shape beneath
the sheet, but she was motionless. Her chest wasn’t. That was all that stirred
in the room. It was the machines keeping her alive. She’d fought hard. It hadn’t
been enough… ‘
Perfect practice for getting across deep and brooding
scenes.
But it’s not always our punctuation that can ruin the flow.
What we write could also take the interest away. How many stories have you read
where there’s nail-biting drama going on, but, for some reason, the writer just
cuts into the middle of it to land a load of exposition on your plate.
Here’s an example of unnecessary exposition
‘ There was a wealth of noise, but no one noticed it. The mother
was in agony and she was panicking, no one could deny that, but right then, no
one could help her. The nurses and doctors in that room were like soldiers in
the field, rushing to fill needles with adrenaline, attaching new saline bags,
monitoring machines, and calling for additional support.
“What’s happening with my baby?” the mother cried before
dropping back into her pillow. Her eyes were on the ceiling, but that wasn’t
what she was seeing. There flashed the face of her first baby, born premature and
tiny, lying in his incubator and unable to breathe for himself. He only lasted
a few days before he couldn’t go on. It’d been soul crushing and nothing could
shake the torment.
“We’re doing everything we can, honey,” a nurse said
mechanically, reading off a script as their minds were stuck with the danger
that this baby would suffocate even before it was born. Right then, a room
that’d seen the coming of life dozens of times that week may well see death. ‘
Is that information vital for the story right then? No. Does
it add to the danger that this baby (and the mother) could die? No. If
anything, it slows the pace down, detracts from the gripping drama, and means
the reader must get re-invested in the scene once again.
How to remedy this?
Exposition should be treated like salt. A little is all we
need, and don’t do it to add flavour, but to bring out the flavours already
there. And when to add it is just as important. Don’t stop the drama to insert
backstory, because that’s just an insult to your reader and a shame on your
writing.
Speed readers still need flow
I’m a speed reader. I’ll get through a three-hundred-page
book in six hours. It’s not the best way to read a book, but I’m so damn
impatient that I must know! And that’s not even fast for a speed reader. Most I
know can get through a book in half that time. I know one woman who can read an
entire book at breakfast! Madness.
Speed readers need that flow to get to the end of the book.
This is because we rely heavily on predictability. I know that the first few
sentences aren’t going to deliver whopping amounts of information, (usually),
so rather than read them, I can look at them, take the key words, and move on.
And if there isn’t all that fluffy description filler, I tend to be able to
skip the middle or even the end of sentences and still know what’s going on. Often,
I get caught by something that slows me down and that’s not a bad thing. But by
being consistent, by using standard paragraphs, and not dropping exposition and
filler randomly into ongoing scenes, speed readers will find a book far more
enjoyable.
In conclusion
Flow brings life to a story, much like a river brings life
to the banks. If there’s no movement, or if it goes too fast, the reader loses
out.
Exposition will always ruin flow. Always. It doesn’t mean
it’s not interesting, but if it’s not important enough to be worked into the
plot, then it’s not worth too much time being spent on it. Getting these out in
small but satisfactory chunks is important, and not dropping them in the middle
of interesting scenes is also vital (unless it’s stuff like ‘Luke I am your
father’ and whatnot, which is small, sweet, and makes an impact on the plot
quite nicely).
Punctuation is vital. Structure your paragraphs and check
your tools. Keep ellipsis to a minimum. Use periods sparingly in scenes that
call for energy and speed, but don’t use too many commas, either.
Repetition can kill a story more than anything. At least
exposition gives you story. Repetition does little but grate on the reader and
this needs to be avoided.
But most importantly, read out loud! Find a private place,
get into character, feel it as you say it, and don’t rush. You’re reading this
to yourself not because you like the sound of your own voice, but because
you’re listening for issues in flow, grammar, and punctuation.
Good luck and don’t forget,
Never stop writing.
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