I’ve Said It Before, and I’ll Say It Again. . .

Less is more. This maxim applies in almost every circumstance.

Let’s examine. One of my favorite things to do is get rid of stuff. All stuff. Any stuff. Old clothes–or even new clothes that I no longer wear. Papers that demonstrated my ability to spell in second grade. Furniture we have no room for. It frees our tiny space of clutter and makes me feel lighter. Plus, then I have room for MORE books, which is really all I hope to have in my possession when I die. And it gives me MORE time. For example, if I have only three pair of pants to wear, making the choice of outfit for the day is vastly streamlined, giving me MORE time.When I keep my refrigerator as empty as possible while still having food to eat, I can more easily see what we have on hand and what we don’t. Less food goes to waste because nothing is hiding there in the way far back corner, and therefore I have MORE money for groceries.

Okay, I think that’s plenty of examples. So now let’s apply this maxim to writing. As you know, I work as a freelance writer and editor in addition to writing fiction of my own. One of the things I am constantly telling all my clients is that they are too wordy. And if they only cut out 5,000 words they could then have MORE space to bring to the forefront the more important scenes they need to show,

Let’s look at a few ways authors tend to be too wordy.

First is adjectives and adverbs. Now, these are fine words for vocabulary on the SAT and stuff, but not so useful for an author. They make us wordy. I know–you love them. How can you cut them? Slash them quickly and painlessly. A common thing authors do is string a whole bunch of adjectives together:

Molly approached the huge, scary, dark, Victorian house.

Not only is that a lot of adjectives, but they are all pretty vague. What exactly is huge? Bigger than an aircraft carrier? Or just bigger than my car? What is scary? It could be a perfectly manicured Pleasantville-type house. Or something that is covered in ivy and where nobody is ever seen. Or maybe it’s not so much the house itself that is scary, but the people who live there. So what if the author rewrites that sentence with fewer, but stronger, words? Something like:

Oily tar paper jutted from beneath a few jagged shingles.

Okay, it’s not really fewer words, but the words are much more evocative, don’t you think? So they are put to better use.

Nonfiction authors sometimes try to be so erudite that you can’t even understand them.

Here are a few examples from a nonfiction project I’m currently editing:

The Jack Russell terrier named Stubby, in a video recorded scene in John’s hot tub, became a television star, acclaimed eventually as winner of American television’s “America’s Funniest Home Videos” quarterly and then annual competitions.

How about this instead:

John recorded his dog Stubby in the hot tub, and they won “America’s Funniest Home Videos.”

Says pretty much the same thing, leaving out a few insignificant details.Which is the point. One way to use fewer words is to know what you really need to say. Most authors of both fiction and nonfiction write way more than the reader needs to know.

The next sentence in that same piece was originally:

Accompanying those distinctions were prize checks for a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, a windfall John didn’t care to have taxes diminish.

My rewrite is: They won $125,000, but John didn’t want to pay taxes on that much.

Long sentences with big words are usually not all that interesting. Using active verbs and strong words simplifies your writing as well as making it more readable.

A couple of other ways we are too wordy include saying the same thing multiple ways, just to make sure we are clear. Terri Farley, a Nevada author who is also a fantastic teacher, calls this the “Get It Factor.” As in, imagine the reader saying “I get it, already.”

For example, if I write:

Angela fought back the tears. “I hate you.” She was so sad. She hated him.

Get it? Why not just leave it with the first two sentences? They convey the sentiment well enough with the additional two sentences, which essentially just repeat the same thing.

Authors are notorious for including too much back story. This is especially so for beginning authors. They want to tell us everything about a character that led up to the point at which we find them in the story. Most of that is great for the author to know, but the reader doesn’t care. That’s why we revise. Most of the time, I can tell an author to chop off the first three chapters or so and start there.

Less IS more. When you are less wordy, your writing becomes MORE active, MORE clear, and MORE fun to read.

Now, here’s your challenge: find some places in your writing where you are too wordy and post them in the comments. Then we will all see how we can shorten those excerpts to make it MORE.

 

Summer Retreat

I am a member of The Coeur du Bois Chapter of Romance Writers of America.  I often refer to it as a small but mighty chapter.

Last weekend was the Coeur du Bois annual retreat.

We spend the weekend at a cabin.  There is a cost of sixty dollars.  This covers the rental expense of our lodging and food.  It isn’t a fundraiser; it’s a perk of membership.

Janis McCurry served as president of the chapter several years ago.  During her tenure, she and her board began the summer retreat.  The first retreat was split between two cabins.  One location was the McCurry family cabin on the shores of Payette Lake, and the other cabin belonged to Robin Lee Hatcher.  The two groups came together during the day to work.

The original idea was to use this time to brainstorm and plot novels.  Some members noticed that it was difficult for writers to take suggestions on current works in progress.  It was decided that an easier approach would be to plot the writer’s next project.  That way no fingers would be crushed by others’ suggestions.

We’ve had Saturday film night.  The group watched a movie and had a discussion afterward about plot elements.  We’ve had Friday game night.  I’m going to confess, I hated the Friday night games.  I didn’t see the tie to writing.  My feelings changed on the subject a few years ago—at a cabin in Crouch.  That was the last game played at retreat.  After the game, we even coined a phrase.  “What happens in Crouch, stays in Crouch.”  Our chapter has changed that saying to, “What happens at retreat, stays at retreat.”

An optional Thursday night was added and many members decided to make it a long weekend.

Through the years, the retreat has changed to meet the needs of the members attending.

I can’t go into the details of what happened during the weekend.  “What happens at retreat, stays at retreat.”  But I am going to share a tremor-inducing moment called Power Hour.   A timer was set and we worked for an hour, uninterrupted.  As I have stated, retreat is to serve the individual member.  During that hour, people did what they wanted.  The keys of laptops clicked, there was the sound of pages being turned, fingers brushed over reading devices, research was conducted, people slept.  During the Power Hour, the cone of silence was on.  If you needed to talk to someone, it was done away from the main living area of the cabin.  There was something about having that timer going.  There were four or five Power Hours each day.  People could continue to work on their projects at other times, and many did.  There was just no guarantee of quiet.

During the weekend, I managed to complete a scene that has driven me insane for over a month.  I wrote seven pages, which is huge for me.  I read a book.

When we had breaks from Power Hour, we met in a small group to apply the Hero’s Journey to The Hunger Games, and Bet Me.  I read someone’s plot outline and discussed it with them.  In a small informal group, we helped an author with some plotting issues on their next project, and listened to a new author’s first three pages.

My writing partner and I had two meetings with Beta readers to discuss our work in progress.  They’d been given the manuscript ahead of time, and had a few suggestions to improve our novel.

It was a busy weekend.

Retreat is special because it gives writers time to focus on…writing.  Most people leave retreat feeling rested and revitalized.  I am happy to take part in this event. There are chapters too large to do something like this.

It was amazing how much was accomplished during that time.

My critique group sees the benefit of retreats.  We have a fall and a spring retreat.  We stay in Boise, check into a hotel Friday night, and stay until Sunday.

Have you considered making arrangements for a writers’ weekend?  What things would you need to do in order to have a successful retreat?

 

Plot Revisited

I love reading, I love finding new authors and I love to find authors who write something new and totally unexpected. But more than anything I love to read books that are different takes on a not so original plot.

There is something comforting and familiar to me about knowing the general plot line ahead of time. And I love to read an author’s take on that plot and see what new twists and turns she or he has added in.

My all time favorite? Beauty and the Beast. I love that fairy tale. I find it fascinating and intriguing. A woman falling in love with the man inside the beast. It always makes me sigh.

Christina Dodd has a new book out entitled “Wilder” which has a Beauty and the Beast plot line. I’ve never read one of her books. I will be picking up her book tomorrow. I can’t wait.

I do the same thing with certain characters. Is it a book about werewolves? Sign me up. A Seal? oh, yeah baby. Actually, that could be any man in uniform. I’m not picky.

My favorite heroines? The shy, not so attractive, socially awkward misfits. I love to cheer for them.

I’ve always been drawn towards certain books. They’re like that favorite blanket I had as a child. Patched, color-faded with ragged edges, it went everywhere I went. On trips to new places. In airplanes and boats. It was always there. The familiar with the new.

What about you? Do you have any favorite plot lines? Any heroines or heroes that get you time and again?

 

Perspective

I know. I know. You were expecting a long dissertation on program evaluation for grant writers. I wanted to write it. Truly, I did. But, it’s just so dang boring. In fact, I’ve been struggling with a little writing self sabotage. I had good news . . . or at least promising news. An agent requested a full; another asked for a partial. Yea!!

Yeah. Good news. So, naturally, I’ve been in a re-writing, self-doubting frenzy. And just as naturally (yes, pun intended, who could resist?)  I headed for the hills.  Not in a rough wilderness way, but in a visit-my-family’s-cabin-with-all-amenities way. For several days, I hung out with Nike and Daisy. I wrote, thought, ate chocolate, and wrote some more.

The girls are pound puppies, and their heritage is indistinct. According to their adoption papers. Daisy’s a border collie/aussie mix and Nike is a blue heeler. They are definitely working dogs and have distinct breed-based styles – Daisy handles perimeter and Nike circles me 24/7 as she would a cattle herd (I deny any resemblance to such).

While I threw a pity party, my canine entourage guarded the interior front and back doors (each took one), and monitored the exterior grounds from windows. During frequent breaks (I needed carbs and diet pepsi; they needed to mark territory), we took deck time and simply listened to the sounds of the forest. And let me tell you, day or night, the forest is a dang noisy place. Admittedly, we barred the doors when the stars hit the heavens. The girls were less eager – being intelligent breeds – to explore the howls of the wolf packs (apparently we’ve two in that range). But from sun to set, they were on recon.

And their diligence, their dedication, and heck, even their near-obsessive joy in the effort smacked me upside the head with an epiphany.

The girls didn’t need to know what might happen next. They didn’t even need a reward. They simply knew their purpose. They knew what they were born to do. And they did not lose faith in the possibility of realizing it.

It’s all about perspective.

What we see is a combination of what we have experienced and what we anticipate. What we see can be limiting. But what we do . . .  what we do is based on the promise.

You can see Daisy in the lower right corner. Nike is probably either laying on my feet or figuring out the most efficient way to trip me. I had no idea what captured Daisy’s attention. Her alert stance lasted a solid five minutes, time enough to watch her, fumble with my camera, and finally take a picture. Is it the bird feeder? The sound of the woodpecker from the far right. Something hiding in the brush?

This scenario played out on the first day. And every day thereafter, at approximately the same time (7a or so), she took almost exactly the same position and didn’t move – barely an ear twitch, and certainly no tail action (that dog’s tail could solve an energy crisis) for several minutes.

Once a fox ran past – nada. Squirrels did nothing for her. Birds, wind, trees creaking, brush cracking. Zip.

Until the final day.

I was packing up, rushing around, ready to give in and head home, hoping another change of venue would help when I saw Daisy do a slow belly flop. She kept her head high, eyes locked on the same general spot. Her only movement was the minute whump whump whump of her tail.

A doe picked her way across the edge of the property, followed by two more, just to the left of the small pine in the middle (the one with a few rusty needles).

Nike, like Daisy, had her purpose of course. She stood behind me, pushed her head between my legs, (thank goodness for yoga or I’d have broken a hip) and huffed out a growly sort of yip. No predatory herbivore was gonna make trouble on her watch.

The deer bounded off. Daisy looked behind (I swear she rolled her eyes). My sweet baby Nike withdrew, planted her furry little behind on the floor and waited for my praise.

Our lesson? Be patient. Take joy in the potential of something wonderful crossing our path.  Don’t forget what we were born to do. And do not lose faith in the possibility of realizing it. Even — and especially — if those around us don’t always appreciate our effort.

 

Welcome, Guest Blogger, Lynn Cahoon

Write What You Know.

We’ve all heard the advice.  Write the book of your heart.  Write what you know. Research is your friend.

But what’s a girl to do when her ‘life’ is boring and predictable.  I grew up on a small farm south of Nampa. I attended school and graduated with a class of 63 others. All of us intent on one thing, getting out of the small town we lived in as soon as possible and finding somewhere to live where things happen.  And so I did.  First I moved to Boise and attended college.  (Go Big Blue!)

When I graduated, I worked for the state agency who gives away money in the form of food stamps and welfare benefits.  I had a child, lost one, and gave up on a marriage after almost twenty years of dysfunction.

Then, my new husband and I moved 1600 miles away from the place I’d called home for forty years.  Less than a year after the move, I got the diagnosis of breast cancer from a routine mammogram.  I spent a year fighting the disease and the complications from treatment.

I’d been writing for about six years.  Taking workshops in fiction.  Trying to find the subject that was entertaining, yet close to my experiences.

Still, I felt ordinary. I was Betty to Archie’s Veronica.

I started writing a book about a woman I wanted to be.  Then I wrote a second book, focusing on a heroine dreaming of owning an organic farm who falls in love with the man whose corporate seed company is trying to buy the farm out from under her.  (That manuscript is out under consideration.) And then I started a story about a tilapia farm at a hot springs spa – melding two real locations – one on the way up to Atlanta (a small mining community) and Riggins, known for their first weekend in May rodeo.

After several rough drafts, Trouble with Tilapia became The Bull Rider’s Brother (which was just released in June from Crimson Romance.)

I’d found what was special about my life.  The funny thing, it was there all along.  It’s the sights, and customs, and smells of growing up on a small farm.  The stories from attending school where Wranglers and boots were appropriate wear and F-150’s were the majority of trucks in the parking lot.

Idaho is a special place.  I know this fact now because I live next to the Mississippi river outside St. Louis. I let my stories tell the world about the special wonder that is Idaho.  And sometimes my characters fight the fights I wanted to win and wound up losing.

So, what makes your stories special?  What flavor do you add? And tell me an Idaho story, please.  I’m a little homesick. 

Growing up in the middle of cowboy country, Lynn Cahoon was destined to fall in love with a tall, cool glass of water.  Now, she enjoys writing about small town America, the cowboys who ride the range, and the women who love them. Contact her at her website – www.lynncahoon.wordpress.com