Category Archives: Revising

Note to Self: The Scenic Route is Slow

My daughter and I are on a road trip to the Oregon coast this week. I grew up in mountains and rivers, so I’m not one of those people who yearns for the coast. But I confess, it is a delightful escape from temperatures in the high 90s and fiery smoke-filled air in Boise.

We took a route getting to our favorite coastal spot that we haven’t taken before. So we had no idea what to expect. One road we took looked shorter on the map, but when we turned onto it, the sign indicated it was a “Scenic Byway.” Now, I’ve been around the bend enough times to know that translates as “Slow. Enter only if you time.” Fortunately, we did.

It occurred to me that this is a good metaphor for the way I write. Mostly slowly. Taking lots of time. Enjoying the view. I know others who proceed in a very methodical, planned way, but I tend to turn onto a road and see what it’s like.

My writing process usually looks something like this:

First, the idea hits. I avoid the urge (mostly out of the wisdom of having spent years jumping on each new idea only to have it go nowhere) to start writing. If an idea sticks with me for several months, I know it’s a keeper. I let the idea percolate in my mind, letting details and characters develop, almost as if in utero. Slowly.

Once I am ready to write, I don’t create and outline or a plan. That’s not my style. I often have an idea of the overall arc of the story I’m looking at, which is one reason I let it go through the percolating process. I jump in and start my first draft, following my main character wherever he/she leads me. Sometimes we take detours that don’t really add to the plot, but that I maybe needed to write in order to know something I need to know. I write the first draft all the way through without revising. I know people who revise as they go, but I like to keep my momentum going forward.

Once I have a first draft, I begin showing the manuscript to other readers, such as my trusted and fantastic critique group. (Note: all authors should have a critique group, or at least a few trusted readers who will give you a thorough critique.) I make notes as they critique and they usually write comments on the manuscript. Plus, I generally have a lot of my own changes I want to make. It might take me up to a year to go through a revision. Slowly. I let the story live in my head again, pondering moments that don’t seem to work until a solution comes to me. I write a lot of new scenes, expand scenes that I rushed through in the first draft, and delete a LOT of scenes, or even entire chapters. Sometimes entire characters. To me, one of the most important revision tools is the willingness to cut stuff out. Or “kill your darllings,” as we often hear at writing workshops.

I am not a fast writer. Which isn’t a problem for me. I’m not in a hurry to get to a final destination. I have that luxury at the moment. Several of my published friends live by deadlines and frequently feel pressured to the point of ineptitude. I don’t mind writing to deadlines for short pieces, but I think (ask me later if I still feel this way) the blessing of being “pre-published” in the book industry is that I can take all the time I need. I have several manuscripts that I have done this way, and I’ve noticed the process gets more efficient all the time. What used to take years I can now do in months. I can see more readily what needs to be changed.

This didn’t happen overnight. I didn’t learn it all at one weekend workshop. I have learned my style and my craft through long, slow years of trying, failing, trying again. Learning each step of the way. There is always something around the next bend, but you have to drive slowly enough to see it.


Posted by on September 17, 2013 in readers, Revising, writing, writing craft, writing slow


Self Publishing 3

This summer I had the opportunity to read several books. Some of the e-books I chose to read were free on Kindle, by long published authors and new authors taking advantage of the self publishing boom.

I have an eye for spotting errors in what I read, probably because I have practiced editing and proofreading my manuscripts for many years. I’ve gotten so that I can spot an error in anyone’s book, at least one error, ninety-five percent of the time. I am okay with, or can tolerate, up to four errors per book, but after that I am annoyed and most psychology books will say that being annoyed leads to anger.

Yes, I became angry with a new author, who could write, but had errors in her book. It wasn’t misspelled words that got my attention, but words that didn’t belong in the sentence, like someone used auto correct. Another common error in this book was leaving out a word in a sentence. Writers can leave out a word and miss it in the editing process because our minds know what we meant to say and so we think it’s there. It happens to the best of us, that’s why we need another set of eyes on our manuscript. Actually, more than one pair.

Today the trend is to hire a professional editor to go over a book before self publishing. An editor is someone who prepares the final version of the manuscript, helping the writer determine the length and the order of events and scenes, character development, etc. Yet, I believe the author mentioned above needed a professional proofreader more than an editor. A proofreader goes line by line and marks corrections in grammar, spelling, omitted words, etc.

Presently, some of the best marketing opportunities are asking for books with four and five star reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. They want proven books, reviewed by average folks, not your author buddies. So, basically, the writer needs a proofreader and an editor, whether you hire someone or not. Don’t trust your eye as the only proofreader you need because it is quite likely you will miss something. The goal is to present your best work to the world, so don’t be in a hurry and get the help you need.


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Tips for Submitting Manuscripts for Professional Critiques

In a workshop I took last fall, Heather Petty, a very wise author, shared some tips for submitting queries and manuscripts. One of her tips appeared numerous times: follow the submission guidelines. It’s so important, she repeated it.

I found out recently just how annoying it is when authors don’t follow submission guidelines. Our SCBWI region is hosting an event we’re calling The Great Critique, and I asked authors to submit their manuscripts via email as an attachment, in either a pdf or doc format. Most of them got it right. A few put the text of their manuscript in the body of the email. Some sent me a link to google docs for theirs. A few asked who to mail it to.

Since some of these manuscripts were going to agents and editors for paid critiques, it was pretty important that they be correctly formatted. And I asked the authors to resubmit them correctly.

But there are other ways authors don’t use their best judgment in submitting for professional critiques. So here are a few random tips from someone who is often sending manuscripts from authors to agents/editors for these kind of paid critiques. It’s not exhaustive, but it should help.

1. Send only your absolutely best work. Not your first draft for sure. And not a draft that your grandchildren really liked. If you have a regular critique group or one or two trusted readers, make sure they’ve seen what you plan to submit before you send it. Then you’ll be sending the best possible work you have. The reasons for this strategy are many. The most important one, I think, is why would you want an editor to associate your name with anything that is sub par? No, said editor is probably not going to offer you a contract based on ten pages she critiques, but if she ever sees your name again, wouldn’t you want that association to be a good one?

2. Follow the standard formatting of manuscripts. These include double-spacing, 12 point type, a normal font (usually Times New Roman), decent margins, and numbered pages. Even if you’re submitting electronically and the agent/editor can manipulate the text on the screen, why make them work harder to read your story? And make sure to use only single spaces after sentences–it’s so annoying to read ten pages thinking the entire time: “one space. One space.” Make sure there are no typos, your dialogue is correctly formatted, and your paragraphs aren’t too long or too short. Show that you are a professional.

3. Know your genres. If you are submitting a picture book text, it better not be 2,500 words. That proves to the editor that you don’t know anything about the current picture book market. If you’re submitting YA, the protagonist darn well better not be 12 years old. If you don’t know what defines a certain genre, then your manuscript is far from ready for a professional critique. You need to do some research, take some classes, join SCBWI or another professional organization, but you aren’t ready for this.

4. You don’t need a cover letter, a note, an explanation, or anything else. If the guidelines ask for a synopsis, it should be one page or less. The same care and attention should go into your synopsis as your manuscript. Most of us find these truly difficult to write, so don’t just dash one off and assume it’s fine. It needs to capture the basic elements of your action plot as well as the emotional plot. All materials not requested just get recycled, so don’t waste the paper.

5. Know whether your manuscript is appropriate for the professional who will be reading it. This is a common issue with agents/editors who speak at conferences. We often invite authors to submit manuscripts for critique when we have an agent/editor speaking at a conference. But not all agents rep all genres, and not all editors acquire all genres. All of these folks have web sites. At the very least, take a look at that before you submit. If you have a picture book, but the critiquer doesn’t do picture books, don’t waste your money. This is clearly not a genre that this person loves, nor is this person going to have much to say that will be useful to your manuscript. Save yours for a chance with a professional who is totally into your genre. At larger conferences, where there are a wide variety of speakers, you might have a better chance at getting connected with a critique in your specific genre.

6. If you are lucky enough to receive the critique in a face to face interaction, be polite, prompt, and open. Don’t argue or get defensive. Let the professional do most of the talking. You want to learn from them. If you are receiving a written critique, read it, then put it away, then read it again in a week. Our natural response it to think they are stupid and totally misread everything we meant. But a week later, our defensiveness has dissipated and we can be more objective. Usually, we see that the agent or editor was spot on.

7. Don’t get the same manuscript critiqued over and over. Most of these kinds of critiques usually want the first 10 or maybe 20 pages. Work on the rest of the manuscript too. Don’t work the opening to death. Each reader is going to have a different opinion, and it’s easy to be overwhelmed and confused when you have too many opinions. If what the first critiquer says make sense to you, then take those suggestions and use them as you revise your entire manuscript.

8. Never forget that some of the best critiquers are right here, your peers and colleagues. Yes, we all value what an agent or editor has to say, but sometimes you will get far more usefulness from peer critiques in a group setting than anywhere else. Don’t discount those valuable fellow authors and their knowledge.


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What, Why, and How of Line Edits

Line edits have dominated my writing time of late.

What are Line Edits?  These are the sentence-level edits — trimming and rearranging words without losing content, clarity, or voice.

Why Line Edits?  I aim for what I’ve heard termed “window pane prose” — clean prose that doesn’t draw attention to itself, but displays the story to the reader.  Trimming unnecessary gunk allows the prose to flow smoother and the story to shine.

How to Line Edit? There are lots of ways to edit at the sentence level.  Reading out loud can be very helpful — the tongue trips over things the brain doesn’t.  Often I do this, but I tend to get wrapped up in the story and miss the trees for the forest.  Sometimes changing the font can help the manuscript look new.  I know some folks who start with the last sentence in the book and work their way to the front, but I’m not coordinated enough to do that.

So I keep a list of potential “problem” words, then search through the manuscript for every instance of it.  This helps me ignore the story and focus on the words.  My awesome husband recently programmed me a macro for Word to streamline the process, and kindly shared his work here.

I don’t always cut the words on my list.  They’re not bad words.  Sometimes they’re even the best word.  But I’m often able to find cleaner prose by cutting them.

Filtering Words: Wondered, Hoped, Thought, Realized, Considered, Could see/hear, The sound of, Saw, Watched, looked

I believe I have Janice Hardy’s excellent blog to thank for this list.  All of these words appear in my manuscript, but I cut most of them.  Often, these words act as a filter between the reader and the POV character, instead of letting POV pull its own weight:

Example: Lizzie glanced up at the diner clock and sighed.  She realized she was late for the night shift again.

Lizzie glanced up at the diner clock and sighed.  She was late for the night shift again.

Result: Cut two words, kept everything else.  Tighter POV. -2 words.

Example: Lizzie stared down at the open ring box in Rick’s hand.  She thought about his offer.  She wondered if she’d be happy with him.  She could see that the pawn shop ring was gold, with a small diamond, inside a velvet box that looked fancier than the ring itself.  Her throat tightened.  No, she shouldn’t accept — she never could convince herself that their relationship was anything more than a second-hand love in fine trappings.

Lizzie stared down at the open ring box in Rick’s hand.  Could she be happy with him?  The small pawn-shop diamond and its gold band gleamed coldly in a velvet box fancier than the ring itself.  Her throat tightened.  She should say no.  Their relationship had never felt like anything more than second-hand love in fine trappings.

Result: Rearranged the prose to let the description show time spent thinking and reinforce her emotional state.  -18 words.

Example: “I saw Rick proposing outside,” June said, handing Lizzie a fresh mug of coffee.  “Want to talk about it?”

Result: Without the “I saw”, this sentence would read like June is trying to relay new information to Lizzie, when Lizzie obviously knows this.  Clarity, content, and voice are the goal, so this stays.

Overused Words: was, were, just, very, a little, started, began, even

I’ve cobbled this list together over time, noting words that I either use too often, or that could often be replaced with stronger, better words.

Example: Lizzie was going to lose her job over this, but feeling badly about dumping the boss’ son just wasn’t going to pay the rent.

Lizzie would lose her job over this, but moping about dumping the boss’ son wouldn’t pay the rent.

Result: More clarity, -6 words.

Example: Lizzie started to drink a little of the coffee.  “Just what I needed.  Thanks, June.”  She knew that she was smarter and stronger than this.  Tomorrow, she would start applying for every job that she was qualified for.  Rick wasn’t in control of her life anymore.

Lizzie sipped her coffee.  “Just what I needed.  Thanks, June.”  She was smarter and stronger than this.  Tomorrow, she’d apply for every job she could.  Rick didn’t control her life anymore.

Result: Note that while I cut a lot, I left the “just” in the dialogue, because deleting it didn’t make sense, and rewording it would sound stilted (“This is exactly what I needed”).  -15 words.

Going through the manuscript, cutting one or two words here and there takes time.  But in the end, I get a novel that’s easier on reader’s eyes.  Time well-spent.  The more I search for problematic words, the more my lazy brain refuses to type them in the first place.  Anyone else have a list of line edit words they keep?  Any other favorites to watch out for?


Posted by on June 13, 2013 in POV, Revising, writing craft


Grammar Lesson

I edit manuscripts for other authors as part of my freelance business. And while I focus more on the big picture stuff, there are also times when little things like punctuation just annoy me to tears. Grammar, punctuation, and spelling do matter. You should never, ever submit a manuscript with errors of this kind that can be easily fixed.

By now, you’ve probably seen the popular meme that shows two versions of the same sentence:

Let’s eat Grandma!


Let’s eat, Grandma!

One little comma changes the meaning of the sentence entirely. In the first, we’re going to actually eat Grandma. Now this might be what you mean if you are writing about the Donner Party or a horror story involving cannibalism. But if you mean to be telling Grandma you are ready to eat, you better have a comma.

There are also very important reason to use commas correctly to separate items in a series. Such as: I ate grapes, mangoes, and bacon. If you leave off the final comma, it connects mangoes and bacon–which might be what you meant. Mangoes wrapped in bacon. Hmmmm. But if you meant each item separately, then you need the comma.

Most people can manage those commas pretty well. It gets tricky when you start using them in dialogue.

Simple dialogue doesn’t seem to trouble most people. Something like: “I want to go to the grocery store,” said Mom. That’s pretty normal.

But what if your dialogue is more obtuse and complicated? I’ve had clients do any of the following:

“I don’t know,” He said, “can you tell me the answer?”

“Please don’t go,” he scratched his lip.

“Whatever,” she asked… “do you mean?”

And much, much worse. I’ll give you a minute to fix the mistakes in the above sentences and see how you do. I’ll wait.

Done? Okay, let’s check our work. The first sentence should read:

“I don’t know,” he said. “Can you tell me the answer?”

If you are using a comma before the dialogue tag, you don’t capitalize “he.” You do put a period after “said.” And you cap the next bit of dialogue.

“Please don’t go.” He scratched his lip.


“Please, don’t go.” He scratched his lip.

I think the comma after “please” is optional, depending on the inflection you want. The first way, without the comma, is more urgent. The second way is more pleading.

The most important part of the fix is to put a period after “go.” Why? Because the comma between what is said and the dialogue tag is meant to allow for the tag to indicate who and how it is being said. But we have an action following this dialogue that is completely a separate thing from what is being said. Therefore, you put a period. “He scratched his lip” is not a dialogue tag. It is an action unto itself.

People have been known to get into screaming matches over this kind of thing. Please don’t do that. But do please remember that a dialogue tag has to do with the statement or question said. Therefore, the dialogue tag must be words like:






A frequent mistake of beginning writers, and something that will scream to an editor that you are a beginner, is using words that cannot possibly describe how something is being said as if they are dialogue tags.

For example, “I have to kill you now,” he held up his gun. Holding up the gun is an action, but it does not describe how the words are spoken. I don’t even like things like “he threatened” in this case. Mostly because the words are already threatening, so it’s redundant to say that.

Often, writers will have a character laugh their line. Have you ever tried laughing words? It can’t be done. Yes, you can laugh while you’re speaking, but you’re still speaking. The laughter is separate from the words. I’ve seen dialogue where a character is snorting his lines, sneezing them, hiccuping them. None of these is speech.

The easiest way to fix this is to make the dialogue and the action two separate sentences: “I have to kill you now.” He held up the gun.

Our last test sample was this: “Whatever,” she asked… “do you mean?”

This isn’t wrong, per se, but it is more complicated than necessary. It would flow more smoothly like this:

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked.

Whenever possible, simple is better. The main goal in writing dialogue is for the tags to disappear from consciousness. The less obtrusive they are, they better.

However, perhaps the author is trying to convey a pause, a hesitation on the speaker’s part. Then this would work:

“Whatever. . .” She paused. “Whatever do you mean?”

(Side note: Ellipses are typed with spaces between the periods. Just FYI.)

This is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg of comma usage. There are whole books on this topic. My favorite book with the clearest examples of correct usage is Strunk & White’s The Elements of Style. It’s a classic.

If you can accomplish correct usage in your punctuation, your copyeditor will love you.


Posted by on February 20, 2013 in editors, Grammar, publishing, Revising, writing craft



Carly Simon’s song, “Anticipation,” was featured in a ketchup commercial in the ’70s. Remember that? The ketchup flowed oh so slowly, but it was totally worth waiting for. I can still remember her sultry voice over singing “Anticipation” while the actor on the commercial waited with watering mouth for the ketchup to finally reach his hamburger.

This past summer, I attended Jay Asher’s talk about Anticipation at the SCBWI international conference. His basic point was that as we writers create tension within our stories, anticipation is a great way to heighten that tension. After all, if a scary monster just shows up and says “boo,” it’s not nearly as scary as if the character hears a noise, goes to investigate, finds nothing, worries and frets and works herself up for a good scare, and THEN the scary monster shows up.

I love anticipation in novels. It keeps me reading, because I want to find out what is really going on. I want to know if my suspicions are correct, or if the scary thing is something else. (I’m just using scary as an example. Anticipation can apply to happy, joyous, momentous, nervous, and life or death moments as well.)

One way to increase the anticipation of events is to slow down. My first drafts usually barrel straight through without slowing down, so when I revise this is one element I am particularly aware of. Let the scene or chapter unfold gradually and include bits that will build the anticipation. The character might wonder what that noise was. Or worry about what kind of trouble she might in with the headmistress. Or the best friend saw something and is telling the main character about it.

Another device, depending on how you tell the story, could be switching points of view. Some of my favorite authors use multiple points of view in succession, and just at the cliffhanger moment, a chapter with character A ends and we move on to a chapter told from character B’s point of view, leaving the anticipation of finding out what happens to A still in place. I usually curse the author for torturing me, but I keep reading, of course.

Ways NOT to use anticipation: When you have a scene filled with cryptic images and lots of anticipation, only to have the character awake and realize it was only a dream, the reader will feel cheated. Or if the character is building up in his head a horrible, horrible consequence, and it comes to nothing, again the reader will feel cheated. You can’t just include anticipation for anticipation’s sake. If that ketchup never reaches the hamburger, it doesn’t work.

Anticipation doesn’t always have to be very overt. It can be indicated by a tiny mannerism. For example, you set up early in the novel that character A has a nervous mannerism of twisting her wedding ring around when she’s worried. Then throughout the novel, if she’s twisting her wedding ring, we know she’s worried. That is a tiny indication that we should be anticipating something. All the better if the ring twisting is directly connected to something to do with her marriage, as the symbolism will just strengthen the anticipation. In Harry Potter, his scar burned every time Voldemort was near. Talk about anticipation! The reader knew immediately that a big something was about to take place. And kept reading.

As the holidays approach, we can all remember the anticipation we had as children. It seemed that Christmas took forever to finally arrive. I spent many moments shaking presents and trying to guess what was inside. So much so that my mom put in beans and trinkets and other things just to throw me off track. The anticipation of Christmas morning was almost more enjoyable than the actual moment itself.

Of course, not every child has a happy Christmas. Or birthdays. Sometimes the anticipation is the happy part and the reality is the tragic part. That makes for great stories. This kind of emotional anticipation and the failure of reality to match up is the ultimate tension.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to. . .oh, what was that noise? Why are the dogs barking so frantically? Find out in our next episode!


Posted by on November 27, 2012 in conflict, plotting, POV, Revising, writing craft


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Pacing: A Primer

I’ve been thinking about pacing a lot lately, as I’m revising my current work in progress, and pacing is always something I completely forget about in the first draft stage. Pacing is a really important element of writing fiction, and one many writers don’t really understand. So I decided to try to break it down.

Pacing to me refers to the speed of the action of the plot. If you think of that standard plot arc we’re all taught in school, the portion that takes the longest is the rising action. Once you reach the climax, the action quickly resolves and ends. That’s a truncated explanation of pacing. Pacing affects each scene as well as the entire plot. Here are some ways pacing can go wrong and what to do about them:

Problem #1: Too much backstory. Backstory is just what it sounds like—things that happened to the characters before the current story begins. Beginning writers notoriously include way too much backstory, which slows down the action of the story you’re trying to tell. Sometimes, though, the backstory is pretty important to understanding where the character is emotionally or physically. The trick is to balance these needs.

  • I would venture to say that you ought never to start your story with backstory. Get right into the current story. You can include important backstory bits as necessary.
  • Do not stop the action to give a long flashback or piece of information from the past. Backstory works best when woven into the current action.
  • Leave out all backstory in the first draft, then see if things make sense to your initial readers. If so, don’t even bother putting any of it in. If first readers don’t get a character’s motivation, for example, and a little backstory will help, then find a way to include it unobtrusively.

Problem #2: Rushing through a scene. This is something I am guilty of, especially in first drafts. If a scene is important enough for the story, it’s important enough to flesh out. I often find that I have summarized a scene rather than actually let it take place on the page.

  • One indicator of a rushed scene is one made up entirely of dialogue. You can slow down such a scene by giving the characters “beats” of action interspersed with the dialogue. You can also show the reader the main character’s thoughts, as well as the reactions of all the characters to what is being said.
  • Another indicator of rushing through a scene is the feeling a reader gets of not knowing where they are or what’s happening. Be sure to give your reader enough scene setting (without stopping the action for long paragraphs of description) to feel grounded and present in the scene with the characters.

Problem #3: A scene that moves too slowly or feels like nothing is happening. These can be scenes that are entirely dialogue, but they might also contain lots of moments in the character’s head while she’s thinking and deciding what to do next. Or they might be scenes full of backstory (see above) or full of description with no action. They might just be transitional scenes to get the characters from one scene to another.

  • Make sure every single scene in a story moves the story and the plot forward. A scene with character’s sitting around trying to decide what to do next might be realistic, but not interesting to read. I will often write these scenes in the first draft because I need them to understand where I’m going, but I cut them entirely in revision.
  • Avoid long descriptions, especially of what characters are wearing or their facial expressions, height, build, etc. One personal characteristic can give us much more insight into a character than what color her hair is. Does she bite her nails incessantly? Also avoid long descriptions of confusing places, as it just serves to confuse readers. If the character is trapped in a giant castle, we only need to see the immediate stone walls dripping with moss, not the entire layout of the castle.

Problem #4: Starting the story in the wrong place. This often involves starting with a bunch of backstory, most of which you can usually eliminate in revision. But it can also involve not really knowing where your story truly starts.

  • The best advice I’ve received as far as the beginning of a story is to start on the day everything changes for the character. But even this can be tricky. You want to give enough indication of what the character’s “normal” is before you get to what changes.
  • I used to always hear this advice: start with action. But more and more, I am finding that is not good advice. Yes, you don’t want to start with boredom, either, but often an action scene to open a story only serves to confuse the reader. They don’t know the characters yet, so they don’t care what happens in this death defying moment. First get the reader to care about your character.
  • Avoid starting with dialogue. Like action openings, we don’t know who’s talking, where they are, or what’s going on.
  • On the flip side, don’t spend so much time grounding us that we get bored.
  • I like books in which within the first two to three pages I see the main character and get a sense of who he/she is, have a sense of where we are, and can understand what the character’s conflict revolves around and why that is important to him/her.
  • Avoid beginnings that are dreams and then the character wakes up. The reader feels cheated.
  • Avoid beginning a story and then going back to a flashback to explain how we got here. (It sometimes works in movies, but only if done really well.)

Problem #5: An ending that drags on too long. Once the character has resolved whatever the conflict was, you can pretty much end the story. You don’t need to tie up everything in a tidy pink bow.

  • Leave the reader with a sense of what the character’s life will be like now, the “new normal” and that the character will be okay. Unless of course, you are writing horror or something.
  • Allow the reader enough uncertainty that we can imagine for ourselves what might happen if there were a next page.
  • Don’t try to explain every lesson learned or every plot point. Trust the reader to get it.

This is just a small portion of the revision that involves pacing. There are those murky middles, the endless horrific events problems in thrillers, and more. But if you follow these few guidelines, you’ll be well on your way to better pacing.

And don’t forget the amazing Plot Master Class with Cheryl Klein that will be held in Salt Lake City on November 17, sponsored by the Utah/southern Idaho region of SCBWI. More information can be found here: