Monday Madness: He Said, She Said (The Great "Said" Debate)

"Said is an invisible word. Readers' brains skip right over it," he said.

"But it's so boring," she argued.

"That's the point," he insisted.

"Whatever," she muttered.

When I started writing toward publication, I viewed dialogue tags in the same way I viewed verbs: the more specific they are, the stronger the writing.

And then I joined a critique group whose members said that I was figuratively bludgeoning them to death with all my mutters, whispers, groans and exclamations. And thus we entered the Great Said Debate.

There are some who believe that said is the only dialogue tag to be used at all (with the exception of asked, but even that's not necessary to some). Then there are those (like the greener me) that used them ALL THE TIME and couldn't get enough of them.

Now, I'm proud to say that I'm somewhere in-between. But I've some guidelines that I follow now:

1. What do you think you're doing?

When I've finished a line of dialogue, I think about what that character is doing at that moment. What is their state of mind? Are they in the middle of an action? If so, that action can often be used in place of a dialogue tag. (This method is very much approved by most agents.)

Example: Instead of, "You cannot defeat the Ogre Army all by yourself!" Ulrich said angrily. You can say, Ulrich slammed a fist on the table. "You cannot defeat the Ogre Army all by yourself!"

2. Too much action, not enough talk.

Mickey touched her shoulder. "I love you."


She stepped away. "I don't love you."


He followed. "That's not what you said last night."


"Last night I was drunk." She laughed. 

(Note that "laughed" is not a dialogue tag. (Please, for the love of sweet, baby giraffes.))
Just as it's possible to overuse dialogue tags, it's possible to overuse action. The trick is finding a happy medium. (I hate it when people tell me that. Lol.)


3. If you have to use an adverb with said, you're probably better off using something else.

I hate adverbs. Really. Epecially "-ly" ones. In the words of Mark Twain, "If you see an adverb, kill it."

4. You say it best when you say nothing at all.

Sometimes when it comes to dialogue, you don't have to use tags or actions every time someone speaks to indicate which person is speaking. As long as your consistent with your paragraph breaks (new paragraph for a new speaker) then a reader should be able to follow. And if you have a long scene of conversation, this comes in handy.

The choice of when to use action, when to use a tag or when to use nothing really boils down to fluidity. What makes the story flow the best? To see if your conversation is working, read it aloud. If you're tripping over tags and slogging through the action, then there's something wrong and you need some pruning.

But that's what she said.

Randomness

Just some random information you may or may not care about, but has been on my mind for some reason:

I'm the most cautious impulsive person you'll ever meet.

I have the urges to do stupid things all the time, like jump out of windows, in front of vehicles, touch hot surfaces, pick my nose in public, etc., just to see what would happen. Though I KNOW that nothing good would happen. So I refrain. But barely. (I also have awful road rage, which is why I do not carry a gun. Because I would shoot so many people's tires out.)

Sometimes I forget that I'm alive, breathing, experiencing, and then I get these huge moments of self-awareness. I think, Whoa, I'm here. Right now. In this chair. That's amazing.

I drink lemon juice by the shot glass. I used to do this all the time when I was younger and wanted to be "adult." Lemon juice almost manifests the same, scrunched, painful faces as whiskey. Though lemon juice has yet to make me want to throw up.

I have prophetic dreams at times. Recently I've been dreaming that I find my cat. I'm hoping that comes true.

A book or movie can completely alter my mood. And it will stay that way ALL DAY. I watched the episode of Gilmore Girls where Lorelai sleeps with Chris because Luke won't marry her right that second and I was so PISSED for the rest of the day! Same thing happened when Rory quit college. (Yes, I'm sad.)

What about you? Have any random things going for you?

Harry Potter (Belated Banned Book Review)

I was twelve when the first Harry Potter came out.

That's right: twelve.

And I was SO disappointed that I never got my Hogwarts letter. I kept checking my window, hoping that maybe the owl was delayed or had gotten lost and that my letter to the famous school of wizards was on its way. (Never mind that I live in the U.S. and using an owl to fly from Britain to Arkansas would be a form of animal cruelty.) I was seriously obsessed with this book. It opened a whole new world for me. A special world where magic and flying broomsticks secretly existed beside parking meters and burger joints. Looking back on how obsessed I was with these books (and still am obsessed to some degree) I can understand why some parents might flip out.

It's sort of the same thing with Dungeons & Dragons role-playing game. It's often misconstrued as a gateway for evil and an encouragement for murder (where they get the connection that rolling dice and slaying dragons equals a desire to pick up a gun and blow your neighbor away...I have no idea). Growing up in the Bible Belt, I dealt with a lot of narrow-mindedness when it came to ANYTHING dealing with magic. I had friends who weren't allowed to watch Beauty and the Beast because the dishes were "possessed." Seriously. So when Harry Potter came out and started a literary fire, I remember all the church officials marching up to my school and demanding that such unholy filth be removed from the reach of innocents.

Nope. Not kidding.

Now, even though I was obsessed (maybe even unhealthily obsessed) with Harry Potter, there are some things a twelve year old understands immediately when she opens a book.

1. It's a book. Therefore, no matter how real the characters/situations feel, it's NOT real.
2. There's a difference between a satanic how-to and a story. Harry Potter is definitely not the former. (Though maybe if you highlight every fourth word every three paragraphs... Nope, gibberish.)
3. Reading a story (or even an instructional how-to) does not mean that you will start a cultish following and start waving wands at people and shouting "Expelliarmus!"

My thoughts? While some people forge into the unknown without a second thought, that same uncertainty scares the beejeezus out of others. Banned books are really about people being afraid; afraid of magic, the Devil or even immorality. And they think that books are powerful tools in conveying such dastardly ideas. But what they don't understand is that even a twelve year old--heck, even an eleven year old--can take what they want from a story and leave the rest.

What I thought was hilarious? At the time they were fighting to keep Harry Potter out of the schools, I discovered a lesbian erotica in the school's library. But there wasn't any magic in it...so I guess it's more appropriate for junior high kids than Harry Potter. ;)

Note: Yes, I was going to do Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings but I haven't had the time or the energy to get to the library. I highly recommend it, however.

Monday Madness: The Good, The Bad & The Tit-for-Tat

I’m a member of Critique Circle. While it’s not my most frequent haunt, there are things that it offers that appeals to me. One is the payment/point scale. For every story you critique you’re awarded a certain number of points (increasing as the story gets longer.) In order to earn the minimum points, you have to write at least 300 words (which prevents people from simply popping in and saying, “I hated/loved it” and not elaborating). Works are not limited to PG-13 ratings (they’re simply required to have a warning and, I believe, younger authors/readers aren’t able to access them). They even have an erotica forum. Plus, they implement a tit-for-tat policy when it comes to critiques. Basically, if you crit someone’s work, they should crit yours. Tit-for-tat. Sounds reasonable to me. (Sometimes there’s nothing more frustrating than a writer who won’t return the favor.)

But there are things that make me not like that so much. One reason is that not the best critters are the best writers, and I feel like I’m cheating someone who gave me an excellent critique if their writing is less than promising. (Time to break out the red pen!)

Another problem that arises in the tit-for-tat is the Genre Snob. There are genres we just don’t like to read (admit it). I’m comfortable and content in my fantasy/romance niche, but I do sometimes stray into other genres. Often it’s an exercise in helping me stretch my own writerly muscles (can I look beyond the content and focus on the technical and vice versa?), but sometimes it can lead to a problem.

With tit-for-tat, if I critiqued, say, a hardcore thriller, that author might not be so thrilled (har har) to crit my romantic fantasy. And if they “don’t normally read this kind of stuff” it might befuddle their critting skills. So, instead of focusing on plot holes or stilted dialogue, they might instead focus on how it’s ridiculous for a unicorn to be a prince (or some such completely unbeneficial nonsense) and make suggestions instead to change my story.

Tsk. Tsk. Bad critter.

However, on the flip side of that is that they notice things that other readers familiar with the genre might overlook (i.e. if she discovers a magic sword that won’t break in scene one, then how come it breaks in scene three?) since they might be more skeptical and less forgiving. I like that.

I’ve had an equal number of good and bad critters, all of them attempting to be helpful. Surprisingly, I think I benefit from both the people who are fluent in my genre and those who aren’t, and I’ll gladly wade through the unhelpful sludge. But I’m curious, which side do you think gives the best crits: those familiar with your genre or those who aren’t? 

I'm Sorry

I really meant to review a banned book yesterday. And I really, really wanted to. My brain and body, however, were not cooperating. (They're still not, but I can at least write an apology.)

Suffice it to say, however, that I have a doctor's note. Yes, I'm sick and possibly more than sick. My doc isn't sure yet. I don't think I'm dying, but if I have what she thinks I have then I might want to die. (Kidding.)

I'll try to make up for my ailment next week and review a banned book then (after all, we should read banned books all year, not just for a week).

I look forward to reading your own reviews. (And did you notice how I used parentheses in all of my paragraphs? That takes talent!)

Have a great weekend!

Well, This Is Embarrassing...

It's Banned Book Week and I'm seriously astounded at how much amazing literature has been banned. Some of it makes me want to laugh and say, "Really?" Others just make me want to cry. But, in honor of Banned Book Week, I'm participating (a little late) in The Rejectionist's Humiliation Uncontest. Which celebrates our own works of genius (har har) that should never see the light of day.

Thankfully, I lost all of my journals in a fire my senior year of high school, so most of that pubescent angst is ash, but I do have a journal from afterward and...I'm sorry, but just reading it brings up some REALLY bad memories and feelings, so I couldn't even bear to look at it for this. Is it embarrassing? Probably, but I don't mind that so much as I mind what it is that prompted all the craziness in it (an abusive relationship). So...yeah. I don't like to revisit that much.

HOWEVER!

I will share one of my first novel attempts with you. I went through this a few months back just for fun and did some editing (no worries, I kept the original garbage), and it was hilarious how much stuff I struck out.

Without further ado, here's bits of Siren's Song in all their raw glory:

It was an untamed land, full of unexplored crevices and exotic phenomenon.  The forests grew unhindered, stretching their amber limbs toward the pinnacle of the sky.  Emerald and jade leaves flared in their thirsty search for sunlight and the fauna basked in the cool shade the leafy boughs created.  A shining river sliced its way through the thick trees, a ribbon of clear blue on a blanket of green velvet.  Pearl-gray mountains with saber-sharp peaks ringed the land.  Snow shimmered in the folds of rock beneath the questing light of the twin suns.

The suns met in the sky and golden light burst forth, blinding to all who dared to look upon their awe-inspiring beauty.  The sunlight floated down, banishing the shadows to the darkest of caverns.  It touched each leaf, caressed each sienna limb, and sparkled on the surface of the rushing river.  And then the fierce light threw itself upon the unyielding face of a magnificent palace.

This descriptive setting goes on for about four more paragraphs...and then we meet the character, Siren:

Siren stood, stretching her limbs to their fullest measure.  She was the tallest female in Silentwind, reaching the height of five feet and nine inches.  With her well-formed body, sleek muscles, and scarlet wings, she was also rumored to be the most beautiful.  Her face was heart-shaped, with sharp cheek bones, a petite nose, and full lips.  Her eyes were rather large, tilted almonds of the purest shade of gold, and framed by thick lashes.  They flashed with intelligence.  Her hair was long, thick, and striking red.  Gold highlights streaked through the lush mane.  The generous tresses flowed over her shoulders, down her back, to stop at the curve of her slender waist.  But her wings were her most dazzling feature.  The feathery limbs were a shade darker than her hair and were richly patterned with bronze and gold.  They spanned ten feet, the longest primaries reaching to the middle of her calves.

She lacked the bold paint of womanhood, revealing her unique innocence.  Her hair did not have the usual braids favored by her people but thirteen feathers of various colors and sizes were scattered throughout the red curls.  A lethal-looking sword rode on her hip.  The cold glint hinted at the warrior beneath her softness.

Methinks I loved description. I still do, but I've learned my lesson that sometimes less is more. Also, I've also strayed from "the most beautiful" stereotype. More for your amusement:

Damn her anyway! Blaine cursed silently, slipping through the underbrush.  He watched with despair as the heavy canopy once more blocked his quarry from view.  He shook his head.  He should never have helped her.  And he would not have if he had known she was going to steal his precious harp.  Blasted vixen!  He leapt over a fallen tree, nearly losing his footing on the slick leaves that lurked on the other side.  Cursing and puffing, he continued running.  Branches swiped at him with tremendous glee.  They left their scarlet marks on his hands and cheeks.  Rocks reared up in his path; moss and squishy foliage made his trek perilous.  But he continued on, his silver eyes trained for a flash of crimson above the trees. 

He stumbled into the clearing unexpectedly, blinded by the fierce glare of sunshine.  He squinted up at the bare sky.  He couldn’t see anything but unyielding blue.  Absorbed as he was in his search, he did not notice the two shadows descending on him until it was too late.  They crashed into him, pinning him to the ground with embarrassing ease.  A spear point tickled his throat.

“And what have we here?” a voice hissed.

“A spy,” another one answered.

“A slimy Walker,” more spat, and snickers passed through the assembled attackers.  The curses fell upon Blaine’s prone form like venomous clouds of doom.

“Shall we kill him?” a youth asked, peering down at the minstrel with disgusted interest on his handsome face.  His amber eyes shone with curious dislike.

The tall spear-wielder grinned malevolently.  His white wings swallowed the sky.  “Of course we shall.  All Walkers that come into this clearing are sentenced to die,” he declared.  His companions smiled grimly.  He gently increased the pressure on Blaine’s neck.  Blood welled in ruby drops.

“Lightning Moon!” the sharp voice brought the sky-dweller’s head up immediately.

“Your Highness!” he said in surprise.

She broke through the dumbfounded ranks of Lendai.  They parted for her.  And though she limped, her regal bearing and imperious command left them all humble.  She hobbled up to Lightning Moon and jerked the spear from his grasp.

“What are you doing?’ he growled, his amber eyes flashed at her.

Siren glared at him, “This Walker saved me from certain death.  If not for him, I would be at the Walkers’ mercy right now.”

“Why?” he demanded, “What happened?” He grabbed her arms, noticing her leg for the first time, “You are wounded.”

She shrugged his hands away.  “Bring the Walker to Silentwind, Lightning Moon.  See that he is not mistreated.”  She glared pointedly at him.

He lowered his voice confidentially, “He is a Walker.  You cannot trust him.”

She tossed her head, her eyes glowed angrily at his blunt statement.   “This has nothing to do with trust,” she snarled, “and everything to do with honor.”  She shoved the spear into the soft ground.  “Now bring him to the palace.”  She snapped her wings and soared into the sky.  Two Lendai followed her.

Melodramatic much? The sad thing is...I'm still a bit like this. I tend to be poetic and all that jazz...Just not as bad, I hope.

I hope you enjoyed it! Lol. And don't forget to pick up some banned books this week! I'm personally seeking out Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, again. I read it in high school and remember it was just amazing!

Monday Madness: Make Sure You Love It

The inspiration for this post came to me at 2:35 a.m. Sunday morning as my brother and I were trying to get back to Arkansas. At this point we'd been on the road for 22 hours straight (driving to Minnesota and back) to return my nephew home. What a way to end a honeymoon, eh?

But as I was nodding away over a cup of convenience store (and mildly disgusting) coffee, an interesting point crossed my mind:

There's a reason writers are not paid hourly. I just received the check for my short story ($25) and it boiled down to me earning about one dollar for every hour I worked on that story. At minimum wage I would have gotten $181.25. (I like the latter amount better.) However, if you think about how much time you spend working on a NOVEL...OMG.

If you're lucky or extremely talented/famous or all of the above, you might get a good hourly wage once that advance rolls in. However, I'm sure that most of us writers are always going to be underpaid in the scheme of things. (That's why you REALLY have to love what you're doing.)

So, let's say that you're one of those blissfully organized writers and write for at least two hours a day every day. That's 730 hours a year. That does not include the time you spend brainstorming or editing. So, for the sake of fairness, let's add another 730 hours to that total. (And, really, we all know that's being frugal.) That's a total of 1,460 hours. (Yep, that's totally being conservative. Most people I know work on their stories WAY MORE than that.) If you work on your novel for one year, just for the writing/editing/revising stage, you would need an advance of at least $10,585 to earn minimum wage for your efforts. (Note that the total STILL does not include querying/researching agents and editors, etc.)

The question is, can you live off of $10,585? (Sure, if you live in a cave, snub modern conveniences and shoot your dinner.)

Now, if you're a full-time writer, working 40 hours a week (including all your revising, editing, querying, etc.) then you would work 2,080 hours a year. Which means you would need a $15,080 advance to make minimum wage. In the light of some authors receiving six figure advances, you might scoff at my paltry number. But in most cases, a fledgling author is more likely to see one of my calculations on their advance than six figures. So, repeating some words to the wise: Don't quit your day job AND make sure you love writing...because all those sleepless nights and aching fingers might not pay off in the way you expected.