DEEP POINT OF VIEW

The Four Pillars of Better Writing

Ever received feedback that a reader didn’t quite connect with your character? That your story didn’t grab them? Perhaps you’ve even felt that way about your own book. What went wrong?

You followed all the rules. You polished your language. You showed, and didn’t tell. You used plenty of pronouns for a deep POV. You even had your character save Blake Snyder’s cat. What more can you possibly do?

Now, readers often don’t have a clue what makes good writing stand out. That’s how it should be. They can’t pinpoint what might be wrong with a scene, but they will know if the writing is flawed.

The best thing a writer can do for their manuscript is to edit using the four pillars of better writing.

1. Show don’t tell.

Sure, you’ve worked your ass off to show, but did you catch all the ‘tells’? Showing isn’t about a step-by-step description or about describing the environment. The best way to catch your tells is by reading your book from the last page to the first, focusing on each sentence out of context.

2. Nix filter words.

Certain words tell your reader how your character perceives the world. Your goal, however, should be to let the reader experience the world as your character does, not to hear about it second-hand. YOU are the story teller, not your character.

3. Active settings.

This is my weakest spot. The idea is to describe the scene how your character would see, hear, feel, smell, live it. What is important to your character? A florist might marvel at a bouquet of flowers. A warrior might envy an arsenal of shiny swords.

4. Voice
This is what your book is all about. The je ne sais quoi every agent and editor is after. Let it shine.

Consider this:

“She’d never felt so tired in her life. Even her sight was letting her down. The plant in the corner looked blurred. Dark blotches marred her perception of the plush carpet. She wondered if she’d make it into bed. She took off her shoes, her top, her pants, considered taking off her underwear, too, but decided against it. Instead, she climbed into bed. Two minutes later she was asleep.”

I hope no one considers this good writing. Let’s discuss the flaws one by one.

She’d never FELT so tired. “Felt” is a filter word. You’re telling the reader how the character felt, rather than showing the fatigue. How does your character experience her tiredness? Perhaps her limbs ache. She has a headache. Her thoughts are sluggish. Three excellent ways of SHOWING how she feels.

“The door slammed shut behind her. She rolled her aching head. Each step pushed her limbs closer to the point of failure. Even her sight was letting her down. The plant in the corner looked blurred. Dark blotches marred her perception of the plush carpet.”

Let’s stop right here. “Even her sight was letting her down” is a fine sentence, except it tells rather than shows. You know it is telling because the following two sentences basically SHOW the same thing.

Sadly, they don’t show her vision problems very well, though. First, “looked” is a filter word. Next, “marred her perception” are unlikely words thought by someone who’s dead on their feet. And finally, “plush” is a wonderful adjective, but it’s not a visual one, and therefore does not convince as evidence she can’t see well.

Is there a way to combine SHOWING with a more active setting? Why, for example, would the character pick out the plant in the corner of their own bedroom? They wouldn’t.

However, if they have a headache, they might notice the ticking of a clock on the wall. Or the ceiling lights might be too bright. Or the fumes from the open window might roil their stomach.

But let’s not lull the reader to sleep with too many descriptions.

So how about this?

“The door slammed shut behind her. She rolled her aching head. Each step pushed her limbs closer to the point of failure. She kicked off her shoes, let the plush carpet massage her tired feet. The ticks of the old grandfather clock hammered inside her skull. She wondered if she’d make it into bed. She took off her top, her pants, considered taking off her underwear, too, but decided against it.”

Whoa. What was that? “Wondered” is a filter. So is “considered.” Let’s cut them.

“Decided” is a typical “telling word,” together with “managed,” “tried,” “reach” and many others, by the way. No, these sentences require a rewrite.

“The door slammed shut behind her. She rolled her aching head. Each step pushed her limbs closer to the point of failure. She kicked off her shoes, let the plush carpet massage her tired feet. The ticks of the old grandfather clock hammered inside her skull. She slipped off her top. Her pants protested at first. But a wiggle of her ass and a hard yank freed her legs. She climbed into bed. Two minutes later she was asleep.”

Did you catch it? The last two sentences are telling, dull, and illogical. How can she tell us she was asleep if she was, well, asleep?

Darn. And we thought we’d done it.

“The door slammed shut behind her. She rolled her aching head. Each step pushed her limbs closer to the point of failure. She kicked off her shoes, let the plush carpet massage her tired feet. The ticks of the old grandfather clock hammered inside her skull. She slipped off her top. Her pants protested at first. But a wiggle of her ass and a hard yank freed her legs. The bed welcomed her like a lover, while her freshly laundered sheets released the scent that had lulled her to sleep when her mother was still alive.”

Better. Just one question. Why is she tired in the first place? We’re missing voice. Perhaps some internal thought and a hook would finish off the scene with a flourish.

“The door slammed shut behind her, and she rolled her aching head. Each step pushed her limbs closer to the point of failure. She kicked off her shoes, let the plush carpet massage her tired feet. Henry was a sweet boy, with the energy of a rollercoaster, but the next time her brother asked her to babysit, she’d hire a professional. Someone who was used to the delightful shrieks and the adorable mood swings of a six-year-old.

The ticks of the old grandfather clock hammered inside her skull. She slipped off her top. Her pants protested, but a wiggle of her ass and a hard yank freed her legs. Finally. The bed welcomed her like a lover. One by one, her muscles relaxed. She shut her eyes, soaking in the lavender scent from her freshly laundered sheets. Tomorrow, she’d battle the sexy but cunning Damon for the Dragon’s Cup.

After Henry, fending off the wizard’s dirty tricks was going to be child’s play.”

Getting this right is something I struggle with every day. But it’s a fight worth fighting. The difference these techniques make to your writing are tremendous, no matter your level.

What do you struggle with?

If you’re interested in finding out more, I’d recommend starting with Mary Buckham’s awesome Writing Active Setting – The Boxset.