Flogging the Quill

Maybe not all adverbs are bad guys

In a post long ago and far away, when writing about writing for effect, I talked about  "throwing out the adverbage." My view, and that of many editors and writers, is that adverbs are frequently the bane of creating writing that shows instead of tells.

I wrote back then that adverbs that modify action verbs are merely a form of telling. They are abstractions of action, pallid substitutes for the real thing, mere stand-ins. As a result, they rarely give the reader much of an experience.

Well, I was recently reviewing an older manuscript of mine and I spotted, gasp, an adverb. Here's the sentence:

She saw Murphy, like a big, round boulder parting a stream of girly secretaries cramming in a buzz of noontime shopping, staring blatantly at their bobbing chests.

"Staring blatantly?" Damn. Another case of making an adverb try to do the work of real description. In this case the answer lay, as usual, in the verb. After a moment's thought, I swapped out "leering" for "staring blatantly." Much better, give a clear picture with fewer words.

Having fixed that, I moved along, alert for more inept adverbial description. Then I came upon a pair of adverbs that worked…

He found Emmaline annoyingly cheerful but pleasingly proficient.

But wait, I thought, how come these seem right to me when I've preached loud and long to avoid the use of adverbs. Then I noticed that these were modifying adjectives rather than verbs.

Good cholesterol and bad cholesterol.

There was a time when we believed that all cholesterol was bad. Then we learned that there is good cholesterol and bad cholesterol.

Well, maybe I need to change my position that all adverbs are suspect, if not bad. Maybe there are "good" adverbs, the ones that add just the right flavor to an adjective, enhancing it with a more complete shade of meaning.

Consider the sentence about Emmaline above. Could I have achieved what I wanted, which was to give insight into one character's feeling and attitudes toward another, in a better, equally economical way? I don't think so. Without the adverbs we have:

He found Emmaline to be cheerful but proficient.

We've lost how the viewpoint character feels about Emmaline's personality. I went on a search for other adverbs (using Word's Find tool to locate "ly" in words).

I found this:

Her fair cheeks fetchingly reddened by the cold, she looked no older than a teenager.

Yep, for me this works as well. The pattern seems to be that adverbs are a positive addition when adding the nuance provided by a point-of-view character to what would otherwise be simple description. It would have been okay to write. . .

Her fair cheeks reddened by the cold, she looked no older than a teenager.

. . .and you would have gotten a picture. But with the addition of the adverb, you also get the character's experience, i.e. his emotional reaction to the appearance he sees -- fetching, attractive.

The pattern I was discovering seemed to be that adverbs are a positive addition when adding the nuance provided by a point-of-view character to what would otherwise be simple description. Another instance:

He loved the Staffordshire blue-and-white rose pattern, beautifully detailed and botanically accurate right down to the thorns on the stems.

Take "beautifully" and "botanically" out of that sentence and I think it loses both meaning and flavor.

Once more:

She changed her disguise to the queenly dignity of a white-haired society matron she'd met in Brussels.

Now, to "show" without the adverb would have required something like this:

She changed her disguise to that of a dignified, white-haired society matron with the manner of a queen whom she'd met in Brussels.

Not as effective, is it?

Here are a good adverb and bad adverb in the same sentence from a client's manuscript:

A young waiter with carefully streaked hair smiled suggestively at her.

For me, the first adverb expands the picture of the waiter's hair by giving a hint of precision in the arrangement of the streaks, which tells me something about him as well. But I'd like to see the second adverb usage replaced with something more truly pictorial.

So what do you think? Are we onto something here? I'd really appreciate your joining in.

Bottom line, now I'm thinking that when you go hunting for adverbs, as you should, it's action where you should consider looking for a better verb to do the job, and description where you may find adverbs to be good cholesterol.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.

 

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer—a story question lured me, but then. . .

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

---

This is for Nadja. Here are the first 16 lines:

Sofia stood in a paralytic trance, mesmerized by the cold sepia eyes that glared straight at her from beneath the glass. Her heart thudded in excitement. The familiar man in the photograph transfixed her, her mind ticking away with this latest piece to her puzzle. Glancing up and down the deserted museum hallway, Sofia slipped her high-resolution digital camera out of her bag. After calming her trembling hands, she snapped a set of pictures centered on the stern man standing next to General Grant. The caption named him Lieutenant General Stephen Mason.

Gotcha. Sofia smiled to herself. She knew that if she looked into the Lieutenant General's history she would find he was the only child of two only children -- the dead end limb of a failed family tree. No children of his own, no medical records, and most importantly, no death certificate. Just like Colonel Bradley Stevens of World War I, Major General Stephen Smith of World War II, Lieutenant Colonel Matthew Steffens of the American Revolution, and so many of the others she had discovered in the last few years of her research. Across the centuries his face never changed -- they were all the same man, if indeed he was a man. Whatever he was, it was definitely more than human.

Immortal. The thought sent a thrill skipping down her spine. A living piece of history.

I turned the page because of good story questions. This, of course, is subjective -- I happen to like stories of immortals and the like. So, while this opening isn't riveting in terms of action and a scene, and the writing needs tightening, the narrative pulled me along. It would be better, though, if some sort of impending conflict or jeopardy or need were there.

However, the narrative drive created by the mysterious immortal soldier soon foundered in a mundane telling of Sofia's current (boring) job, details and exposition. The tension created by the opening question faded under the weight of non-compelling detail and overwriting. Here's an example of what I mean by overwriting from later in the story:

She plugged the USB connector into her camera and added the newest pictures to her electronic collection. Her printer droned to life as it spit out the close-up of his face.

The information about the USB connector for her camera, her printer's drone, etc. seems unnecessary to me. It would have been sufficient, I think, to simply say:

She printed out her new photo of the man, and a chill swept through when his haunting, empty gaze again caught hers.

Now to work on those first 16 lines.

Sofia stood in a paralytic trance, mesmerized by the cold sepia eyes that glared straight at her from beneath the glass. Her heart thudded in excitement. The familiar man in the photograph transfixed her, her mind ticking away with this latest piece to her puzzle. (The deleted sentence tells us what you've already shown except for the puzzle mention, and that's to come.) Glancing up and down the deserted museum hallway, Sofia slipped her high-resolution digital camera out of her bag. (Details about camera not needed, the reader will fill in nicely.) After calming her trembling hands, (Suggest going for something simpler, i.e. She steadied her hands and snapped…ect.) she snapped a set of pictures centered on of the stern man standing next to General Grant. The caption named him Lieutenant General Stephen Mason.

Here's how that paragraph reads with the editing out of the way and suggestions incorporated:

Sofia stood mesmerized by the cold sepia eyes that glared at her from beneath the glass. Glancing down the deserted museum hallway, Sofia slipped her digital camera out of her bag. Her heart thudded. She steadied her hands and snapped pictures of the stern man standing next to General Grant. The caption named him Lieutenant General Stephen Mason.

To continue:

Gotcha. Sofia smiled to herself. She knew that if she looked into tThe Lieutenant General's history she would find show that he was the only child of two only children -- the dead end limb of a failed family tree. No children of his own, no medical records, and most importantly, no death certificate. Just like Colonel Bradley Stevens of World War I, Major General Stephen Smith of World War II, Lieutenant Colonel Matthew Steffens of the American Revolution, and so many of the others she had discovered, in the last few years of her research. A, across the centuries his face never changed. -- they were all the same man, if indeed he was a man. Whatever he was, it was definitely more than human.

Immortal. The thought sent a thrill skipping down her spine. A living piece of history.

I think it would be a good idea to hint at what this discovery means to her in terms of consequences, or to inject something right now that promises jeopardy or conflict that is directly related to her discovering/locating this man. Why does she need to do this? Is it more than simple (or professional) curiosity? Will it provide her with some much-needed success, without which she will fail at something? In other words, inject why this discovery matters to her (and the reader).

Nadja, it looks like you have a fine story brewing, but I think your first chapter spends entirely (IMHO) too much time with "throat-clearing" and excessive detail. If you can find good critique partners to help you see this with fresh eyes, or a story editor, I think you can get where you need to go. Good luck.

Any comments?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer—voice moved the page despite speed bumps

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

This is for Rod. Here are the first 16 lines:

Some in this trade string up their shingle at the shiny end of town, drowning in water views. Mine clung in desperation to a rusted hinge in the doorway of a shopfront on the lank city fringe, with a view to demolition. Most of the other buildings on the block had already disintegrated or been displaced by car lots, discount carpet warehouses and cheap commuter parking. Before I removed it, the sign read Allwright Associates - Literary Agents. Regular century gothic reversed out of a solid black field, classic and timeless. It was still the worst place in the worst street., but the sign creaked less than the half-crafted wooden stories in oversize envelopes that hilled up below the mailslot most mornings. Although I actively discouraged it, their creators sometimes also came to visit - I had the front windows blacked out after a pilled-up poet with even less reason than rhyme heaved a typer through the glass. Nice machine though. Remington Seven Noiseless in two-tone green, pre-war and my guess a 1932 d.o.b.. Sleek and whisper quiet, that is unless you pitched it through a plate glass window. It wasn't a No.2 or a Sphinx or even a Continental, but it was still operational when I fished it out of the billion or so shards of shatterproof on the linoleum floor. Keytops intact, no bent levers or typebars. Try doing that with a Dell. Spillane could still have punched out a classic on this. Made it sing.

Whew! That's one helluva paragraph, a whole first page's worth. That was one of the speed bumps. But the voice and the writing were enough to get me through to page 2.

Actually, I stalled out on the first page with my first attempt to read it. I opened this file at the end of a long day in a tired state of mind. Still, I was liking what I was reading until I ran into a verbal wall (for me). It was this:

the sign creaked less than the half-crafted wooden stories in oversize envelopes that hilled up below the mailslot most mornings.

I stopped right there, tried re-reading that clause, and then my tired mind just gave up. If I'd been an agent, this could have been the end of story for Rod. But I'm not, and I have an obligation to analyze and discuss the samples I receive. So now it's the next morning, I returned and deciphered that sentence, and read on despite multiple barriers to my weary comprehension in that one clause. You may not get that kind of determination from an agent.

The thing that got this part of the narrative into trouble was that we had been talking about buildings, and then a sign that creaked. Then the narrative gave me "half-crafted wooden stories." Because we'd been talking about buildings, I took that to be suggesting shoddily built wooden buildings (remember, I was quite tired)). So that these buildings were in envelopes made no sense at all.

And then the fact that the wooden buildings in envelopes "hilled up below" contributed further to my befuddlement. I pictured a series of crummy wooden buildings stretching down a long hill, as in San Francisco, somehow appearing to be in envelopes. I will agree that, if one slows down and thinks about it, the sentence and phrase do make sense.

But I was tired, and this complicated, dense sentence with the noun for a verb lacked a vital story element: clarity. Slowing down and thinking about what the heck a sentence means is not what you want me doing in the opening of your novel.

Another barrier was the sheer size of this paragraph. Text in a block this massive is off-putting to many readers, a high hurdle. I think you need to break it up into two or three pieces. I'd start right after the description of the sign, and replace the vague pronoun "it" with words that made it clear the narrator is talking about the building.

I also think the portion about the "typer" through the window isn't serving you well in terms of engaging me with story questions. For one thing, it didn't seem accurate -- a manual typewriter in operation is far from whisper quiet. The second thing is that, on the next page, Rod gets to the first story question -- a cop investigating the murder of one of the narrator's clients. I strongly suggest you find a way to get that on the first page.

Nice, flavorful writing, though. With crisper pacing this would have had me reading on. One last thing, though, Rod -- on page two you shifted from past tense to present tense in mid-page. And then back again in mid-paragraph. You need to stick with one or the other, IMO.

Thanks for sending your work. Good luck.

Any comments?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer—I passed on this one

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

This is for Susie. Here are the first 16 lines:

Scott and Emily waited for the traffic signal to tell them they could turn left. Scott maneuvered the car into the intersection.

Emily heard a bang and a crunching sound along with Scott's groan. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the air being forced from her lungs, vaguely aware of small bits of glass hitting her face and arms. She tightened the muscles in her neck and shoulders. Instinctively she knew they had been hit and wondered if they had been rear-ended. As quick as the thought entered her mind it was gone again. She felt her body being jerked toward her husband.

Somewhere inside her she knew they had been hit from the side. Hunching her shoulders toward her ears, she was thrown violently toward her door. Scott groaned again. All she could think of was trying to keep her head and face from going through the glass window of the passenger side door as the car came to an abrupt halt.

Sorry, Susie, I didn't turn the page. You have done the right thing by starting with dramatic action, but (in my view) haven't executed it well enough. One reason I passed is entirely subjective -- as narrated, the car accident wasn't that interesting, although others might well have been drawn forward to see what happened.

That leads to the second reason I would pass -- while your writing is clear enough, I feel the story is weighed down by overwriting -- too much detail, too much explicitly explained. (Keep in mind that this is all very subjective.)

Here's the deal: this is a terrible car wreck. I've been in a few pretty bad ones and survived, and they happen with lightning speed. The details fly at you, brief, intense, confused. At the least, dramatic action like this should move! A couple of years ago my car left the road on black ice and rolled. I was conscious through the whole thing, and I guarantee you that there was no time or even ability to think about anything like keeping my head from hitting a window, much less being aware that my head did indeed smash into it and break the glass.

In my view, unless you let the reader know that Emily is experiencing things in extreme slow motion, all of this thought and hearing and reaction can't deliver the experience of something like this, and can rob the narrative of credibility. In my accidents, I remember brief bits with extreme clarity -- but they are bits, fragments of action, and nothing moved slowly.

I'll go through and point out some things with comments and edits that I hope will illustrate what I mean.

Scott and Emily waited for the traffic signal to tell them they could turn left. Scott maneuvered the car into the intersection. (Not much "grip" or drama here in a very mundane thing. Also, the wording made me think we were in Scott's point of view rather than Emily's. This paragraph could be distilled down to something like: They were turning left when… and then go to the action. Upon reflection, I'm not sure you even need this -- the important thing is the crash.)

Let's deconstruct the second paragraph with an eye to tightening the narrative, quickening the pace, and making it credible.

Emily heard a bang and a crunching sound along with Scott's groan.
I think, with the instantaneous nature of a collision, she might hear the bang, but then a crunching sound would be wiped out by being thrown around in the car. And I can't imagine how she would hear a groan in the midst of metal being crushed.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the air being forced from her lungs, vaguely aware of small bits of glass hitting her face and arms.
This suggests a conscious squeezing of her eyes, but that's unlikely, IMO. Moreover, how does that show the impact of the crash? Avoid "feeling" and "felt" and go for the direct action, i.e. the air was forced from her lungs. But I have to ask why it was forced from her lungs? There's nothing in the narrative that explains or shows that. As for being "vaguely aware," this slows the action as well. Bits of glass stung her face. Use short, crisp sentences to show action. Strip them of all but the essentials. By the way, would modern safety glass shatter in this way?

She tightened the muscles in her neck and shoulders.
Her neck and shoulders tightened.

Instinctively she knew they had been hit and wondered if they had been rear-ended.
I don't think you need to tell us this, especially the "instinctively" part -- when a vehicle slams into yours, you KNOW you've been hit. You also KNOW deep in your body where the impact comes from. I'd delete this.

As quick as the thought entered her mind it was gone again.
This really slows down the action. Suggest delete.

She felt her body being jerked toward her husband.
Her body jerked toward her husband.

There's so much detail spelled out with such long sentences that the impact of the crash seems far removed. I think the reader should be experiencing the crash in real time, along with Emily, instead of in extreme slow motion. The third paragraph continues in the same vein, IMO.

I fear that the pace of this opening will stop an agent or an editor. I don't usually rewrite during an edit, but sometimes do to illustrate a point, so let me give it a shot here.

The truck slammed into Scott's side of the car. Glass stung Emily's face, she was thrown at Scott and then flung back against her door.

That quickly, you can give the reader the impact of the collision.

Your narrative continues in the same way to take us through a terrible accident that causes Emily to lose her unborn baby and her husband -- but it takes 18 pages, and I felt that the same degree of overwriting robbed the events of the drama and pain that the protagonist would be experiencing. By the way, you could set up her being pregnant right at the opening, which would increase the tension in the reader, i.e.

On the way to the doctor for Emily's prenatal check-up, the truck slammed into Scott's side of the car…etc.

The narrative continues to be overwrought and this reader lost patience with what could have been dramatic events. I think you need to get out your scalpel and do the tough work of stripping this down to its core. You can then expand if you feel the need, but get the action to working first. By the way, later on you use "broke" several times where it should be "broken."

Thanks for sending your work. Good luck.

Any comments?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer: Laura made me want to know what would happen

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

This is for Laura. Here are the first 16 lines:

"They're coming," a hushed voice sounded in my head, warning me of...something.

Not the type of person to hear voices, I did what any sane person would do. I ignored it.

"They're coming," it warned again.

I took a deep breath and squeezed the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Almost home, Laura. You're almost home. Just a few more minutes. Ten hours in a car alone is enough to make anyone start hearing voices.

"They're coming."

Okay, so it's a really persistent voice with a limited vocabulary. No worries. You're not crazy. Just focus on the road.

Heading west, I squinted, trying to see the two-lane highway through the glare on the windshield. The sun had slid into that annoying zone, hovering just above the horizon and beneath the visor, effectively blinding me with its rays.

"They're coming!" The warning thundered in my head.

Startled by its intensity, I jerked on the steering wheel, granting my two-year-old Subaru Outback its first off-road excursion. The car swerved off the road and bumped and bucked through a meadow that was quite picturesque and serene with lush, green grass interspersed with yellow and red flowers.

I turned the page for three reasons. I wanted to know what the voice was, I wanted to know what was going to happen next, and I liked the voice of the narrator -- the line about a really persistent voice with a limited vocabulary made me smile (internally).

As usual, I have some notes for Laura. One thing you might consider doing is getting rid of the italics indicated by underlining. If you use internal monologue, there's no need for the italics, the reader understands that it's the character thinking. For example, in the first paragraph where you use them (with cutting one repetitive sentence that isn't needed):

I took a deep breath and squeezed the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Almost home, Laura. Just a few more minutes. Ten hours in a car alone was enough to make anyone start hearing voices.

Just changing the verb to past tense does the trick. The same applies to the second paragraph -- changed to past tense, it becomes internal monologue. Oh, I wondered about the knuckles going white on the steering wheel -- that takes a lot of squeezing, and her "voice" doesn't sound that distressed. Seemed like an overreaction to me.

Let's do some tightening and tend to some other things.

A hushed voice sounded in my head, warning me of...something. "They're coming." (I think the part about warning is both redundant and "telling." I got it from what was happening, you didn't need to tell me. Also, I moved the descriptive part to the front of the paragraph for a simple reason -- if you want the reader to "hear" the words in the way they are delivered, you have to let her know before the words come, not after. If you don't, the words are first "heard" in a normal conversational tone, and you'd have to backtrack to "rehear" them as hushed, and by then it's too late. IMO.)

Not the type of person to hear voices, I did what any sane person would do. I ignored it. (Nice.)

"They're coming." it warned again.

I took a deep breath and squeezed the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Almost home, Laura. You're almost home. Just a few more minutes. Ten hours in a car alone was enough to make anyone start hearing voices.

"They're coming."

Okay, so it was a really persistent voice with a limited vocabulary. No worries. I was not crazy. Just focus on the road.

Heading west, I squinted, trying to see the two-lane highway through the glare on the windshield. The sun had slid into that annoying zone , hovering just above the horizon and beneath the visor, effectively blinding me with its rays.

The warning thundered in my head. "They're coming!" (I moved the thundering before the speech for the reason cited above.)

Startled by its intensity, I jerked on the steering wheel, granting my two-year-old Subaru Outback its first off-road excursion. The car  swerved off the road and bumped and bucked through a meadow that was quite picturesque and serene with lush, green grass interspersed with yellow and red flowers. (I cut to avoid the repetition of "off road," and the action is clear without the swerving, I think.)

Note to Laura: in the following pages I felt the overwriting continued and that the narrative could be considerably crisper. Which would be good because the pace slowed a little too much for me now and then. You have an intriguing opening (the protagonist seems to be suddenly 2 years in her future, owning a home she's never seen and her parents dead in a car accident), and I think that, with a little work and editing, it'll be a grabber.

Thanks for sending your work. Good luck.

Any comments?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer—lack of tension stayed my hand

Update: I have a guest post appearing today on the Writer Unboxed blog.

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

This is for Cindy. Here are the first 16 lines:

Kira swung her legs off the exam table and slid to the floor. She paced the little room, the collar of her diagnostic coverall gaping with each step, letting the cold air slide down her spine. Punching the adjustment button made it quiver but the coverall shrank no further, simply continuing to slide around with the distinctive greasy feel of a loose self-fitting suit. She shivered. Why was every exam room in the universe so cold?

Pacing didn't make her any warmer, but it worked off some of her nervous energy. She hadn't come to the infirmary for a check-up, just a quick look-in on Seri between finals, but instead of taking her to her roommate, the nurse had led her here and given her a diagnostic suit marked 'A:1'. He had vanished again before she could request a smaller size.

She glanced at her wrist monitor. One hour left until the next exam. It was history, her worst subject. Seventy-two planets in the Human Polity, each with its own distinct culture, none of them familiar to her except Amiantos. She knew their names, knew the trade routes through the nexons, but their cultures and histories - the hows and whys - were impenetrable mysteries to her. Her stomach knotted just thinking about it.

The door whisked open and a rail-thin woman with short-cropped dark hair swept into the room. She was wearing a green lab coat with her name printed over the left pocket - Econsey-Jesek.

While there are good things about the writing, the narrative didn't reach the level of compelling for me. There's a mild mystery -- why the nurse had taken Kira to the examining room -- but no hint of jeopardy for her.

In science fiction there's an acceptable amount of world-building allowed, and Cindy begins that with the "diagnostic coverall." But the circumstances are hardly dramatic, even though the narrative does create a certain empathy in anyone who's been in a cold exam room (like, everybody). But that's not compelling.

There's a lot of exposition and backstory here, but not much else. The writing, I'm glad to see, is clean and crisp, so I'm not going to do a lot of line editing here. But I do have a suggestion for Cindy.

Much later in this first chapter we learn that Kira has caught a disease, an artificial plague -- but the reader doesn't know that until after she has survived. Since we don't know that she has a deadly plague, even that fails to arouse tension. But there is a good starting point, IMO. See what you think of this as an opening (Cindy, I've done a little editing and manipulation):

Naz, the rail-thin doctor who had admitted Kira, walked into the hospital room. Far from the brisk stride she had used at the exam, she walked as if weary beyond exhaustion, shoulders slumped and feet dragging. She had a multi-use injector in her hand. She reached for Kira's arm but jerked back when she saw that Kira was awake and watching her. She turned and stumbled back out the door. Kira tried to call after her, but her voice wouldn't work, and all she produced was a rasp.

Okay, there are story questions raised here, and they could get stronger on the first page if Cindy condenses the narrative that this kicks off.

One thought on this segment: I noticed the use of "walked" twice within two sentences. The second one could be eliminated if the sentence instead read:

Far from the brisk stride she had used at the exam, her shoulders slumped and her feet dragged.

The phrase "she walked as if weary beyond exhaustion" is telling, the other part is showing.

Cindy, you've got good stuff, but in my view the narrative dawdles and spends far too much time with backstory. You need to bait and set your hook in this first chapter; there's time for exposition later.

Any comments?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Internet slander, a cautionary tale--part 2

If you haven't read the previous post, scroll down to get the whole story.

Okay, so I visited the website of the Amazon reviewer I call Slanderer, the guy who more than disparaged my editing in his "review" on the Amazon.com page for my old novel, The Enemy. His website was about his self-published novel, included his bio, "reviews" of his novel, contact information, the usual stuff.

He published his novel through Booklocker.com, and has linked to a PDF of the first three chapters. I couldn't resist looking at them. More on that in a moment.

He cited reviews, and gave links to them. One review was purportedly on the Huffington Post blog. I went to the site and searched for Slanderer's name and for the title of his book. Nothing was there, even though he published his book in 2007. Google doesn't find it either.

I tried a link he'd posted for "Best Seller Reports." That generated a "server not found" error message. I Googled for it, but nothing came up. If I were the suspicious (or the slandering) type, I might think he made those reviews up.

I decided to email Slanderer to let him know that I knew that he and his friends had organized the onslaught of nasty reviews, and to mention that what he had done on my The Enemy page was slander, which is something that is against the law, and immoral even if it wasn't.

The editor in me couldn't resist including a few comments on his writing -- remember, he disparaged my editing. I pointed out a continuity gaffe and the existence of a number of punctuation errors. I didn't have any urge to give the kind of helpful critique I do here. Believe me, he could use it.

I was calm, rational and professional throughout my email, and used no inflammatory language…except, maybe, right at the last, when the word "puerile" appeared. I think that was a mistake.

Here's Slanderer's answer to my email:

"Blah blah blah. Write me when the testicles drop

"I think you're being a bit paranoid. It's not my fault that I and others find your reviews to be not only misleading but a tad convenient in that everyone refuses to state their name and give your books a perfect score. We have all read your material, given our opinions, and that is what Amazon is all about. If you can't stand criticism not only about your book but the convenient, if not odd, state of your reviews, then maybe you shouldn't be in the writing game. Grow some thick skin, mature, and back off. I don't need kiddies stuffing my e-mail with unnecessary spam."

Ironic note: all three of his pals who joined him in shafting me gave his novel perfect, 5-star ratings on Amazon.com. Convenient, perhaps?

Note that he made no reference to his slander in his email. I'm thinking that there's no comprehension on their part that what he and his friends colluded to do could damage my reputation and livelihood in number of serious ways. Anyone considering me for an edit can Google my name, and would have come upon those fraudulent, slanderous reviews. This could hurt my business and damage the sales of my future books.

Striking back

Oh, you can imagine the things I thought of to do. Report his name and the names of the others on FtQ to let the Internet litworld know. Go to his page on Amazon.com and post a rational, true critique of his writing -- it would be devastating.

But I've decided not to do those things, for several reasons. I didn't want to stoop (more like bellyflop) to his level -- I've evolved a little in the last few years. And it could make him a real enemy -- I could find myself plagued by him for years. It's clear that he is an angry man who loves to spew venom. No, I want no further contact with that man.

However, if he attacks again, I'll shout out his name and deeds to as much of the Internet as I can reach.

Another reason I'm not going to do anything has to do with a central theme in one of the novels he and his buddies slammed. In that story, citizens band together to try to create a better life in this world. Each member of "the Alliance" makes this promise:

I promise to help, the best I can.

It so happens that, when I wrote the novel and thought about the ideas in it, I made that promise, and ever since then I've tried my best to live by it (note: it's hardest to live up to when I argue with my wife, but I'm getting better at it).

To attack Slanderer wouldn't be helping him. If Nasty, the one who I believe started all this, had really thought about what the novel was saying and what that promise means, maybe he wouldn't have attacked me. But perhaps he's angry about something too. It's pretty clear that Slanderer, angry man that he is, would have nothing to do with a promise to help people whenever you can.

I believe that this Slanderer character is a danger to other writers as well. If you would like to learn who it is, email me and I will give you the link to his website.

Free novel

I'm serious about "the promise" and a wish for a way to create community of people who work to help each other (not unlike the FtQ "community"). Tell you what: I'm going to make up a PDF of the current iteration of that novel. It's now titled We the Enemy. If you would like to read it, email me and I'll send it as an attachment. All I ask in return is your feedback. The PDF should be ready in a week or two (A copyeditor friend is lending his fresh eyes and proofreading expertise).

Below are a couple of quotes from an honest review of the current version of We the Enemy. I work for a university, and I asked the book reviewer at the university newspaper to review it so I could get a feel for how the college audience might respond. I gave the reviewer no instructions or information, just the book. With the help of Kinko's, I made up a trade paperback version for her to read, and here's the summary paragraph from the review.

"Even though this book is a work of fiction, it is also safe to say it is a work of inspiration. Any good piece of writing should be able to persuade a reader to think about something in a different way, and We the Enemy does exactly that. While it may be unrealistic to wish for a perfect world, it is not unrealistic to wish for changes in our world. Rhamey's book encourages people to not only strive for change in the outside world, but to strive for change within themselves. This book is sure to leave the reader with a lot to think about, and a lot to hope for."

That's the novel that, in an early form, Nasty took such a dislike to.

Just so you won't think that the book is a self-serving, navel-gazing rumination, it explores ideas in thriller form. Here's the opening paragraph from that review:

"A book with twists and turns in its plot can do one of two things: end up being too confusing for comprehension, or end up being a really great book. After reading We the Enemy by Ray Rhamey, I came to the conclusion that, in this case, the twists and turns of the plot ended up producing a very exciting and intriguing book."

As I said, a free PDF is yours in return for the promise of feedback.

Google Alerts

I want to reinforce what a help signing up for Google Alerts was. Without it, I would never have noticed this abuse -- I simply don't go to the pages for those novels any more. You can create alerts for your name, a book title, just about anything you're interested in tracking.

And I want to mention again that the folks at Amazon.com are serious about keeping reviews clean, and can be very helpful. That email address is community-help@amazon.com. They require the ISBN for the book, the title of the book, the first sentence from the review in question, and the reason why you think it should be removed. I don't think it would do any good to just object to a negative review, nor would I ever do that. But if people flame you, I think that's reason to act.

It's a sad day when angry people single you out for attack. It's a troublesome day, too, because the Internet has such broad reach and longevity. It angers me still that these creeps will suffer no consequences for what they did, and that I'm powerless to retaliate in any meaningful way without opening myself up to further attacks. At least their poison has been removed.

Thank you!

To my friends out there, thank you for being the good, supportive people that you are. Your comments and good wishes have been a real comfort. You are the antidote to the evil dwarfs: Slanderer, Nasty, Nasty Buddy, and Nasty Buddy2.

Best,

Ray

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Internet slander, a cautionary tale

I'll return to flogging and essays on craft next week, but this week I need to share with you an Internet attack on me that, even days after it has been resolved as best as possible, still upsets me.

Backstory: (don't you wish that you could be this blatant in a novel?) In 2000 and 2001 I self-published my first two novels with iUniverse. Like many writers, I believed in their worth, hadn't found an agent, and wanted to give it a try. I was an "early adopter" -- iUniverse's price back then was $100. Who wouldn't, for a hundred bucks?

Those 6- and 7-year-old novels are, unfortunately, still available on Amazon.com and other Internet outlets. I wish they weren't -- they no longer represent what I do as a writer. The learning curve is a long one.

PLEASE do not buy either of the books. Not worth your money or time.

How I discovered the attack

A while back, out of curiosity, I signed up for "Google Alert." I set it to notify me when my name appears on the Internet. I recommend that you consider doing this if you have a public face or a book out there. I'm glad I did.

I received an alert a few weeks ago and followed the link to the Amazon.com page for my very first book, a speculative novel of ideas called The Enemy. I found a new review that was not only negative, it was nasty.

There were already reviews on the page, posted 7 years ago by people who know me and had bought that book. They were all very positive, with 5 stars. These were the early days of Amazon's reviews, and they were not required to give a name. They posted anonymously. I did ask friends to do reviews, just as many authors do, but did not tell anyone what to say or what to write about.

Luckily, they all "got" the novel of ideas aspect, appreciated it, and that was a part of their reviews. They liked the story, too. Unluckily, my new reviewer didn't. That was okay -- fiction is subjective, and I don't expect everyone to like my work. But this reviewer went further, much further.

This reviewer, let's call him Nasty, also said he thought that, because my book was so awful, the earlier reviews couldn't be real and that I'd written them. So Nasty was, with no evidence, calling me a liar.

BTW, I'm not going to use names in this report in respect for my newfound vulnerability. I don't want to be attacked again by the gang I'm going to tell you about.

Nasty strikes again

A second Google Alert came the next day. Nasty had posted a mean-spirited, disparaging review about my second book, With Regret, a mystery set in the old West. I'm the first to admit that it has its inadequacies, but some people have enjoyed it. Nasty's review sounded as though he'd read it, but he got story elements wrong. I had to wonder how much of a reader Nasty was -- he'd missed the ideas aspect of the speculative novel, and misunderstood a key (and perfectly clear) aspect of the Western.

But that's the game, isn't it? You take your chances. I could live with that. I put the bad reviews out of my mind, although there was a lingering aftertaste from the accusation of being a liar.

Here's here it gets weird.

About 2 weeks later, a new Google Alert called me back to the page for The Enemy. There were 2 new, very negative reviews. That's acceptable, if legitimate.

One reviewer, Nasty Buddy, savaged the novel. The other, I'll call him Slanderer, didn't discuss the book, but instead slandered my capabilities as an editor based upon the "awfulness" of the book.

So on that page I had one reviewer calling me a liar and a cheat, and another denigrating my editing services, though he had obviously never experienced them.

Oddly, both new reviews were posted on the same day. That seemed suspicious to me, so I went to the Amazon page for my Western novel. Slanderer was there with a new negative review, and so was another new reviewer, Nasty Buddy2.

And both had been posted on the same day as the new ones for the first book.

So what are the odds that 3 different readers would post, on the same day, negative reviews on 2 novels that were very far from each other in style and content, one being speculative fiction and the other a mystery?

Impossibly long. The only links between the two novels were that I wrote them. . .and that Nasty had reviewed them 2 weeks earlier.

The plot thickens

Luckily, Amazon links reviewers' names to information they have posted about themselves. Nasty, Nasty Buddy, and Nasty Buddy2 didn't reveal anything but a couple of locations, and had no contact information. But Slanderer had a link to, guess what, an Amazon.com page for a self-published novel of his own.

I went to Slanderer's Amazon page and, would you believe it, there were 5-star reviews of his novel posted by Nasty, Nasty Buddy, and Nasty Buddy2.

What are the odds of that?

Do you see a pattern here? It seems clear that Nasty, apparently so enraged by my books, called in his three friends, Slanderer, Nasty Buddy, and Nasty Buddy2. He told them of these terrible novels and then encouraged them to read them and post reviews. That's the only explanation I can think of. BTW, I later learned that Slanderer and Nasty both live in Indiana.

But why did these people do this? I recognize none of the reviewer's names, nor can I find them in any files. To the best of my knowledge, I've done nothing to harm or offend any of them (all men, by the way).

Amazon to the rescue

Luckily, I had read that Amazon.com has a remedy for wrongful reviews. Amazon's rules state that reviews must concern only the book. No personal attacks allowed.

When I saw the slanderous review, but before I discovered the gang rape that was going on, I emailed Amazon.com at community-help@amazon.com. I pointed them to the Slanderer review, and they took it down in less than an hour. Thank you Amazon!

Then I discovered the apparent collusion between the four "reviewers," Nasty, Slanderer, Nasty Buddy and Nasty Buddy2.

I emailed Amazon again, detailing the location and nature of the reviews, the timing "coincidence" of the multiple posts on the same date, and so on.

It took a couple of days, but apparently they agreed that I was being attacked because all of the spurious reviews were removed. Whew.

But I was deeply disturbed by all of this, especially by the attack by Slanderer, who is also a writer and a novelist.

During the last 2 ½ years, I've made many kindly, wise, and helpful acquaintances (if not friends) on the Internet. I've been privileged to be a part of a broad, supportive network of writers and agents who contribute to people who are working hard at writing and publishing.

To encounter a slanderous, mean attack from a fellow writer shocked and angered me. Naturally, I wanted to learn more. Slanderer proudly displayed a link to his website, so I followed it to see what I could discover about him and his novel.

More to come

I'll detail the outcome of all this in my next post later this week, including an email exchange with Slanderer, and what I plan to do about the attacks. Next week I'll get back to flogging.

Sadly,

Ray

Flogometer—I hesitated, and thus the page didn’t turn

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

This is for Linda. Here are the first 16 lines:

If any of the neighbors on Grace Street had looked out their windows at that precise moment on that hot, humid August day they would've been startled. And rightly so. They would've wiped their eyes and scratched their heads as they searched for a logical explanation - using the same logic people resorted to when they couldn't quite explain the unexplainable. They would've chalked it up to a trick of the eye. They would've blamed it on the glare from the sun. But the sun wasn't shining. They would've dismissed that truth.

They would've seen a flash of gold and the sudden appearance of a moving van parked in front of the Cooper home. No rumbling of tires or hissing of air brakes announced its arrival.

If any of the neighbors watched as two burly, red-headed men hopped out of the truck's cab and made their way to the front door, they would've felt ambivalent about the Coopers moving away. After all, the family had barely lived there for a year, they would've thought. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper were nice enough, but they did seem a bit off, a bit odd, didn't they? The Cooper's son never caused problems but the kids in the neighborhood said he was, well, kinda creepy … kinda weird … what with him always hiding and lurking around corners, hadn't they?

And with that, they would've shut their curtains and shut the Coopers out of their minds forever.

As I said, when I read this I hesitated. . .and then decided to move on to other tasks, much as a busy agent might. I liked the writing, but that hesitation was fatal.

But why? I think it was the distance the omniscient opening created. I didn't feel involved. It's all speculative -- if people had looked…they would have been startled…they would have seen…

Remember, now, this is subjective -- that's just the way it struck me. The one interesting thing, the magical appearance of a moving van, just wasn't enough to move me forward.

The very next page pops into the point of view of the protagonist, a boy. He does fairly normal things -- stubs his toe, resents having to move every year. The one thing out of the ordinary, for a considerable part of the following narrative, is that he accepts the magical appearance of the van as a natural part of his world, and he's aware that his world is different than that of people outside his family.

We go through his resentment of moving annually, and of the pain it is to go to a new school every year -- so far, nothing extraordinary.

Then, on page 5, he makes an entry in a journal:

I am a blood descendent of the Greek god Zeus. No biggie, really. Nothing to freak out about. It's not like I have any powers ….

Well, NOW we're talkin'.

Were I you, Linda, I'd take a look at starting with his point of view as he stares out the window and witnesses the magical arrival. I'd then cut drastically some of the exposition/backstory and get to the Zeus thing as soon as you can. I have to tell you that if that had been on the first page, guaranteed I would have read on.

If I were your editor, I think I'd suggest that you start with the magical arrival, then have him put the entry in the journal (on the first page), and then carry on from there.

I think your writing is sound, and clearly you have some fun things imagined for us. I do, however, feel that the narrative could be tighter. There are just extra words and phrases that slow the pace. A couple of quick examples:

two burly red-headed men hopped out of the truck's cab and made their way to the front door, (Readers won't need "cab" to get the picture.)

An example from later in the narrative:

(he stubs his toe on the way to a window) "Ouch … crap!" he muttered to no one as he reached the window, hopping the last few feet on one foot as he clutched the other in his hand.

You also need to watch out for clichés. I spotted this one:

Chance watched the movers like a hawk

Bottom line, a good start, Linda, but I think you could use some fresh eyes, if you can find them, to help you watch out for spots of overwriting and those clichés.

Many thanks for sending your work. It sounds like a fun story.

Any comments?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey