Here, from the Description section of my book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells. is the second chapter, “Watch out for the incredibles”
The “incredibles” appear when you have a character do something either improbable or impossible. I see manuscripts peppered with little impossibilities and improbabilities, although I suspect that many readers would never notice them. At least consciously. If noticed, they can take a reader out of your story and damage your credibility. The suspension of disbelief may be destroyed. I suspect that they are noticed at some level, even if not consciously, and do their damage. Here are some from work I’ve edited:
He clenched his teeth and said, “I could kill you.”
“You always wanted to fly, Erin,” he said through gritted teeth.
Okay, now you try clenching or gritting your teeth and saying anything intelligible. Don’t fudge, keep your teeth clamped together. You’ll note that not only can you not talk very well, but a character would look darned silly doing it. I find it unrealistic to portray a character talking like this. Writers have argued with me that it’s possible, and yes, it is. Sort of like what a ventriloquist does. But have you ever, really, said something through tightly clenched teeth? I haven’t, and I don’t think a character would. If you want clenched or gritted teeth, separate them from the dialogue.
He clenched his teeth and then said, “I could kill you.”
Here’s a subtle impossibility.
I bent down, gingerly touching the small gray bone.
The sense of the sentence is that he touched the bone as he bent down, but that’s not right because the bone is on the ground and he can’t touch it until after he bends down. More accurately:
I bent down and gingerly touched the small gray bone.
Here’s a tidy impossibility:
He snarled silently.
A snarl is a sound, so you can’t snarl silently. Your mouth can curl as if snarling, though. A perennial favorite is using “eyes” in a silly way.
We stood for a long moment, our eyes locked.
So these people put their faces so impossibly close together that their eyes locked together? The writer means “gazes.”
Arlene shifted her eyes to the piles of vegetables.
Really, eyes are much more functional when they stay in your head, don’t you think? Another time when “gaze” was called for.
Here’s a different “eye” thing:
She wiggled to a sitting position, her eyes sleepy but bright, tugging at the neck of her footy-pajamas.
This sentence has this person tugging at the neck of her jammys with her eyes. Weird.
How people use their bodies often suffers from a case of the impossibles. In the following example, the writer could clearly see the action in her mind, she just failed to get it on paper phrased in a clear way.
I wrapped myself around him and we dropped to our knees.
This leads me to picture someone wrapping their arms and legs around someone else, right? And then they both drop to their knees? Naw.
I watched Ellen and her friend drive back to Studio City in their BMW as I waited for someone to answer my call.
Unless this character is in a helicopter or hot air balloon, he/she can’t watch someone drive to another city. The writer really meant “depart for” Studio City.
The voices began, too low to be heard.
If the character knows the voices begin, then he hears them. The writer meant that the words couldn’t be understood because the voices were so low.
She stood in the doorway blocking out the light on each side.
This means that the person was wider than the doorway and had somehow wedged her body into it, which seems highly unlikely.
(a man looks at a diapered baby) I saw instantly that the baby was wet.
Nope. You can feel whether or not a diaper is wet, but you can’t really see it, especially nowadays with disposable diapers.
These illustrate the need for fresh eyes. Sharp, picky eyes. Eyes that do not leave heads but instead stay put and search for the incredibles.
For what it’s worth
Ray© 2010 Ray Rhamey