Flogging the Quill

What do you get in an edit?

I don’t know what the product of other editors is, but I thought it might be of interest to you to see what one of my clients receives from me. The example screen captures are for different authors, both of them strong writers (one is also an editor). The samples below are typical of the annotated pages in the Word file I send of the edited manuscript.

Process:

I edit a manuscript in three passes.

1. On-screen, using Word’s Track Changes and Comment features, to give notes and coaching, and to make deletions and additions as I go. The primary objective is to learn the story and experience the characterization, but many typos and “opportunities” are noted along the way.
2. On paper. I print out a hard copy because the reading experience is so much different. I sometimes make as many notes on the hard copy as I did in the first on-screen look.
3. On-screen a third time after adding in all the notes and edits from the hard-copy edit. It sometimes amazes me at the many things I see in this third pass that I didn’t in the first two. I suspect the reason is that much of the stuff that got in the way of the narrative has been cleaned up and that lets the smaller, less apparent shortcomings show up.

Here’s an example of the edited first page of a client’s novel. You know how picky I am about first pages, so it should be no surprise that there are LOTS of notes (the mass of pink comment balloons to the right).

Below is a typical page deeper into a manuscript. There will be additions and deletions as well as a comment or two. My comments often deal with word choice or writing technique such as pointing out the use of a filter and a suggestion for avoiding it.

I also generate a several-page critique letter that digs into writing and storytelling issues in a novel manuscript, although the comments sprinkled throughout do that as well, but more specifically. Comments in a manuscript can run to fewer than 100 (the editor’s story) to 400 or 500, depending on the level of writing and story craft.

What's your experience? If you’ve had a professional edit, let me know what you received as a result.

Ray

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© 2015 Ray Rhamey

Are you making these grammar mistakes?

“7 Grammar Mistakes You’re Probably Making” is the title of a Huffington Post article on common mistakes writers make. A company called Grammarly organized a group of authors to collaborate on a novel for NaNoWriMo. Approximately 300 writers from 27 countries contributed 130,927 unedited words. Grammarly has created grammar-checking software and says it’s an automated proofreader that corrects up to 10 times more mistakes than word processing software.

They ran the group novel through their software and found the following to be the most common mistakes made by the authors who wrote for the group book project—visit the article page to see a complete explanation:

• Missing comma
• Run-on sentences
• Comma splice
• Comma misuse
• Definite versus Indefinite article use
• Redundant article
• Missing article

It’s interesting how many comma issues showed up. I should add that I often correct mistakes in the use of definite and indefinite articles.

See you for the flogging on Wednesday.

For what it’s worth,

Ray

The enormous value of putting your manuscript in a drawer

I don’t know about you, but when I finish writing a novel there’s a tremendous rush of excitement and a sense of accomplishment. I did it! I also have a tendency to like what I’ve written. It looks good to me.

However, reading through your novel shortly after you’ve finished it with the idea of making submissions to agents or publishers is something you should NOT do.

Nope. Find a real or virtual desk drawer and put the thing away and do something else. Here’s what author Jeff Cohen has to say in a post on the ever-interesting writing blog, Hey, There’s a Dead Guy In the Living Room:

So how do you know if your book is ready for submission? First, take a week. Better, take two weeks. Do something else. Go scuba diving. Read someone else's book. Take tango lessons. I don't know; go to work at your actual job. Take your kid to the beach (if you're not me--I'm not crazy for the beach). The only thing you should definitely not do during this time is read your manuscript again. You won't see it; you'll only see the triumph of time and effort and not the result. 

After the two weeks are up, open the file again. Read it with OBJECTIVE eyes. You'll see flaws. You'll notice things you wish you hadn't done. You'll despair for the puny, crippled thing you have created.

But having seen all that, the good news is that you can make it better. Plot possibilities that hadn't suggested themselves because you'd had a plan will appear. Character traits will surface that you can exploit more thoroughly. Mistakes can be corrected and style stengths added.

In other words, once you can see your work clearly, you'll have ideas on how to revise it.

I think it was Stephen King who advised putting the book away for six weeks. I think six weeks is better than the two weeks Jeff suggests, but, either way, put it away.

You need distance that only time can create, emotional distance that will clear away the gauzy film of accomplishment that conceals the oopses in your narrative. In addition to putting it away, I strongly recommend that you read it aloud when you first return to it, the whole thing. The way you process words to speak them is different than silent reading, the kind you’ve done all along, and that will help create another level of distance that enables you to see and hear flaws.

You can also help create distance by reformatting your pages to look different. When I make the page size and font look more like a book, I’ve found that my expectations of the narrative go up a notch or two. I’m tougher on the narrative in a new format. There’s a post on ways to do that here.

So—put it away, reformat it, and then read it aloud. I think you’ll be pleased at how well you’ll see both the good and the not-so-swell aspects of your manuscript.

And best of luck.

For what it's worth,

Ray

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Free sample chapters—click here for a PDF

“A wealth of advice backed up by numerous examples and explanations. Ray doesn't just give you the "rules" of writing, but also gives you an understanding of why you shouldn't break the rules . . . and examples of times when it's a good idea to break them. Ray's book deals with storytelling, description, dialogue, techniques, words to avoid, and workouts that help writers to understand how to critique their work and others. He also delves into how to hook your readers and make them care about your story and its character through building tension, raising story questions, perfecting your narrative voice, writing with clarity, setting the scene, and developing your characters. This book is well worth the price of admission.”   Joseph

© 2013 Ray Rhamey

Now Open for Business

I’ve limited the amount of editing I do for a long time because of the day job that was necessary for, well, existence. The day job recently got cancelled and, while I look for another, I’m totally open for business with old and new services.

Please visit my revamped website, for lots of info.

Services for writers and self-publishers

Editing, Critiquing

For 99% of wannabe novelists, this is a simple truth: your manuscript needs work before you send it out. This holds true even for strong writers with good critique partners—I know because I’m one of them. More than that, I’ve seen the opening chapters of more than 450 manuscripts, and fewer than 10 were ready to go as they were. You need fresh eyes and professional coaching.

But editing costs money, and these are tough times. I know that, and I’m offering quite a low rate for high-quality writing. I also offer a critique on which, knowing the amount of time I will spend (I’m a little compulsive about it), my hourly rate won’t be much. But the critique can help with macro issues, and applies to a full edit if you go there.

There’s a lot about what I do and how it works here.

I hope you'll check out the testimonials.

Book design

In this new age of self- and ebook publishing, your book cover becomes your most important and crucial marketing tool. Read a discussion of designing covers for the web here. The cover here is for a work in progress—a coming-of-age story set in Texas, 1958, during a hot summer.

Beyond the web and into POD (print on demand), interior book design becomes a factor. I offer that service, too. See samples here.

If you’re heading for the Kindle market, I can help with formatting your manuscript properly and navigating the Kindle system. And I can create ebook formats from your manuscript document.

Self-publishing help

While you can use services such as Createspace, Lulu.com, iUniverse and other services to self-publish a book, their fees can be costly and the amount you net from sales through their sites isn’t as much as it could be if you take an independent route.

I’m preparing a free booklet on the how-to’s of self publishing that will go into detail about what I’ve learned about POD printer/distributor Lightning Source, ISBN numbers, Library of Congress control numbers, and ebook formatting—in the meantime, I can help writers with those things. More info here.

I hope you’ll visit the website. And if you’ve rewritten and polished and rewritten and polished your novel and feel like you need to take the next step to either seeking an agent, submitting to a publisher, or self-publishing, consider submitting for a free sample edit.

Other creative services

I should probably add that I also offer other freelance creative services such as copywriting (ads, video scripts, brochures, whatever). Here’s my portfolio website.

Regular floggings on Wednesdays and Thursdays, as usual, and I’ll resume posting free chapters from my writing book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells.

New reviews of We the Enemy 

I just want to share excerpts from two new 5-star reader reviews that appeared on Amazon this weekend.

We The Enemy is an unusual novel, both an action-packed thriller and a rational dissection of our legal system. This is a fast-paced yet thought-provoking book, muscular in style and ingenious in worldview.

I enjoyed the story. The writing is very good and the plot moves at a good pace. And I enjoyed the political content, which is a rare treat. Well done. A thoughtful and thought-provoking read.

As I said, Open for Business. I would love to help you with a creative project.

Do me a favor, would you? Please pass the word to your writer friends?

Best,

Ray

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A word to writers who comment on and submit to FtQ

Over this last year, the comments by FtQ readers on the openings submitted by writers have proven to be a hugely valuable part of this blog, and I cannot overstate my appreciation for all you’ve contributed.

However. . .

Lately there have been comments that were expressed in rude, or condescending, or insulting ways. Even worse, one commentor has disparaged the efforts of another who was offering advice.

That’s not acceptable, nor does it help the people I’m here to help—the writers who are working to improve their craft by putting their work out there to be seen and critiqued by anyone.

To paraphrase an old saw:

If you can’t say anything constructive, don’t say anything at all.

We all differ in our level of writing accomplishment, and some are clearly much better than others. This “superiority” does not, however, grant a license to snark or be mean-spirited. In my view, the effort and guts it takes for anyone to submit their work to this forum should be respected, and treated with courtesy.

For writers who submit work

“Turn the page,” as it’s used on FtQ, really means “publishable.” If the opening to your work isn’t enough to get me to turn the page, the work is probably not yet publishable. Yes, my judgment is subjective, as is yours, but it’s professional.

Even turning the page doesn't yet mean publishable -- often it means "highly promising," instead. As readers will have noted, almost never are there not improvements to be made.

I once read this quote from an acquisitions editor at a publishing house:

”Most of what we get should never have left the writer’s hand.”

Sometimes that’s true of the submissions to FtQ -- but how are people going to learn without fresh eyes pointing out shortcomings?

What standard does your writing need to meet to be publishable? Allow me to quote myself; this is from the opening chapter of my forthcoming book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells:

Today’s publishing climate is tougher than ever. To get an agent, your work has to stand out from hundreds and hundreds of submissions. For your agent to get you a book contract, your novel has to cut through hundreds more.

Your book has to be polished, diamond-sharp, and a rarity–you not only have to have professional-caliber writing and a great story, your novel needs to kick-start with compelling tension.

Frankly, if you look at the opening pages of your novel, it seems like it should be clear as to whether or not they are ready to leap that hurdle. After all, there are hundreds of published novels that you can compare your work to.

It seems to me that anyone who hopes to be a professional writer must develop the ability to see their writing clearly enough to judge its merits.

Yet that doesn’t happen, does it? There have been a few submissions to FtQ that reached the publishable level, and a host that fall just a little short. Others have been far from the mark and have miles to go.

Okay, so some of us don’t yet have that clear and critical facility. Yet it can be learned, and a good place to start is here. I could simply refuse to post and critique efforts that are clearly a long way from publishable, but that would be of no help to all of the writers who come to FtQ to learn about what makes a novel’s opening page have the compelling qualities that it must have to reach the level of “agentable,” much less publishable.

The “rules”

It didn’t seem to me to be necessary to lay down any “rules” for commentors to follow on this blog. Indeed, for almost five years now, there hasn’t been a need. But maybe these troubling times wear on people, and troubles outside this tiny part of their world are wearing on them, hurting them, and it spills over.

The “rule” here is to be a grown-up. To be a parent—to approach commenting on a writer’s work as you would if you were trying to help your child understand a vital lesson in life. You wouldn’t, I hope, use sarcasm and talk down to your child. You would, I hope, try to offer constructive guidance to help him or her understand and grow, and you would do it in a way that makes sometimes tough advice easier to take.

That is not to say to hold back constructive criticism. I don’t pull punches (well, I don’t throw them, either), but I confine my remarks to the actual writing and storytelling.

I have not yet felt the need to try to block anyone from contributing to Flogging the Quill, and I don’t want to. But I will, in the future, seriously consider deleting mean-spirited commentary and, if it keeps up, figure out a way to block that person. And those people will not be eligible to submit work to FtQ.

How about making this promise?

In my first novel, an organization of citizens grows around this promise. It’s a requirement for membership in “The Alliance.”

I promise to help, the best I can.

I made that promise back when I wrote that novel, and do my best to live by it. I urge you to do the same.

Meanwhile, many thanks to all the able commentors and analysts who do make constructive comments on FtQ, and I hope you’ll continue to do so.

Comments, anyone?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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Tips & Subscriptions Your generosity helps defray the cost of hosting FtQ.

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Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter 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 format your submission as specified at the front of this post.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

On rewriting another’s prose

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A number of you give helpful and insightful comments on the openings of novels that are posted here, and both the writers and I are very grateful for them. But there's a type of comment that may not be as helpful as you think.

It's a certain kind of rewrite, the kind that fails to respect the writer's voice. There's an example from the recent comments on the opening I posted from one of my WIPs that falls into that category, and I thought it would be worth discussion here.

This is not to say never offer a rewrite. Rewriting can help a writer see an alternative way of expressing the narrative.

But not if it doesn't sound like his or her narrative.

When I do an edit, I'll frequently include "thought-starters" that are either new pieces of narrative or a reconfiguring of what's there. But the suggestions I make are, as close as I can get them, true to the voice of the writer. Actually, I'm a pretty good mimic. I may not be enamored of the writer's voice, but an agent or an editor might love it, so I feel obligated to be faithful to it.

What are good reasons for offering a rewrite?

In my edits, most frequently it's where there is a lack of clarity. If a line of narrative is clear, I'll leave it pretty much alone. If there's a dull verb, I'll point that out -- but not change it. If it's passive, I'll point that out, and maybe give an example. But if it's clear, it's untouched.

A lack of clarity because something is missing -- especially a transition -- may be another reason to suggest words or sentences, but the suggestions need to reflect the author's or character's voice.

My editorial philosophy: if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Now, I'm not picking on this particular contributor, and he's not the only one who does what I'm talking about, nor am I trying to defend my writing. In fact, other thoughts in his comment were worth considering, as well as those in other comments that offered rewrites within my narrative voice. This is about editorial philosophy, about how I think an editor approaches trying to improve a narrative.

The problem with rewriting that is clearly not within the writer's voice -- especially if there's no problem that it's fixing -- is that the author can't use it. It won't fit. So what good is there in doing it?

In the last post, the 16 lines I put out there ended with this paragraph:

Kurt placed the gun back on a plaque that displayed a Bronze Star medal and a brass plate that read, "Major Jefferson T. Dengler." His grandfather hadn't made it home from World War II, but his heroism and his sidearm had. Kurt used his tie to polish away a fingerprint, snatched up the TIME and the new polls, and left his West Wing office for the Rose Garden.

A reader wrote this as a suggested replacement:

Kurt laid the gun carefully beside a plaque displaying a Bronze Star above a brass plate that read simply "Major Jefferson T. Dengler." Kurt's grandfather hadn't made it home from World War II, but his heroism and his sidearm had.

A quick swipe of his tie served to polish away any fingerprints. Then Kurt snatched up the TIME and the new polls and left his West Wing office for the Rose Garden.

When I read this, I wondered why the changes were there. To me, the original wording was perfectly clear. For example, in terms of clarity,

Kurt placed the gun back on a plaque

seems clear, and there's nothing gained by changing it to

Kurt laid the gun carefully beside a plaque

An unnecessary adverb was added, and the action was changed -- the gun went beside the plaque instead of on it. Why the changes?

Here's another puzzler. The original line:

Kurt used his tie to polish away a fingerprint,

And the rewrite that seems to be a change done solely to match the voice of the editor rather than the writer:

A quick swipe of his tie served to polish away any fingerprints.

To my eye/ear, both voice and meaning are changed. Even the visual picture intended by the original is changed.

• We go from a fingerprint on the plaque, which we can visualize, to a vague "any fingerprints" that may or may not be there, and we can't visualize. Remember that specifics create reality in a reader's mind, generalizations do not.
• We go from the character doing something to his tie doing something, a shift from active to passive.
• We go from polishing, which I think evokes a clear picture of a brief rubbing of a particular spot to make it clean and bright, to a "quick swipe" which seems to me the opposite of polishing.
• The rewrite is 3 words longer, but to no purpose.
• The use of "served to" is the biggest departure from the original voice, in my view. If you go back to the original post and read the whole sample, that kind of lingo just doesn't happen.
  

So why the rewrite? I don't think there was a clarity issue-- the guy taking his tie to polish away a fingerprint seems perfectly clear. Why change polishing to swiping? Why change a fingerprint to any fingerprints? Why go from active to passive?

The answer here is because the revisions sounded better to the editor's ear. Well, that's not a good reason to do a comprehensive rewrite of narrative. If you don't care for the author's voice, live with it. It will never conform with yours, nor should it.

So stifle your own voice

The point of all this is the care I owe a writer to respect the voice and intent of the narrative, and so do you. In fact, an editor's function is sometimes to help reveal the writer's voice by weeding the narrative of clutter that obscures it.

In my view, you don't alter the meaning and action that's presented if there's nothing incorrect about it. You don't change the flavor of the language from the author's to yours, though you can suggest ways to enhance it within the writer's style.

When you're critiquing another writer, whether in a critique group, online, a friend, whomever, leave your own wonderful voice in its box.

Okay, now I'm stepping down off my soap box. I DO NOT want to discourage this commenter or any other from helping the writers who appear on FtQ. But sometimes the advice, as in this case, just isn't helpful, at least the way I see it. When you suggest alternative language, you'll help the writer most if it fits with the rest of the narrative, and especially when it focuses on an issue such as a lack of clarity.

For what it's worth.

Comments, anyone?

Ray

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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.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

First-ever FtQ Online Storytelling Workshop a success

Last Saturday morning I met with 4 writers via Instant Messaging for a 2-hour critique session focused on the first 5 pages of their novels. A couple of weeks ahead of time they emailed their first chapters to me and I distributed them to the participants. There was also a $15 fee per writer. The writers were in 4 different time zones; since I'm on PST, we started at 7:00 a.m. The workshop turned out to be fun, and productive for the writers.

Each writer's work was the focus of a 30-minute segment, with yours truly leading the discussion. Except for a brief period when one participant's Internet connection kicked her off, there were no technical glitches.

The focus was on storytelling, not line editing. The question posed to the group at the beginning of each critique was this: You're a weary, weary, weary agent. Your eyes hurt. Are you going to ask this writer to see more? And why/why not?"

The answers were honest and informative. That led the way to identification and discussion of storytelling issues that, in one way or another, dulled the power of each narrative.

I was impressed by the professionalism of each of the writers, and how they were quick to offer suggestions to help members of the group deal with issues that the critique brought up.

At the end of the session, all the writers volunteered that it had been very useful, and I've since heard more from a couple of the participants.

Lacy said:

"I was pleased at all the good suggestions I received. I think it was definitely worth the minimal price -- especially if it includes additional notes from you after the fact. (It does.) I participate in a "real life" critique group, and our professor charges $300 for 10 weeks, so yours is a real bargain!

"Your guidelines were a good way to keep everyone thinking about meta topics as opposed to line edits, which I appreciated. Too often I have been in critique sessions where people focused on the minutiae, which is all right for final drafts, but much less useful for working drafts.

"I especially appreciated your summary of the conversation towards the end of each person's allotted time. That really helped to focus my mind on what my next steps should be when working on my manuscript.

"All in all, I really enjoyed it and would definitely recommend it to others."

From Therese:

"The workshop was definitely worth the money. I think it's always helpful to have others look at my manuscript, because they're able to offer fresh insights and suggestions for improvement that I may be unable to see. The feedback I received during the workshop has certainly helped me to see my manuscript in a new light. I also enjoyed working with the other writers on their manuscripts and offering suggestions to them."

Helen wrote this:

"I found the FtQ online workshop to be both helpful and motivational. It's always good to get feedback from other writers. In this case, those other writers were strangers who had no preconceived ideas about me or my writing.

"The comments were insightful and encouraging. The workshop ran smoothly, particularly since Ray kept everyone on track and directed the group with questions. I learned a lot not only from the part devoted to my writing, but also from the discussion of other people's works. For me, it was worth the money and time, and I feel motivated to make the suggested changes."

I'll follow up by giving the writers all of the notes I made for the session, something I also do in the writer's conference workshops. I've heard from two more writers who are interested in doing this, and I'll set up another session if two more qualified writers sign up.

The process: email an attachment to me of the opening chapter of your novel (include a prologue if you're using one). I evaluate the samples to make sure the writing skills of the writers are compatible, and then let folks know. The match-up is important in assuring that each writer has the necessary potential for both contributing to the critique and benefiting from it. So let me know: email ray at editorrr dot com.

The workshop is an online version of the one I'm doing at writer's conferences, one of which I did the preceeding weekend. The key differences between the two are:

In the conference version, the attendees don't know who the critiqued writers are or even if they are in the room. This lends itself to straightforward analysis and content.

Steve, a writer whose work was a subject of the Write on the Sound conference two weeks ago said,

"I had a great time -- I got to be invisible while something like thirty people discussed my work. Valuable info."

Diane wrote this about her experience:

"I felt that several of the comments were valid and insightful. They certainly gave me ideas for new treatments for my manuscript. The written comments and editing you did on my manuscript were helpful, too. I thought I was good at practicing 'less is best' and paring away extra words, but found that there was still fat to be trimmed."

In the online session, each participant was semi-unknown -- we had first names and email addresses, and knew we were there. The advantage of the online session versus the live version was that the critiquers and critiquees could ask questions, which sometimes helped focus the criticisms.

I don't know if I've invented a new form of critiquing, both in workshops and online, but I'm happy with the way it seems to be helping writers by giving them multiple sets of fresh eyes quickly and easily. So far, every participant has been well satisfied.

After all, what's more fun that talking about writing?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Free edit. Email a sample for an edit that I can post here.

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© 2006 Ray Rhamey

Edit: a good beginning that can be better

Zach sent the following sample. Here's the way it opens up.

Till pointed lazily at a herd of vaporous rabbits gliding effortlessly through the mid-morning sky. "Look at them all. They look so happy."

"Yeah."

I was more concerned with the way her hand was softly pressed against mine than the clouds. I could see the clouds every day, but this moment was something that I could not rely on.

Till silently rolled over and propped herself up on her soft shoulder. Her blond hair hung playfully in her eyes as they looked right at me. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I like you."

"Yeah. I like you, too."

She let herself drop, her head falling against my chest. I felt her breathe out slowly, the sun warming her back. She looked just like a lizard, or a kitten, or some other lazy creature, just lying around all day without a care in the world. I picked at the grass by my elbow, making a little dirt patch on the hill. A single plane droned angrily against the silent morning.

"Hey Till?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever wanted to be there? Like, way up in the sky, flying around all day long until you ran out of fuel or energy and had to come down?"

"Sometimes, yeah. But if I ever had that chance, I don't think I would come down. I would just keep flying until I died or ran out of fuel. Crashing to earth is worth those hours of unchained freedom, I think."

"Yeah."

I closed my eyes as the plane droned on. As it flew overhead, the buzz of it's single engine grew louder and louder. I didn't really think too much of it until I opened my eyes. The bottom of the plane grew exponentially, getting larger and larger, until there was no where else for it to grow than here.

"Till, get up!"

I pulled her small frame to it's feet, scaring her out of a warm day-dream.

Four seconds later, the sound of twisting metal and crushing glass could be heard. Five seconds later, the back of my head felt like it was on fire. Six seconds later, I lost consciousness.

I don't know how many seconds it had been since then. All I could hear were the frantic screams of a girl who liked me.

For me, this definitely passes the "read more" test. Plenty of story questions are raised, and dramatic action -- a plane crash -- kick-starts my interest.

But, to this reader's eye, there are shortcomings. It could be better.

Things I'd like to have also learned from the narrative:

• While I'm taking these people as being youths of some age, I'd like to know more closely. I thought they could be as young as tweens until Till refers to "hours of unchained freedom," which doesn't sound childlike at all.
• I'd like more scene-setting sooner. For example, we learn that they're on a hill in the eighth paragraph. I'd have preferred to be "seeing" the characters there from the start.

Here's a line edit suggestions that could help add elements I feel are missing.

Till pointed lazily at a herd of vaporous rabbits gliding effortlessly through the mid-morning sky. "Look at them all. They look so happy." (I cut the adverb because it doesn't really add to the picture -- what is a lazy point, anyway?)

"Yeah." I was more concerned with the way her other hand was softly pressed against mine than with the clouds. I could see the clouds every day, but this moment was something that I could not rely on. (I wonder about "concerned" as the verb here, which carries an undertone of anxiety. Wouldn't something such as "interested" or "focused" work as well without the semantic loadings?)

Oh, I could hope that Till would still be this way after our freshman year started tomorrow in the red brick high school I could make out from our hilltop. I was afraid she wouldn't. (This is clumsy, but it's just a "Thoughtstarter" to help the writer look for a way to include a little more on age and location and yet still characterize and advance the story.)

Till silently rolled over and propped herself up on her soft shoulderelbow. Her blonde hair hung playfully in her eyes as they looked right at me. "You know what?" (I cut "silently" because, unless the narrative indicates a sound, the movement is by definition silent and the adverb unneeded. On "soft shoulder," it seems to me that people prop themselves up on their elbows when lying on the ground. You can roll over onto a shoulder, but propping takes an elbow. And, while "blond" is acceptable, generally "blonde" is used for a female, "blond" for a male.)

"What?"

"I like you."

"Yeah. I like you, too."

She let herself drop, her head falling against my chest. I felt her breathe ease out slowly, the sun warming her back. She looked just like a lizard, or a kitten, or some other lazy creature, just lying around all day without a care in the world. I picked at the grass by my elbow, making clearing a little dirt patch on the hill. A single plane droned angrily against the silent morning. (I cut another "slowly" because adverbs don't picture all that well, and inserted "ease" to show how she breathed. I also cut out the part about the sun warming her back because it's a little iffy on the point of view -- how does he know it's warming her back, or that it feels that way? If the writer wants to include such a reference [and it's a good way to show that the sun is out and the day is warm], maybe something such as a new sentence: The sun warmed me, but not half as much as the thoughts that she stirred. Next: for me, bringing in a lizard and a reference to a vague "other lazy creature" slowed things, made me fish for meaning, and broke the mood. I would also note for the writer that "without a care in the world" is a cliché, and urge him to come up with something more fresh. While "droned angrily" works fairly well for using an adverb, I think it would be better if more pictorial, i.e. "droned like an angry wasp." )

"Hey, Till?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever wanted to be there? Like, way up in the sky, flying around all day long until you ran out of fuel or energy and had to come down?" (Since the stimulus for this was an airplane, which uses fuel, I thought the added reference to energy was not needed and a little confusing)

"Sometimes, yeah. But if I ever had that chance, I don't think I would come down. I would just keep flying until I crashed to the earth. I died or ran out of fuel. Crashing to earth is It would be worth those hours of unchained freedom, I think." (Repeating "run out of fuel" was bothersome to me, and I think the logic was a little off, thus my suggested recasting of the sentences.)

"Yeah."

I closed my eyes.  as tThe plane droned on. As it flew overhead, tThe buzz of it's its single engine grew louder and louder. I didn't really think too much of it until I opened my eyes. The bottom of the plane grew exponentially, getting larger and larger, until there was no wherenowhere else for it to grow go than here. (I cut the part about flying overhead because that would put the plane above them, which would be impossible because it's just about to crash into them. The writer used "it's," which means "it is," here instead of the possessive pronoun "its." I cut "single" because the use of the singular "engine" tells you all you need to know and the adjective was superfluous. Lastly, I felt that "go" instead of "grow" was more clear and that "grow" could have been a mistake.)

"Till, get up!"

I pulled yanked her to hersmall frame to it's feet, scaring her out of a warm day-dream and ran, dragging her with me. (Several things here: I substituted a more active, likely verb for "pulled," which could be a slow movement, and panic is called for here. I thought "small frame to it's [sic] feet" was odd and overwriting. The part about scaring her out of a daydream is a point-of-view glitch -- he can't know what's going on in her mind, and this is a case of "head-hopping." Lastly, I felt the action should be more than just getting to feet. I'd run, wouldn't you?)

Four seconds later, I heard the sound of twisting metal and crushing glass could be heard. Five seconds later, the back of my head felt like it was on fire. Six seconds later, I lost consciousness.

I don't know how many seconds it had been since then. All I could hear were the frantic screams of a girl who liked me. (The part about knowing how many seconds it had been since then totally confused me. He was just unconscious. This needs a transition, something such as "When I came to, sprawled with my face in the grass, I didn't know how many seconds it had been.)

So, Zach, a good start, but it could, in my view, be more crisp in places and more clear in others.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Free edit Email a sample you have questions about for an edit to be posted here.

ARCHIVES . © 2006 Ray Rhamey

Edit: good elements, but work needed

I've been remiss in doing sample edits, so I'll try to catch up. Here's a sample sent by Susan.

The lone criminal slid from an emergency exit of a prison freighter onto the station. Primer Bay rotated in orbit with a blanket of stars behind it, glittering like abandoned diamonds in some magician's black canvas bag of tricks. The station, the last outpost of civilization before the deep space jump off, is an isolated rest stop for the weary with all the amenities a person would need or want for the long hauls across space. Ten layers of docking bays ringed the station. Seventeen shops, bars and restaurant lay at Primer Bay's heart.

The convict's stomach growled, he thought two days had gone by since he ate the last of the stolen food. His dry mouth tasted like ash and felt like wool, he wanted food and a beer. Not necessarily in that order.

Stretching his arms over his head, Richard Kurt turned to look at the dull, gray haul of the freighter. With a yawn he let is arms drop, taking in the exit door he just left. Glancing around he saw a large loading platform next to a vast holding bay. His free ride was headed to Earth where it would be docked for three months until the next run for the prison system. Kurt figured once on the planet, he could lose himself easily. Beyond the obvious plan of ditching the feds, he thought he would play it by ear. For the moment, he needed food. He made his way with caution toward the smell of food without thought to paying for his meal.

Entering the main commons area without incident, he found despite the late hour there were still a few people around. Kurt walked along the left side of the shopping area, he smelled steak, and fried onions. His mouth watered and his stomach growled in protest. He stopped in front of a couple eating a late night meal. It took all his well power not to leap on the table and stuff his mouth with both hands. As they felt his gaze on them the couple raised their heads. Kurt blinked and nodded his head, the couple resumed eating. He continued on, circling the food area, and decided on a restaurant at the end of the line.

Darkness lay beyond the doors all but two letters on the neon sign were burned out. Kurt thought he could eat the damned sign if he didn't get fed soon. Taking a table near the door, he ordered two hot beef and cheese with a bucket of onion rings and pint of beer. Looking around he noticed the patrons seemed restless, their eyes shifted to one another. He began to get an itch at the back of his neck, his gut instinct said to get up and walk out. As he began to stand, the food was placed in front of him. The waitress glanced behind her at two men who whispered quietly in the back by the restrooms, their eyes slid from her to a guy sitting hunched over the bar.

Glancing at the food Kurt forgot his concern and began eating. The sandwich tasted fine and the cold beer made him want to weep. He thought it might be the best hot meal he had eaten in six years. Placing the mug on the table, Kurt leaned back and stifled a belch. Noticing the two men from the back moving towards the fellow at the bar, Kurt began to slide from the table. As he grabbed the bucket of onion rings and the pitcher of beer a body went flying past him and into the walkway.

Kurt munched the onion rings as he made his way back to the freighter, he took care to save a few bites since it would be a couple of days before he made Earth. He knew a little hunger would be worth his freedom. So focused on juggling the beer and the food he failed to notice the silent figure which stood frozen across the commons area from him.

The bounty hunter took in the fight and quickly fading criminal. Taking out his weapon the gun hummed with a pulsing charge, he lowered toward the brawlers "Move." he said with an emotionless stare.

They crawled away from the bounty hunter as he leaped across two figures and began running after the criminal.

Walking forward Kurt lay the beer mug down on a box and glanced at the nearly invisible entrance on the side of the mammoth ship and quickened his pace. The parking lights at the nose of the freighter glowed red, signaling take off time.

Susan's doing the right thing by starting with a character in action, but for me there were some point-of-view problems, and a fair amount of over-writing. Some edits & notes (remember the usual caveat: this is all subjective).

The lone criminal slid from an emergency exit of a prison freighter onto the station. Primer Bay rotated in orbit with a blanket of stars behind it, glittering like abandoned diamonds in some magician's black canvas bag of tricks. The station, the last outpost of civilization before the deep space jump off, is an isolated rest stop for the weary with all the amenities a person would need or want for the long hauls across space. Ten layers of docking bays ringed the station. Seventeen shops, bars and restaurant lay at Primer Bay's heart. This distant point of view is acceptible, but you're jumping into too much detail about the setting too soon. First things first: make something happen. If you feel the need to describe the station up front, do it from within the character's pov as he looks at it from space.

The convict's stomach growled, he thought two days had gone by since he ate the last of the stolen food. (wouldn't he know how much time?) His dry mouth tasted like ash and felt like wool, he wanted food and a beer. Not necessarily in that order. Nice description in the end but, whoa! you suddenly went from a very distant pov to right inside the character's head. IMO, you should have started with Kurt's pov. Also, since we're in his pov, he would never think of himself as "the convict."

Stretching his arms over his head, Richard Kurt (Should have introduced this first thing instead of "The convict." Let the reader figure out his criminal status from what he does and thinks, i.e. show, don't tell.) turned to look at the dull, gray haul (hull) of the freighter. With a yawn he let is (his) arms drop, taking in the exit door he just left. Glancing around he saw a large loading platform next to a vast holding bay. His free ride was headed to Earth where it would be docked  dock for three months until the next run for the prison system. Kurt figured once on the planet, he could lose himself easily. Beyond the obvious plan of ditching the feds, he thought he would play it by ear. For the moment, he needed food. He made his way with caution toward the smell of food without thought to paying for his meal("made his way with caution is "telling." Suggest you show. Thoughtstarter: Strolling as though he belonged there, but alert for glances that showed too much attention, he headed for the smell of food. )

Entering the main commons area without incident, he found despite the late hour there were still a few people around.  In the main commons area, Kurt walked along the left side of the shopping area, he smelled steak, and fried onions. His mouth watered and his stomach growled in protest. He stopped in front of a couple eating a late night meal. It took all his well power willpower not to leap on the table and stuff his mouth with both hands. As they felt his gaze on them the couple raised their heads. (pov glitch: he can't know what the couple feels, need to change this) Kurt blinked and nodded his head (what other part of his anatomy could he nod?), the couple resumed eating. He continued on, circling the food area, and decided on a restaurant at the end of the line. (Don’t need most of this paragraph because we already know he’s been two days without food. I’d cut it the couple, get him to the commons area and smelling the food, and then get him to the restaurant in the following paragraph.)  

Darkness lay beyond the doors all but two letters on the neon sign were burned out. (Huh? What does the darkness mean, and what’s the significance of the burned out letters? Unnecessary detail, I’d cut it.) Kurt thought he could eat the damned sign if he didn’t get fed soon. (We already know he’s hungry.) Taking a table near the door, he ordered two hot beef and cheese (two beef and cheese whats? Sandwiches?) with a bucket of onion rings and pint of beer. Looking around he noticed the patrons seemed restless, their eyes shifted to one another. (I’m sure you don’t mean that pairs of eyes shifted from one person to another, roaming around the room, but that’s what this says. Only their gazes can shift in this way.) He began to get an itch at the back of his neck, (better: The back of his neck itched) his gut instinct said to get up and walk out. As he began to stand, the food was placed in front of him. The waitress glanced behind her at two men who whispered quietly in the back by the restrooms, their eyes slid (eyes don’t slide, gazes can) from her to a guy sitting hunched over the bar.

Glancing at the food Kurt forgot his concern and began eating. The sandwich tasted fine and the cold beer made him want to weep. (I like the “weep”) He thought it might be the best hot meal he had eaten in six years. Placing the mug on the table, Kurt leaned back and stifled a belch. Noticing the two men from the back moving towards the fellow at the bar, Kurt began to slide (see my post on “don’t get me started.” He didn’t begin to slide, he just slid.) from the table. (I think you mean from his chair.) As he grabbed the bucket of onion rings and the pitcher of beer a body (continuity problem--he ordered a pint, which would be a glass, there is no pitcher) went flying past him and into the walkway. (While this little fight sequence does illustrate the rowdy area of the place, since it doesn’t involve the protagonist, I feel it serves no purpose and slows things down. Now, if you had the body slam into him and that caused a reaction, that would be okay. But still not needed.)

Kurt munched the onion rings as he made his way back to the freighter, he took (taking) care to save a few bites since it would be a couple of days before he made Earth. He knew a A little hunger would be worth his freedom. So focused on juggling the beer and the food, he failed to notice the silent figure which stood frozen across the commons area from him. (since we’re in his point of view, if he doesn’t notice something it can’t be in his narrative—this is a common pov problem. This needs to be deleted. On the other hand, why not have him notice the figure and feel threatened. That would increase the tension, and you really need to do that. All we’ve done so far is step off a ship, walk, and eat.)

The bounty hunter took in the fight and quickly fading criminal.  (this was a giant head-hop, a point-of-view switch that was jarring. We didn't even know this character existed. You can switch povs, but you need to clue the reader with a space and some other indicator, and a transition. But to switch for just two paragraphs isn’t good technique, in my view.) Taking out his weapon the gun hummed with a pulsing charge, he lowered toward the brawlers “Move.” he said with an emotionless stare. (This sentence lacked rhythm and punctuation, and crammed too much together, and misused “with” in that you can’t say something with a stare, you have to use your mouth. A rewrite: He took out his weapon. It hummed with a pulsing charge when he aimed it at the brawlers. “Move.”)

I’ll stop here because, as you saw in the original, the pov hops back to Kurt’s in just one paragraph, and I would have said to find another way to do this. What, some ask, is the problem with head-hopping? In my view, it distances the reader from the character and, thus, reduces emotional involvement with what’s happening. If the writer is okay with that, so be it. I believe the deeper and more strongly you connect the reader with a character, the greater your chance of keeping the pages turning instead of the book being put aside.

Susan has some good ideas, but needs to be more careful of spelling and continuity. And to work on doing more with less. The main lack for this reader was a lack of tension. There’s not much in the way of jeopardy or conflict raised in this opening. It might be better to start later in the story, where the bounty hunter confronts Kurt.

For what it’s worth,

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2006 Ray Rhamey

 

Edit: could use a stronger start

I've been neglectful of these, and I apologize to those who've sent samples. Here's one from February, so kindly sent by Dawn. Here are the first couple of pages:

2040 - Rub-al Khali (The Empty Quarter)

Boccaha was a small fat balding man with bad teeth. He hadn't bathed in so long his skin resembled an elephant's hide, old, leathered. He had the sores of the time, but beneath the grime were the markings of the Shaman. Once a great man, he was one of the last, just one in a handful with the memory of The Change. He had been there and watched, as the earth became a planet of disease and anger. He watched as the population dwindled and the only babies born were by man's design. When earth became the playing field for an insidious ancient war. He carried on the stories of the huge black ships that came from the sky, when the people, one by one, gathered he retold the stories of the promises made and the promises broken.

Now, his age beyond years and no more magic up his sleeve, he sits in the reflection of the night fires and recounts the stories his hands making shadows on the cave walls. The adults smile, the few children sit in awe. Their mouths gape, hands with shards of dirty blankets jerked up tight over the littlest ones' eyes. His voice deep and trembling, his eyes grow wide and his voice bellows like thunder. "Just then, the big ship passed over the sun, blackening our planet below." His voice was deep and slow.

And as if on perfect cue, the fire would spark, a log would split, turning the cave a hallow orange. "Juggernaut!" Boccaha's voice jumps and pounds, echoing throughout the cavernous walls. Little ones bury their faces in their mothers' bosom. The shadow shape of the scarab fills the dirt walls and ceilings. His hands cast the huge shadow on the wall. The children jump and scream. Boccaha laughs a deep belly rumble.

Hearing the sarcastic scoff from behind the gathered children, he leaned hard on his walking stick and made his way through the family seated around the fire to find the young man leaning against the wall, away from the group, in the shadows. "Ah, I expected you to become bitter Juno. Can't say that I blame you. I would be as well if my father ran off when I was only a boy of eight. Boccaha shifted his walking stick in front of him and leaned forward on it, "leaving me to tend to my mother and grow old so fast. But then he did manage to send you this ancient trinket." Boccaha reached for the pendant hanging by an aged leather strap about Juno's neck.

Juno's hand seized Boccaha's throat. Towering over Boccaha, Juno lowered his face. "You arrogant son-of-a-bitch" he murmured through clenched teeth. Boccaha's hand dropped from the strap, letting the scarab shaped pendant swing like a pendulum. The fire's flames cast the moving shape against the cavernous walls, like a ghost. The Family watched, seeing the image Boccaha had made with his hands for so many years come to life.

"I'll make you a deal old man-you never speak of my father again, and I won't kill you." Juno's thick deep eyebrows raised and the blue of his eyes pierced Boccaha's aging body like a thousand poison darts.

Boccaha stepped back from Juno swallowing hard and rubbing his throat and shaking. "Young One, I'm already dead. Like all of us. We are just leftover fodder that didn't get ingested or disposed of long ago. I only tell the stories to amuse the Little Ones. To help them forget what is apparent to everyone here but YOU!" Boccaha's voice trembled in fear trying hard not to lose face in front of his last handful of believers.

First line editing, and then some opinion.

2040 - Rub-al Khali (The Empty Quarter)

Boccaha was a small fat balding man with bad teeth. He hadn't bathed in so long his skin resembled an elephant's hide old, leathered these adjectives are redundant, I think, 'cause most know what an elephant's hide looks like. He had the sores of the time, but beneath the grime were the markings of the Shaman suggest adding something like "tattooed" before "markings" to give a more clear picture. Once a great man, he was one of the last one of the last whats?, just one in a handful with the memory of The Change. He had been there and watched, as the earth became a planet of disease and anger. He watched as the population dwindled and the only babies born were by man's design. When earth became the playing field for an insidious ancient war. He carried on the stories of the huge black ships that came from the sky, when the people, one by one, gathered he retold the stories of the promises made and the promises broken. Last sentence didn't make sense to me. Maybe make it two: He carried on stories of the huge black ships that came from the sky. When the people gathered, one by one, he retold the stories of the promises made and the promises broken. (note small edits in sentences)

You've summed up a lot of history quickly. While this may be okay, as it does raise story questions about what happened to Earth, and this isn't an uncommon approach in science fiction, for me the paragraph didn't provide the kind of hook that I think works best -- an interesting character encountering a problem.

Now, his age beyond years and no more magic up his sleeve "up his sleeve" a tired cliché, he sits in the reflection of the night fires what are the fires reflecting from? or do you really mean the light or the glow and recounts the stories, Needed a comma there. his hands making shadows on the cave walls. The adults smile, the few children sit in awe. Their mouths gape, hands with shards of dirty blankets jerked up tight over the littlest ones' eyes. His voice deep and trembling, his eyes grow wide and his voice bellows like thunderanother clichéd phrase. "Just then, the big ship passed over the sun, blackening our planet below." His voice was deep and slow. Last sentence repeats "deep" description, and he was just bellowing, which doesn't seem slow. I don't think this sentence is needed.

And as if on perfect cue, the fire would spark, a log would split, turning the cave a hallow orange not sure what you mean by "hallow" here. I looked it up, and found a verb form meaning religious or a synonym for hollow. Neither seems to apply. Can you clarify?. "Juggernaut!" Boccaha's voice jumps and pounds, echoing throughout the cavernous walls Walls? This needs to be included earlier -- I'd imagined a fire outdoors, but this suggests it's inside. Inside of what?. Little ones bury their faces in their mothers' bosoms. The shadow shape of the scarab fills the dirt walls and ceilings dirt walls and ceilings of what? A cave?. His hands cast the huge shadow on the wall His casting seems to come after the shadow appears when said this way. How about combining the thoughts, i.e. His hands cast the huge shadow shape of the scarab over the dirt walls and ceiling. The children jump and scream. Boccaha laughs a deep belly rumble.

Hearing the a sarcastic scoff don't think you need "sarcastic" -- seems like a scoff has a sarcastic quality by definition from behind the gathered children, he leaned hard on his walking stick and made his way through the family seated around the fire to find the young man leaning against the wall, away from the group, in the shadows. We just shifted from present tense to past tense. I think it should be one or the other, and should be reconciled. I see no narrative reason for the shift. Is the rest of the story past or present? "Ah, I expected you to become bitter, needed a comma Juno. Can't say that I blame you. I would be as well if my father ran had run off when I was only a boy of eight." missing a quote mark Boccaha shifted his walking stick in front of him and leaned forward on it,. "lLeaving me to tend to my mother and grow old so fast. But then he did manage to send you this ancient trinket." Boccaha reached for the pendant hanging by an aged leather strap about Juno's neck.

Juno's hand seized Boccaha's throat. Suggest "Juno seized Boccaha's throat." The reader will visualize that he uses his hand or hands. Give the action to the person, not their parts. Towering over Boccaha him, Juno lowered his face. "You arrogant son-of-a-bitch" he murmured through clenched teeth. I don't think people really speak with their teeth clenched -- too hard to do. They clench them, and then speak. IMO Boccaha's hand dropped from the strap, letting the scarab shaped need to hyphenate compound adjective, i.e. "scarab-shaped" pendant swing like a pendulum. The fire's flames cast the moving shape against the cavernous walls, like a ghost. The Family watched, seeing the image Boccaha had made with his hands for so many years come to life.

“I’ll make you a deal, needed a comma old man-you never speak of my father again, and I won’t kill you.” Juno’s thick deep eyebrows one too many adjectives there, IMO raised and the blue of his eyes pierced Boccaha’s aging body like a thousand poison darts "blue” piercing a body bothered me, was so unreal that it took me out of the narrative. Maybe the anger in his blue eyes could do the assaulting (which might be a better word than “pierced”).

Boccaha stepped back from Juno, needed a comma swallowing hard and rubbing his throat and shaking. “Young One, I’m already dead. Like all of us. We are just leftover fodder that didn’t get ingested or disposed of long ago. I only tell the stories to amuse the Little Ones. To help them forget what is apparent to everyone here but YOU!” Boccaha’s voice trembled in fear trying hard not to lose face in front of his last handful of believers. This sentence construction has his voice trying not to lose face.

I liked the quality of the writing here, though there were some comma faults and things to tend to, especially the shift from present tense to past tense. The world sounds interesting, too, and I would probably read on.

However, I think the opening paragraph should be the one where Juno grabs Boccaha by the throat. I’d follow that with a quick scene-setting (the fire, the Family gathered ‘round, staring silently, the dirt walls & ceiling of the wherever they are). As Boccaha responds, the other backstory can be weaved in with dialogue, internal monologue, etc.

Opening with the physical threat creates immediate tension that will carry the reader through the exposition, and should create sympathy for the old man as well as raise a compelling story question—will Boccaha be choked to death, or will he get out of this somehow?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

© 2006 Ray Rhamey