More elegant variations

Aline's post this week touched close to home, because I am in the midst of rewrites on my latest Amana Doucette novel, and am very attuned to the style, quality of language, and word use in the text (along with fixing all the plot holes, gaping inconsistencies, and other large failings). It takes many eyes to catch all the word repetitions and find good quality alternatives. First I try to catch as many as I can, and then I pray the copyeditor and proofreader catches even more. But sometimes they sneak through even the most thorough editing, and I only spot them while doing a public reading after the book is out, and the horse has truly left the barn. I've been known to change the offensive word on the fly in these cases.

Reading aloud is very useful not only for catching those pesky repetitions, but for listening to the overall flow of the sentence and the rhythm of the words. Rhythm affects readability and pleasure. Elegant variation can refer to much more than single words. It can refer to sentence structure, sentence length, syllables and accents. Too many long sentences draw out and slow down a story. Too many short sentences make for a jerky ride. Although short vs. long sentences can be effective to vary tension and pacing, in general a paragraph works best with varied sentence length.

Starting three sentences in a row with the same word or structure sounds clumsy. eg. He picked up the book and began to read. He wasn't sure he liked it. He would have preferred a more exciting tale. (Forgive the clunky prose, it's late and my imagination is fried). An elegant variation would be: He picked up the book and began to read. Would he like it? A more exciting tale might be better. Mix up the syntax, create subordinate clauses, invert sentences, etc.

In another elegant variation, I try to mix up long and short words. Some combinations create pleasing rhythms and others land like a thud. I have often resorted to the thesaurus in search of a one-syllable word to replace the existing two-syllable one, because there were already a couple of two or three-syllable words.

There are times, however, when repetition can pack a powerful punch. It makes the message stand out. Alliteration is one example. So is parallel construction – using the same word, phrase, or sentence structure in a series of sentences. Dickens' famous "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times", etc. is a memorable example of this technique. Once again, reading the section aloud is useful in determining whether the effect is powerful, clunky, or just plain silly. Here as always, a little repetition goes a long way.

So I return to my rewrites, trying to keep all these ideas in my mind at once, and sure that I will miss some clunker.s When that happens, I can only hope the copyeditor is there to make the catch.

Our writing tics

Aline's post on word use got me thinking (and what a cliche that is, as if I don't usually think). We all have our pet words and phrases that are the first to pop into our head when we are articulating our ideas in words. To go beyond them requires that we stop, beat them back, and ferret around for a more accurate, interesting, and unique way to say what we want. That takes time and effort, which slows down the conversation.

Words, phrases, and cliches rise and fall in popularity too, and are often an excellent shortcut to shared understanding. A well-chosen word like "squirrel!" saves us a whole lot of words. As Aline said, we writers are no different; we all have phrases and words that become our "go-to" choices, used far too often. Usually we are unaware of the overuse and it's a laborious process to purge the excesses from our writing in later drafts.

One of the challenges in writing is to "show" reactions, emotions, and thoughts through action rather than telling them through such flat phrases as "he felt sad" or "he was angry." Short phrases like "he flushed", "he clenched his fists" are often interspersed with dialogue not only to convey feeling but to serve as a tag. For me, this is where I am most likely to fall back on my own writing tics.

How many times in the course of a chapter would my character roll her eyes or grit her teeth? Far too often, I suspect, so I decided to run a test. I have completed 287 pages of the first draft of my new novel, with about 50 - 60 pages left to go. First drafts are notoriously messy, with not much attention to refinement of language. To keep up the momentum of the story, I write and write without stopping to edit or critique, knowing that I can fix things later.

I don't have a fancy editing tool to track words but you can do some quick and dirty word counting using the Advanced Find feature in MS Word. Armed with this, first I wanted to know how many times I used those innocuous connector words "and","but" and "so". The result suggests I ought to take a second look at my love affair with "and" (2008 times), and be careful with "but" (620), but "so" and I are good (146). However, I also know that, in trying to work around the ands and buts, one risks creating a pedantic, fussy style that is far more distracting than the occasional extra and. So I approach this editing with caution.

I was next curious to know how many times I stuck in those often unnecessary words "very", "really", "just", and "that". "Just" won the race (162!), and "very" clocked in on the high side for a useless word (112), but "really" wasn't bad (27). All will get a critical eye. "That", however, showed up nearly 500 times. Now some of those thats are necessary, but I will be taking a hard look at that word!

Next I looked at overuse of adverbs. I think adverbs have their place, but where they can be replaced with a punchier verb or just turfed out altogether, the few that remain will have more power. I found 821 words ending in "ly", which gives a rough estimate of adverbs. That's about three a page, and each one will get at least a cursory glance. Are there more powerful or precise words? Does the adverb add anything?

As noted above, we all have our favourite ways to convey emotion in a fast moving scene. Shorthand, if you like, without pulling the reader out of the scene or dragging the action down. The eyes are very expressive, and writers often use them to convey whole stories. Eyes darken, flash, light up, widen, narrow, etc. etc. etc. I know I am guilty of overusing this, so I ran a couple of tests. The word "eye" showed up 118 times (sometimes as a verb), but I'm happy to report that the eyes never darkened, flashed, or lit up. They rolled twice, widened three times, and narrowed once. I thought that wasn't too bad, but I will still keep an eye open for misuse of the idea, because I did use the word "look" 207 times. However, I'm happy to report I didn't clench anyone's fists ever.

Other emotions were conveyed through smiles, grins, laughs, frowns, glares, scowls, and so on. Based on their counts, I decided I'd better watch out for frowning and laughing.

Lastly, I couldn't resist counting the swear words in my first draft. I get the occasional reader who wags an admonishing finger at my language. I usually have some salty characters in my books, including cops and journalists, and tempers can run high. I think 33 instances of the F word, 7 of the S word, and only 28 various religion allusions shows remarkable restraint.

All told, it was an interesting and useful exercise. I will be keeping an eye open for favourite words that I need to rein in as I go through rewrites.