Sometimes a passage or scene feels "slack" to me-- without tension. And often it's not the action or conflict, but the sentences. And you know, I think I can pinpoint one common problem, easily remedied: using "and" as the most common conjunction between clauses.
He was late again and I let him get away with it.
He was late again and I let him have it.
He was late again and it was his mother's fault.
He was late again and it was too late for the movie then.
He was late again and that wasn't usual for him.
He was late again and he appeared disheveled and distracted when he appeared.
He was late again and it was usual for him.
He was late again and I had texted him to remind him of the time.
He was late again and it was really late this time.
He was late again and I was too happy to see him to be mad.
He was late again and that was after I gave him an ultimatum.
He was late again and I found my way to the theater.
----
You getting the point? "And" is occasionally the right conjunction, but usually something else will indicate more of the relationship between the two clauses. That's what conjunctions do. They "conjoin," but they also connect. Whenever we opt for "and," we're pretty much saying the only thing connecting A with B is proximity.
Let's try to imbue some attitude and take away the slackitude (note the comma before the conjunction... that's 1) correct punctuation, and 2) gives that pause that emphasizes that connecting word):
He was late again, but I let him get away with it.
He was late again, so I let him have it.
He was late again because of his mother.
He was late again, making us too late for the movie.
He was late again, which wasn't usual for him.
He was late again, appearing disheveled and distracted when he got there.
He was late again as usual.
He was late again even though I had texted him to remind him of the time.
He was late again, really late this time.
He was late again, but I was too happy to see him to be mad.
He was late again even after I gave him an ultimatum.
He was late again when I found my way to the theater.
--
So if you're getting comments that your voice isn't distinctive, or that your action scenes aren't very active, look for "and" as a conjunction. Once in awhile, it's the right conjunction. But often it's unrevealing and tension-less. Why are these two clauses connected? Can you show that connection? That will infuse a lot more power and urgency into your sentences.
Alicia
Showing posts with label conjunctions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conjunctions. Show all posts
Friday, April 27, 2012
Friday, January 2, 2009
Some Questions Answered
True confession time. I save up the moment when I can read the comments to this blog. They're such a delight to me that they're almost like a chocolate truffle in the house. I know the truffle is there, waiting for me. I know how much I'll enjoy it. And I want to pick the perfect moment for it, using it as a reward after I've slogged through a bunch of tedious paperwork, or as a pick-me-up when something has gone wrong again. I want to be left alone to enjoy the comments, just as I don't want to savor a delicious chocolate while simultaneously talking on the phone, typing emails, scanning my daily task list, and watching for the mail carrier. Some things are just worth savoring. So, thank you all for being like chocolate. :)
Jennifer asks,
On the then as a conjunction thing--does the test of taking the "then" out work? Consider: He looked left, then right. If you take out then, you are left with He looked left, right. Which sounds absurd, even though it doesn't with the then in. So does this example require an and?
That's an excellent test, and I suspect it will help a lot of people to get this detail right. I think the test might not work as well when there are long bits of predicate chained together that might mask the missing conjunction. For example,
She walked up the stairs, turned right down the corridor, then counted to the seventh door.
Compared to,
She walked up the stairs, turned right down the corridor, counted to the seventh door.
Because of the rhythm of this structure, it might slip past unnoticed. That is, I notice it, and many others might notice it, but not everyone will. Or maybe they'll notice, but their ears will respond favorably to the rhythm and decide to leave it in place for style's sake. It's not great style, and the conjunction doesn't undermine the rhythm, but I can see where there's a greater danger in a construction like this one.
Jordan says,
Once I was reading articles on writing around the Internet and I found one from someone who claimed to be knowledgeable claiming that using 'and' as a conjunction implied simultaneity. The example was something about grabbing the phone, calling 911 and getting in the car, and she said this was physically impossible (guess she hadn't heard of cell phones, either). That left 'then' as the only way to connect more than one non-simultaneous verbs in a sentence.
Without reading the article, I can't comment intelligently, but that won't stop me from commenting. ;)
Think gentle thoughts about the writer of that article. She used a faulty example, perhaps, but she was trying to illustrate a difficult point. The conjunction and frequently does imply simultaneous actions. It also can be used in other ways, as you correctly point out. But generally, and describes like items that go together. (Compare to but and or, which conjoin items by distinguishing them from each other.)
Keep in mind, too, that like things can sometimes go together but happen sequentially. There are non-temporal ways to "go together." Think, for example, of someone describing all the actions taken to prepare for a dinner party. The order of completion isn't important. Their togetherness doesn't stem from time, but from another common factor.
The afternoon before the dinner party, I marinated the steaks, baked a pie, cleaned the parlor, set the table, arranged the flowers, and delivered the children to the sitter's house.
The conjunction and is fine there, with or without the adverb then, even though these actions can't possibly occur all at once.
Writing simultaneous actions and sequential actions is a very tricky business. We've touched on this a little in past posts about participial phrases and opening red flags, and probably in other places which I can't find. (Note to Alicia: We really ought to do something about cleaning up our post tags for the sidebar. Yikes!)
The main thing is to avoid glaring errors in simultaneity. Yes, some of us are gifted with the ability to talk and walk at the same time. But when you have two actions which must happen in sequence, don't write them as if they go together in time. This is the big boo-boo. There are other boo-boos, but if you avoid this one, you'll be in decent shape.
Murphy asks,
Man, there has to be some easier way through all this, isn’t there? Don’t you guys have any EASY ancient writing secrets you’d like to impart? Ones that don’t require a lot of hard work and deep examination? A pill, perhaps, that one can take to fix all the glitches while remaining pain free during the tedious process?
Ah, yes, fiction writing does have a long apprenticeship. I suppose I could say something pithy about perseverance -- or try to, anyway, given that I'm not the most concise writer. But I think what I'll do instead is treat this as a serious question and try to offer some pointers.
First, focus on clarity. Plenty of authors get published and sell well despite the lack of prose pyrotechnics. You don't need a vast repertoire of magic tricks and poetical flourishes. But you do need to be lucid.
Second, focus on the drama. Keep your scenes vivid and lively by exploiting the ways in which the characters thwart each other. This doesn't mean there must be constant shouting or stomping of feet. People can be exquisitely polite and still undermine each other with wicked accuracy. They don't even have to be doing it on purpose. Just keep your scenes focused on all the conflicts, small and large, and all the obstacles and unfulfilled desires and subconscious needs, and your scenes will be taut enough to pass scrutiny.
Third, eliminate gaffes. You may need a beta reader to help you with this. Ask them to mark all the places they got confused or distracted. Those are the places where your prose blunders, and those are the places that need your attention during the editing process. You probably won't need to ask for anything more detailed than that from your beta reader, because confusion and distraction result from just about any type of mistake. Used the wrong word? Screwed up your commas? Wrote a long, dull passage about the history of paring knives? The result is most likely either confusion or distraction.
Fourth, build your vocabulary. A good, vivid, precise word choice can enliven a prose passage quicker than just about anything. Also, you can get away with more simple SVO sentences when your verbs aren't always the same old dull things.
If you find yourself overusing some flat verb, you have two options. Change the verb, or use a different action altogether. Let's say, for example, you use the verb pushed three times in two pages. And now you come across it a fourth time, where you say the hero pushed his fingers through his hair. You can change the verb -- he raked, combed, tangled, etc. -- or you can change the action. In this case, ask what the action was meant to imply. Hair-pushing is often used as a show of frustration or temper. What else might the hero do to demonstrate that emotion? I bet you can list a half-dozen examples right off the top of your head. Pick one that is a bit off the beaten path, and use it. (That second solution isn't so much a matter of vocabulary as of understanding human behavior, but I include it because it works to overcome weak word choices.)
Happy New Year!
Theresa
Jennifer asks,
On the then as a conjunction thing--does the test of taking the "then" out work? Consider: He looked left, then right. If you take out then, you are left with He looked left, right. Which sounds absurd, even though it doesn't with the then in. So does this example require an and?
That's an excellent test, and I suspect it will help a lot of people to get this detail right. I think the test might not work as well when there are long bits of predicate chained together that might mask the missing conjunction. For example,
She walked up the stairs, turned right down the corridor, then counted to the seventh door.
Compared to,
She walked up the stairs, turned right down the corridor, counted to the seventh door.
Because of the rhythm of this structure, it might slip past unnoticed. That is, I notice it, and many others might notice it, but not everyone will. Or maybe they'll notice, but their ears will respond favorably to the rhythm and decide to leave it in place for style's sake. It's not great style, and the conjunction doesn't undermine the rhythm, but I can see where there's a greater danger in a construction like this one.
Jordan says,
Once I was reading articles on writing around the Internet and I found one from someone who claimed to be knowledgeable claiming that using 'and' as a conjunction implied simultaneity. The example was something about grabbing the phone, calling 911 and getting in the car, and she said this was physically impossible (guess she hadn't heard of cell phones, either). That left 'then' as the only way to connect more than one non-simultaneous verbs in a sentence.
Without reading the article, I can't comment intelligently, but that won't stop me from commenting. ;)
Think gentle thoughts about the writer of that article. She used a faulty example, perhaps, but she was trying to illustrate a difficult point. The conjunction and frequently does imply simultaneous actions. It also can be used in other ways, as you correctly point out. But generally, and describes like items that go together. (Compare to but and or, which conjoin items by distinguishing them from each other.)
Keep in mind, too, that like things can sometimes go together but happen sequentially. There are non-temporal ways to "go together." Think, for example, of someone describing all the actions taken to prepare for a dinner party. The order of completion isn't important. Their togetherness doesn't stem from time, but from another common factor.
The afternoon before the dinner party, I marinated the steaks, baked a pie, cleaned the parlor, set the table, arranged the flowers, and delivered the children to the sitter's house.
The conjunction and is fine there, with or without the adverb then, even though these actions can't possibly occur all at once.
Writing simultaneous actions and sequential actions is a very tricky business. We've touched on this a little in past posts about participial phrases and opening red flags, and probably in other places which I can't find. (Note to Alicia: We really ought to do something about cleaning up our post tags for the sidebar. Yikes!)
The main thing is to avoid glaring errors in simultaneity. Yes, some of us are gifted with the ability to talk and walk at the same time. But when you have two actions which must happen in sequence, don't write them as if they go together in time. This is the big boo-boo. There are other boo-boos, but if you avoid this one, you'll be in decent shape.
Murphy asks,
Man, there has to be some easier way through all this, isn’t there? Don’t you guys have any EASY ancient writing secrets you’d like to impart? Ones that don’t require a lot of hard work and deep examination? A pill, perhaps, that one can take to fix all the glitches while remaining pain free during the tedious process?
Ah, yes, fiction writing does have a long apprenticeship. I suppose I could say something pithy about perseverance -- or try to, anyway, given that I'm not the most concise writer. But I think what I'll do instead is treat this as a serious question and try to offer some pointers.
First, focus on clarity. Plenty of authors get published and sell well despite the lack of prose pyrotechnics. You don't need a vast repertoire of magic tricks and poetical flourishes. But you do need to be lucid.
Second, focus on the drama. Keep your scenes vivid and lively by exploiting the ways in which the characters thwart each other. This doesn't mean there must be constant shouting or stomping of feet. People can be exquisitely polite and still undermine each other with wicked accuracy. They don't even have to be doing it on purpose. Just keep your scenes focused on all the conflicts, small and large, and all the obstacles and unfulfilled desires and subconscious needs, and your scenes will be taut enough to pass scrutiny.
Third, eliminate gaffes. You may need a beta reader to help you with this. Ask them to mark all the places they got confused or distracted. Those are the places where your prose blunders, and those are the places that need your attention during the editing process. You probably won't need to ask for anything more detailed than that from your beta reader, because confusion and distraction result from just about any type of mistake. Used the wrong word? Screwed up your commas? Wrote a long, dull passage about the history of paring knives? The result is most likely either confusion or distraction.
Fourth, build your vocabulary. A good, vivid, precise word choice can enliven a prose passage quicker than just about anything. Also, you can get away with more simple SVO sentences when your verbs aren't always the same old dull things.
If you find yourself overusing some flat verb, you have two options. Change the verb, or use a different action altogether. Let's say, for example, you use the verb pushed three times in two pages. And now you come across it a fourth time, where you say the hero pushed his fingers through his hair. You can change the verb -- he raked, combed, tangled, etc. -- or you can change the action. In this case, ask what the action was meant to imply. Hair-pushing is often used as a show of frustration or temper. What else might the hero do to demonstrate that emotion? I bet you can list a half-dozen examples right off the top of your head. Pick one that is a bit off the beaten path, and use it. (That second solution isn't so much a matter of vocabulary as of understanding human behavior, but I include it because it works to overcome weak word choices.)
Happy New Year!
Theresa
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Then, And Then
Sadly, today my Uncampaign Mismanager and I decided to throw in the towel on our attempts to buy the open Illinois Senate seat from almost-ex-Governor Blagojevich. I so wanted to be Senator and dedicate my mighty clout to repealing the sales tax on chocolate, and we were only $27,999.68 short of the half mil we figured it would cost us. But what are ya gonna do. We knew we were racing the clock to satisfy the Guv's wild greed, and we lost to some other guy with quicker cash. Oh, well. Looks like I'm destined to be an editor, after all.
So, with my short and doomed campaign behind us, and with the refunds nearly complete to those who so cheerfully donated their Monopoly money, poker chips, and Chuck E. Cheez tokens to Our Noble Cause, I will bury my disappointment in work.
We'll start with a quick peek at the word then, followed by a caution about rules.
Technically, the word then is not a conjunction. It can be used
She stopped, dropped, then rolled.
And I must admit, even though this sort of thing will always jump off the page for me, I sometimes let it slide. Emphasis on sometimes. What that means is that in the vast majority of cases, I will insert the conjunction for clarity and rhythm.
So, I was thinking about Alicia's posts on compound predicates with missing conjunctions, and it made me think of the rash of manuscripts lately with faulty then constructions in just about every other paragraph. And I thought I would post this reminder that then is not a conjuction, but there's a bigger point to be made about both Alicia's and my posts.
In responding to Alicia's post, several of you raised examples of highly regarded authors who occasionally drop the conjunctions in compound predicates. I'm sure you can all find examples of authors who use then as an adverb without a conjunction, too. They're out there. I know it, and Alicia knows it, and you all know it, too.
So here's the thing. We say, here's the general rule. And we're right. And you say, but so-and-so breaks it. And you're right. But it's not enough to know the rule, and know that it can be broken. We have to also understand the effect to be created by breaking the rule in different circumstances or in different ways.
Because that's where precision lies. When a word is used with forethought and deliberation in an unexpected way, when a faulty construction is left to lie on the page like a painted whore, when a rule is quietly broken or forcefully shattered, then is a precise effect being caused upon the reader.
When you chain predicate verbs without a conjunction, you can create an impression of speed, or chaos, or actions that build in sequence to a pinnacle. The effect may vary from usage to usage, because this sort of thing is case specific. When you insert a then into such a chain, you might gain control over the sequence of events without sacrificing the effect of the dropped conjunction. So there are times when these things work, and I believe Alicia also recognized valid exceptions to the rules.
What we've been seeing lately, though, is a conjunction dropped for no apparent reason. There is no sense of a meticulous author controlling her prose by artfully breaking a rule. There is, instead, a sense of abandon. And not in a good way. It's not being done here and there for precise effects, but four or five times per page, almost like a nervous stutter in the written speech. The overall impression is one of sloppiness and disrespect for the language.
The next time you notice a published work breaking a rule, I want you to do two things. First, take a moment to congratulate yourself for recognizing the breach. You've worked hard to gain the knowledge and sharp eye that allowed you to do so, and that's a good thing.
Second, I want you to step back from the page for a moment. Appraise it as neutrally as possible. Ask yourself, why is the rule being broken here? Why here and not there? What effect is being created? Try rearranging the words to "fix" the prose, and see how the effect changes. Take the time to figure it out. It will be worth it in the end.
Theresa
So, with my short and doomed campaign behind us, and with the refunds nearly complete to those who so cheerfully donated their Monopoly money, poker chips, and Chuck E. Cheez tokens to Our Noble Cause, I will bury my disappointment in work.
We'll start with a quick peek at the word then, followed by a caution about rules.
Technically, the word then is not a conjunction. It can be used
- as an adverb (to clarify the time at which a verb occurs, as in, "Blagojevich extorted payola, got caught, and then was forced to resign.")
- as a noun (to refer to a specific time, as in, "Since then, Blagojevich has resorted to taking bribes from his family members to get a haircut.")
- or as an adjective ( as in, "the then Governor Blagojevich remained unaware of how permanent the damage to his reputation would be.")
She stopped, dropped, then rolled.
And I must admit, even though this sort of thing will always jump off the page for me, I sometimes let it slide. Emphasis on sometimes. What that means is that in the vast majority of cases, I will insert the conjunction for clarity and rhythm.
So, I was thinking about Alicia's posts on compound predicates with missing conjunctions, and it made me think of the rash of manuscripts lately with faulty then constructions in just about every other paragraph. And I thought I would post this reminder that then is not a conjuction, but there's a bigger point to be made about both Alicia's and my posts.
In responding to Alicia's post, several of you raised examples of highly regarded authors who occasionally drop the conjunctions in compound predicates. I'm sure you can all find examples of authors who use then as an adverb without a conjunction, too. They're out there. I know it, and Alicia knows it, and you all know it, too.
So here's the thing. We say, here's the general rule. And we're right. And you say, but so-and-so breaks it. And you're right. But it's not enough to know the rule, and know that it can be broken. We have to also understand the effect to be created by breaking the rule in different circumstances or in different ways.
Because that's where precision lies. When a word is used with forethought and deliberation in an unexpected way, when a faulty construction is left to lie on the page like a painted whore, when a rule is quietly broken or forcefully shattered, then is a precise effect being caused upon the reader.
When you chain predicate verbs without a conjunction, you can create an impression of speed, or chaos, or actions that build in sequence to a pinnacle. The effect may vary from usage to usage, because this sort of thing is case specific. When you insert a then into such a chain, you might gain control over the sequence of events without sacrificing the effect of the dropped conjunction. So there are times when these things work, and I believe Alicia also recognized valid exceptions to the rules.
What we've been seeing lately, though, is a conjunction dropped for no apparent reason. There is no sense of a meticulous author controlling her prose by artfully breaking a rule. There is, instead, a sense of abandon. And not in a good way. It's not being done here and there for precise effects, but four or five times per page, almost like a nervous stutter in the written speech. The overall impression is one of sloppiness and disrespect for the language.
The next time you notice a published work breaking a rule, I want you to do two things. First, take a moment to congratulate yourself for recognizing the breach. You've worked hard to gain the knowledge and sharp eye that allowed you to do so, and that's a good thing.
Second, I want you to step back from the page for a moment. Appraise it as neutrally as possible. Ask yourself, why is the rule being broken here? Why here and not there? What effect is being created? Try rearranging the words to "fix" the prose, and see how the effect changes. Take the time to figure it out. It will be worth it in the end.
Theresa
Monday, December 29, 2008
Less is more. Rinse and repeat.
Re: doubling predicates without and and other cute prose tricks: If it's effective, it's good. I think it isn't necessary most of the time, and the writer needs to consider whether it's necessary here-- because if there's a grammatical break and the editor deems it unnecessary, there it goes. Out, out, damned break!
Less is more. "When it is absolutely necessary" is the amount any "clever" formation should be used-- only when it adds far, far more than breaking grammar detracts.
I don't think it NEVER works. But I do think the more a writer uses such formations, the less effect it has (beyond annoying). In fact, if you want such a formation to have an actual effect, you should never use it except the two or three times in a book it works. Maybe more than two or three times... as I said, it can be effective in conveying fast, simultaneous action. But if a writer uses it whenever there are two actions, then the reader will have no way of knowing that this moment is different, that these are simultaneous, not sequential or causal, actions.
Sometimes, I think, writers fall in love with certain constructions and forget why they exist, and use them as if they are in fact the standard.
Alicia
Less is more. "When it is absolutely necessary" is the amount any "clever" formation should be used-- only when it adds far, far more than breaking grammar detracts.
I don't think it NEVER works. But I do think the more a writer uses such formations, the less effect it has (beyond annoying). In fact, if you want such a formation to have an actual effect, you should never use it except the two or three times in a book it works. Maybe more than two or three times... as I said, it can be effective in conveying fast, simultaneous action. But if a writer uses it whenever there are two actions, then the reader will have no way of knowing that this moment is different, that these are simultaneous, not sequential or causal, actions.
Sometimes, I think, writers fall in love with certain constructions and forget why they exist, and use them as if they are in fact the standard.
Alicia
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
New trends in prose I'm going to edit out...
Yeah, yeah, I know. It's "my voice". But any idiosyncrasy is going to lose all claim to power the story or to reflect the character (or author) voice, if it is used constantly as if it's standard English. Less is more, for cripes' sake. LESS IS MORE!!!
So if you're doubling predicates (without an AND) every paragraph or so, do not be surprised when your grumpy editor edits almost all of them back to standard English. Is this some new trend? I'm seeing it all the time in submissions and contest entries (almost never, nota bene, in published fiction). Here's an example I'm making up:
He reached out, touched her.
Oh, another-- these never come as singlets. They are usually throughout the whole chapter, regardless of POV character (that is, we can't blame the character voice).
Gilead climbed, clambered up the wall.
And yet another:
Her head ached, reeled with pain.
You know, this is actually one of those times you can use a participle! (Theresa said memorably that three things can happen when you use participles, and two of them are bad-- well, here's the good one.)
Her head ached, reeling with pain.
Well, I don't know if a head can reel, but that is actually part of the problem with this doubling of predicate. You have two predicates. Do they actually both use the same subject? Sometimes the sloppiness of this construction means that the first predicate is actually an action of the subject, but the second predicate applies apparently to some missing subject that I guess the reader is supposed to supply, like:
His hand itched to smack the kid, welled up with anger.
Well, the hand didn't well up with anger, so is it the kid welling up? The "he" that owns the hand? Predicates and subjects need to match. If you disagree with that, please find another language to write in.
(Oh, sure, you can occasionally, for some effect you can identify, break the rules. But if you do it all the time, it's you establishing a new rule, not breaking the rules. And if you want to define a rule -and abide by it-- wherein you have doubled predicates with one subject that connects directly with only one of those predicates, well, go ahead. Elucidate. Explain your logic, when the rule applies and when it doesn't, and give examples. If you don't want to do that, don't expect me or the reader to do your work for you.)
Another problem is that the practice leads to redundancy.
Gilead climbed, clambered up the wall.
I see this one a lot, where the writer apparently can't decide between two synonyms and so uses them both. (The former trend, fortunately lost in the mists of time, was to put a slash mark between them: Gilead climbed/clambered up the wall.)
Sin boldly. Choose. Climbed, clambered-- which fits better here? CHOOSE. You are in charge.
There's a great way to handle sentences where one person commits two actions, and yes, it uses two predicates. It also uses a handy little word, sometimes called a "conjunction" because it conjoins two like things (for example, actions). Conjunctions are useful because they not only show that two things are related, but HOW they are related (so "but" shows they are related by contrast or conflict). So:
He reached out and touched her.
Does that sound trite? Yes? Well, maybe it IS trite. Maybe it's too trite to write. Maybe you should make that sentence do more than repeat a long-distance commercial, huh? If you make a grammatical sentence and it says nothing of import, it's not going to suddenly become meaningful because you make it an ungrammatical sentence. Concentrate on saying something that matters.
Something to keep in mind is that editors get everything amplified. What seems to you to be a trendy or clever opening is, by the time you send it to us, rather hackneyed-- twenty other writers have already thought of that and sent it to us. So your clever opening-- oh, like the hero and heroine colliding in the corridor, my favorite clever opening that I've only seen 10K times-- isn't going to seem too clever. And how unique and true will your story seem, if it's opened in a way that opens so many other stories?
I digress. What I meant was-- if the editor has seen your "voice" thingy so much it's become annoying and has its own unflattering moniker and yahoogroups list, maybe it's not the best representation of your voice, and maybe this aspect of your voice is not actually so representative of your uniqueness.
Does that mean you should never break the rules, never listen to your inner rhythms, never try to replicate the character's voice? Of course not. It just means that you shouldn't choose one transgressive technique and use it over and over and over again. Your voice is more than one lapse in grammar, one used, moreover, by a lot of other writers-- and, uh, one that your editor is likely to "fix" anyway.
What are other "transgressive" but common techniques? I think one is the breaking up of perfectly nice sentences into one sentence and a series of fragments, like:
He knew. Knew her. Her perfume. Her perfidy. (Hmm. I like that ... perfume, perfidy. I like it a lot better in one sentence. :)
Again, I don't mean that you should never break rules of grammar and syntax. But there's not power in breaking the rule if you ALWAYS break the rules. We're likely to assume that you just don't know the rules.
Alicia
So if you're doubling predicates (without an AND) every paragraph or so, do not be surprised when your grumpy editor edits almost all of them back to standard English. Is this some new trend? I'm seeing it all the time in submissions and contest entries (almost never, nota bene, in published fiction). Here's an example I'm making up:
He reached out, touched her.
Oh, another-- these never come as singlets. They are usually throughout the whole chapter, regardless of POV character (that is, we can't blame the character voice).
Gilead climbed, clambered up the wall.
And yet another:
Her head ached, reeled with pain.
You know, this is actually one of those times you can use a participle! (Theresa said memorably that three things can happen when you use participles, and two of them are bad-- well, here's the good one.)
Her head ached, reeling with pain.
Well, I don't know if a head can reel, but that is actually part of the problem with this doubling of predicate. You have two predicates. Do they actually both use the same subject? Sometimes the sloppiness of this construction means that the first predicate is actually an action of the subject, but the second predicate applies apparently to some missing subject that I guess the reader is supposed to supply, like:
His hand itched to smack the kid, welled up with anger.
Well, the hand didn't well up with anger, so is it the kid welling up? The "he" that owns the hand? Predicates and subjects need to match. If you disagree with that, please find another language to write in.
(Oh, sure, you can occasionally, for some effect you can identify, break the rules. But if you do it all the time, it's you establishing a new rule, not breaking the rules. And if you want to define a rule -and abide by it-- wherein you have doubled predicates with one subject that connects directly with only one of those predicates, well, go ahead. Elucidate. Explain your logic, when the rule applies and when it doesn't, and give examples. If you don't want to do that, don't expect me or the reader to do your work for you.)
Another problem is that the practice leads to redundancy.
Gilead climbed, clambered up the wall.
I see this one a lot, where the writer apparently can't decide between two synonyms and so uses them both. (The former trend, fortunately lost in the mists of time, was to put a slash mark between them: Gilead climbed/clambered up the wall.)
Sin boldly. Choose. Climbed, clambered-- which fits better here? CHOOSE. You are in charge.
There's a great way to handle sentences where one person commits two actions, and yes, it uses two predicates. It also uses a handy little word, sometimes called a "conjunction" because it conjoins two like things (for example, actions). Conjunctions are useful because they not only show that two things are related, but HOW they are related (so "but" shows they are related by contrast or conflict). So:
He reached out and touched her.
Does that sound trite? Yes? Well, maybe it IS trite. Maybe it's too trite to write. Maybe you should make that sentence do more than repeat a long-distance commercial, huh? If you make a grammatical sentence and it says nothing of import, it's not going to suddenly become meaningful because you make it an ungrammatical sentence. Concentrate on saying something that matters.
Something to keep in mind is that editors get everything amplified. What seems to you to be a trendy or clever opening is, by the time you send it to us, rather hackneyed-- twenty other writers have already thought of that and sent it to us. So your clever opening-- oh, like the hero and heroine colliding in the corridor, my favorite clever opening that I've only seen 10K times-- isn't going to seem too clever. And how unique and true will your story seem, if it's opened in a way that opens so many other stories?
I digress. What I meant was-- if the editor has seen your "voice" thingy so much it's become annoying and has its own unflattering moniker and yahoogroups list, maybe it's not the best representation of your voice, and maybe this aspect of your voice is not actually so representative of your uniqueness.
Does that mean you should never break the rules, never listen to your inner rhythms, never try to replicate the character's voice? Of course not. It just means that you shouldn't choose one transgressive technique and use it over and over and over again. Your voice is more than one lapse in grammar, one used, moreover, by a lot of other writers-- and, uh, one that your editor is likely to "fix" anyway.
What are other "transgressive" but common techniques? I think one is the breaking up of perfectly nice sentences into one sentence and a series of fragments, like:
He knew. Knew her. Her perfume. Her perfidy. (Hmm. I like that ... perfume, perfidy. I like it a lot better in one sentence. :)
Again, I don't mean that you should never break rules of grammar and syntax. But there's not power in breaking the rule if you ALWAYS break the rules. We're likely to assume that you just don't know the rules.
Alicia
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