Description, run-on words, similes and metaphors are all ways to get your meaning across to your reader. I got the first two, but metaphors and similes....they were a bit fuzzy (school was a looooong time ago for me). Until I watched this scene from Renaissance Man, with Danny DeVito (if you've never seen it, you're missing out). I'll never confuse them again. Watch. We'll wait.
https://youtu.be/UBlMLlfJrRc?t=45
If you watch to 2 minutes — you've got it.
Simile = "like" something—comparing one thing to another. Metaphor = this IS that. Got it? Okay, but how can all this junior high English help strengthen your writing?
If you've read WITS much, you know I have a theory that extra words water down a scene, rather than strengthen it. I espouse "write tight." Comparisons are a shortcut. If you want something to hit home, but you need to do it fast, this is how. But the right comparison can do even more; it can add life to your scene. It puts the reader in the scene, because they've experienced the comparison.
This is from my WIP, The Road to Me. Nellie is an 84-year-old grandma.
Nellie is perky today, leaning forward, hands on the dash like a little kid going to McDonalds.
I could have described the look on her face, her movement, or her body language. But in comparing her to something disparate, can you "see" her excitement? Instead of telling you she's excited, the simile shows that she is. And the fact that it compares her to a child adds a tiny hit of humor, punching the power to a higher level.
I glare at Nellie, the picture of innocence. Her mouth is a machine gun with a hair trigger.
Metaphor: her mouth IS. And comparing it to something dangerous shows that the POV character fears what Nellie will say. This is making your words to double-duty, and it makes your text rich—meaty.
Speaking of, Margie Lawson taught me another comparison short-cut: Eponym – to substitute a name for an attribute. It takes some thinking, but it's a very short shortcut, and it can be powerful. You have to be careful to choose references all readers will understand though, or it flies over their heads.
Her dad’s Atticus Finch to Junior’s Vinnie Gambini.
Those are the basics. But here's where the fun comes in. You can pile up comparisons to move the character forward; to show their train of thought, that ends at a station of epiphany (see how I snuck in that comparison? God, I love this). Here's another example from The Road to Me:
It’s terrifying to think of going back to ground level where everything I’ve built is teetering over my head.
But I’m beginning to believe that’s exactly what I must do.
If I can muster the courage. But if I swept all I have into a pile, would it be enough? If it isn’t, what then? Like at the edge of the Grand Canyon, where the ground crumbled away from my feet, vertigo slaps me. Leaving the science behind would be like leaping off that canyon wall, trusting that I had wings, in spite of the mirror, telling me I don’t.
A leap of faith.
It terrifies me.
But so does failure.
I still have to work on it a bit—I like the shaky building comparison, but it's just a bit off from the vertigo comparison. But the point is, these pile up and take her to the letting go and flying, which is exactly where her journey has led her, and what she MUST do to get everything she wants. My hope is that I've taken the reader to that edge and had them look over—they're experiencing the fear that the character is. Only you can tell me if I succeeded.
But can you see the advantage of using comparison as a shortcut to make your writing stronger?
If so, my job here is done.
Have you found this device to be helpful? Would you share a comparison from your work or others'?
About Laura
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As authors, we become, over time and reputation, an ambassador of the written word. It is a place of honor, but not one we always ask for or seek.
To readers and new writers, we appear to have these mystical
powers. We are these wise sages that can move words around into a magical
combination with seemingly little effort. As masters of our craft, we are
sought for our wisdom and help, and here is where the carefully built castle of
cards falls down.
How do we give our honest assessment in a way that will help
and inspire if what we read is not inspiring? In fact, it could be considered
bad.
Different Responses
As a new writer, when I met editors, agents, and the like, I thought they were standoffish, guarded, and unsociable. In a couple of cases, they were downright aggressive and rude. But as they became friends, I realized it was merely my perception. They are pleasant human beings and very sociable once they determined one crucial thing: I was not going to ask them to read anything or to represent me.
Agents receive hundreds and even thousands of queries a month from writers asking them to read their novel. It is overwhelming, and so they make it a point to keep people at arm’s length. It is a pure survival reflex.
Other industry experts decide to monetize what they know. They do workshops, get paid to speak at conferences, and offer coaching packages. For the right price, you too can learn from a master. Again, this is a fair way to handle people’s need for assistance. Most legitimate coaches have spent years and perhaps thousands of dollars to hone and master their craft. They should be paid for that time and experience.
These coaches might answer a simple question or two, but
then suggest you sign up for their next seminar. They’re not willing to give
all their trade secrets away for free. For newer authors this can be
frustrating, especially if they don’t have the funds to pay for the help.
I fall somewhere in the middle.
A client of mine helped me shift my way of thinking about my writing knowledge. As a finance and investment professional, he often conducted free seminars or would talk to you about anything he could help with.
When I asked why he did that, he responded, “I give away my knowledge. That costs me nothing, as it is already all out in the world anyway. I charge for what I do. If I am working, I am being paid for it.”
What an excellent concept. I do get paid to do some classes at conferences. But I tell people all the time that if they have a question or need to bounce off some ideas, they can contact me. I will even read something if it is short.
Here is what I have learned:
I can tell someone how to write all day long, but that does not mean that they don’t need help. They may still hire me as a ghostwriter or a coach. Why? Because I have already demonstrated my depth of knowledge, my generosity and, most importantly, my value.
Photo credit: Helena Lopes at Pexels
The Contract
Wouldn’t life be so much easier if everyone had skills in
what they were passionate about? It's such a thin, delicate line between
impossible and improbable. I am not the judge of a person’s ability to write or
not. I genuinely believe no one has that power or right to make that
determination.
I spent 10 years studying music, and the last five I was in a music conservatory. When I was about to graduate, the man I had seen every day, whom I respected, loved and worked my ass off for, broke my heart. He said, “John, you are a good flute player, but you are not a great one. You will never play professionally, so you might want to find a different line of work.”
I was devastated. Then I was angry. And finally, I was
motivated. Within two years, before I had even graduated from college, I
auditioned and made it into a symphony orchestra.
I got into my car and drove two hours back to my old school. I found my old instructor teaching a master class and interrupted. After I shook his hand, I showed him my contract. I said for his ear only, “Thank you for not believing in me; it forced me to believe in myself.” I walked out and we never spoke again.
The Talk I Dread
We know as authors that words have power and that we must choose them wisely.
If you are a writer for long enough, you will have at least one (but probably many) persons send you their manuscript and ask what you think. You will read the first page and shake your head a little and turn to the next page. Now your heart is racing, and you’re sweating as you turn to the next page, and you stop. You can’t go on and you are having a panic attack because you will have to say something to the author.
Often that early writing is terrible, and you are not sure of a fix because they don’t really have a grasp on any conventions of writing. They don’t seem to have any talent based upon what you are reading, and you are not certain classes on craft will necessarily help.
I get that text: “So, what do you think?”
I think my stomach might strangle my throat in a mercy kill.
How can I be honest while at the same time not breaking their spirit? How can I
tell them all that is wrong and yet be positive and inspiring?
The answer is, I am honest. I tell them where they need
improvements, where they can find resources, and I use the term “good first
effort.” I tell them that, like all authors, there is still so much work they
need to do.
The response is mixed—excitement, inspiration, and even utter devastation. I have learned not to take it personally, because they asked me for my opinion. I am careful to sandwich—a compliment, a critique, and end with a compliment. Just a spoon full of … well, you get the point.
It is a dreadful conversation, but a necessary one.
They have a choice. Do the work, give up, or hire someone to help them. That is their choice to make. I want them to come to me someday, with their contract for their soon-to-be-published book in hand. I hope they thank me for my kind, yet honest help.
Be a mentor. Be generous and kind. But always be authentic and truthful. You are writers, pick the right words, and you can help another author, who was just like you, to grow.
Who was your mentor? Who made the difference between newbie and published writer? What advice would you give to "newbie you?"
About John
John Peragine has published 14 books and ghostwritten more than 100 others. He is a contributor for HuffPost, Reuters, and The Today Show. He covered the John Edwards trial exclusively for Bloomberg News and The New York Times. He has written for Wine Enthusiast, Grapevine Magazine, Realtor.com, WineMaker magazine, and Writer's Digest.
John began writing professionally in 2007, after working 13 years in social work and as the piccolo player for the Western Piedmont Symphony for over 25 years. Peragine is a member of the American Society of Journalists and Authors. His newest book, The No Frills Guide to Book Marketing, will be released in Summer 2020.
Six steps to making your
protagonist more likeable.
Twelve questions to ask your beta
readers.
Much of
the writing advice we encounter is offered through lists and steps. It’s not
surprising; sequential formulations pervade our culture. We have shopping lists
and bucket lists, rosters and schedules and manuals that provide step-by-step instructions.
We’ve gotten so used to sequential formulations that it may seem as if that’s
the only way to organize knowledge.
For about
thirty percent of us, however, life is processed spatially, not temporally—not
as a linear progression but as pattern, network, array. We see mosaics, parts
in relation to the whole. If you’re not sure which kind of person you are,
think about how you “know” how to get somewhere. Do you rely on a series of
routes and turns or on landmarks?
Awareness
of visual-spatial processing goes back to 1981, when psychologist Linda Kreger
Silverman coined the term to explain the challenges—and gifts—of youngsters
whose “upside-down brilliance” made it difficult for them to learn in
traditional ways. Despite the work of Silverman and others, the sequential
approach still dominates our educational system. That’s true for adult learners
as well. Writers seeking to improve their skills—who happen to be
visual-spatial processers—may find much of the available “advice” difficult to
implement. They need other tools.
In fact,
we all need visual-spatial tools!
Some aspects of writing do lend themselves to checklists but others—e.g.,
organizing the relationships among characters—are best served by non-sequential
techniques. A well-stocked toolkit needs both. The strategies below are for all of us, regardless of our primary
learning style, and can provide an important complement to the plethora of
sequential strategies that are already available.
Ironically,
the only way to offer sample tools is through—you guessed it—a list! However, the tools themselves aren’t based on
lists. Here are some examples.
Relationship Mapping
Stories
have characters, and characters have relationships to each other and to the novel’s
protagonist—relationships based on affinity, aversion, power, vulnerability,
motivation, history, temperament, age, gender, and so on. As the author, you
need to understand and keep track of these relationships, which can be quite
complex—too complex to be conveyed by a list.
Social work has a tool called an ecomap, developed by Ann Hartman in 1975, that can help. The ecomap is a diagram that shows an individual in relationship to the people and social systems in her environment. The person is placed in the center, at the hub, with people and systems arrayed around her and connected—to her, and to each other—by arrows and lines. The lines can be thick or thin (strong or weak), solid or hatched (positive or negative), with arrows indicating the flow of energy (mutual or one-way).
Writers
can adapt the ecomap by placing the novel’s protagonist in the center of a
circle, with other characters arrayed around her, at varying distances. The lines
between the characters will illuminate patterns of isolation, alliance,
dependence, and power.
A quick note: While there probably are computer programs
that can help you do this, there’s something to be said for drawing a diagram
by hand. If you google images for “ecomap,”
you’ll find a dozen templates to choose from.
Ditto for the other
techniques below. Colored marking pens,
images cut from magazines, yarn,
movable post-it tags in a variety of colors—make it fun!
Territory Mapping
As your
story opens, your protagonist is at a particular time and place (psychological
as well as geographical) on the map of her life. She journeys outward from that
starting point, into territory that may be familiar or unfamiliar, zigzagging,
backtracking, leaping, spiraling.
On her journey,
she encounters other characters who are on their own journeys. Their turf may
intersect, merge, compete, move closer together or farther apart during the
course of the story. Drawing their
overlapping territory maps—in different colors for each character—is another
way to help you visualize the evolving relationships within the story.
The idea of a journey may call to mind the linear journeys depicted in classic board games like Candyland or Chutes and Ladders. A territory map is not necessarily “flat” or linear, however. It can have additional dimensions. For example, a “place” on the map (a literal place or a kind of experience such as jealousy or disappointment) can have third-dimensional depth as it evokes and connects with similar experiences at earlier times in the protagonist’s life. It’s a spot of special intensity on her map.
Structurally,
stories contain elements or motifs: emotions like jealousy, ambition, fear,
regret; concepts like sacrifice or the power of secrets; narrative movements
like choices, reversals, and betrayals. Some elements are central, serving as
hubs from which secondary motifs radiate. These motifs intersect, like
crisscrossing trails, to thwart, divert, or reinforce each other.
To
capture the interplay of these motifs, each can be drawn in a different color
as it moves across the linear story. A motif can have peaks, valleys, and
plateaus. Overlaying the “journeys” of several motifs will reveal their
connections. When one element peaks or intensifies, another may have a valley
or a corresponding intensification.
Scene Grids
Other
visual-spatial tools use grids or spreadsheets, with “cells” formed by the
intersection of elements along two axes. These “cells” show you where elements
occur.
For example, you can list each scene along the horizontal axis. Then, along the vertical axis, you can list the elements you want to track—who is present in the scene, where it takes place, weather, mood, key (symbolic) objects that are mentioned, and so on. That way, you can quickly see when and how often certain elements appear. You may decide that you need to spread out the occurrences of a particular element (a phone call, wind, a sudden departure) or replace an overused location. Do your characters spend a lot of time sitting at the kitchen table? Does it always seem to be dawn or dusk?
You want to look at the variation in scene openings. To do so, list the type of scene opening along the vertical axis: dialogue, a statement indicating a change of date or setting, a sensory detail, a bit of exposition, and so on. Or you might want to look at scene endings: an upturn, a setback, a surprise, etc.
A grid can give you a visual overview so you can see, at a glance, if (and where) certain devices are overused and ought to be varied.
What Else?
These
are just some examples of ways to think about your story that don’t rely on a
list or linear outline. There’s no need to use all of them—but do try the ones
that spark an aha.
The best
novels tend to be both sequential and
spatial, of course. They’re sequential because the story moves forward,
horizontally, in a chain of cause-and-effect developments. But they’re also spatial
because each point in the story has multiple layers, a verticality or
“thickness” composed of the elements in relationships to one another.
Now try
some of these tools on your own story.
Which visual-spatial strategies helped to illuminate elements of your story that you’d like to understand better?
When you mapped these elements, did you encounter any surprises?
Did you adapt the tools or come up with additional tools? If so, please share your discoveries!
An earlier version of this
article appeared on Writers Helping Writers in July 2018.
About Barbara
Barbara Linn Probst is the author of Queen of the Owls, coming in April 2020 from the visionary, award-winning She Writes Press. Queen of the Owls has been chosen by Working Mother as one of the twenty most anticipated books for 2020 and will be the May 2020 selection of the Pulpwood Queens, a network of more than 780 book clubs throughout the U.S. To pre-order or learn more, please see http://www.barbaralinnprobst.com/
