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Hello again, lovely fellow KeePers. Seems like I haven’t talked to you in ages. I’ve been a bit busy lately. 😉
But not too busy to think about writing. I’m always thinking about some aspect of it or another. And the latest subject of my scrutiny has been prose. The actual words themselves.
This is vastly important.
See, I realized a while back that the re-readability of a book lies almost exclusively in its prose. Think about that for a minute— the quality of the story doesn’t really make much difference as to whether or not I’ll read it again.
For instance, I read K.M. Weiland’s Dreamlander recently and loved it to bits. And I don’t think I’ll ever read it cover to cover again. Not because the prose was badly crafted— far from it! But there was nothing unique about it. It was simply well-crafted prose— flavorless and colorless. I loved the story— but the prose itself did not engage my imagination.But before we get into that (that may be a different topic altogether, actually) I wanna take a look at what makes prose strong in the first place. A few things I’ve noticed over the years:
1. Adjectives should be used sparingly. Now this doesn’t mean adjectives are bad, or to be avoided— I wanna make that very clear. Adjectives are precious and indispensable. But don’t overdo them. ‘The green monkey chattered happily on the scratchy branches of the blue tree as it swayed gently in the humid tropical wind.’ Overkill. It sounds rich and heavy and crowded— not pleasing at all.
2. Avoid qualifying a generic action with an adjective. ‘He said angrily.’ ‘She said smoothly.’ Try instead ‘He snapped.’ ‘She purred.’ Not only does it sound much better/give a much stronger image, it enables you to cut off one whole word. (Woohoo!!! 😛 😉 ).
3. Always confine an action and its description to the same sentence. For instance, I could say ‘She laughed at him. It was a laugh of merry, stinging scorn.’ But c’mon. We can do better than that. ‘She threw back her head and laughed, eyes snapping sparks of merry, stinging scorn.’ Much better.
4. Similes should be stated as fact, not comparison. ‘Apple pie is like a soothing balm to a troubled soul.’ No. ‘Apple pie is a soothing balm to a troubled soul.’
(Actually, I don’t even like apple pie… 😛 ).5. Try to avoid things like ‘He was a man who knew his own mind’— that’s a waste of words. ‘He knew his own mind’— works just as well. These aren’t always bad, but watch out for overdoing them.
6. Avoid repetitive descriptions— ‘She crooked her finger in a beckoning gesture.’ At first glance there’s nothing wrong with that structurally— but a crook of the finger is by definition a beckoning gesture. So I guess what I’m saying is avoid describing body language. It should be self-explanatory.
And I thought I had several more points, but I don’t remember them. I guess these’ll do for now.
Anybody else wanna add something to this list? Thoughts? Suggestions? Disagreements? 😉 I’m all ears!
Nice topic! I agree 100% on all your points.
Using adjectives sparingly: When I was little, everyone was always telling me “You need more adjectives,” and “you can never have too many because the more descriptive your writing is, the better.” Wrong! You said it, Kate, there is such a thing as overkill.
But…but, wait. Y-you don’t like…apple pie?! Whaaaaat! *squints eyes*
Ahem. Moving on.So, yeah, I like all your points. 😀 And I don’t think I have anything to add. 🙂
@kate-flournoy. Ah, how perfect. This is something I’ve been thinking about recently. Hmm… you can guess why. I think I might just go off and eat every book on prose I can get my hands on, but then again, that might be hard on my fiction diet. Hmm…
Ok, first thing’s first. Stop disliking apple pie!!!
Hmph … yes, now that that’s out of the way, I like your points. First of all, the power of prose in rereadability. Really though, I think there are two types of prose in a way. There is the prose you made all your points for and really we might say those have more to do with the readability factor. K.M.Wieland is a great author, but she is especially un-rereadable. Yet her prose is fine. This is where I’m a little unsure, but I have a suspicion that the readability has nothing (particularly) to do with character, or plot, or even prose. My theory is that it is mostly due to with the organic suffusion of philosophy throughout the book. That I think is why classics are classics.
…And I will probably come back later to talk more prose, but for now I feel strangely like taking a break.
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You know what, @kate-flournoy? Here’s something else I just happened to notice. Info dumps are actually often some of the most rereadable portions of a book. I suspect it has something to do with irony. The classical authors loved irony in an info dump.
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@Faithdk yes!! When it comes to adjectives, less generally is more. I used to be absolutely enamored with adjectives— just see my ‘Story of the Seed’ story that was published on KP a while back. *shudder* 😛
But I’ve learned that if I use them sparingly, they’re more effective when they come.
And yes. I don’t like apple pie.I’m afraid it’s hopeless. I only like cookies and brownies and some kinds of ice cream and some kinds of cake. That’s about the extent of my likes in the dessert world. 😉
Yes @Daeus excellent point about irony. Hold that thought— I’ll bring that in on a later post when we get to talking about re-readability instead of just readability.
Good point about the distinction between the two, by the way. Let me expound on that. You have to have one before you can have both. You have to have the foundation before you can start getting fancy with it. It’s like the difference between writing some cliched old truth simply because you’ve heard it a gazillion times and it sounds wise, and writing the same truth but having it spring with complete originality from your own experience. If that makes any sense. 😛@kate-flournoy Hmm, what foundation do you refer to and what is being built on top of it?
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Another rule: Everything your English teacher told you is wrong.
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@Daeus ha! I like that one. 😀
Oh, and as for the foundation stuff, I simply meant you have to understand how to write readable prose before you tackle re-readable. Perhaps I misunderstood your first post and that’s not what you were saying??
@kate-flournoy Looking back on my first comment, I think it needs a prose remakover itself. It even said readable for the last part where I meant re-readable.
I think I see what you’re saying. I don’t know that it’s necessarily a law exactly, but readable prose is definitely something you want to start with.
Actually, this makes me think. I do believe that some of my terrible prose in TATHOF was a result of trying to write readable prose without studying readable prose first. Hmm … I never realized that before. Rather funny. I need to edit that again.
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Okay… I think I get you @Daeus. If this discussions proceeds and we’re still not on the same page, holler and we’ll try and get it straightened out. 😀
My theory is that it is mostly due to with the organic suffusion of philosophy throughout the book.
This is deep. Pardon me while I go off to my secretest of secret writer hideaways and ponder it secretly. 😉
Actually, I’ve noticed that too. It’s the difference between saying something worth saying and having something worthwhile to say. Anyone can fill their story with worthwhile thoughts without understanding a single one of those thoughts themselves. But when you do that, your prose rings empty, no matter how chock full of truth it is. It takes a deep and sincere understanding of truth to make your prose ring true.This leads to another distinction. There are at least two OTHER different kinds of prose. First, we have classical prose. (Let’s just call it that, since most classics employ it). Classical prose is crammed full of truths and lessons and wisdom in and of itself— just taken by itself, without the story, it’s rich with life lessons.
Then we have modern prose, which exists simply to tell the story and let the story teach the wisdom.
I don’t necessarily think one is better than the other. And personally, I try to strike a balance between the two in my own work. It’s not always easy, but I can’t choose which is better, so I mix them. Lazy, I suppose. 😉Rather funny. I need to edit that again.
Ha! Isn’t that always the way? 😀
@kate-flournoy. Yes, we are on the same page. (page one so far unless I go over with this post)
That’s actually something I wanted to say before but didn’t quite say it perfectly. To be a truly great writer, you must be a philosopher.
*high five*
Of course, you must also write philosophically. You cannot simply be, you must act upon. Hmm … I shall have to philosophize about this.
What was I going to say? Oh, yes. To write philosophically, you must have philosophical character. You can get some philosophy in in your descriptions, but it works so much better if you are in corporation with your characters. From now on, all my characters are philosophers. *I dubs them*
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Hm, yes. I wouldn’t say it’s a requirement for a great writer to be a philosopher, but it certainly comes easier. Heh, just plain ol’ writing comes easier!
Why? Here’s my hypothesis: Writing is a reflection of life. The clearer your understanding of life, the clearer a reflection you are able to reproduce. And thus, the purpose of books is also to give a clearer understanding of life. Which in turn produces more philosophizing, which produces more writers, which produces more books… it never ends!And you don’t have to consider yourself a philosopher to be one, either. If you’ve ever asked why instead of what, you’ve philosophized. 😉
Goodness, just to be human is conducive to philosophy. Some more than others, but hey, no one says everyone has to be that crazy. 😉You can get some philosophy in in your descriptions, but it works so much better if you are in corporation with your characters.
Oh yes. Doesn’t everything? 😀 And that works whether you use classical prose or modern prose. For instance— I’m reading Les Miserables right now (yes, still— this one has to be taken in long, deep, slow sittings 😉 ) and I’m just at the part where Jean Valjean is debating with himself whether or not to turn himself in. Those chapters are simply crammed with philosophical richness.
Now Victor Hugo could have smothered us in all that philosophy in his own words.
But he didn’t.
Instead he let us inside Jean’s head and gives us the moment by moment play by play, providing perfect opportunity for philosophizing without shoving all his philosophy off on us. Perfect. It’s perfect.And it’s the same thing with modern prose. Let us inside the character’s head, and we can take it from there. Ha, it’s that stuffy, annoying old rule again— show, don’t tell. Funny how often that pops up, isn’t it? 😛
Okay, wow, now I’m straying into theory. My original intention was just to talk about structural/grammatical stuff, but hey, I guess this works! 😀
@kate-flournoy Oh, you are at the best part.
Hmm, yes, maybe I will get around to talking about actual prose some day.
Oh, here’s one little thing to add. Avoid words like “had” which give a past separate feeling to the prose. Also, wherever possible, introduce a new scene through the eyes of a POV. That also has a large effect on the “present” feel of the prose.
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@Daeus I agree. One hundred percent. Always live in the moment. Otherwise it pushes the reader off to arms’ length.
Actually you know, I just realized something… the classical authors don’t do that as much. Live in the moment, I mean. Okay, I take that back. They do— but they are forever interrupting their ‘moments’ with flashbacks and info dumps (those lovely ironic info dumps) and character sketches and stories to illustrate those character sketches, and wonder of wonders, it works. It actually works. It provides a rich, deep feel to the story-tapestry that nothing else could accomplish.
*pout* Classical authors got away with everything.Hmm, yes, but that’s to our advantage you see. If they get away with everything, we can get away with balance. I’m aiming hybrid myself — half classical half modern. That’s the one thing about classical authors is that for the most part (Count of Monte Cristo excluded which is the ultimate example) they never get very intense, but oh, they are so interesting. Of course, there is no reason you can’t have both. (I site The Count of Monte Cristo)
And so that is what everything comes down to.
Copy The Count of Monte Cristo.
Everything.
Copy it.
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