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The Gun
B Y Rogers
“I remembered the day you were born, mostly because you were my first grandchild. I had been out of state for several weeks, traveling for my job. You were almost two months old before I finally got to hold you. You Mom had you all wrapped up in a pink blanket Grandma had made. I cried.
“The world was turning sour back in those days. Before you were born, I remember hearing of the occasional shooting, if that is the correct and proper way to define what was happening back then. I don’t remember much, not really, but I do recall that once or twice a year some disgruntled man, it was never a woman, would lash out at their family or co-workers, killing as many as he could. Most times, it was only a half dozen; even one was too many. But like everybody else, I had a life to live and I moved on.
“Columbine High School buried the most in the beginning. I remember that one because it shocked everybody, even me. Then there was a Baptist Church killing in Texas somewhere. There were others. The popular term that was spread around was that someone had gone postal. It was happening more and more.
“Of course, eventually, the big political killing of 2001 climbed to top. I guess you learned about those when you were growing up. While that was the worst, it was really impersonal for most Americans. Oh, we did get all fired up and blamed whomever and bickered between ourselves, but still, unless it happened to you, it was this far away massacre that was soon forgotten unless you went on a plane ride.
“The little ones got to me. Every couple of years you would hear of one. Then, just a year or so before you were born there was a whole litter of them. And it wasn’t just in the schools or at local factory. These crazies would go off the deep end and kill at home and then they would go to the mall or high school, all armed up with weapons they had stolen from their parents or grandparents. Sometimes they would plan the shooting for months, hoarding their ammo like it was food in a famine.
“I do remember one, the same year you were born in fact, where an Amish school was attacked by some asshole. He killed some kids and that one got to me cause you were so tiny, just a few months old and I remember holding you one day and fighting back the tears, wondering what I would do if someone came into your school and killed you and nobody was there to protect you.
“I don’t like guns, never had. My father had several, all rifles. I don’t remember seeing a revolver in the house growing up, just rifles. I did go hunting with my father when I was about fifteen. I got sick. Not from the hunt; hell, I was raised on a small farm and did my share of separating chickens from their heads. That never bothered me. I got sick from breathing the exhaust from my father’s old Willey Jeep. It was much older than I was and had rotting floorboards. I had to sit in the way back, over the exhaust pipe so the men could sit in the seats. I threw up a lot that morning.“I remember firing a 22 rifle in Scouts when I was about thirteen or so. I fired it maybe five times. Somewhere along the line, for who knows what reason, I just never felt an affinity with guns. I wasn’t against them mind you, just never had an interest.
“Then suddenly the shootings got closer to home. When you were about a year old, there was one in a mall, in the city. I think four or five were killed in that one. A couple of months later, a big one happened at a university in Virginia. By now, I was getting inured to it all.
“Then, when you were in kindergarten, another school shooting changed my mind. That was a terrible year, that year. Time after time, almost every month, somebody somewhere, a mall, a theater, a café, someone was shot to death. It was horrific. Then, there was this case in New York. Over two dozen children in a kindergarten class were murdered. They were your age. I snapped then, it was too much.
“I bought a handgun a few months later, a Smith and Wesson .40. I hate guns. I really do not like them. Still don’t like them. While I did not have nightmares of you being killed while dressed up as a ham in a school play or shopping for candy for Halloween, I worried, God how I worried. In my daytime I could see you lying on the floor at school, or on the grass in the park, dead because somebody went postal and I was not there to protect you. I felt helpless.
“So I got the handgun and a concealed weapon permit and practiced, practiced, practiced. I was never that good, but I wasn’t bad either.
“While I was practicing to protect you, I lost you. We all did. By the time you were in high school and I was getting better at shooting paper targets, you ran away. Your parents nearly bankrupt themselves trying to help you, but you would not be helped. By the time you were fifteen, you had seen more time in juvenile detention each year than at home.
“The world became crazy while you were gone. I suspect you knew more of it than I did. I gave up. I turned off the television finally and the radio. I didn’t read the newspapers any more. I canceled the Internet. I just read my books and wrote in my journal. I think the world got really bad the older I got.
“We lost track of you. You left home before you were eighteen and where you have been, I had no idea. Grandma died while you were gone. I don’t know if you knew that or not. I live alone now. I miss her something terrible. Your mother wants me to come live with her and your father, but I’m still able to take care of myself most of the time. I haven’t told them no. I haven’t said yes either. Now, I guess, they won’t have to worry about it.
“I’m old. I feel it every time I move. I am sitting here, on the driveway, in the dark. The concrete feels as cold as I do. My butt can’t take this kind of sitting anymore. A cop gently pulled my hands behind my back and put handcuffs around my wrists a few minutes ago. He apologized, said he hated doing it but times, such as they are, it was policy and I had to sit down. So I sat down on the driveway. I don’t care anymore. I’m not scared.
“You are still just inside the doorway. I can see your feet from here. The lights from the cop cars are dancing over the sheet they put over you. I can see the soles of your shoes. What am I going to say to your mother?
“I hate guns. I never wanted to pull mine on anyone. I never have had to. But when I heard someone at the door after I had gone to bed, trying to get it, I got scared. Whomever you were with must have put their shoulder to it and hit the door pretty hard. I don’t know. By the time the door tore from the hinges, I had the gun that I brought so many years ago to protect you and was aiming at the first person that came in.
"Now, I am sitting here, on the cold driveway, crying, wishing the cops would give me my gun back."
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Join B Y at his amazing website for writers:
The Redundant, Revenant Recidivist
"Despite its tireless narrative energy, despite its relentless inventiveness, the book is bloated, grown to elephantine proportions... Repetition is the problem; the same stories are told several times, accruing more dealt in with each telling. Also, the principal characters have a way of regurgitating what they've learned, even through the reader was with them when they learned it."
Patrick McGrath, in a New York Times review of The Witching Hour, by Anne Rice.
The problem Mr. McGrath describes is one we see regularly in the writing of both novices and professionals; unintentional repetition.
The repetition of an effect can be just as problematic. Whether it's two sentences that convey the same information, two paragraphs that establish the same personality trait, or two characters who fill the same role in a plot, repetition can rob your story of its power. In fact, repetition is likely to weaken rather then intensify the power of that effect.
When you try to accomplish the same effect twice, the weaker attempt is likely to undermine the power of the stronger one.
One form of repetition that we've seen more often in recent years is the use of brand names to help characterization. The mention of what type of scotch hour hero drinks or what kind of car your heroine drives may help give your readers a handle on their personalities. But when all your characters glance at their Rolexes, then hop into their Maseratis to tear out to the house in the Hamptons, where they change out of their Armanis to pour themselves a Glenliovet-you've gone too far.
Interior monologue is also prone to needless repetition.
Keep an eye out for unconscious repetitions on the smallest scale-especially repetitions in which the repeated word isn't used in the same sense as the original word. ("She heard a sharp crack, the loud spring of her bed springs.")
A fringe benefit of getting rid of unnecessary repetitions is that it frees up the power of intentional repetitions.
As you come to see what each element of your story-each sentence, each paragraph-accomplishes, you can learn o accomplish more than one thing at a time.
If each element of your story accomplishes one thing and one thing only, then your story will subtly, almost subliminally, feel artificial. When everything seems to be happening all at once, then it will feel like real life.
Another way in which the writers indulge in the large scale overkill is in the creation of the characters.
Then there is repetition on the largest scale, from book to book...of course, there is room in the world of fiction for the formulaic novel, it's been said that every James Bond novel has the same plot. (Oh, don't get me started. IF any of you EVER think that I am writing the same plot, over and over again, by simply changing the character names and the location, then, please, do not shoot me in the ass. Aim higher and put an end to my drivel.) (I refuse to read formulaic novels.)
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Thanks for following (Get the hint?). I hope this is helpful to someone out there. It has certainly improved my writing. Please comment and share the blog. Who knows, it may make the difference to someone.
As usual, my thoughts and comments on in parentheses. All the other kicks are just there, man.)
Beats are the bits of action interspersed through a scene, such as a character walking to a window or removing his and rubbing his eyes- the literary equivalent of what is known in the theater as 'stage business'.
As with interior monologue, it's very easy to interrupt your dialogue so often that you bring its pace to a halt.
As with the Fran Dorf example at the beginning of the chapter, there is wonderful dialogue in here (another example)-surrounded by so many beats, both internal and external, that its effect is lost. The fact that the beats themselves are interesting and well written doesn't keep the constant interruptions from irritating the reader.
As with physical description, some writers may overuse beats because they lack confidence. After all, if you show every move your character makes, your readers are bound to be able to picture the action you describe...when you describe every bit of action down to the last detail, you give your readers a clear picture of what's going on but you also limit their imagination-and if you supply enough detail, you'll alienate them in the process.
Of course, it is possible to err in the other direction and include too few beats. Page after page of uninterrupted dialogue can become disembodied and disorienting after a while, even if the dialogue is excellent.
What's needed are a few beats to anchor [your dialogue] in reality.
The idea is to strike the right balance between dialogue and beats.
So what's the right balance? (see page 149!)
Knowing where to put your beats is not as important as knowing what beats to insert.
Beats can be pointless, distracting, cliched, or repetitive.
So where do you find good beats? (Oh, the tip offered here has kept me busy all week. Page 152 folks!)
(The last two pages of the chapter consist of an example with and then without beats.) The scene is still moving-the dialogue effectively conveys what's going on and its importance, and it's easy to tell who is speaking. What is lost is a great deal of resonance, the deepening of the emotional content. You need beats for those.
Dig it!
(Same guidelines as previously. My wayward thoughts and comments are in parenthesis.)
Self Editing for Fiction Writers, Chapter 7, Interior Monologue
One of the greatest gifts of literature is that it allows for the expression of unexpressed thoughts: interior monologue...allowing your readers to see what your character is thinking is a powerful, intimate way to establish that character's personality.
Constant interruptions are just as annoying on the page as they are in life, and this writer (from an example in the book, which you need to purchase anyway) has interrupted her dialogue with interior monologue over and over again.
So how do you know you've gone too far with interior monologue? (See answer on page 118)
It is also possible to have too little interior monologue.
(A one page example of dialogue, between a husband and wife, without any interior dialogue, then:) But her (the character in the example) exhaustion and intimidation need to be present in the scene as well as in the context. She doesn't stop feeling these things while she is on the phone with him. Because she's too intimidated to confront him, the writer can't show her feelings in dialogue. It would be difficult to work Nia's specific feelings into emotionally weighted descriptions without breaking up the rhythm of the dialogue.
So what's the right amount of interior monologue? (See answer on page 122)
(Throughout the book, there are several cartoons to emphasis a point. In this chapter, there is one that I found especially humorous. In the single panel, we see two women, sitting at a table, in a very sparse room. The caption reads exactly as follows: "So far all her dreams have not come true but she wants high romance and a baby while her husband want to be, and is, a very successful broker, who takes graduate courses at night and wants no baby and at the same time she has more or less recovered from being in love with the well-digger who dug her well, which is good since he is married with three children and is a drug addict and an alcoholic and he claims he's dying, although there are no signs of this and she says once she finds an outlet for her unrequited love she will lose eighty-five pounds. I enjoyed that sentence." (Get it?)
(Oh, here is a great one:) It's rarely a good idea to have your characters mumble to themselves or speak under their breath.
How to handle your interior monologue depends almost entirely on your narrative distance. (I am still trying to wrap my mind around 'narrative distance'. I will work on it more the second time I go through this book.)
Thinker attributions. Whenever you're writing from a single point of view-as you will be ninety percent of the time-you can simply jettison thinker attributions.
Another technique for setting off interior monologue sharply is to write in the first person (often with italics) when you narrative is in third...Effective as this technique can be in letting readers into your character's head, be careful not to use it too often.
Interior dialogue can easily become a gimmick, and if overused it can make your characters seem as if they have multiple-personality disorder.
Generations of hacks have used italics to punch up otherwise weak dialogue...frequent italics have come to signal weak writing. (In other words, don't use italics.)
How do you set off your interior dialogue when you're writing with narrative intimacy? (See answer on page 128)
(I failed to mention that this book is the 2nd Edition. I needed to clarify this so you understand the final paragraph.)
We have noticed since the first edition of this book came out that a lot of writers have taken our advice about showing and telling too much to heart. The result has sometimes been sterile writing, consisting mostly of bare-bones descriptions and skeletal dialogue. Yet fiction allow for marvelous richness and depth, and nowhere more so than through interior monologue. You have to be careful not to go overboard, but interior monologue gives you opportunity to invite your readers into your characters minds, sometimes with stunning effect.
B Y Rogers
I am positively giddy about this post. The next chapter in Self Editing for Fiction Writers is precisely what Matt Stover preached to me over three years ago and since then, I have had more than a few conversations about these principles, most with negative results. But I have held my ground on and will continue to do so. What follows is so important so if you want to learn to write, again, I beg you, get this book.
Again, my comments will be in parenthesis (and there will probably be many of them).
Chapter 5 Dialogue Mechanics
What is the first thing acquisition editors look for when they begin reading fiction submission? (Not going to tell you! You will have to get the book.)
Because it is such hard work, generations of writers have developed mechanical tricks to save them the trouble of writing dialogue that effectively conveys character and emotion...Not surprisingly, these are tricks to avoid if you want to you want your dialogue to read like the work of a professional instead of an amateur or a hack. (My graphic artist suggested I take a look at writing.com, which I mentioned in my previous post. I looked at two short stories that were submitted for comments on that site. One was so terrible when it came to dialogue that I could not finish reading it. It was too painful. I suggested to both authors to get this book. They need it desperately!)
Imagine you are at a play. It's the middle of the first act. You are really involved in the drama. Suddenly the playwright runs out on the stage and yells, "Do you see what is happening here? Do you see how her coldness is behind his infidelity?" (Great metaphor)
If your dialogue isn't written well, if it needs the explanation to convey the emotion-then the explanation really won't help. It's showing and telling applied to dialogue.
Perhaps it's a lack of confidence on the writer's part, perhaps it's simple laziness, or perhaps it's a misguided attempt to break up the monotony of using the unadorned said all the time, but all too many fiction writers tend to pepper their dialogue with -ly's. Which is a good reason to cut virtually one you write. Ly adverbs almost always catch the writer in the act of attributions that belong in the dialogue itself.
(Rennie Browne and Dave King make a reference to "Tom Swifties" , which made me laugh. What got me seriously interested in reading when I was in the 6th grade was the Tom Swift series, by Victor Appleton II. Ah, the memories!)
Don't make speaker attributions as a way to slip in explanations to your dialogue ("he growled," "she snapped")
To use verbs like these last three for speaker attributions is to brand yourself as an amateur.
Verbs other than said tend to draw attention away from the dialogue.
Said, on the other hand, isn't even read the way other verbs are read. It is, and should be, an almost purely mechanical device, more like a punctuation mark than a verb. (BINGO! Think about this. When you read dialogue, do you really pay attention to the word said? We don't, at least I do not, unless the author adds an attribution, which then makes me pause. Should not the speaker's words in the dialogue tell me if the character is angry, sad, happy, clueless? If the writer builds the character correctly and develops the scene correctly, I will already know if the speaker is angry or not.)
(Here is something I did not know.) Decide how you are going to refer to a character and stick with it for at least the length of the scene. Don't use "Hubert said," on one page, "Mr. Winchester said," on the next and "the old man said," on the third. If you do, your reader will have to stop reading long enough to figure out that the old man is Hubert Winchester. (Purchase the book and learn what "beats" are, if you do not already know.)
If it's clear from the dialogue who is speaking-you can dispense with speaker attributions altogether. (Again, build your characters correctly!)
(Learn the difference between dashes and ellipses.)
The truth is, only editors and reviewers really notice these things. (You may not think these principles are important but they will make the difference not only with getting your tome published but how many sales you make.)
"Mr (Robert) Ludlum has other peculiarities. For example, he hates the "he said" locution and avoids it as much as possible. Characters in The Bourne Ultimatum seldom say anything. Instead, they cry, interject, interrupt, muse, state, counter, conclude, mumble, whisper, (Mr. Ludlum is great on whispers), intone, roar, exclaim, fume, explode, mutter. There is one especially unforgettable tautology: "'I repeat,' repeated Alex."
The book may sell in the billions, but it is still junk.
-Newgate Callendar,
The New York Times Book Review
B Y Rogers is the author of The Sin of Certainty plus a growing collection of short stories
Proportion
As in my previous posts about
Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, my thoughts are in parenthesis. The rest are direct quotes from the book. I hope what I post is beneficial.
(If you are wondering what 'proportion' has to do with writing, think of it this way. How much do I give to my readers in any scene? Do I give them too much or too little? Then ask yourself this: too much or too little of what? Information related to the plot? Did I take 5 pages to write something that should have been written in 3? At least that is how I am defining proportion. Your mileage may vary.)
Proportion problems...arise from the same lack of confidence that leads beginning writers to describe emotions they have already shown.
When you fill in all the details and leave nothing to your reader's imagination, you're patronizing them. (AMEN!)
Sometimes proportion problems arise when a writer is writing about his or her pet interests or hobbies. (This is why I mention taking too long to say what needs to be said. Taking 5 pages to show what you want to convey, instead of 3 pages, will bore your readers. There is a great example of this on page 68 of the book, oh, wait... sorry, you haven't purchased your own copy yet have you? Tsk, tsk.)
You didn't read the whole paragraph did you? (this is from the book. No I didn't. I was bored by word 11. Again, get the book!)
Proportion problems can arise inadvertently, sometimes through cutting.
So how do you avoid proportion problems? In most cases it's quite simple: PAY ATTENTION.
A warning: paying attention to your story does not mean ruthlessly cutting everything that doesn't immediately advance your plot.
Is it really needed? Does it add? Should it be shorter/longer?
Bear in mind that most readers may not find such topics as interesting as you do.
Once you have trained yourself to see how changes in proportion affect your story, you can begin to use proportion to shape your readers' response to your plot
The safest approach is to make sure the material you're writing about helps advance either your plot or your narrator's character.
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B Y Rogers
byrogers.com
[email protected]@by_rogers
thanks for share..