Ok, I’m putting my neck on the line here and naming the most common pitfalls I have seen emerging talents fall into. In today’s blog, I baldly name and shame what I would happily never encounter again:
- An entire chapter revolving around a character walking or driving from A-B alone, interspersed by long passages of back story.
- An entire chapter set around
a character in bed/in nature/alone reminiscing. - Melodramatic chapter cliff hangers. Your story is either engrossing or not. A pining character is not the answer.
- Making the same point in ten different ways –all on the same page.
- Belabouring the point. [See above]
- Describing objects/landscapes/surroundings in miniscule detail over countless pages. Poetry is a gift not a licence.
And I can say all this because, early on as a writer, I have been guilty of most of the above. Ok, who am I kidding? I have been guilty of all of the above at one time or another. And so, today, I invite you to kill off your darlings publicly. Copy and paste them in the comment section of Writers & Artists and, like sealing an envelope, let it go. If the piece is that good, someone will surely encourage you to put it back in.
I’ll begin...
“Retreating to the cabin’s bedroom in the cool peach light of mid-afternoon, Dorothy felt the contours of Katy’s lumpy rucksack one last time before sliding it under the wooden frame of the bed. She had discerned the outline of several boot heels inside, an oversized toiletries bag, and then the corner of something hard and rectangular. Could this be what she was looking for? But the more her fingers had shaped the outline of the item, the more convinced she grew that it was simply a hardback novel. A journal would have a more supple cover. She didn’t dare go into the bag though. There were some answers she wasn’t ready for yet.
Shivering, she plugged in the electric heater, in the corner of the room, and turned the nozzle as high as it would go. Removing her shoes, but keeping her socks on, she shuffled down under the crisp, lemon sheets, massaging her bad hip with one hand. The cold always made it ache more. It was 3 o’clock. The funeral wasn’t until tomorrow lunchtime. Twenty two hours. Only twenty two more hours to stay strong. She picked up a worn-looking crime paperback from the bedside cabinet, and was ...”
Editors have a tough job, I have to admit, when I get stuck into the poetry and then read back what I have wrote/written, well lets just say alot ends up in a scrunched pile on the floor never to annoy anothers vision!!!
I have amajor habit of being grammatically in-correct and deliberately so as I am a true believer in lay mans terms for the bulk of any story, maybe thats my down fall but that's me.
Oh dear, I am quite ashamed to say I've ignorantly fallen deep into almost every pitfall listed. After not even reading through my work again I can pinpoint the cracks - I'm almost to scared to look as I know a lot of it will have to go...again!
But I can rejoice in the fact I haven't yet completed what I have written and so will be able to stop myself sooner should another pitfall appear.
I do have to say that a pet hate of mine is when a leading character suffers no, or very little, change in themselves. It is rather irritating, I find, when a character has stereotypical, depthless thoughts and backgrounds from cover to cover. Also, when a writer tries far too hard to make their work unique that even in a fantasy genre it is unbelievable and unrelatable.
That being said, even if I come across this in a piece I am reading, I feel as though I learn just as much from it as I do from writing acclaimed to be intelligent and inspiring. Even if I'm just learning what not to do, or what I wouldn't like to see, in my own work.
It is said there is a silver lining to every cloud. Try as she might, she couldn’t find it as she sat on an ironing board, looking at the moving clouds of fog outside her studio apartment window. After leaving the office, she returned to that morning’s street corner, half-hoping for a miraculous reappearance of her suitcase at the bus stop. But there was nothing. No clues where to find the man who had bumped into her and she had no idea where the missing depositions were. Inside, she felt this terrible nightmare would be over with somehow but until then, she had to find a new job. There was no telling how long it would be before her boss would learn the truth, but she already felt her dream job slipping away. Picking a paper from a newsstand, she pored over the classifieds on the bus ride home. Embalmer… solicitors’ assistant… retail clerk… nothing. Not a single job in the legal field.
A low purr awoke her from reverie. “Come here Isis,” she reached on the ironing board and picked up her pet cat, a two year old Siberian; stroking it’s golden fur. Holding Isis in her hands she looked at its face. “You don’t have any worries, do you?” Isis blinked, opening her mouth in a large yawn. “Are you hungry? Want mum to fix lunch?” She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a dish of leftover veggie patties, pouring half of it into a kitty bowl. “Here you go, sweetie. Enjoy while it lasts.” She returned the remainder to the fridge and grabbed an egg roll for herself. Unwrapping it, she was about to take a bite when she noticed the briefcase lying on the kitchen table beside the classifieds. She eyed it suspiciously. Whatever the thing was that she had seen upon opening her briefcase in Alexis’ office, Gina felt it meant trouble. But what was it really? Her curiosity got the better of her and she laid the egg roll on the newspaper, opening the briefcase once again.