This tip ties in with tip #1: Be concise. It’s such an important tip that it’s worth elaborating on. Most of us use redundant words without noticing. As you revise your work, look at every word and ask yourself: is it necessary? Does it benefit the sentence?
Consider phrases like ‘for a long period of time’ and ‘at this point in time’. Rephrasing them as ‘for a long time’ and ‘now’ respectively will likely make your point more elegantly. And what about ‘reversed back’, ‘advance planning’ and ‘global pandemic’?
This brings me to the current fad of throwing ‘moving forward’ or ‘going forward’ into every second sentence. This is done more often in speaking than in writing, but it’s enough of a crime against language for me to feel it merits mentioning here. Unless you’re talking about literal movement – say, in a car, where the distinction between forwards and backwards is important – those phrases are almost always redundant. I’ve not yet found a sentence that benefitted from their inclusion.
I don’t mean all your sentences should be short; on the contrary, varying your sentence length will aid the rhythm and flow of your writing. What I mean is that it’s best not to cram unrelated ideas into one sentence and try to make them fit. This is a mistake I often see from inexperienced writers.
Consider this: Kathy was now thirteen and sang Robin a song as they both sat on the front steps of the house.
In this sentence, there are two completely unrelated ideas: Kathy’s age and the singing of the song. It’s clumsy.
Do readers need to know Kathy is thirteen? If not, delete it. Try this: ‘Kathy sang Robin a song as they both sat on the front steps of the house.’ (Or, better: ‘Kathy sang to Robin as they sat on the front steps.’)
If it is important for readers to know Kathy’s age right at this point, try rephrasing: ‘Thirteen-year-old Kathy sang to Robin as they sat on the front steps.’) Better still, if readers need to know Kathy is thirteen, find another place to tell them so – but not in this sentence.
Contrary to popular belief, disinterested does not mean bored or uninterested. It means impartial, or not having an interest – where the word ‘interest’ refers to a benefit or advantage. Think of ‘disinterested’ as not having a vested interest, or not having something to gain.
Here’s a thought that may help: You would expect a judge to be disinterested but not uninterested in your case.
But language evolves, you might protest – and yes; you’d be right. Pretty soon no one will remember that ‘disinterested’ once meant impartial. But now you know, and you can decide how you want to use it. I rather like the original meaning.
In English we don’t have a well-known dedicated non-gendered pronoun in the singular form. (Well, we do have ‘it’, but you can hardly use that when writing about humans.) Fortunately, however, we can use the word ‘they’ to fulfil this function.
In the past, the default was to use ‘he’ or ‘his’ when the gender of the noun was unknown or irrelevant. For instance: ‘The author relies upon his editor.’ Defaulting to the male pronoun, understandably, has become unacceptable. The alternative, which is still sometimes used, was to replace ‘he’ or ‘his’ with the unwieldy ‘his/her’ or ‘his or her’ or even ‘s/he’. For example: ‘The author relies upon his or her editor.’
This becomes tiresome if it appears often in a passage. It also fails to account for non-binary members of the community.
For these reasons, the plural pronoun, ‘they’ (or the possessive form, ‘their’), is perfectly acceptable: ‘The author relies upon their editor’.
Granted, for those of us who have grown up carefully ensuring that the pronoun matches its antecedent, the singular use of ‘they’ can be jarring. But we’ll just have to get used to it. In fact, using ‘they’ in this way is not a new thing; it’s been happening for hundreds of years. What’s new is the use of ‘they’ as a singular pronoun for a person with non-binary gender. For example: ‘Sandy relies upon their editor’.
There is often a better alternative, and that is to recast the sentence so as to avoid this mismatch. In the example I’ve given, ‘Authors rely upon their editors’ solves the problem nicely. But sometimes this isn’t possible – and in those cases, using the singular pronoun ‘they’ is perfectly appropriate.
Read more about it here: https://www.academicwritingsuccess.com/the-astonishing-history-of-singular-they/ to edit.
‘Comprised’ and ‘composed’ have related meanings but they’re NOT interchangeable. Here’s an INCORRECT sentence construction I see often:
‘The deck was comprised of fifty-two cards.’
The writer here has confused the word ‘comprised’ with ‘composed’.
The following two sentences are both CORRECT:
‘The deck was composed of fifty-two cards.’
‘The deck comprised fifty-two cards.’
Here’s a tip to help you get it right: replace the word ‘comprised’ with ‘included’. Does it make sense? If so, you’re on the right track.
It’s easy – and therefore tempting – to describe your characters for the reader up front and just get it all over and done with. Resist the urge! This is a very common mistake, and to avoid it takes careful thinking and planning.
Too often, I read that so-and-so ‘always’ does this or that. It’s just not convincing. For instance, you might want to tell us that Leo is always polite and respectful, and that he always dresses formally (even at home). You could describe him that way, but we probably wouldn’t be convinced, or even interested. Instead, make Leo say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ a lot and address people by their formal titles. Have him standing up whenever someone enters the room, opening doors for people, letting others go first into a lift. Have him straightening his tie, or brushing the cat hair off his suit jacket after he gets up from the lounge chair. Have his wife complaining that his suits need dry-cleaning too frequently because he doesn’t take them off when he gets home from work.
Does this advice sound familiar? It should; it’s a variation of tip #6: ‘Show, don’t tell’.
Here’s another example. Maybe you want us to know that Ruth has a short fuse. Don’t tell us up front that she’s hot-tempered; let her reveal those traits through her actions. Have her thump the bench when the kids are too loud, or swear at the traffic lights, or throw her purse across the room when she can’t find her credit card in it.
You get the idea, I hope. Letting your characters reveal themselves in this way brings them to life. When we meet a new person in real life, we don’t learn everything about them all at once; we get to know them gradually over time. Revealing your characters’ traits through their actions and dialogue allows the reader to get to know them bit by bit. It’s more interesting and more convincing.
And yes – it’s much, much harder. To do this successfully, first you have to observe real people and note how they reveal particular traits. What are some ways in which people show they’re angry? Or that they’re dreamers? Or that they’re anxious, or introverted, or kind? Then you have to think deeply about the characters you’re creating. Which of these traits do your characters have – and how might they display them? And then, rather than telling us your character is ‘always’ this or that, let them show us that characteristic in different ways throughout your manuscript. Your book will be much more profound and interesting for it.
When you make a noun out of another word (usually a verb or an adjective) you are nominalising it. For example, by changing the sentence, ‘He educated his son’ to ‘he gave his son an education’, I am nominalising the word ‘educated’. Academic authors frequently use nominalisation (or should I say: ‘academic authors frequently nominalise’?). Nominalising is OK, but don’t overdo it. You want your writing to be stylish, not just correct – right? By minimising nominalisations, your writing will be more powerful and you’ll have a better chance of adhering to writing tip #1: Be concise.
Here are some more examples of nominalised verbs, with a better alternative:
They undertook an investigation (They investigated)
We must come to a decision about … (We must decide on … )
She gave the appearance of being sad (She appeared to be sad. OR: she looked sad.)
Adjectives can be nominalised too. Again, it can be OK to nominalise an adjective, but always ask yourself which version is stronger. For example:
The street had considerable length … OR … The street was long
In this instance, I prefer the latter.
Establishing the point of view is a vital part of writing a story. In general, books are written in the first-person or the third-person point of view. In first-person point of view, the narrator is one of the characters. You’ll see sentences saying ‘I did this’ or ‘I did that’. In the third-person point of view, you’ll read ‘he’, ‘she’ and ‘they’. If you’re writing in the first person, the narrator can’t know what other characters are thinking because the action is seen through that character’s eyes. The reader only ‘sees’ the narrator’s point of view. If you’re writing in the first person and you describe the thoughts in another character’s head, readers won’t be convinced.
But beware – even if you write in third person, it’s important to be consistent in your point of view. There are two ways you can approach third person point of view. One is where the narrator is omniscient. In other words, the narrator can know what’s going on in any character’s head and can be ‘present’ in any scene. This point of view is usual for non-fiction but not as popular in modern fiction as it might have been a long time ago. It’s hard to do it well, for the writer has to work harder to get readers to connect with any of the characters.
A popular alternative is to write in the third person, but from only one or just a few characters’ perspectives. It’s easier for readers to feel a connection with characters this way than with an omniscient narrator. It’s also easier to let a character’s personality come through strongly, because you’ll be using the same ‘voice’ throughout the story. As with first person, the reader should only be able to ‘get inside’ the head of the character whose point of view we’re seeing the action from.
Some writers switch between characters’ points of view from one chapter or section to the next, and that’s fine; it can be a useful technique. But switching from one character’s thoughts to another’s within the same passage or chapter can be confusing and can prevent the reader from developing a deeper connection with any one character. This is a very common mistake called ‘mind-hopping’. Consider the following passage, in which we jump from Mary’s head to Kelvin’s and back.
Mary scurried along the darkening street.
I never imagined I’d end up living in this neighbourhood, she thought. What a dump.
A figure stepped out of the shadows. Mary yelped, her heart thundering.
‘It’s OK, Mary, it’s just me, Kelvin. From the office?’
The figure moved slightly and in the street light she saw his features: receding hairline, long nose, moustache. It took her a few seconds to recognise him out of his uniform.
Mary sighed. ‘You gave me a fright.’
‘Sorry,’ said Kelvin, feeling guilty. She’s very jumpy, poor thing, he thought. I guess she’s not used to living in the city. He made a mental note to be kinder to Mary at work.
‘It’s OK,’ Mary said, embarrassed. She wanted to ask him to walk her home, but she didn’t want to appear pathetic.
Rather than mind-hopping from one character to another in an exchange like this, it’s better to choose the point of view of one character and stick to it.
We all have quirks. Maybe you prefer a particular sentence construction or overuse a favourite word. I once came across a novel in which the author was too fond of the word order ‘He did x before doing y’. For instance: ‘She placed the meal on the table before taking a seat. She licked her lips before dabbing them with her napkin. She turned to her brother, glaring at him and shaking her head before telling him to remove his elbows from the table.’ I’m exaggerating, of course, but I hope you get my meaning. There’s nothing wrong with that sentence construction; the problem arises when the same construction is used again and again. Know your quirks and be on your guard against them! Variety is key.
Or, to give it a more positive slant: make every word a strong one.
Some words need to be approached with caution! My least favourite word is ‘several’.
Honestly, if someone tells you there are several people in the room, can you picture the scene exactly? Are there four people or twenty? Or what about this one: ‘Several moments passed before she spoke’. OK, so how long is a moment? Multiply that undefined moment by the ambiguous number ‘several’ and you’ve got … how long? Be specific and be firm.
About this blog
Through my experience as an editor, a reader and a book reviewer, I’ve noticed that some writing faults keep just popping up again and again. As an author, I’m especially aware of those writing crimes that I’m frequently tempted to commit myself. This series of brief tips addresses the common writing problems that I’ve encountered. Following them will help make your writing clear, accurate and stylish.