Clay Held
Keyboards, cats, and coffee.
25 Signs You’re Reading a Piece of Crap
1 year ago
by Clay
in Storycraft
There is a lot of crap out there. Consider this a brief field guide to identifying crap in some of its myriad forms.
Today’s a shorter list, but we’ve included examples. Enjoy.
25 Signs You’re Reading a Piece of Crap
- An unexpected moral bursts onto the page. “The villain was defeated. Don’t do drugs.”
- The story takes forever to get going. “Meanwhile, on page 114, the conflict is introduced.”
- The writing is unclear. “Happy people like being happy and would do nice things to be happier and share the happy.”
- The style is overly wordy. “Happy people like being happy and would do nice things to be happier and share the happy with people who aren’t having happy.”
- There’s an invincible, perfect character with a throwaway flaw. “John was good at what he did, never made mistakes, but he had trouble at love.”
- Passive voice. “Jimmy WAS going to the store. He WAS going to his best friend’s birthday party later. He WAS thirteen already.”
- Telling instead of showing. “Alex was angry. He was mad that his sister had forgotten his birthday party and had gone out the night before with her friends instead of helping put up party decorations.”
- Unnecessary extra characters. “Over in the corner, all alone and bothering no one, the mailman read his copy of Better Homes & Gardens.”
- Gratuitous punctuation errors. “Donny was, happy. He–loved; going to DisneyLand.. Its the happiest of all place’s on Earth.”
- Subject-verb disagreements. “The cat or dog are causing a ruckus. Bob and Joan is angry about this.”
- Purple prose. “The grandiloquent vestiges of the clerical impersonator bore a genuine ecumenical pedigree.”
- The presence of informed attributes. “Christopher is a good writer.”
- Tonal disconnect. “The sky was bright and the sun was shining. Birds were chirping. The crisp morning air was sprinkled with the smell of dew. Dave resolved to fight–to die, for glorious honor in war. Wherever the little man was held down under the boot of evil, wherever children cry out for a hero, there would Dave be.”
- Shifting tense. “I was going to the park for lunch. A car is speeding down the road. I will be hit by the car.”
- Shifting perspective. “I rested on the park bench and enjoyed my lunch burrito. Back at the office, Dave feels angry about missing his lunch and wants to punch Bill when he gets back from eating his burrito at the park.”
- Author diatribes. “Alec frothed when he read the Facebook post. ‘Don’t you get it?’ he typed angrily. ‘Any idiot can see that the elected official is a moron, the truth speaks for itself!’”
- Adverb overkill. “Quietly, sneakily, Jim snuck into the room. Quickly, he sprinted into the shadows as the door closed behind him.”
- Strawmen. “‘Ah, but you see,’ Elliot started. ‘You’re incorrect about the current political landscape for the following citable and un-counterable reasons.”
- Cliches. “Spencer resolved to take it to the next level. Come hell or high water, by the end of the day, one would win, one would fall.”
- Overly-complicated plot. “Once we find the passkey, we’ll be able to get past the outer wall. But, we have to wait until the solstice blinds the optical readers and Bravo Team has bypassed the encryption at the Siberian outpost. If we’re able to then reroute the convoy, we’ll have a small window of opportunity to use crack the safe. Unfortunately, if the passcode is in ancient Sumerian, we may have to recruit my ex-girlfriend from college who I haven’t seen in sixteen years and lives on an oil rig.”
- It doesn’t end when it should. “I hugged my sister, and together we finally cried. Cried for our dog, who had been there for us, and for whom we could not be there anymore…The next day, I decided to go to the mall and clear my head.”
- Unresolved mysteries. “I always wondered what the deal was with the cuneiform written on the insides of the bank vault.”
- Overdone exposition. “We have to find the lost treasure of Abraham Lincoln, who you might remember was our nation’s sixteenth president, and liberator of the slaves from the South. He wore a stovetop pipe hat and was very tall. He was born in a log cabin and learned to read by candlelight…”
- Crappy, stilted dialogue. “‘Hello ex-wife!’”
- Unnecessary vulgarity. I’ll leave this one to your imagination.
Writing in Cold Blood
1 year ago
by Clay
in Storycraft
There’s nothing to match the thrill of having a hot idea–one that sets your blood on fire with anticipation and excitement. When that fire fills you, all you should want to do is get that idea down on paper, and at double time. Hot ideas burn out at a wicked pace, and you owe it to yourself to save it as fast as your little hands can write. These are wonderful moments in the life of any writer.
This is not about those times.
If the hot idea ignites your blood, then the absence of a hot idea can leave your veins shivering. Lots of writers frost over while waiting for that next hot idea to land in their lap. Some never even touch the keyboard or pen until the next idea “arrives”.
You need to dodge the hot/cold mentality altogether and focus on what really makes for a prolific writer. It isn’t waiting for that next idea to come to you–it’s going out and chasing down that next hot idea, clubbing it over the head, and dragging it back to your cave. But how do you chase down and club an idea?
Simple. By writing. Writing, no matter what.
Writing in cold blood is not always easy–hell, it almost never is. It can be tedious, frustrating, and can leave your head feeling numb. Every new word can remind you of that last trip to the dentist. But, just like getting a filling, you may not like it, but it’s worth it in the long run. Why?
Writing is a skill, and like any skill, without practice you lose your edge. Hell, if I don’t write every day then the words and ideas that I have in my head start to stave off and go stale. Your mind is a machine, and without daily maintenance, the parts gather gunk and the whole damn thing risks seizing up during one of those oh-so-rare hot ideas. Zero-to-Sixty writing is a high-risk game, and one you can avoid.
Writing in cold blood is annoying, it’s frustrating, and it tests your commitment. If you’re serious about being a writer, though, it’s one of the more important things you can do. Business types like the label “best practice”, and, for as little as I care about the business world, I have to agree. It is a best practice, because it keeps your juices flowing. A rolling stone gathers no moss, and pumping blood doesn’t go cold. Not only will you be ready when that next hot idea crosses your sights–you’ll probably handle it more quickly and with more depth of skill than you would have if you had just sat around waiting for it to fall into your lap.
On the Terror of the Blank Page
1 year ago
by Clay
in Storycraft
Very few things can match the terror of a blank page. Whether you work long form or use a word processor, when you sit down to write, it’s showtime–you’ve created your own private stage, the lights are on you, and the curtain’s rising. The audience has filled their seats, the orchestra has finished warming up, the show is ready to begin, right?
Except, like most of us, you open your mouth, and no words come out. Perhaps you manage a small, bleated yip before freezing up completely. Then you just stand there, dumbfounded and uncertain, with all eyes on you.
But what is this? Why is this happening? Here you are your own private God, no? Why, the words should just spring forth–Let There Be Story–and then the page should just automatically fill up, or perhaps the keyboard should just starting clicking away on its own, or the pen should spring to life, scribbling furiously across entire reams of paper, yes?
If only.
Relax. We all get the jitters from time to time. And isn’t that really what this is? Rather than facing off against an expectant audience, though, we’re facing off against an internal audience–and our fears, doubts, and misgivings all have season tickets in the box seat. They sit up there, munching on their popcorn and their candy, slurping soda while spilling it on the floor, and the whole time they’re yelling “Give it up!” or “You’ll never make it, Fatso!” or whatever deflating insult your mind can cook up for them to shout. Even if you manage to quiet their little voices, you can never quite escape the feeling of their eyes, constantly zipping all over you–judging you, evaluating you, provoking you into feeling that maybe they’re right, maybe this is foolish, maybe I should give up.
Except, there are no eyes, are there? Your fears, doubts, and misgivings–those are just figments of your imagination, aren’t they? So, what’s really happening, and what can you do to stop it?
I’ve used the analogy of a stage performance because I feel it’s an appropriate comparison, and hopefully one that gives some semblance of what’s really going on inside the mind of your friendly neighborhood writer. Both are situations where you have an entertainer trying their damnedest to amuse an audience, to wow them with some brilliant and unexpected bravura performance. And, in both situations, it’s entirely possible that at any point your may spiral into despair and want to curl up into a ball in front of everyone and bawl your eyes out.
It’s stage fright, pure and simple. The blank page is terrifying to most writers. Now, I’m sure there are a few daring souls out there who look upon the their word processor or notepad and feel no fear–perhaps exhilaration, even–but I have not met them (and probably never will).
So what to do? Just start typing whatever comes into your head? Fill the page with endless rhetorical questions? Perhaps give in and actually do curl up into a ball?
I’m not brazen enough to declare there is one end-all correct answer here. There isn’t, or if there is, then it’s known by one guy, and he ain’t sharing. Maybe he’s the son of a bitch who looks at his notepad with boundless enthusiasm. But for the rest of us, down here on Earth, we turn to little tricks to get the juices flowing–writing prompts, workshops, daily goals, and an endless stream of sugary snacks and gut-rotting soda.
Tiny crutches, I think of them. They ultimately help you, or they don’t. Whatever yours is–and I know you have one–if it works, I say do it, and do it without guilt. Me, personally, I love sour lemon candies. I work with a big bag of them in my drawer. Some days, they’re a reward for hitting the 1000-word mark. Other days, they’re encouragement to keep going until I hit the 20-word mark. No matter what, they’re there to keep me going.
I hope you have something that keeps you going–a personal totem, or sorts. A fount of power or a direct line to your Muse if you’re the poetic source. But something that keeps you going, keeps you writing. Something that keeps you standing on that stage, staring right back at all your fears and doubts, because believe me pal, they’re not going to be the ones to blink first. They never quite go away, either, but don’t let that stop you. In a way, they’ll keep you honest, but only if you have the wisdom to know when and when not to listen to them. It’s an interesting notion–that fear and doubt can be positive forces. It’s one of those ideas that sits right on the edge of your awareness, but we’ll have to save that discussion for another day.
For now, the key lesson to take away from this is that no matter what, you’ve already gone to the trouble of creating your stage, hiring your orchestra, and selling the tickets, so there’s no turning back now. It may start with a yip, but if you can push that to a second one, and then a third, you might just be on your way.
Keep going. Maybe you end up a ball on the floor at the end of the day, but you have to start somewhere, right?
Keep going. You never know where a yip can take you.
50 Causes of Writer’s Block
1 year ago
If you write, then you know the feeling of being unable to write. You want to, but try as you might, that magical force doesn’t respond well to commands. And why should it? It’s not as if the Muse is out anything just because you aren’t making the grade.
The Muse is a fickle lady, and she doesn’t just grant her gifts on anybody and everybody who sits down and declares “And now I write.” In fact, I imagine if the Muse is even in the room at all when such declarations are made, that she stifles a chuckle and goes back to reading her magazine.
Writing is not easy, and we as writers make it hard on ourselves. We have bad habits, bad expectations, and bad outlooks. Some of them are internally created, others are external, but they are forces at play on us when we sit down to write.
The Muse never smiled down on anybody who didn’t first sit down and put their nose to the grindstone, churning out page after page of work until–maybe, just maybe–they had produced enough to convince the Muse that we’re serious here damnit, put down that magazine, and work with us.
Until you have created a suitable offering, be prepared to face any number of stumbling blocks. They come in all shapes, all sizes, and they can sneak up on you. They can be important in their own right (most are), but in the context of writing they are hindrances. They often find their way in under the crack of your study door, and it’s important catch them early, and not ignore them, but put them back where they belong–outside your study, where you will get to them once the Muse has finished her reading.
“And now I write.”
- Over-thinking
- Under-thinking
- Television
- Phone calls
- Unexpected Visitors
- Research
- “Research”
- Illness
- Video Games
- Pets
- Internet Connections
- Loud motorcycles
- Yard work
- Bills
- Weather
- The Day Job
- Chores
- Music
- Public places
- Self doubt
- Fear
- Forgetfulness
- Over-planning
- Boredom
- Success
- Failure
- Relationships
- Death
- School
- Expectation
- Entitlement
- Ignorance
- Overly critical nature
- Biting off too much at once
- Perfectionism
- Pretention
- Anger
- Allergies
- Not turning inward
- Lack of Enthusiasm
- Disappointment
- Holidays
- Neighbors
- Resentment
- Setbacks
- Misconceptions
- Exhaustion
- Uncomfortable chair
- Ignorance
- Hunger
50 Obnoxious Replacements for “Said”
When writing dialogue, there are two main routes you can take. The simple, straightforward approach (which I favor) uses the word said. It’s simple, it’s straightforward, and it doesn’t get caught up in itself or draw attention away from the action.
The second approach, I find, is to use overly flashy, obnoxious stand-ins. These little divas often do your writing a disservice–they distract the reader and shatter the spell you’ve worked so hard to create.
This morning, let us examine a small portion of these overcooked and overused verbs. I will begin with a few personal favorites: not because I find using them actually helpful, but because I find using many of them insane under most circumstances.
If you write, imagine slotting any of these words into your dialogue, then compare them against using said. Inevitably some will still feel that verbs like the ones below add flavor and verve to their writing. Show, don’t tell, right? What better way to sneak in a little showing right in the attribution than to use a flashy little verb, right? Ha ha! I’m a genius, that guy on his website is wrong! Whadda he know, eh?
It’s true, there is some poetic license to verbs like these. I’m certainly not going to campaign to have them outlawed, but I do believe they are shortcuts, and shortcuts only get you from one point to another–they are limited, worn out, and you often miss out on the more interesting sights all around you. When writing, stick to the main roads, stick to action, to description, because they can take you everywhere.
NB: Where possible, we will strive to use the past participle of the word.
- Chortled
- Guffawed
- Yodeled
- Shrieked
- Snapped
- Ejaculated
- Exclaimed
- Boomed
- Denounced
- Exhorted
- Gagged
- Chirped
- Articulated
- Cajoled
- Baited
- Barked
- Estimated
- Acquiesced
- Bawled
- Beseeched
- Scorned
- Stammered
- Wailed
- Yowled
- Mimicked
- Insinuated
- Marveled
- Interjected
- Hinted
- Giggled
- Expostulated
- Grumbled
- Fumed
- Cannonaded
- Babbled
- Admonished
- Foretold
- Boasted
- Blurted
- Assented
- Droned
- Bragged
- Defended
- Echoed
- Advocated
- Abjured
- Cackled
- Enumerated
- Sputtered
- Cooed
