Punctuation Pitfalls – The Comma, Part 1a

When I taught school, no punctuation mark gave students more trouble than the comma. I saw the same tendency in my first critique group, but I also learned one reason why the little squiggle mark posses such a problem—no one follows the same rules.

Well, “no one” is an exaggeration, but the fact is, there is a variety of style books, and they don’t always agree. For starters, fiction generally uses the Chicago Manual of Style, but journalists follow the AP Stylebook, and educators adheres to the MLA Style Manual. In those three alone, there is significant disagreement.

While I edit both fiction and non-fiction, I’ll more often than not use the Chicago Manual of Style since it seems the least specialized (there are guidelines for scholarly papers and scientific notation for example). It also seems like the most flexible, at least when it comes to the comma, and flexibility is good. Most of the time.

Writers need to remember that punctuation should aid the reader. Hence, the shortcut guide to using commas is the following: use a comma whenever there is a natural pause in the sentence.

Chicago says it this way:

The comma, aside from its technical uses in mathematical, bibliographical, and other contexts, indicates the smallest break in sentence structure. It denotes a slight pause. Effective use of the comma involves good judgment, with ease of reading the end in view.

I think it’s the “good judgment” part that gives so many of us a hard time. What seems obvious to the author of a piece may be obscure to the reader.

One help is to read our work aloud. The commas ought to match where we pause. If they don’t, then we need to put in some work and learn where those commas should go.

Because of this lengthy introduction, I’ll give one of the more well-known comma uses today. Commas separate items in a series. Not just nouns, mind you, but multiple verbs, adjectives, phrases, and even clauses (groups of words with a subject and verb). Note, Chicago strongly recommends including a comma before the conjunction prior to the final idem. Hence, the following: She ran her errands, stopped for lunch, and met her sister at the mall.

Consequently, if there are four items in the series, three commas are required, if seven items, six commas. The exception (there’s always an exception, have you noticed? ) is in a sentence with conjunctions joining each item. This addendum explains why we don’t use commas to separate father and mother, for example. Two items, one comma, so the rule says. But the items here are joined by a conjunction, so no comma needed.

More on commas next time.

Who Are These People – Making Characters Come Alive, Part 4

A corollary to creating characters with objectives or desires is making those characters take action to accomplish those goals.

This past week, agent Rachelle Gardner wrote an excellent article on this subject, “Is Your MC Proactive or Reactive?” Rachelle stated her key point succinctly:

Your MC [main character] must be proactive and make the story happen.

Surprisingly, some of the commenters seemed to miss that bottom line, camping instead on the issue of passive characters versus strong, type-A take-charge ones.

I suggest a passive character can be a main character, but he would still need to make the story happen.

Let’s say a character wants nothing more than to be left alone. So far so good, because the person has a driving desire. But if the character does nothing to achieve this goal, then the story lacks cohesion, and readers will tire watching a character who wants something she is unwilling to try to achieve.

Instead, if the passive character who wants to be left alone takes steps to duck and dodge extra responsibility, the reader will become engaged with the attempt, perhaps even hoping the MC fails, for his or her own good.

A couple old detective TV shows come to mind to illustrate this point. Jim Rockford in the Rockford Files often seemed more interested in not taking a case for one reason or the other than in accommodating would-be clients. Viewers, of course, knew he was right, that the case would be trouble. When at last his maneuvers or arguments inevitably failed, he, the reluctant hero, proceeded to overcome the problems and save the day.

Thomas Magnum of Magnum, P.I., was a near carbon copy of Jim Rockford (except he had the added benefit of living on an estate in Hawaii! )

The point is, reluctant heroes may appear passive, but they are still fueled by desires, and they act in order to accomplish those desires, even though the actions may take the form of avoidance. Magnum, for example, often pulled humorous shenanigans to avoid doing what estate manager Higgins had specified.

One more important point. A character’s initial desire will undoubtedly change as the story unfolds and the the inciting incident occurs. Magnum didn’t want to take a certain case and tried to get out of it, but once involved, his goal shifted to defeating the bad guy or uncovering the truth or rescuing the helpless girl, child, hard-up Marine buddy, or whoever.

In the opening of Gone with the Wind, Scarlett wants nothing more than to entice Ashley to abandon Melanie and court Scarlett instead. Then the Civil War breaks out, and things change.

Granted, it takes nearly a thousand pages before Scarlett realizes she didn’t really want Ashley, but in the meantime, she formulates a lot of other goals that spur her actions, one after the other.

So here’s the bottom line in this article: characters must act to accomplish their goals. Give your main character a goal on page one, and put him to work to try to accomplish it.

Who Are These People? – Making Characters Come Alive, Part 3

The site for the Clive Staples Award for Christian Speculative Fiction includes novel evaluation standards, one section dealing specifically with characters. The first one is this:

Does the main character have clear internal and external goals?

Any number of writing instructors emphasize the need for characters to have objectives. I tend to think the presence or absence of goals is a key factor in whether or not a reader identifies with the protagonist. Identifies in the sense that he cheers for the character or pulls for him emotionally.

It’s hard to hope for a character’s success if the character is aimless. Even when crisis comes and the character reacts, a reader might hope the efforts are successful, but in the back of her mind, she knows they will be, at least early in a book, or there would be no story. So tension is low. Unless the character is taking the lead and initiating a plan. Then the reader wants to see if it will work, and invests emotionally in the process.

Goals won’t necessarily be static. A character might have one goal early, only to learn and therefore adjust the goal or even take off in the opposite direction.

If a book is to have a lasting impact, the objectives need to be multi-pronged, with an internal as well as external dimension.

Brandilyn Collins did an excellent series on character objectives, or desires, as she names it, on her blog Forensics and Faith. (The link takes you to one excellent article, but if you’d like to read the whole series, go to her archives and start with July 25, 2005.)

The point is, during the revision process, if not during the planning stage, be sure your character has a goal, objective, desire, and not just a reaction to crisis.

Verification Post

Who Are These People? – Making Characters Come Alive, Part 2

What else besides proper motivation makes a fictitious character seem real? One important element is dialogue.

Any number of writing instruction books deal with the basics of dialogue, from speaker attribution to subtexting. And as important as those aspects of writing dialogue are, they do not insure that the characters will come alive.

I think there are two key ingredients that turn dialogue into a tool which helps form realistic characters. The first is to avoid wooden speech.

In the same way that a person doesn’t talk the way he writes, a character’s dialogue shouldn’t read the same as narrative. Elastic speech is a product of several things: the use of fragments, the use of contractions, the use of slang, the use of interruption, the use of pause.

Here’s a short example from Sweet Waters by Julie Carobini ( B&H Books):

“You’re both stubborn, if you ask me.”

We answer in unison. “Am not!”

We scooch ourselves into the built-in booth, and I snag a fry, thankful for the lightness of the moment. Mel takes a whammy of a bite from her burger. “Ahm. Stahved.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” I scold.

Camille wags her head, curls flopping all around her. “Nothing’s changed here.” She turns to Shane. “Of the three of us, Tara’s always been like the mom . . .”

Mel swallows her bite. “Yeah, like the mean, old mom.”

Elastic, not wooden.

Next time, we’ll look at character voice.

Who Are These People? – Making Characters Come Alive, Part 1

One of the most important things a writer can do is create characters that feel like real people. Consequently, when revising and editing a story, an author should take a hard look at his characters to see whether or not he’s brought them to life.

But what if the answer is no? In this case the author needs to look at the basics that create a character—what she does and what she says. In other words, action and dialogue.

The key to believable, realistic character action is proper motivation. Characters need logical, clearly understood reasons for what they do. Consequently, a character who has just experienced a death in the family would not seem believable if he laughs and jokes with his friends, plans his vacation, and cozies up to the girl next door with the intent to ask her out. These are not the normal actions of someone in grief.

They might be the actions an author wants he character to take, however. The missing ingredient is motivation. What would motivate a character who should be grieving to act as if he is not? If the motive is supplied well in advance, and is itself believable, otherwise anomalous actions can become powerful statements disclosing who the character is.

Without proper motivation, however, characters will more closely resemble chess pieces an author is moving around on the board than real human beings.

Story and Voice

This past week, literary agent Rachelle Gardner posted an article on her blog called “Fiction Writing: Craft and Story.”

In this instructive piece, Rachelle distinguishes between these two elements, saying that craft refers to the mechanics of writing fiction, and story is the essence. Here’s the key paragraph:

Story refers to the page-turning factor: how compelling is your story, how unique or original, does it connect with the reader, is there that certain spark that makes it jump off the page? Is it sufficiently suspenseful or romantic? Is the author’s voice distinct and compelling? It’s much harder to quantify than craft, and harder to teach.

Interestingly, I had just recently read an excellent explanation of voice, written by Donald Maass in his book The Fire in Fiction (Writer’s Digest Books). Here’s the quote, which I also left in a comment to Rachelle’s post:

Not all beautifully written novels have a voice, or much of one. Potboiler plots may be exciting, but also may have little flavor. It is when the words on the page demand that I, the reader, take notice that I begin to hear the author’s voice. It isn’t the words alone that do that, I find, but rather the outlook, opinions, details, delivery, and original perspectives that an author brings to his tale.

Above all, a singular voice is not a lucky accident; it comes from a storyteller’s commitment not just to tell a terrific story but to tell it in a way that is wholly his. (pp. 129-130, emphasis mine)

I’m still digesting this powerful statement and trying to work through the implications for my writing. That’s a self-editing exercise I highly recommend.

Let’s Talk Story, Part 5 – Believability

In Part 4 of this short series, I mentioned that plot twists must be realistic. It follows logically that all of the plot must be believable, even fantasies and science fiction.

Granted, readers begin a novel understanding that what they are reading didn’t actually happen. They are ready to accept the concept of pretend. Within a fairly short period of time, however, the novelist establishes a story world with certain rules, and readers accept these and expect them to be consistent throughout.

Hence, J. R. R. Tolkien could create Hobbits, and readers accept them and understand them and expect them to behave in certain ways—the ways the author has dictated. The story, consequently would not have been believable if Frodo turned into a dragon whereas it was completely believable when he became invisible by slipping on the One True Ring.

Even contemporary stories or historicals can lose the sense of believability if they do not adhere to their own story rules. Not too long ago I read a story that supposedly took place during World War I. Never mind that the author actually called it World War I at one point, the real problem was that the segment taking place in a part of the British empire did not show the characters or the setting affected by the war apart from the fact that three individuals went off to foreign places.

No rationing. No shortages. No explanation as to why some men didn’t go to war. No mood of despair or war weariness or hope when America joined in or … you get the idea. Life seemed unaffected by a five year war! That stretches a story to the point of unbelievability.

Story Beginnings – A Look at The Enclave by Karen Hancock

The CSFF Blog Tour is featuring Karen Hancock’s latest release, a science fiction/suspense entitled The Enclave. As I’ve visited other blogs and read reviews, I’ve seen a couple things that stand out to me as a writer, but for now I want to focus on the beginning of the story.

A number of people thought the novel started slowly, but some, like me, were hooked from the beginning. What is it about a book that pulls some readers in right away while leaving others out in the cold? Here are the opening lines of The Enclave:

Cameron Reinhardt is an idiot!

Yes, he had a PhD from Stanford. Yes, he was widely acknowledged as a brilliant geneticist. Yes, Director Swain called him the field’s brightest rising star, the Institute’s greatest asset, and a fabulous hiring coup. But this wasn’t the first time Lacey McHenry wondered how the man managed to get up in the morning and make it to his office fully clothed.

As I examine these lines several things draw me in.

1) A strong opinion. Granted, I don’t know the characters yet, so I don’t know if the point of view character is right and this geneticist is an idiot, or not. But it creates a question in my mind. Is he an idiot?

2) Conflict. The POV character is obviously at odds with the geneticist, but also with Director Swain, and perhaps the entire institute. While all these others think Reinhardt is wonderful, she alone thinks he’s an idiot.

3) The question of an internal struggle. What could motivate someone to go against a leader and an institution? One possibility is that the POV character is truthful and sees things others do not see. Another possibility is professional jealousy. If the latter, then the seeds of an internal struggle have been sown.

For me, these three elements were enough to capture my attention, and the rest of the page and chapter held it firmly.

Let’s Talk Story, Part 4 – Unpredictability, continued

Last time we looked at creating unpredictable characters. Another common method to produce a story that surprises is to include plot twists. These are unexpected events that take a story in a different direction than the reader was anticipating.

Boy confronts bully, only to learn that his opponent is the prince of the land and the best fighter around. Instead of hating the prince, who spares his life, the boy ends up rescuing him soon thereafter. His reward? He’s taken from his apprenticeship to the royal physician, where he’s learning to use his forbidden magical abilities, to become the prince’s manservant.

Anything predictable in what I’ve sketched out? The story is actually very familiar. What I’ve explained is the opening of a new TV program called Merlin.

Yep, the prince is the one-day king of Camelot. And yet, the writers of the show, to keep the viewers from thinking they already know the story, have incorporated unpredictable elements into the plot. Arthur’s father has banned all magic from the kingdom. So how, we wonder, does all this change so that Merlin will one day become Arthur’s closest adviser?

Notice the curiosity that one unpredictable element creates.

But there are a few things to remember when incorporating unpredictability into a plot.

First, the events must be foreshadowed appropriately and motivated properly. Arthur’s father has good reason for banning magic. His concerns are legitimate. If his actions were capricious, either he would appear to be a villain, or the story would appear to be nonsensical.

Which leads to the next point. Plot twists must seem realistic and logical. They can surprise the reader, but in the end, the reader should think the turn of events is reasonable.

Think about the new Star Trek movie. James Kirk goes from disgrace and rejection to captain of the flagship of the fleet. Viewers familiar with the original TV show know Kirk becomes captain, but how did he wind up disgraced and rejected? And how did he turn his circumstances around so completely?

Again, the twist creates curiosity even in a familiar story.

Unpredictable characters, plot twists. These elements make a story one the reader will dive into because he wants to know what happens next.