It's way past your bedtime, your eyes are sore, your fanny's gone to sleep, and you've been pounding on the keyboard for so long your fingertips wish they belonged to someone else. But you're done! While your story's printing out, you address the mailer, put the stamp on the SASE, and…
Wait a minute. Are you sure your story's really done, that it's the best you can make it?
Set it aside for a week and work on something else. By the time you come back to it, you'll have gained enough distance from it to evaluate it with a critical ear.
That's right, ear. Begin by reading the story aloud, listening to the flow of words. If there's anything that doesn't sound natural, go over it again, and figure out why. Remember, you are using language as a tool, in the same manner that a painter uses paints and canvas - you want to tell people something. Anything that gets in the way of your message, that distracts, say an awkward turn of phrase, has to be smoothed over.
Pay special attention to dialog: does it sound natural? Does it follow the rhythms of natural speech? Just as important, is it in keeping with the characters? A small child who speaks in complex sentences isn't going to convince, nor is the college professor who sounds like a cotton-picker (or vice versa). Make sure, also, that the characters maintain consistent voices throughout the story, or, if they progress, that they do so logically. If you are unsure of how to do this, read "Flowers for Algernon."
A few more points about dialog - is it tight? Normal speech is amazingly disjointed, as you'll realize if you ever listen to a recording of a conversation. People start out saying one thing, go off on tangents, and end up somewhere completely different. Dialog shouldn't do this - it should mimic the rhythms of speech, but have a point and stick to it. In other words, dialog should advance the story. Greetings and such, unless they tell us about the characters (a husband who reacts to his wife's smile with a sharp intake of breath, for example), are dead wood. One good way of keeping the action moving is to have characters respond to questions with questions of their own (don't overdo this, however). To see dialog carry a story, read anything by Elmer Leonard.
How are the words said? In other words, what dialog tag do you use? Avoid shouted, cried, whispered, and such - let the context and the word choice suggest the manner in which the words are spoken. The same goes for adjectives that modify the word "said" - only use a modifier when the words are spoken in a manner that we wouldn't expect. This way, you'll draw attention to the fact.
While we're on the subject of characters - are there any whose names sound similar? I once had a boy named Vico and a wild boar named Vito in a story. I saw them as different in my mind's eye, but a friend of mine got quite confused. If you have characters with similar names, you should change one, unless it is important that the other characters in the story confuse their names.
Have you established the sex of your characters early on? It can be annoying to discover after several pages that the point of view character we were identifying with as a blonde (i.e. female) is actually a blond (i.e. male). Likewise, if the character's race, religion, or whatever is important, let us know early. Don't spring it on us. A warning here - this advice does not mean to introduce each character with a half page description. Nothing slows a story more. If appearances are important, sooner or later the character will stop in front of a mirror (a pond will do in a pinch), or someone else in the story will remark on the character's hair/crutches/whatever. The second technique is better, because then you can show us how the character reacts to the observations. Overall, saying someone has a character trait is much less effective showing it in action - for example, the Mafia Don raising an eyebrow as he stares at his dead lieutenant's widow's cleavage during the funeral - we know what the guy is thinking, and form an opinion about him.
A story is a two way street; we read to be told a story, but we also enjoy making discoveries based on the elements you furnish. Don't spoil the fun by telling us everything; provide the framework, but leave us the minor details. Note the word minor here. It's not fair to withhold information that is essential to the resolution of the tale. This is especially true in mysteries (you are, of course, free to plant as many red herrings as you like).
So, does the story pass muster? No rough edges, the dialog convincing, and no distracting omissions or detours? Good. Now for the hard question: Is it convincing? In other words, when we have made the suspension of disbelief necessary to accept any fiction (especially fantasy/horror/science fiction), do the characters behave convincingly, given the situation in which they find themselves? In a Renaissance setting, do you have a prince fall in love with a shepherdess, and mope for days when she says no? A real Renaissance prince would have had his way with her, and that would have been that. But Romeo kills himself for Juliet, you object. Ah. First, she wasn't a washerwoman. Second, he killed himself only because he thought she was already dead. Given the groundwork Shakespeare establishes, Romeo's suicide is logical and inevitable. But if Romeo had simply killed himself because Juliet spurned him, we wouldn't have had a play.
Characters' actions have to be logical within the framework you have established for them. Be very careful not to place current American values in the hearts of characters who are living in some other place or some other time. Kings didn't believe in democracy (would probably have executed anyone foolish enough to propose it), most peasants didn't have swords, and we don't know what an alien is going to believe in. Certainly not Mom and apple pie. In Shogun, James Clavell does a masterful job of establishing the setting and thought patterns of 15th Century Japan, and in Up the Wells of The World James Triptee does just as good a job of presenting an alien culture. Both books are worth studying.
So, does the story still pass muster? It's not a shootem-up democratic gangster story transplanted to Saxon England? Good. Proofread it. Spelling checkers can't catch the misused word, as in "a yolk of oxen." Nor will they realize you meant it's instead of its. An editor will, but too many mistakes of this type will make the editor wonder what else is wrong with the story. You don't want that.
So, once everything checks out, and the story is as good as you can make it, send it off (with a SASE). And get started on the next one. Good luck!
© Kyle Phillips, 1996. Like what you read? Find
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