Highlight the Senses in Your Writing

Long before those adult coloring books became a fad, I loved to color. Whenever my kids pulled out the crayons, I found myself doodling or filling in a page even after they moved on to the Legos.

There’s something soothing and satisfying in the rainbow look and waxy smell of a newly opened box of pristine crayons. Highlighters get to me, too, with their soft neon colors gliding across a smooth page.

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I’m not an artist. I do not paint. I wish I could, so maybe that’s why I welcomed the suggestion to highlight all the senses I could find in my novel. Will the reader taste, touch, see, smell, hear my story? The highlighters are lined up—pink, orange, yellow, green, and blue—each with an assigned sense. I want my pages to pop with the same inviting rainbow as a box of crayons or a package of highlighters.

Color me cautious

Could there be too much of a good thing? I think so. Descriptions draw the reader into the story. But they can stop the action and, well, get kind of boring if they go on too long. I can hear the reader now: “Yes, yes, yes—the trees, the bees, the wind—blah, blah, blah. What’s happening with what’s-her-face and what’s-his-name? Get on with it, already.”

So, a little pink here, a little blue and yellow there, it goes a long way. By appealing to a reader’s senses, hopefully, she’ll get that same pleasure that comes with opening a new box of crayons.

Confession of an exclamation point-aholic

“Hi. My name is Mary R, and I’m an exclamation point-aholic.”

“Hi, Mary,” droned the group of writers. A few disheveled members fidgeted with their phones. Others stared at me with exhausted, burnt-out eyes. The survivors, further along the road to recovery, nodded and smiled.

“It started out innocently enough,” I told them. “I was writing a children’s story, after all.”

“Ohhh nooo,” groaned the crowd.

“I didn’t even think twice about it. I typed ‘Hey,’ and before that second quotation mark even had a chance—shift, tap—I had hit the exclamation point. That punctuation mark pulsed on the screen, and an electric thrill zinged through me.

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“Two sentences later I typed another. Don’t get me wrong. I did think about it before I … Okay, who am I kidding? It popped up on my screen as if it had a life of its own. The energy, the excitement radiated from that slash-dot. My face flushed, my heartbeat quickened. I gave myself over to the ecstasy of exclamation! I was hooked.

“Before I knew it, I had a page full of exclamation points jumping up and down, dancing, flipping, and doing other unspeakable things—in a children’s story, mind you. Some of them clumped in an angry mob—two, three, yes, four! I admit it: four exclamation points in a row!! Adrenaline surged through my veins. I could hear the excitement in my character’s voice. I could feel his energy. He was alive, I tell you, ALIVE!!!

“Sorry.”

One writer shook her head at me. Most held their heads in their hands. I saw a couple wipe away tears. “We’re here for you, Mary,” said one.

“I’m here because of the children,” I told them. “I had nightmares of children jumping on their beds and bouncing off their walls. And it wasn’t because of the plot or the characters or the conflict. It wasn’t because of well-crafted writing. It was because I let loose a gusher of exclamation points that hit them like a frozen slushie tidal wave, like a stampeding sugar rush. In the corner, an editor writhed in pain as if battling an ice cream brain freeze. I did that to them.”

“It was only a nightmare,” whispered someone.

“But it could happen,” I said. “That’s why I’m here.”

A tortoise in the writing race

So, how’s it going? National Novel Writing Month, that is. This would be the almost halfway point in your quest to hammer out 50,000 words on your novel. If you’re like many writers, that bright, shiny goal might be looking duller by the day.

Go ahead and curse NaNo if you wish. I will not judge you. But don’t stop writing.

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I always fancied myself as the tortoise—not the hare—in the writing race. My eyes are fixed on the goal. How fast I get there is not my main concern. Getting there is.

So, if you ruminate over a particular word, or rewrite a scene you labored over last week, or feel compelled to pause to research a detail, that’s okay. The clock may be running out on that NaNo-word-count-thingy, but don’t despair. It’s all about writing anyway.

Whether or not you get those 50,000 words, you are going to wake up December 1st and still write … right? So press on. Write.

Rescue a Comma Today

Comma splices—sad. How did that poor comma get there between two independent clauses? What kind of person expects that wispy curlicue to do the heavy lifting of a period or semicolon?

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What’s a comma splice?

Let me give you some examples. You read, and I’ll cower in the corner until I think you’re done. Here goes:

  • Lucy is boring, she doesn’t know when to shut up.
  • Ed is addicted to chocolate, he eats it all day.
  • Walking outside is healthy, it relieves stress, too.

Comma splices may be as rare as a Yeti sighting, but they’re out there. Believe me. There are also some people who don’t think it’s a big deal. It’s true. There are those who insist if the independent clauses are short and are closely connected, go ahead and use a comma. They say it’s no big whoop.

I beg to differ. That’s how it starts, people. It’s a slippery slope. Can’t you see? Who decides what’s “short,” huh? Who decides what’s “closely connected”—some bleary-eyed writer at the keyboard with one, two, three too many martinis? That guy? Huh?

If you are overwhelmed with the temptation to put a comma between two independent clauses, try using a semicolon. You’ll feel better, and so will I.

If you think you may have commas in need of rescuing, visit I Spy Edits.

Read any funny books lately?

“How long is this dystopian ride going to last?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t even say the word dystopian. That is so over,” the young, bright-eyed literary agent told me. “What’s happening now is gritty realism.”

So, imaginary-futuristic-depressing gave way to contemporary-depressing in middle grade children’s books? Sigh.

“What about humor?”

“Weeell.” She scrunched up her nose and pulled her mouth into a tight line. “Humor is a hard sell,” she said. “It’s so subjective.”

But depressing is not. Got it.

Don’t get me wrong. I got into The Hunger Games as much as anyone. And I know readers—teenagers especially—feed off any devastating and gripping rollercoaster of a read. But do people want to read that all the time?

I like humor. Unfortunately, I don’t see enough of it on the bookshelves—for middle grade, young adults, and beyond.

Remember when Oprah had her TV book club? I would look for that little Oprah seal on a paperback and buy it. However, I bailed out early. My God, no wonder suburban housewives drink. Isn’t real life rocky enough without a constant consumption of depressing books?

Not much has changed since my conversation with the agent more than a year ago or even when Oprah first started her book club way back when. Are writers sad and angsty and tragic in general? Or is all that stuff just natural to write about?

I know I might be alone out here in La-La-Happy-Land, but … come on! Where’s your sense of humor, publishers? Writers? Help a reader out.

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Writers: Beware of sound-alike words

Do you know the difference between the words stationary and stationery?

When I edited articles for a parenting magazine, we got a charming piece about thank-you notes and how kids can create their own stationery. Charming. Except the writer kept using the word stationary, meaning not moving. Apparently, she didn’t catch the difference between stationary and stationery—and neither did her spell-check.

Homophones, words that sound alike but are spelled differently, can be a pain (as opposed to a pane). Examples:

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principle – principal

capitol – capital

cite – site

discreet – discrete

enumerate – innumerate

lightening – lightning

canvas – canvass

elicit – illicit

fare – fair

flair – flare

foreword – forward

peek – peak – pique

 Also:

  1. Did she arrive in the nick of time or the knick of time?
  2. He got his just deserts or his just desserts?
  3. I waited with bated breath or baited breath?
  4. The tortoise had free rein of the house or free reign of the house?
  5. Did he wreak havoc or reek havoc?

Answers:

  1. nick
  2. deserts (Surprise!)
  3. bated
  4. rein (I’m not lying.)
  5. wreak

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So, let’s be careful out there. Give your words a double take.

The misuse and abuse of ’s

I interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you this editing reminder: Stop writing it’s when you should be writing its.

It’s is a contraction for it is or it has. Forever and ever. Amen.

So, you would write: The scruffy dog scratched at its fur. No apostrophe. An s would mean: The scruffy dog scratched at it is fur. Makes no sense.

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When to blow off the ’s

Plurals seem to cause the greatest misuse of ’s. According to The Chicago Manual of Style, these plurals should be written with no apostrophe:

  • the three Rs
  • the 1990s
  • IRAs
  • URLs
  • BSs, MAs, PhDs
  • The McAdams (or any family name on your holiday cards or invitation list)
  • As for her grades, she got three As, two Bs, and one C. (Grades are not italicized.)
  • ifs and buts
  • dos and don’ts
  • threes and fours
  • thank-yous
  • maybes
  • yeses and nos

but

  • x’s and y’s and all other lowercase letters (Note: Single letters that represent themselves are usually italicized. The ’s is not. However, italics is not used in these two common expressions: Mind your p’s and q’s. Make sure you dot the i’s and cross the t’s.)

Get it? Good. Write on.

Visit I Spy Edits for copy editing services.

The semicolon—pretentious punctuation?

I don’t know why, but every time I see a semicolon while reading fiction, I get the same reaction:  “Why, you pretentious little piece of punctuation, who do you think you are? You’re just a snobby little period dressed in your fancy, schmancy, curly, long dress.”

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Weird, huh? I know it’s a kooky hang-up. The only time I should get strange about the use of a semicolon is when it’s misused or abused.

When to use a semicolon

  • Commas are used to set off a series of items or phrases in a sentence. But when those items or phrases include commas, you need to use a semicolon for clarity.

Examples:

I have lived in Goolagong, Utah; Howsit, Texas; and Upyonder, Montana.

The man was an intense, meticulous, and obsessive house cleaner; a tireless, hardworking, and loyal employee; and an all-around nice guy.

  • Semicolons are used to join two independent clauses that are closely connected.

Examples:

Jewelry makes a nice gift; power tools are better.

Chocolate is not a dessert; it’s a major food group.

I couldn’t look at her; she cracked me up.

  • Semicolons are also used when two independent clauses are joined by a conjunctive adverb:

Examples:

The young man was brilliant; however, he was difficult and unreliable.

They all showed up to my party; furthermore, they brought gifts.

Truth be told, the semicolon is a useful tool. Of course, I have used it when writing a series of items that included commas. That’s unavoidable. The other times …

I admit I have been tempted to box away a period or two and try on a semicolon—just to see how I look in it. But it seems so Dom Pérignon and caviar. I’m a beer-and-pretzel kind of writer, after all. I don’t mean Stella Artois, either. I mean the whatever’s-cheapest-and-on-tap kind.

So, yeah. I’m sticking with the tried and true, plain, old period. I’ll leave that fancy period-in-a-dress to the more erudite and sophisticated writers.

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Tips to keep you writing

Many have the notion that writing is this airy fairy, artsy fartsy pursuit. Creativity can only come if you’re feeling inspired. You need that spark that unleashes your imagination. You need that idea to pop up and grab you. You need your muse to lift you to that lofty realm of creative consciousness. You need your coffee.

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Baloney. Well, maybe you need your coffee. But you can’t wait for that warm, fuzzy writing feeling to overwhelm you. Sometimes it doesn’t happen—for a long time.

Just write. Write now.

Set goals

  • Decide who and what

Maybe you don’t know what to write about it, but you can decide now who you want to write for: children’s magazines, a hobby magazine, a contest, or a traditional book publisher.

From there, whittle it down: an article on how to pick a family pet, a children’s nonfiction picture book on worm farming, a murder mystery, a memoir  …

Take a gander at the library and bookstore shelves. Jot down ideas.

Go to book or magazine publishers’ websites. Find their writers guidelines and see what they want.

  • Schedule time

It’s up to you to decide how much time you can or need to devote to your writing. But devote, you must—even if it is one evening a week, or two hours on Sunday, or 20 minutes a day. Schedule the time in your calendar.

  • Set deadlines

Fill your calendar with deadlines: The third week of next month, I will have my children’s story finished and ready to submit. Three months from today, I will have the first three chapters of my novel written.

Make a chore chart, if you need to: start outline on YA novel, edit nature article, rewrite ending of short fiction story. Check off each goal and add to the chart.

Also, make a chart to keep track of submissions to magazines, publishers, and agents. Include date of submission, response (if ever) date, published or no, payment info.

Go out to write

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  • Treat writing like a job

Get up, get dressed, and drive or walk yourself to your writing job—at a coffee shop, the library, at a picnic table in the park.

While writing in your jammies is a definite perk, sometimes it’s easy to get distracted at home. When you’re grappling with the first seeds of a story, it’s too tempting to find other ways to be “more productive.” There’s always something to do around the house, after all

This was my problem. I had only the vaguest idea for a story, and I couldn’t move forward. So, I found a local coffee shop filled with people tapping away on their laptops. It worked. I couldn’t just sit there and stare into space—I had to do something. I started writing on the topic and didn’t stop until I had a story.

  • Write with writers

Plan to meet often and promise to keep chatting to a minimum. Set the timer on your phone to sit and write and nothing else.

  • Invest in writing

Classes, workshops, seminars, retreats—they all have something in common: They force you to write.

When I needed to exercise, but wasn’t making time to do it, I signed up for a class. Paying for the time motivated me to attend. Who wants to waste money?

Be accountable

  • Critique group

Once or twice a month, pages are due—online or in person. My writers group gives me plenty to write about each month—or should I say rewrite?

  • Writing partners

Besides the critique group, I meet with a writing partner once a month. We share what we’ve written, what we’ve submitted, talk about writing goals, and give a few words of encouragement.

  • Don’t be perfect

Sometimes writing seems easy—the idea’s there, the words are flowing, the page on the screen is filling up. But sometimes, it’s not. Write anyway. Write anything.

Pick someone at that coffee shop. Write a description. Imagine a personality, a life. Write. It doesn’t matter if it’s good. It doesn’t matter if you’ll ever use it. It will get you writing. And maybe that’s the simple goal you need right now.

Writers: What’s your favorite word?

I bet I could guess your favorite word. I’m not psychic, but if you’re like many writers, I could figure it out.

When I combed through my first manuscript looking for my most-used word, it became clear after just a few pages. And there it is. Did you see that cute hunky nugget? Just.

Oh just, how do I love thee? Let me count the times I write thy name.

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If just were a man, I’d cook him dinner, text him 20 times a day, stalk him, stand outside his apartment, and beg him to let me have his baby. That’s how many times I write just in my stories.

I read a novel—the first in a series—by a writer who had her work turned into a cable movie series.

The story was intriguing, but this word kept popping up: sardonically. After one, two, three times, I didn’t pay much attention. But then it kept jumping up and poking me in the eye. Halfway through the book, I yelled “For the love of God, get a thesaurus!” Or delete a few. Or rewrite to show, not tell.

But I kept reading. It was an interesting story … and the author is a bajillionaire, after all. And I am, well, not.

Maybe you don’t care if you use the same word over and over. Maybe you have such a compelling story, you think it doesn’t matter. But I implore you, if you have any compassion at all, or feel any kinship with readers, for the love of all things biblio- and bookish, please get a thesaurus.

Or take your favorite word and get a room.

 

For a closer look at your manuscript, visit I Spy Edits