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Prose Tip: Simultaneous Syntax

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Quill-and-ink writingWhen fiction writers come to me and ask me to add some spit shine to their prose, there’s a pair of problematic sentence constructions I’m almost guaranteed to run into (nonfiction writers also use these construction, but not as often). These two constructions are grammatically correct, and sometimes they are appropriate to use, so they’re hard to catch. But once you know what to look for, it’s fairly easy to keep a wary eye out for these sentences when you’re revising your work.

These sentence constructions center around
–ing words and as. Permit me two examples:

  • Pulling out her red pen, she sighed.
  • As her eyes hit another –ing sentence, she reached for a match.

The Problem

As you may have noticed, and as I’ve already pointed out, neither of these two sentences is grammatically incorrect. As far as correctness goes, they’re completely sound. The problem with these two sentence types is twofold: 1) you’re making some of your action subordinate to other action, and 2) you’re making two actions simultaneous.

Subordinate action. The first issue is kind of like the argument against passive voice: these constructions minimize action and weaken the impact. As editors Renni Browne and Dave King* say:

Both these constructions take a bit of action … and tuck it away into a dependent clause. … This tends to place some of your action at one remove from the reader, to make the actions seem incidental, unimportant.

If that’s what you intend to do, then you have no problem; using these constructions will be just what you need.

Simultaneous action. The second issue is something you should consider any time you use one of these two constructions. The syntax of these sentences means that both the as or –ing clause and the other clause happen at the same time. In my examples, she pulls out her red pen and sighs at the same time. That’s not a problem. The problem arises when your characters start doing impossible simultaneous things.

  • Pulling on his shoes, he ran out the door. (You can’t run and pull on your shoes at the same time.)
  • She pulled open the door, climbing the stairs. (Unless the staircase is really short, it’s unlikely she can open the door at the top while she’s climbing. Alternately, if the stairs are on the other side of the door, there’s no way she can climb them while she’s opening the door.)
  • Jumping astride the horse, he tucked the trinket into her hair. (I’m not even sure what this guy is doing, but I’m pretty sure it can’t be done all at once.)

Lesser Problems

The other problems with these constructions exist mostly because the constructions are difficult to use properly. The subject of your sentence needs to come immediately after the comma (i.e., Jumping astride the horse, he tucked the trinket into her hair; not Jumping astride the horse, the trinket was tucked into her hair) and you need to punctuate them properly. If you don’t set it up right, then not only are impossible simultaneous things happening, but generally impossible things are happening (how the devil does a trinket jump astride a horse?).

Even if you use them properly, be wary of using these constructions too often. They’re just unconventional enough that they stick out a bit, so if you overuse them your writing starts to draw attention to itself (instead of the story) and it begins to feel false.

The Cure

The cure for these constructions is a pretty simple one: don’t use them. Here are all my examples reworked:

  • She pulled out her red pen and sighed.
  • Her eyes hit another –ing sentence: she reached for a match.
  • He yanked on his shoes and bolted out the door.
  • She pulled open the door and started climbing the stairs.
  • N/A (The last sentence was too messed up for me to fix without knowing what’s going on, and I didn’t think through my example that far. Is the horse a she? Is there another she on the horse?)

If you use one of these constructions, consider whether or not you mean what you’re saying. Is the –ing or as action really subordinate? Do both actions really happen at the same time? If the answer to both questions is yes, then using one of these grammatically correct methods is perfectly all right. But as I mentioned before, be wary of using them too often, even if you use them correctly. If it starts standing between your reader and the story, even the most elegant prose needs to meet either a red pen or a match.
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*This quote is taken from Self-editing for Fiction Writers, by Renni Browne & Dave King. I highly recommend this book to writers who want to do all they can to polish their work before handing it off to an objective eye (whether that’s a reader, a publishing house editor, or a freelance editor).

Image by Simon Howden via FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Sedate Your Inner Perfectionist During First Drafts

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Many aspiring authors struggle to get through their first drafts. This is understandable. You have a brilliant idea, and your story is going to be more than a mere book. It will be a Book of monumental influence and exposure. The trouble is, once you get started on the actual draft, you’ll start seeing flaws, holes, and weaknesses throughout your prose and plot. This will be especially true for any of you who are committing to National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) in November.

Completing the NaNoWriMo challenge requires you to write 50,000 words in a novel during the month of November (technically you are supposed to complete a 50,000-word novel, but many novels run much longer than that). To accomplish that feat, especially if you’re someone with a day job, children, or a full-time student course-load, you’re going to be churning out a lot of crap and filler words—there’s just no escaping it.

Why Crap Is King

The thing is, that’s okay. Regardless of how quickly you’re writing, your first draft is still going to contain a lot of crap. That’s what your own revisions, critique groups, and editors are for. First drafts should follow the advice of editor Maxwell Perkins: “Just get it down on paper, and then we’ll see what to do with it.”

Incidentally, Maxwell Perkins is a legend of editing and publishing. He edited and published writers like F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, and Thomas Wolfe. If the editor of immortal, canonized authors says you really need to just spew your ideas out and think about it later, why should you insist otherwise?

There are a few writers who can turn out nearly impeccable first drafts. However, they are probably aliens. While you’re writing your first draft, cling to your humanity and allow yourself to make mistakes, fumble through troublesome scenes, and throw in a few clichés. It won’t kill you or your story.

How to Sedate Your Inner Perfectionist

When you’re writing your first draft, pattern your #1 rule off Perkins’s advice: Just get it down on paper. Sedate the perfectionist living in your mind and lock him or her in a closet until you’ve written “The End” for the first time. You can use several perfectionist sedatives. You’ll probably have to brew up a particular concoction that suits your particular perfectionist, but here are a few ideas.

Write like you’ve already fixed the problem. When you recognize a fatal flaw in your story, make a conscious decision to write like you’ve already fixed it. For example, if you realize you need a new character, or you need to merge two or more characters, start using the new character right now, even though he or she hasn’t been introduced earlier in the draft. While I was in Brandon Sanderson’s writing class, he explained that this is part of his writing process. In his first drafts, he pretends he’s already made the changes he needs; his first revision consists of going back and filling in those changes. Pretending you’ve already solved the problem can keep you calm, which helps keep your inner perfectionist deep in dreams of neatly organized pencils.

Keep careful notes—away from your draft. If you know you’ve used the word “chilly” approximately 6 million times in a particular chapter, instead of taking the time to go back and replace all your frigid adjectives, make a note of it in a separate document or in a separate notebook. Keeping notes will reassure your inner perfectionist that even if he or she is experiencing nightmares during sedation, there will be a way to straighten everything out when hibernation ends. If you have a list of flaws, it’ll be easy to trek through them in your first pass of revisions, but you don’t have to spend time and lose momentum fixing them in the first draft. Storing that list separate from your draft keeps you from thinking too hard about the flaws while you’re creating.

Display a motivational phrase. Sometimes all you need to keep your inner perfectionist asleep is a comforting lullaby mantra you can chant when you see flaws. Try displaying Maxwell Perkins’s advice close to wherever you write. Maybe you need something more direct, like “Crap is okay … for now.” These sorts of phrases are useful because they remind you that now is not the time to stress about how many syllables you put in the last sentence; they also don’t advise you to settle for less than you’re capable of. Choose a phrase that reminds you that this is step one, and that the first step in a marathon doesn’t need to be perfect.

You’ve got time to make up for stumbles and implement second thoughts during later drafts and revisions. You are capable of writing a Book, but your first draft doesn’t need to be anything more than a draft.

Image by anankkml via FreeDigitalPhotos.net