Recently, I finished a book, after seven months of toiling with it. It was one of those “every word wrung from me with tears” books, and so hard to write. I had to force myself to get on the chair and write some days (and to stop playing pinball or sending emails). Imagine my horror when this book, which I’d almost begun to hate, came up 15,000 words short!

So I went back to page one, and asked myself some more questions: questions for every scene, every paragraph, for almost every sentence. Where are they now? Have I added the five senses to each scene…sights, scents, tastes, sounds and touch, to make each scene vivid in the reader’s mind (I cannot stress enough how important this is to make your book come alive!)? Is the pace correct—too fast, or too slow? Has it got enough action? Why is my character doing this, and have I made sure the reason is compelling? Can I show, through his/her past or present emotions, why this act has come to pass? Will my editor understand what they’ve done and why, or am I taking liberties by knowing my characters too well, taking for granted my editor will, too? Do I need to clarify an action and by that, I mean by adding character depth, not “telling” after showing?

For example:

She slapped him, hard. “You disgust me!” She’d never been so angry with any man in her life, or so appalled. How could he believe she’d do that…unless her past had caught up with her again?

Let’s face it, most of the final two sentences are unnecessary, aren’t they? You’re not going to slap a man unless you are furious, or appalled. So this is not depth, it’s an explanation in case the editor or judge is too dumb to understand that a face slap means anger—or it’s a “filler” sentence for a writer who’s short on words and taking the quick way out.

So, how to add depth while avoiding fillers? Ask the questions.

Okay, I’ll re-write that one paragraph now, asking the questions and hopefully answering them, to give life to an act that is seen as passé these days, and make it compelling instead.

She stood before him, all five-four of her squaring up to his looming strength as he towered over her in the quiet of the dusky garden, and, without warning, she slapped him. Hard. “You disgust me.” His quirky, confident smile faded; his cheek reddened while the rest of his face grew hard and cold, concrete resisting the jackhammer. She dragged in a harsh breath, sucking air in till her lungs felt ready to explode. The gentle jasmine scent was almost obscene in her nostrils as she waited for the words to come, the mocking ridicule of a man unable to believe he wouldn’t be the next in line. So it was back again, the reap-what-she’d-sown consequences of one stupid act. Damn it, she’d been all of seventeen, and it still dragged behind her like a road ganger’s chain.

The first paragraph was two lines. It showed an act, and told how she felt. My version is six lines longer, but I think (hope!) it answers the questions, and, in one paragraph-just one, in a whole book-I’ve gone from 37 words to 135. In my version I’ve added subtle touches, like an artist’s paintbrush, to make this scene live. Sights, sounds, scent, action and reaction…and I’ve gone right inside her mind for her emotions, not just told how she felt. I gave the past without delving into a flashback, and set up a whole new avenue for a storyline. What secret is in her past? I don’t know yet, but I do want to find out what act has ruined her life-don’t you? To me, this is emotional depth, showing, not telling. I have answered the questions I need to, and hopefully opened the way for more questions, leading the reader on to find out what has happened to this girl. Instead of just one act, you create a world within a world, a scene with a life all its own, with its own tension and emotion, and giving dept to a heroine who is really performing an act that is seen as outdated. A paragraph that could just be a lazy “filler” for quick drama now becomes a bridge for the emotional roller coaster to continue.

This is an example of how I work. I usually do this as a complete draft: I “seatz” the first draft, writing the bare bones of my story. Then I use another draft to cut down repeated stuff or adverbs or tags (he said, she said, etc, when an action can be used instead), then I do this draft, and in my opinion, the most vital of all: the beautifying draft. This is the life-giving draft, the most essential part of my work, to lift a plot from the everyday to the living, breathing story I want to present to my editors. This is my kind of emotional depth.

By Terescia Harvey

I came across a great set of articles on writing today as I searched for some inspiration. I’ve read them all before, but rereading them has been inspiring. I’m still not sure why, but reading how-to’s still get me going. I never want to write more than when I’m reading someone else’s ideas of the perfect writing method. It’s all baloney of course, but nevertheless, I love it. (Not the articles, but the idea that there are any two writers who ever do the same thing to produce their written work.)

Each of us has to focus on the methods that work for us. When I read advice about the writing process, I want to believe that it will work for me. But most of the time it doesn’t. Most of the time it’s not going to work for you either.

My own method is a hodge podge of all the advice I’ve read and been given over the years. Some of the things I do go against some very common writing advice. Take the first draft for instance. For me, there’s no such thing. Despite all the people who swear by it, I absolutely can not write an entire book without editing it as I write it line by line.

Of all the books I’ve completed, the only thing they have in common is that I edited as I went. I mean heavy editing. I got my scene down and I got it down solid before I moved on to the next scene. For me this is the only way I can complete a book.

Zipping through to the end creates an uncontrollable panic in me. I’ve made it so far as a few thousand words from the end, but looking back at the mess I’ve created–I become overwhelmed at the work it’ll take to shape it up into a readable story. I lose my way and the story loses its appeal. I abandon good ideas and some solid writing, because I can’t bear to look at it and think about the undone threads. How can I ever trace them all back and pull it together into a cohesive blob? OVERWHELMED just scratches the surface of my feelings.

Pleasure is my motivator for writing, and I find pleasure in molding my story as I go. I have no problems adding plot twists or weaving threads into my books, but I have to do it in the moment, not some weeks or months down the road when I’ve forgotten all the implications of those changes.

I did have a point when I started this piece. My point being only that just as each of our brains fire differently, our writing methods do the same. We’re all different, and how we write reflects that basic truth.
Read articles and tips on writing, apply them and then stick with the ones that work for you. And don’t be afraid to ignore good advice, because my good advice could be your next book’s downfall.

© Terescia Harvey