StillStunned
Writing...
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2023
- Posts
- 7,149
Recently I tried my hand at a 750-word story. Fortunately I decided to run my attempt by a few very obliging friends here in the Hangout first, and their feedback was, "Must try harder."
More concretely, @Devinter criticised my opening lines. This was what I wrote:
This is very fair criticism, and entirely correct. I cut corners and tried to fit the information into the word count and it didn't work.
I've recently read several books about writing and editing, and they all seem to give the same advice. On the sentence level: lose all your adverbs, only use active sentences, drop all your "thats" and "thens", never begin a sentence with "but". (I don't agree with any of these, but that's not the point here). On the story level, it's all about plot points, character arcs, Freytag pyramids, scenes and sequences.
This is all very useful, of course. But there seems to be something missing at the intermediate level. No-one talks about paragraphs.
A paragraph is a series of sentences. Often, you'll see them as blocks of text in between two sequences of dialogue, or just some information that's put in order, and broken off so the reader's eyes don't glaze over. I'm not going to quote any examples, but there have been snippets of AI-generated stories that read like my own opening paragraph above: one separate piece of information after another.
Lately I've started seeing paragraphs as pieces of furniture. Sure, you can nail some planks together and call it a bookcase. You can pile some blocks of wood on top of each other and call it a table.
A properly crafted paragraph is a coherent unit that fits together like something designed by IKEA. Each word serves a purpose, not only by itself but also in relation to the words around it, and it has its place within that unit. In a properly crafted paragraph, you can't remove a single element without the whole thing coming to pieces.
I'll use my own paragraph from above to illustrate this. Here it is again:
Let's see what happens if we add more detail, for example like this:
This is where we need a break. We can't simply tack on the mysterious aura that this stranger projects. We need to give the inn's patrons a moment to take him in and let the creepiness crawl up their spines. So we start a new paragraph.
Clearly this doesn't work within the limitations of a 750-word challenge, but the difference is clear. The separate sentences are tied together by information and theme. The first paragraph now deals with sounds and silence, the second with light and darkness, and the first leads into the second. There are still some rough spots that could use some smoothing over, and the rhythm is slightly off, but I think the general structure works like this.
I also realise that the original lines weren't the best, and normally I'd scrap them entirely and started from fresh. I've improved them here to show how the description can be brought together like a Billie bookcase.
The following sequence is taken from War and Thieves, the second instalment in my sword & sorcery series The Rivals. (It helps to know that the "younger man" whose eyes the POV character meets is someone she knows and that she didn't expect to see him. That's why the jump to the next paragraph is awkward: Avilia is distracted, there's a moment when she has to consciously turn her focus back to her surroundings.)
We follow Avilia as she's walking through the castle. We see what she sees, our mind takes in what her eyes take in. We can picture her stepping into the chamber and looking around at the window, the carpets, the fire, then turning to the occupants. We follow her gaze as she looks at the older man, then to the younger man, then back to the older.
So what's the point of all this? It's not just to show off, and I'm sure there are plenty of you who'll disagree with what I've done here.
No, what I'm actually trying to show is how to distinguish your writing from AI. Don't present your readers with pieces of information: instead, take their eyes on a journey. If you're describing a woman, copy the trick of the Renaissance poets and begin with her head and progress down via her eyes, her nose and her mouth to her throat, chest and boobies. If you're describing a man, start with his feet, follow his legs up to take in the bulge in his trousers and his swimmer's body before reaching his face and being captivated by the knowing look in his eyes.
Decide how to group your information, and make sure that one snippet flows naturally into the next. Tie your words, sentences and paragraphs together and hopefully your reader won't have an excuse to stop.
More concretely, @Devinter criticised my opening lines. This was what I wrote:
And this is what he said:The inn fell silent when the demon hunter stepped inside. Every eye was drawn to the tall frame. The shadow trailing behind him seemed to reach back into Hell. When he removed his wide-brimmed hat, the face told of invisible scars.
I didn't love the very first paragraph [...] I just felt that the sentences didn't flow in the way that you taught me that they should. Seemed like four short lines stacked on top of each other with little variation [...].
This is very fair criticism, and entirely correct. I cut corners and tried to fit the information into the word count and it didn't work.
I've recently read several books about writing and editing, and they all seem to give the same advice. On the sentence level: lose all your adverbs, only use active sentences, drop all your "thats" and "thens", never begin a sentence with "but". (I don't agree with any of these, but that's not the point here). On the story level, it's all about plot points, character arcs, Freytag pyramids, scenes and sequences.
This is all very useful, of course. But there seems to be something missing at the intermediate level. No-one talks about paragraphs.
A paragraph is a series of sentences. Often, you'll see them as blocks of text in between two sequences of dialogue, or just some information that's put in order, and broken off so the reader's eyes don't glaze over. I'm not going to quote any examples, but there have been snippets of AI-generated stories that read like my own opening paragraph above: one separate piece of information after another.
Lately I've started seeing paragraphs as pieces of furniture. Sure, you can nail some planks together and call it a bookcase. You can pile some blocks of wood on top of each other and call it a table.
A properly crafted paragraph is a coherent unit that fits together like something designed by IKEA. Each word serves a purpose, not only by itself but also in relation to the words around it, and it has its place within that unit. In a properly crafted paragraph, you can't remove a single element without the whole thing coming to pieces.
I'll use my own paragraph from above to illustrate this. Here it is again:
Here we have four sentences. You could leave any one of them out and it wouldn't make the paragraph less readable. They're not connected in any way that draws a picture for the mind's eye to follow. We have the skeleton of a paragraph, with nothing to hold the bones together.The inn fell silent when the demon hunter stepped inside. Every eye was drawn to the tall frame. The shadow trailing behind him seemed to reach back into Hell. When he removed his wide-brimmed hat, the face told of invisible scars.
Let's see what happens if we add more detail, for example like this:
Now we start at the door as a stranger enters. The eye turns into the room, with its people and its smells. They fall silent, and the reader's eye turns back to the newcomer.The inn went quiet when the demon hunter stepped inside. Where conversation had hung thick as smoke only a moment before, now silence fell as very eye was drawn to the figure standing in the door.
This is where we need a break. We can't simply tack on the mysterious aura that this stranger projects. We need to give the inn's patrons a moment to take him in and let the creepiness crawl up their spines. So we start a new paragraph.
The problem here is that I cut corners and mention the shadow and hat before their existence is established. So we need some kind of description before we can add the eery details.The inn went quiet when the demon hunter stepped inside. Where conversation had hung thick as smoke only a moment before, now silence fell as very eye was drawn to the figure standing in the door.
The shadow trailing behind him seemed to reach back into Hell. When he removed his wide-brimmed hat, the face told of invisible scars.
Leaving aside the question of whether this imagery works, we now have two short paragraphs that are coherent units instead of loose statements of informationThe lamp over the bar painted a shadow behind him that seemed to reach back into Hell. Darkness covered his face too, until he removed his wide-brimmed hat and revealed traces of invisible scars.
The inn went quiet when the demon hunter stepped inside. Where conversation had hung thick as smoke only a moment before, now silence fell as very eye was drawn to the figure standing in the door.
The lamp over the bar painted a shadow behind him that seemed to reach back into Hell. Darkness covered his face too, until he removed his wide-brimmed hat and revealed traces of invisible scars.
Clearly this doesn't work within the limitations of a 750-word challenge, but the difference is clear. The separate sentences are tied together by information and theme. The first paragraph now deals with sounds and silence, the second with light and darkness, and the first leads into the second. There are still some rough spots that could use some smoothing over, and the rhythm is slightly off, but I think the general structure works like this.
I also realise that the original lines weren't the best, and normally I'd scrap them entirely and started from fresh. I've improved them here to show how the description can be brought together like a Billie bookcase.
The following sequence is taken from War and Thieves, the second instalment in my sword & sorcery series The Rivals. (It helps to know that the "younger man" whose eyes the POV character meets is someone she knows and that she didn't expect to see him. That's why the jump to the next paragraph is awkward: Avilia is distracted, there's a moment when she has to consciously turn her focus back to her surroundings.)
I think this excerpt illustrates how I've grouped together relevant information in paragraphs, and linked the sentences within the paragraphs to each other, and how every piece of information almost naturally leads to the next. I think only the sentence about the window and the view could be removed without requiring further changes.Inside the stone keep, Avilia followed the robed man along narrow corridors and up winding stairs. The place had clearly been built for defence more than comfort. Narrow windows that were closer to arrowslits let in little light, and every few steps revealed a murder-hole or other defensive position.
Only when the chamberlain led her to the highest level and opened a wide door did pragmatism give way to opulence. A wide leaded window dominated the far wall, giving a view out across the rolling moorland. Heavy carpets decorated the walls and covered most of the floor to keep away the chill ingrained in the stone. The cold was kept further at bay by the fire that blazed in the broad stone fireplace, its flames dancing playfully across the tall silver candleholders placed around the chamber.
At the table, with his back to the window, stood a large, imposing man, head down over several large parchments. By his side stood a younger man, slimmer, in the gown of a clerk. He looked up as Avilia entered behind the chamberlain, and their eyes met.
She was aware that the chamberlain was speaking, and dragged her eyes to the large man, who had raised his head to look at her. His broad frame, she now saw, seemed to be pressed down by a great weight, and his face looked haggard. Not surprising, she supposed, after three years of bitter war.
We follow Avilia as she's walking through the castle. We see what she sees, our mind takes in what her eyes take in. We can picture her stepping into the chamber and looking around at the window, the carpets, the fire, then turning to the occupants. We follow her gaze as she looks at the older man, then to the younger man, then back to the older.
So what's the point of all this? It's not just to show off, and I'm sure there are plenty of you who'll disagree with what I've done here.
No, what I'm actually trying to show is how to distinguish your writing from AI. Don't present your readers with pieces of information: instead, take their eyes on a journey. If you're describing a woman, copy the trick of the Renaissance poets and begin with her head and progress down via her eyes, her nose and her mouth to her throat, chest and boobies. If you're describing a man, start with his feet, follow his legs up to take in the bulge in his trousers and his swimmer's body before reaching his face and being captivated by the knowing look in his eyes.
Decide how to group your information, and make sure that one snippet flows naturally into the next. Tie your words, sentences and paragraphs together and hopefully your reader won't have an excuse to stop.