Tag: writing-fiction

Let’s go through a few simple and easy tricks to make your writing masterful! No expensive writing courses – these are all so very free.

Read and write poetry

I often get complimented on my poetic writing style (no wonder my entire book series is about poetry magic). Here’s what a professional editor said about the sixth book in the series, Poesy:

There’s no real secret to how I have developed my style: the entire start of my journey, from about age 14 to age 26, was writing poetry. I read good novels and practiced my poetry in addition to getting my Brit Lit degree and all that stuff. (I have a chapbook out called The Lucretia Cycle, which is about my sexual assault at age 25. Trigger warning, obviously.)

Why is poetry so helpful for fiction writers? The word flow. Poetry is meant to be spoken aloud, so it needs to have a certain cadence.

As an aside, this is why I hate people who think you can just take a sentence and break it up however you want and call it poetry. No! They’re different forms. You can use poetry to inform your fiction writing style, but it doesn’t really work the other way around.

Anyway, practicing a lot of poetry helps develop your internal voice so that you can self-edit, improving your word flow and making for a smoother reading experience.

To write good poetry, just like with writing good fiction, you need to read good poetry first. Hunt up an anthology of celebrated writers, search “100 best poems of all time,” stuff like that.

As a test for if a poem is good, read it aloud. If it makes no sense and sounds weird, then it’s a bad poem.

Use Microsoft Read Aloud

This goes along with the abovementioned poetry: you want to develop a good word flow. Even if your readers aren’t listening to an audiobook, most people have an internal voice that reads along with them, and they’re going to get annoyed if your writing has a jangly, unpleasant flow.

Of course, there are times when you do want a jangly, unpleasant flow, like when you’re discussing something gross, but most of the time, you don’t want that.

Hearing your work read aloud not only helps you catch typos, but it also lets you notice if you use the same word too many times; the Microsoft Read Aloud voice uses the same tone for the word every time so it’ll be very apparent. You can also ensure that sentences flow smoothly with one another based on the practice you’ve done with poetry.

The other thing that Read Aloud helps with is punctuation, something that a lot of people struggle with. See, the way that we teach punctuation in school sucks because it doesn’t point out that punctuation is basically stage directions for reading aloud; that’s the whole reason it was invented. It helps group words together so that we understand how they are related and how we should verbalize them. Even if your punctuation isn’t grammar-school perfect, it will make sense to readers if it helps them slow down at the right points.

My ultimate goal when revising is to put my headphones on, sit with some knitting, and not have to stop the Read Aloud for several pages. Once I’ve hit that point, I know I’m good to go.

If you write fantasy, you may find Sensory Readable a useful investment because you can create a custom pronunciation guide for unique words or names. You can also select from a wide variety of different voices (I use Microsoft Natural Fiona).

Develop your Theory of Mind

Theory of Mind (ToM) is the ability to understand that someone else may not have the same knowledge, experience, opinions, or beliefs that you do. It is a crucial skill for writers in a variety of ways; I’ll detail a few of them now.

Being aware of audience.

What enraptures us as a writer is not always what our readers will care about. This is why infodumping is annoying; it often is about the writer wanting to show off how smart they are and how much they have thought about their characters.

Writing in an engaging way.

Going along with this, good writers understand that their readers are likely not devoting their lives to any one book; they’re able to recognize that their book is one of dozens or even hundreds that the reader will consume this year. As such, they push to make their book stand out by making it as intriguing as possible.

Considering a reader’s blind spots.

A great beta reader can help you with this, but if you have good ToM, you can rectify these errors yourself by remembering what you haven’t told the reader yet – and what they need to know right this instant.

It also ensures that you explain things in a way that makes sense to readers, such as remembering that not everyone knows the same pop culture references and may not be familiar with certain brands or objects.

Understanding characters’ perspectives.

When my brother started reading my first book, 9 Years Yearning, one of the first things he said was something like “ugh Orrinir is SO down bad for Uileac!! Why can’t Uileac see that!!”

Well, because Uileac is a teenage boy who is also down bad for Orrinir but is terrified of pushing his closest friend away by confessing. Applying Theory of Mind allowed me to write a story where both characters are practically screaming their desire, but neither is willing to take the plunge.

There’s no forced miscommunication, just a very human reaction: accepting one pain (keeping one’s feelings hidden) to avoid another, bigger pain (ruining a close friendship).

Remembering what information only one character has.

Especially crucial in mysteries and thrillers, but it applies to every book in some fashion. Your characters don’t know what the other does unless they are a mind reader (unlikely), they are actually told the information direct from the source, or they sniff around and find it out.

Now, I know that some neurodivergencies have issues with Theory of Mind, but recent neuroscience demonstrates that there are actually a number of ways to improve your ToM.

If you have autism, schizophrenia, or other neurodivergencies, please don’t think it’s impossible for you to become a good writer; it’s absolutely not.

Anyone can become a great writer if they work hard and practice.

No matter your neurotype, no matter your background. I’d never gatekeep this beautiful art from anyone.

I’ve found some resources about improving theory of mind here and here, but there are many more out there. I’d also argue that dialectical behavioral therapy, targeted toward developing theory of mind, would be helpful too.

Be vaguer (within reason)

Keeping some mystery in your works is important for a few reasons.

Invites further reflection.

When everything is spelled out for your readers, there’s little room for them to come up with their own theories and perspectives on your writing.

Gives readers autonomy.

Readers like to take ownership of a world – that’s why we have the entire genre of fanfic. Leaving some things open for interpretation helps them feel like they are part of the experience rather than a passive viewer.

Helps your writing pass the sniff test.

Getting too specific gives readers a chance to go “well acktuahlly” if they happen to be more well-versed in a topic than you are.

I avoid talking very explicitly about archery in my books for this very reason. I’m not a professional archer, though I have practiced it a bit, and I don’t want to annoy anyone who knows more than me.

Avoids infodumps.

Readers’ eyes will glaze over if you throw too much information at them. Let them think. Sprinkling a few tidbits in here and there, then making the reader connect the dots, is far more enjoyable than a wall of irrelevant details.

The funny thing is that what I remember from texts is always the small and charming details rather than the big important plot points and explanations of the world mechanics.

For example, it has been literally 20 years since I picked up a Redwall book, but I remember the sumptuous discussions of the feasts, with all the yummy cheeses and so on. I remember the discussions of the tapestries and the abbey’s tall ceilings. Those are the memorable details, not the exact plot points.

What can you be vague about?

Well, it really depends on what type of book you have – there’s no one-size-fits-all rule. Make a hierarchy of things that are most important for readers to understand, and let everything else be background info.

In general, though, avoid specific measurements. Time, distance, weight, height, and so on, unless they are absolutely critical to the plot for some reason (unlikely). If you’re wrong, readers will be very annoyed.

Listen to IRL conversations

One of my favorite ways to improve dialogue is to watch interrogation videos. You have access to hours of unscripted conversations from a variety of people in all sorts of situations.

But, at the same time, you are not trying to figure out what to say in response to anything because you’ve not having a conversation. It can be challenging to notice verbal tics when you’re working to digest and respond to someone else.

Another popular method is to just plop yourself down at a cafe, or bus, or whatever else, and quietly listen to others without seeming weird.

The important thing about both of these is to choose something where you are passively listening to someone speak without needing to contribute anything.

Do not rely on movies, or other books, or podcasts, or whatever, to build your dialogue skills. These are edited down and agonized over; they are not going to teach you how to sound natural. You need real-life examples.

Say less to do more

Good writing can do a lot of work without extra fluff because the writer is targeting multiple things at once. Excellent authors can build foreshadowing, demonstrate personality, worldbuild, and infuse themes just by having a character walk across a room. Each part moves the plot forward without separating every single thing into its own point.

Sentences can be pretty short, less than two lines, and still powerful. For example, I’m proud of this part from Pride Before a Fall.

As if a world-fever had broken: Orrinir woke feeling sluggish, mind full of marbles that rolled every time he moved. His first thought was of Uileac lain beside him, eyes closed and hair stiff with sweat. A bath would be in order, but later. Assuming the cavalryman even let him.

Clearly Orrinir had a rough night full of unexpected problems, and now he has a mental hangover. He’s tired and has many disconnected thoughts rattling around in his head.

From the “world-fever” part and the fact that Uileac is covered in sweat, we can sense that Uileac was sick but the danger has now passed.

Uileac and Orrinir clearly had some sort of argument, and now Orrinir’s not sure whether his partner will accept his care. We also guess that Orrinir desperately wants to help his partner and is kind of obsessed with him but also scared of rejection. He seems a bit snippy and resentful, too.

Each of these sentences is less than two lines, but they all get a lot done very quickly.

Note also that while I use two unique phrases in the first line, the rest of it is pretty plain. The reader can enjoy the interesting metaphor in the first line, then get back to more straightforward discussions afterward. It’s not a 24/7 purple prose fest.

This is a very hard skill to learn; even after over 15 years of writing regularly, I’m still working on it. However, you can get to that point by just revising over and over again.

Write your draft in as much detail as possible, unconcerned with if it’s wordy or messy. Then, figure out how you can say the same thing more concisely without losing the meaning. Go back in and do this again, and again, until every single word has a reason to be there.

And there you have it. Try out these tips and see whether you’re happier with the result. They have certainly improved my writing, and I hope they’ll work for you too.