I've read several books on writing advice, and not one favored passive voice in writing. But does it have a purpose?
Passive voice is easiest to explain through an example, such as: The dog was hit by the car. Note that the subject of the sentence (dog) is actually the recipient of the action rather than the actor. The same sentence rendered in active voice is: The car hit the dog. (Perhaps if you put the original sentence in all capital letters, it would become a passive-aggressive sentence.)
I find passive sentences to be apologetic. I'm sorry you had to read this sentence, but here's the rest of what happened; sorry to trouble you. They seem like a mopey friend who sighs before telling their latest tale of woe.
Preferring active voice over passive voice, however, is a style choice; it is not a grammatical rule. As such, we have the liberty, as writers, to choose passive voice whenever we like. We don't even need a flimsy "artistic license" argument.
One purpose for the passive voice is to draw attention to the recipient. Perhaps the actor is less important or even unknown. For example: The dog was hit yesterday.
It might also help with comedic or dramatic timing, such as: The dog was hit yesterday. But there wasn't a scratch on the spaceship.
Passive voice may also help with pacing or dialog (though there really are no rules for dialog since people ignore proper grammar in everyday speech).
But I caution against throwing caution to the wind. Just because we can do something, doesn't mean we can do it well. Active voice is strong; it is direct. It throws down words and means it. Be purposeful in what you're writing, and if you can avoid the passive voice without sacrificing the story, do so. There are times when it might sound better, and if so, go for it. But those times should be few.
I will close with this passive-voice example to demonstrate that it does have its purposes:
"Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few." - Winston Churchill, 1940
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Making a Scene
Don't make a scene! At least, not in real life. But in writing stories, they can be quite useful.
Scenes are slices of a story (or they can be the entire story if there is only one). They offer a way to split a story into smaller sequences. You indicate a separation of scenes using the pound sign (#). For example:
This is the first scene. Some things are happening here.
#
This is the second scene. Other things are happening here.
(When they're published, the editor usually changes these to blank lines or cool graphics, etc.)
Scenes serve a myriad of purposes, but here are some of the common uses:
1. Changing the point of view (POV). It is ill-advised (though certainly not illegal) to change POV's within the same scene because it confuses the reader. For example:
Amy nodded to Bill, but she wished he would die; not necessarily a painful death, just something simple like a decapitation.
Bill smirked. What was Amy thinking, he wondered. She always had a creepy stare.
I've sometimes seen the term "head jumping" with this. Even if you're writing third-person omniscient (meaning that the narrator knows everything), I would approach POV changes cautiously and probably stick with a single POV within a single scene.
2. Changing the setting. Part of a story may take place in the kitchen while the rest takes place down by the river. Unless we're following the characters all the way to the river, it's best to break the two locations into separate scenes. It's not mandatory, but if you want to make a clean break without writing a transition, the scene break allows for that.
3. Passage of time. This is probably a corollary to the previous point, but if part of a story takes place on Monday, and part of it takes place on Friday, it's probably best to separate the two days into their own scenes. This is another area where you can write a transition instead of a scene break, or you could create a scene break along with a written transition.
4. Flashbacks. I was just thinking about flashbacks the other day when. . . No, not really. But if I did, I could jump to the flashback by employing a separate scene for it.
By the way, there is no rule around the minimum length of a scene. If you wish to do so, you could have an entire scene transpire with a single word. As long as you have a purpose in it, go for it. But bear in mind that you're giving the reader a forced break each time you use it.
The number and purpose of scenes really depends on the story itself. But as a reader, if I see a scene break, I know something has changed (POV, setting, time, flashback, etc.), so I'm prepared for that transition, even if it's sudden.
Scenes are slices of a story (or they can be the entire story if there is only one). They offer a way to split a story into smaller sequences. You indicate a separation of scenes using the pound sign (#). For example:
This is the first scene. Some things are happening here.
#
This is the second scene. Other things are happening here.
(When they're published, the editor usually changes these to blank lines or cool graphics, etc.)
Scenes serve a myriad of purposes, but here are some of the common uses:
1. Changing the point of view (POV). It is ill-advised (though certainly not illegal) to change POV's within the same scene because it confuses the reader. For example:
Amy nodded to Bill, but she wished he would die; not necessarily a painful death, just something simple like a decapitation.
Bill smirked. What was Amy thinking, he wondered. She always had a creepy stare.
I've sometimes seen the term "head jumping" with this. Even if you're writing third-person omniscient (meaning that the narrator knows everything), I would approach POV changes cautiously and probably stick with a single POV within a single scene.
2. Changing the setting. Part of a story may take place in the kitchen while the rest takes place down by the river. Unless we're following the characters all the way to the river, it's best to break the two locations into separate scenes. It's not mandatory, but if you want to make a clean break without writing a transition, the scene break allows for that.
3. Passage of time. This is probably a corollary to the previous point, but if part of a story takes place on Monday, and part of it takes place on Friday, it's probably best to separate the two days into their own scenes. This is another area where you can write a transition instead of a scene break, or you could create a scene break along with a written transition.
4. Flashbacks. I was just thinking about flashbacks the other day when. . . No, not really. But if I did, I could jump to the flashback by employing a separate scene for it.
By the way, there is no rule around the minimum length of a scene. If you wish to do so, you could have an entire scene transpire with a single word. As long as you have a purpose in it, go for it. But bear in mind that you're giving the reader a forced break each time you use it.
The number and purpose of scenes really depends on the story itself. But as a reader, if I see a scene break, I know something has changed (POV, setting, time, flashback, etc.), so I'm prepared for that transition, even if it's sudden.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Trimming
I'm in edit mode (and have been for a while now), and it's in such a state that I start trimming words. It's easy to fall into verbose sentences during a rough draft. Like the Spice, the ideas must flow. But when it's time to edit, bring out the clippers.
Here are a few patterns I fall into:
Failing to think of the right word. Rough draft: Jim bought a ticket for the underground train. Trimming: Replace "underground train" with "subway".
Cramming. Rough draft: Jim soiled his crisp, white shirt and silk tie - a gift from his wife two years ago - due to tripping on the third step from the bottom and spilling decaf coffee on himself. Trimming: Break this into several sentences and lose the non-essential details.
Extra words for no purpose (good for high-school essays but bad for stories). Rough draft: Jim wanted to get to his hometown where he grew up. Trimming: It's assumed he grew up in his hometown - otherwise it wouldn't be his hometown - so get rid of the phrase "where he grew up".
Sheer confusion. Rough draft: Jim thought he could outrun ended up left around midnight. Trimming: Figure out what in the world this sentence is supposed to say and get rid of the rest. I don't see this too often, but it's usually a result of trying to edit while I'm writing the rough draft - always a dangerous proposal. So I start rewriting a sentence before actually finishing it, resulting in multiple versions, awkwardly coexisting.
Here are a few patterns I fall into:
Failing to think of the right word. Rough draft: Jim bought a ticket for the underground train. Trimming: Replace "underground train" with "subway".
Cramming. Rough draft: Jim soiled his crisp, white shirt and silk tie - a gift from his wife two years ago - due to tripping on the third step from the bottom and spilling decaf coffee on himself. Trimming: Break this into several sentences and lose the non-essential details.
Extra words for no purpose (good for high-school essays but bad for stories). Rough draft: Jim wanted to get to his hometown where he grew up. Trimming: It's assumed he grew up in his hometown - otherwise it wouldn't be his hometown - so get rid of the phrase "where he grew up".
Sheer confusion. Rough draft: Jim thought he could outrun ended up left around midnight. Trimming: Figure out what in the world this sentence is supposed to say and get rid of the rest. I don't see this too often, but it's usually a result of trying to edit while I'm writing the rough draft - always a dangerous proposal. So I start rewriting a sentence before actually finishing it, resulting in multiple versions, awkwardly coexisting.
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