(My title is  a visual metaphor for “filter,” as I’m sure you figured out. I think a #4 is especially thick, though I have no personal experience.)

  Fending Off Filters
A Key to Vivid Writing

by James Thayer

How can we get readers to sink into the dream?  How can we craft a story that is so compelling that the reader forgets she is in a chair in her den, and is taken to our desert island or medieval castle or Civil War battlefield or Planet Zerzix? 

A powerful technique for bringing the reader right into the story is to avoid filters, which are word phrases that insert the character between the reader and the action.  John Gardner cautioned against “the needless filtering of the image through some observing consciousness.”  The observing consciousness is the story’s character, and the word phrases most often used as filters are he saw and she heard. 

She saw the bird land on the branch is filtered with the phrase she saw.  The image is more direct this way: The bird landed on the branch.  This is filtered:  He heard the cymbals crash and the drums pound.  This is unfiltered: The cymbals crashed and the drums pounded.  In these two filtered sentences, she saw and he heard represent a consciousness intervening between the reader and the action.  Due to the filter, the reader looks at the character looking at the bird, rather than the reader looking directly at the bird.  The filter makes the reader look at the character hearing the cymbals and drums, rather than the reader directly hearing the cymbals and drums.  Filtering creates distance between the reader and the action. 

Gardner says “vividness urges that almost every occurrence of such phrases as ‘she noticed’ and ‘she saw’ be suppressed in favor of direct presentation of the thing seen.”  The gangster climbed out of the limousine is more vivid than He saw the gangster climb out of the limousine. 

Here is a scenario with many filters, with the filters in italics: 

Betty walked to the kitchen nook and sat on a chair near the window.  She looked out the window and she saw the gray Ford parked under the cedar tree across the park.  It seemed to her, though, that something was wrong with the car.  She noticed that it was tilted slightly, and then saw that the rear wheel was resting on the rim. 

This is the same scenario, without the intervening consciousness created by the filters. 

Betty walked to the kitchen nook and sat on a chair near the window.  A gray Ford was parked under the cedar tree across the park.  Something was wrong with the car.  It was tilted slightly, and the rear wheel was resting on the rim. 

Here is another filtered scenario.  Notice how the filters give the reader a feeling of distance from the action because the reader is watching the watchers, rather than watching the action.  The filters are in italics. 

His tie too tight and his shoes polished to mirrors, Paul walked onto the gym floor.  His impression was that the gym was crowded.  He noticed that his pals Jerry and Alex were standing by the drinking fountain.  He saw them wave at him, and gesture for him to join them.  But first he wanted to locate Brooke.  Maybe he could find to courage to ask her to dance.   

He heard the DJ introduce the next song.  He listened as the PA system squawked like it did at basketball games.  He saw Brooke over by the basketball hoop.  He watched as she was leaned toward her friends, laughing and chatting.  It seemed to Paul that she was wearing the gold heart he had given her for Valentine ’s Day.  He saw her glance at him, then quickly look away.  Maybe she was avoiding him. 

He was aware that Jerry and Alex were watching him.  They would tease him if he didn’t approach Brooke.  He saw them make funny faces at him, and noticed that Jerry had tucked his hands under his armpits and was flapping his elbows, the chicken gesture.  He heard Alex call, “Go for it, Paul.” 

The reader is constantly directed to Paul, with he heard, his impression was, he noticed, he saw, he listened, he watched, it seemed to Paul.  With all of his awareness forced on the reader, Paul is standing between the reader and the sock hop. 

Illustration by Jennifer Paros – Copyright 2010

In the same scenario without the filters, the reader is right there on the gym floor: 

His tie too tight and his shoes polished to mirrors, Paul walked onto the gym floor.  The gym was crowded.  His pals Jerry and Alex were standing by the drinking fountain, and they waved at him and gestured for him to join them.  But first he wanted to locate Brooke.  Maybe he could find to courage to ask her to dance.   

The DJ introduced the next song.  The PA system squawked like it did at basketball games.  Brooke was over by the basketball hoop.  She was leaned toward her friends, laughing and chatting.  She might have been wearing the gold heart Paul had given her for Valentine ’s Day.  She glanced at him, then quickly looked away.  Maybe she was avoiding him. 

Jerry and Alex were watching him.  They would tease him if he didn’t approach Brooke.  They made funny faces at him, and Jerry tucked his hands under his armpits and was flapping his elbows, the chicken gesture.   

Alex called, “Go for it, Paul.” 

In this version, the reader gets to listen to the music and watch Jerry and Alex and look at Brooke and see the crowd at the dance, rather than watch Paul listen to the music, watch Paul watch Jerry and Alex, watch Paul look at Brooke, and watch Paul see the crowd.  In the filter-free version, there is less distance between the reader and the dance. 

Exceptions exist to the filter avoidance rule.  First: occasionally the reader may need to be reminded which character has the point of view.  Whose eyes are seeing the action?  Where is the reader during the action in the scene?  A strong point of view keeps the camera angle clear in the reader’s mind, and so she saw or he heard is sometimes useful. 

Second, the reader might need to learn that a character specifically noticed something.  Perhaps the character’s boyfriend tried to surreptitiously gulp down a pill.  He attempted to hide it from her, but she saw him.  Here, She saw him throw the pill into his mouth is filtered by the she saw, but the filter works to let the reader know he didn’t get away with it. 

And third, sometimes in great moments of emotion, filters will work to remind the reader of the character’s awe or wonder or surprise or revulsion or attraction.  The filter can help focus on the character for a particular moment.  Here, in one of literature’s most powerful scenes, is Edmond Dantés finding Abbé Faria’s treasure on the Isle of Monte Cristo: 

. . . Dantés could see an oaken coffer, bound with cut steel; in the midst of the lid he saw engraved on a silver plate which was still untarnished, the arms of the Spada family—vis., a sword, pale, on an oval shield, like all the Italian armorial bearings, and surmounted by a cardinal’s hat; Dantés easily recognized them, Faria had so often drawn them for him. 

After Edmond spent fourteen years in the dungeon of the Chateau d’If—some of that time wondering whether Abbé Faria’s tale of the fabulous gold and jewel treasure is true or is a fragment of the abbé’s imagination—Alexandre Dumas makes sure—with the use of filters–the reader gets to watch Edmond discover the treasure, which helps emphasize Edmond’s giddiness and relief that the treasure is indeed in the cave.  

Most times, though, question the use of filters.  Avoiding he saw, she heard, she noticed and the other filters will bring the scene closer to the reader, and make it more compelling.
]]> http://allwriterswelcome.wordpress.com/2010/06/21/writing-through-a-pair-of-4-pantyhose/feed/ 1 John Reed http://allwriterswelcome.wordpress.com/2010/06/14/help-for-writers/ http://allwriterswelcome.wordpress.com/2010/06/14/help-for-writers/#comments Mon, 14 Jun 2010 22:35:41 +0000 John Reed http://allwriterswelcome.wordpress.com/?p=172 ]]> Go check out the writing advice Fr0m Hope Clark:

http://www.fundsforwriters.com/newsletterconfirmation.htm

Anger is a secondary emotion. It masks the real, underlying emotion (probably fear, in this case). Your job is to explore that underlying emotion in your angry characters. No doubt that an angry confrontation makes for good tension, keeps interest high. But to really tease the story out, you have get inside these angry feelings. What’s really at stake for your characters? How did they get this way? What are they gonna do about it? Ponder this.

Old John says, “Knock it off.”

What is it? Read on, compadres.

(The advice below comes from Suzanne Hartman’s blog)

 The goal when we write fiction is to make the readers feel like they are in the POV character’s head, seeing, feeling, sensing, thinking right along with the character. When we use words like “felt,” “saw,” “heard,” and “wondered,” we unnecessarily filter the senses through the POV character.

Why is this bad?
1) It puts distance between the readers and the character. It reminds the readers they are outsiders—just observers rather than in the scene with the characters.

2) These extra verbs minimize the impact of the true action (what was sensed),

3) By stating the sense, we are telling the reader something instead of showing it.

Since the readers already know they are seeing, hearing, and feeling everything the POV character, there is no need to tell them that the character saw, felt, heard or wondered something. Instead, simply state what the character thought or felt or saw.

Examples =
1) He saw her step tiptoe around the lilac bush.
2) He felt his heart race.

Correction =
1) She tiptoed around the lilac bush.
2) His heart raced.

(Off-stage voice: Hey, isn’t he the competition?)

 So what? If he can help a writer, I’m good with that. Read on!

How Your Novel’s Point of View Affects Your Characters

by Jason Black

Perhaps nothing is as fundamental to the reader’s experience of your novel’s characters as the novel’s point of view (POV).  The exact same story will feel entirely different if written once in third-person POV and again in first-person.

The array of POV choices at the modern novelist’s disposal is somewhat dizzying, and each leaves its mark on a book and on that book’s characters.  Making the right choice means understanding how each POV presents your plot and characters, and how each one shapes the connection between your readers and your characters.

Third-person omniscient

This is the classic external-narrator POV, in which an abstract and omniscient narrator tells the reader everything that’s happening.  In this POV, the writer can literally show the reader anything at any time.

Third-person omniscient is a great choice when you have a complex plot with several main characters and minor characters who follow multiple story lines until things meet up at the end. It is ideal if your goal is to allow the reader to watch everything unfold even though the characters aren’t aware of all that’s going on.

However, third-person omniscient is emotionally very cold because it is the most distant from your characters. Third-person omniscient often flits about from here to there, jumping into and out of different characters heads, giving the reader a much more difficult job in forming any close emotional ties with the characters.

Third-person omniscient is often the best choice for books where the plot is the central attraction. If you’re writing a so-called “Plot monster” novel that doesn’t have much in the way of character arcs, this could well be the way to go.

Third-person limited

The only difference between this POV and third-person omniscient is that you funnel the entire story through one character’s viewpoint. You can show what the POV character sees, hears, thinks, believes, and feels. But you may only show those things. Nothing else.  Showing anything the POV character doesn’t directly experience is dis-allowed.

This disciplined viewpoint gives the POV character and the reader exactly the same information. It closes the emotional distance between them, and is very effective at letting the reader share the character’s experience of the story.  It is an excellent choice for linear plots with a single main character who experiences all the important plot events.

Third-person limited offers a nice balance between a plot-driven story and a character-driven story. It is often a good choice when the outer events of your plot are closely tied to the protagonist’s inner growth.

First-person

This is when a character is the narrator of his or her own story, relayed in present tense as it unfolds or in past tense from after the events have transpired.  Because of the reliance on a single main character, first-person stories usually require the same type of linear plots as third-person limited POV.

First-person POV presents the smallest emotional distance between the reader and the main character. Thus, first-person is a great choice when the story is more about the inner character arc than it is about the outer plot. It is also the hardest POV to write well because it demands a very strong, compelling voice.

The presentation of information is very different between first-person and third-person limited. In a first-person story the reader’s perception is that the narrator—a character—is telling them the story. Implicitly, that narrator chooses what to tell the reader, what to omit, and what spin to put on events. Readers know the character may not be telling them the whole truth.  In third-person limited, the reader perceives the writer more directly as the one providing the narration, and the writer isn’t supposed to lie to the reader. That’s cheating.

Specialty POVs

Finally, there are a few unusual POV choices and variations on the above choices that bear mentioning:

First-person plural: This is when the narrator is a group of people and the story is told from a “we” point of view. A good example is the classic Cheaper by the Dozen, by Frank Gilbreth, which is about a family’s father but is told from the collective point of view of the children.  Very few novels have a premise which permits this, but for those that do it can give the reader a sense of inclusion in the group, as though the reader were included in the collective “we” relating the story.

Second-person: This is when an author puts the reader directly into the story by using “you” as the main character: “You walk into the cafeteria, wrinkling your nose at the smell of mystery meat and canned peas.”  Second-person stories are rare for good reason: this can easily feel more like a gimmick than a good writing choice. However, if done well this POV nearly eliminates the emotional distance between the reader and the main character.

Multiple POVs: This is when you apply the techniques of the above POVs to multiple characters in the same book. The danger here is in giving the reader “POV whiplash,” by switching among POV characters haphazardly. Generally, don’t switch POV characters unless you’re at a scene or chapter break.

Finally, when choosing your novel’s POV, consider the above guidelines and ask yourself these questions:

1. Does the structure of your story force you into a particular choice?

2. What’s more important: your plot, or your characters? Or are they about the same?

3. How close do you want the reader to feel towards your characters?

Give some careful thought to these guidelines, and take your time in answering those three questions. After all, choosing the right point of view is important, even critical, to the success of your novel.  

More Author Articles…
 

Jason Black is a book doctor who actively blogs about character development. He recently appeared at the 2009 PNWA Summer Writers Conference and was the featured speaker at the March 2010 PNWA members meeting. To learn more about Jason or read his blog, visit his website at www.PlotToPunctuation.com.
]]> http://allwriterswelcome.wordpress.com/2010/05/24/pov-demystified-almost/feed/ 0 John Reed http://allwriterswelcome.wordpress.com/2010/05/18/stuff-agents-hate/ http://allwriterswelcome.wordpress.com/2010/05/18/stuff-agents-hate/#comments Tue, 18 May 2010 16:16:07 +0000 John Reed http://allwriterswelcome.wordpress.com/?p=161 ]]> When you’re contacting an agent, don’t do any of this crap.

“Anything cliché such as ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ will turn me off.  I hate when a narrator or author addresses the reader (e.g., ‘Gentle reader’).”
        - Jennie Dunham, Dunham Literary

“Sometimes a reasonably good writer will create an interesting character and describe him in a compelling way, but then he’ll turn out to be some unimportant bit player. Other annoying, unoriginal things I see too often: some young person going home to a small town for a funeral, someone getting a phone call about a death, a description of a psycho lurking in the shadows, or a terrorist planting a bomb.”
        - Ellen Pepus, Signature Literary Agency (formerly Ellen Pepus Literary)

“I’m really turned off by a protagonist named Isabelle who goes by ‘Izzy.’ No. Really. I am.”
        - Stephany Evans, FinePrint Literary Management

“I dislike opening scenes that you think are real (I rep adult genre fiction), then the protagonist wakes up. It makes me feel cheated.  And so many writers use this hackneyed device. I dislike lengthy paragraphs of world building and scene setting up front.  I usually crave action close to the beginning of the book (and so do readers).”
        - Laurie McLean, Larsen/Pomada Literary Agents

“I do in fact hate it when someone wakes up from a dream in Chapter 1, and I dislike an overly long prologue.  The worst thing that you can do is let that crucial chapter be boring – that’s the chapter that has to grab my interest!”
        – Michelle Brower, Folio Literary Management (formerly Wendy Sherman Associates)

“I don’t like an opening line that’s ‘My name is…,’ introducing the narrator to the reader so blatantly. I might be prompted to groan before reading on a bit further to see if the narration gets any less stale. There are far better ways in Chapter 1 to establish an instant connection between narrator and reader. I’m also usually not a fan of prologues, preferring to find myself in the midst of a moving plot on page 1 rather than being kept outside of it, or eased into it.”
        – Michelle Andelman, Lynn C. Franklin Associates (formerly Andrea Brown Literary Agency)

“I hate seeing a ‘run-down list:’ Names, hair color, eye color, height, even weight sometimes.  Other things that bother me is over-describing the scenery or area where the story starts.  Usually a manuscript can lose the first 3-5 chapters and start there. Besides the run-down list preaching to me about a subject, I don’t like having a character immediately tell me how much he/she hates the world for whatever reason.  In other words, tell me your issues on politics, the environment, etc. through your character.  That is a real turn off to me.”
        – Miriam Hees (editor), Blooming Tree Press

“Perhaps my biggest pet peeve with an opening chapter is when an author features too much exposition – when they go beyond what is necessary for simply ‘setting the scene.’ I want to feel as if I’m in the hands of a master storyteller, and starting a story with long, flowery, overly-descriptive sentences (kind of like this one) makes the writer seem amateurish and the story contrived. Of course, an equally jarring beginning can be nearly as off-putting, and I hesitate to read on if I’m feeling disoriented by the fifth page. I enjoy when writers can find a good balance between exposition and mystery. Too much accounting always ruins the mystery of a novel, and the unknown is what propels us to read further. It is what keeps me up at night saying ‘just one more chapter, then I’ll go to sleep.’ If everything is explained away in the first chapter; I’m probably putting the book down and going to sleep.”
       - Peter Miller, Peter Miller Literary

“1. Squinting into the sunlight with a hangover in a crime novel. Good grief — been done a million times. 2. A sci-fi novel that spends the first two pages describing the strange landscape. 3. A trite statement (“Get with the program” or “Houston, we have a problem” or “You go girl” or “Earth to Michael” or “Are we all on the same page?”), said by a weenie sales guy, usually in the opening paragraph. 4. A rape scene in a Christian novel, especially in the first chapter. 5. ‘Years later, Monica would look back and laugh…’ 6. “The [adjective] [adjective] sun rose in the [adjective] [adjective] sky, shedding its [adjective] light across the [adjective] [adjective] [adjective] land.”
       - Chip MacGregor, MacGregor Literary

This series is called “Successful Queries” and I’m posting actual query letters that succeeded in getting writers signed with agents. In addition to posting the actual query letter, we will also get to hear thoughts from the agent as to why the letter worked. 

The 25th installment in this series is with agent Jeff Kleinman (Folio Literary) and his author, Garth Stein, for his book, The Art of Racing in the Rain.

Buy “The Art of Racing in the Rain”

From: Garth Stein
To: Jeff Kleinman
Re: Query: “The Art of Racing in the Rain”

Dear Mr. Kleinman:

Saturday night I was participating in a fundraiser for the King County Library System out here in the Pacific Northwest, and I met your client, Layne Maheu. He spoke very highly of you and suggested that I contact you…

I am a Seattle writer with two published novels. I have recently completed my third novel, The Art of Racing in the Rain, and I find myself in a difficult situation: my new book is narrated by a dog, and my current agent  told me that he cannot (or will not) sell it for that very reason. Thus, I am seeking new representation.

The Art of Racing in the Rain is the story of Denny Swift, a race car driver who faces profound obstacles in his life, and ultimately overcomes them by applying the same techniques that have made him successful on the track. His story is narrated by his “philosopher dog,” Enzo, who, having a nearly human soul (and an obsession with opposable thumbs), believes he will return as a man in his next lifetime.

My last novel, How Evan Broke His Head and Other Secrets, won a 2006 Pacific Northwest Booksellers Association Book Award,  and since the award ceremony a year ago, I have given many readings, workshops, and lectures promoting the book  When time has permitted, I’ve read the first chapter from The Art of Racing in the Rain. Audience members have been universally enthusiastic and vocal in their response, and the first question asked is always: “When can I buy the book about the dog?” Also very positive.

I’m inserting, below, a short synopsis of The Art of Racing in the Rain, and my biography. Please let me know if the novel interests you; I would be happy to send you the manuscript.

Sincerely,

Garth Stein

Commentary from Jeff

Let’s start from the beginning. First of all, putting both the words “Query” and the title of the book on the subject line of an e-mail makes it clear why you’re writing—and it often keeps your e-mail from falling into the spam folder.

One of the best ways of starting out correspondence is figuring out your connection to the agent. It’s always best to have a referral, but if you don’t know a lot of writers, try to determine if the agent represents any authors you like. Similarly, find first novels you really love, and look in the acknowledgments section—it’s where most authors thank their agent.

The author has some kind of track record. Who’s the publisher, though? Were these both self-published novels, or were there reputable publishers involved? (I’ll read on, and hope I find out.) Then it hits—a-ha—so he had an agent. This seems promising, but also know this kind of approach can backfire, because we agents tend to be like sheep—what one doesn’t like, the rest of us are wary of, too (or, conversely, what one likes, we all like). But in this case getting in the “two published novels” early is definitely helpful. Also, there’s something in the “Thus” that, to me, spoke of the author’s determination not to give up just because one agent didn’t like it.

The third paragraph is the key pitch paragraph and Garth gives a great description of the book—he sums it up, gives us a feel for what we’re going to get. It’s short and gets the job done. This is the most important part of your letter.

Obviously it’s nice to see the author’s winning awards. Also good—the author’s not afraid of promoting the book himself. By now I’m salivating, wanting to see this. The end is simple and easy—it doesn’t speak of desperation, or doubt, or anything other than polite willingness to help. And all the punctuation was in the right spot. That’s it. He’s done. Mission accomplished.

      You’ll find lively, humorous sessions on: The Sloooow Start, Shaky Structure, Perfect Then Push On, Research-o-Rama, Who Are These People? Dialog Gaffes, Lost in Transitions, Weak-kneed Scenes and Marketing Fuzzout. Participants are invited to bring works-in-progress. Hands-on exercises will help participants apply the “fixes” to their manuscripts.

John Reed, workshop leader, is a well- known Northwest writer, teacher and Conference presenter. Reed is a staff instructor at the Santa Barbara Writer’s Conference and has taught at the Maui Writer’s Retreat, the Willamette Writer’s Conference, and the Pacific Northwest Writer’s Conference, among others. He is the creator of the Writer’s-By-The-Sea workshop series and offers an editing and critique service for writers at www.writerswelcome.com .

Workshop registration fee is $200.00.  A complimentary continental breakfast will be provided. You’ll find a printable registration form in the “Top Ten Registration Form” tab at the top of the page.

An individual manuscript critique (up to 50 pages) is available for an additional $50.00. Manuscript deadline is December 31, 2009. Workshop registration closes January 10, 2010.

For more information, email jreed@writerswelcome.com