“If it sounds like writing, I re-write it.”

I’m not 100% in agreement because I think there’s a time for writing that sounds like writing, that makes itself known. Fiction can engage the reader not only through the storyline and characters, but also through the writing itself. Rich, ripe, textured, complex writing that uses all the tools in the writer’s arsenal — vocabulary, structure, structure, metaphor, foreshadowing, etc. — can heighten the reader’s experience while raising the quality of work to a whole new level.

But I also believe there are times when the words need to almost disappear into the story, carrying the reader on through the experience without ever making them think, “Wow, that’s a great sentence!”

(Most readers, anyway. I’m pretty sure any writer worth his/her salt is always aware of the writing, and pretty steadily analyzing and judging it even while fully engaged in the story.)

There’s writing that calls attention to itself …

Generally speaking, genre fiction seems to call for invisible writing while literary fiction is more likely to call attention to the writing itself. This isn’t a hard and fast rule by any means, but the need for genre fiction to cover a lot of ground, to get through a complex plot and keep the reader turning pages, leaves little time for linguistic niceties. Literary fiction, however, may be traveling at a slower pace, circling the same tight little spot over and over again, or covering a vast amount of territory. It may be pushing through boundaries (or at least nudging them) in terms of the writing itself. It’s often more character-focused than plot-driven, more inwardly directed and psychological in its approach. The writer may be asking the reader to dig deep rather than speeding along.

This doesn’t mean that literary/mainstream fiction can’t be just as much of a page turner as … well, the latest Elmore Leonard novel, Raylan.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, Bel Canto by Ann Patchett, and Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird all come to mind as books I simply couldn’t put down. But they also take a good dealer longer to get started than your average whodunnit, and the style and power of the writing itself is of paramount importance. And, in the best tradition of literary fiction, they stand alone, each one unique and, once read, nearly impossible to imagine having been written any other way.  (Can you imagine anyone but the grown-up Scout telling you all about Jem and Atticus and Boo Radley? I know I can’t.)

… and writing that doesn’t.

Murder mysteries, thrillers, horror, fantasy, science fiction, westerns, and other works of popular fiction seldom strut their stuff to such a degree. But that doesn’t mean genre fiction is necessarily less well written than its fancier cousins. It takes chops to master a genre that’s been around seemingly forever, its fundamental geometry long since defined, its character arcs and plot lines nearly petrified by long-standing traditions. The writer has to deal with pre-existing constraints and conventions while telling a new story — has to write in a way that feels both familiar enough to attract fans, and fresh enough to keep them begging for more. That requires some pretty mad skills.

One of my favorite genre writers is Dorothy L. Sayers, whose beautifully crafted Lord Peter Wimsey books will never be missing from my bookcase. It’s just about impossible to not read one of these novels at a clip — and at the same time one is never lost, confused or bored. What that woman could do with a single line of dialogue is really rather extraordinary. I encourage anyone wanting to see what can be done in genre fiction (not just mysteries) to study these 11 books. From the first, and weakest, book in the series, The Body in the Bath, to the glorious final two, Gaudy Night and Busman’s Honeymoon, the Wimsey novels not only show a writer coming into her power and repeatedly challenging herself — but also teach a great deal about how to craft a work that’s beautifully written without ever “sounding” like it.

I suspect even Elmore Leonard is a fan.

What’s your take on this? When writing, do you like to call attention to the work itself, or make it disappear? As a reader, do you prefer to be dazzled or just get on with the story?

I did get another 6,489 words closer to a working first draft.

Plus, I spent time revisiting the earlier work, seeing with fresh eyes what did and didn’t work, and got the creative juices flowing again on that particular story. I certainly do not regret, not for one minute, participating in NaNo this year even if I fell far short of “winning.”

My game plan is to complete the first draft for this particular novel before November 2013 — and use next year’s event to jump-start a new book.

For me, at least, NaNo isn’t the best approach to a project that’s well underway. I simply found myself too tangled up in needing to do serious research and rewriting of last year’s work, needing to get things in order before I could add more to mix. There were just too many loose threads, scattered scenes, jumbled characterizations, shifting settings … The energy generated by this great November event might best be used on a new project each year.

Huge cheers to the many writers who made their 50K this year, and a toast to all of participants. See you all next year!

Just exactly how do they — we — intend to do that?

One word at a time.

Or 1,667 words a day.

Or whatever other (new, old, imaginary…) math works out to 50K words by midnight November 30. Oh, yeah, baby. That’s doable. That’s reachable. That’s … Well, that’s just plumb crazy. But it’s still possible. I know, because 36,843 writers did it last year. I was one of them. And I’m going to do it again.

Write on, my fellow Wrimos. Write like the wind!

“The Confessional” 2008
by Talia Liccardello
for Chatterbox Audio Theater

As previously mentioned, this year’s Halloween broadcast from Chatterbox Audio Theater is going to include a look back “at some of the creepiest stories from the past four years.” As it turns out, that includes “Burning Cold,” which I wrote for the 2010 show!

Several other favorites from 2008, 2009 and 2011 will be featured — along with an all-new work by Chatterbox’s Executive Director Robert Arnold. I’m thrilled to be part of the Halloween Show for the 4th year in a row!

Read all about it — and listen Halloween Night 7pm Central Time on 91.1 WKNO-FM (in the Memphis area) or online at wknofm.org.

But it’s only through Wednesday, so hurry.

Go here now to download “Click-Click, the Rattlebag” for free!

(This offer is good everywhere except the U.K. If you’re in the U.K., go here for your free download! Audible UK is donating 50 pence to Booktrust.org for each download.)

To find out how this deal came about, read Gaiman’s Journal entry!

Join us on 91.1 WKNO FM (or streaming through www.wknofm.org) for Chatterbox’s fifth consecutive Halloween broadcast! To celebrate this milestone, we’ll be looking back at some of the creepiest stories from the past four years, then concluding with an all-new story performed live on the air …”

There’s nobody better at brewing up a bubbling mixture of horror and fun than the demented minds of Chatterbox. Make plans now to listen this Wednesday October 31 at 7 pm Central Time.

The ‘fires’ of Act Two ‘burn’ away the impurities of a Protagonist’s Old Self  allowing the character to see clearly, realize and embrace their Core Essence.

Death. Fire. An interesting way to think of the ordeals which a Protagonist must endure in Act Two, and from a writing experience inspire us to make their life a Living Hell.”

Scott Myers at Go Into the Story has written a series of posts showing how screenwriters can metaphorically apply theological ideas including Hell to raise their work to the next level.

His Hell post, which wisks its way swiftly from tortured souls trapped in hellfire to the molten metal created in a refiner’s fire is several degrees more elegant than the usual writerly advice to chase your character up a tree, surround the tree with alligators, and chuck rocks at the poor sap.

Kudos for a thought-provoking series.

In the meantime, Scott asked for examples of movies that sent their characters to a metaphorical Hell.

Here’s mine: Groundhog Day.

Think about it. Was there ever a character more condemned to eternal torment? He kept getting the girl but couldn’t keep her, kept leaving town but couldn’t stay gone, and keep killing himself and retuning to life in the morning. The fact that the movie is enormous fun and rather touching, and the character’s arc is beautifully drawn, goes to prove Scott Myer’s point. Sending a character to hell — even a simple, short and private one that no one else in the movie experiences — can work wonders.

Obviously, there’s no reason at all why the same advice wouldn’t work audio theater, short fiction and novels. The next time I’m spinning my wheels and struggling with a muddle in the middle of some story, I’m going to give serious thought to Hell and crucibles — and give the refiner’s fire a shot at burning away the dross.

How about you? Are you down with putting characters through Hell — or do you prefer the tree-and-alligators analogy?

“Master Zacharius #1″ by Erica McCarrens – Commissioned by Chatterbox Audio Theater

This is a must-hear event, so mark your calendars and bookmark the Sound Stages Radio site!

Chatterbox’s “Master Zacharius” will air as part of this year’s Transcontinental Terror Halloween event! Check it out, along with offerings from Wireless Theatre Company, Electric Vicuna Productions, FinalRune Productions, The Icebox Radio Theater, and 19 Nocturne Boulevard. The spooky fun kicks off at 6 pm CDT on Halloween night. Listen through Sound Stages Radio at the link below.

Sound Stages Radio “

To keep up with Chatterbox news, visit their Facebook page and follow them on Twitter @chatterboxaudio.

Dan Thompson of Making It Up As I Go offers Five Reasons to Do NaNoWriMo.

Michelle V. Rafter at WordCount shares 10 Things J.K. Rowling Taught Me About Writing.

Maria Popova at Brain Pickings has culled Six Tips on Writing by John Steinbeck.

Wise, Ink identifies The Best 10 Blogs for the Indie Author.

Melissa Donovan at Writing Forward lists 10 Good Grammar Resources.

A cardinal rule of writing is never interrupt yourself to explain something. If you must bring up an obscure topic, drop informative hints about it as you go along so that you don’t end up with the entire explanation all in one place. This keeps you from skidding to a stop and sounding teacherish. Otherwise it’s better to omit the obscure topic altogether, or as mothers might put it: If you can’t say it interestingly, don’t say it at all.”

I hadn’t thought of exposition so much as the process of interrupting myself as of interrupting the writing — although that might be a bit of nitpicking distinction, since the result for the reader is one and the same. Poorly handled exposition interrupts the flow of the narrative, pulls the reader out of the story and makes him aware of the writing. There goes suspension of disbelief and, frequently, the reader’s desire to keep turning those pages.

Even when well managed and necessary, layering in a lot of technical detail can feel burdensome for readers. I still recall skimming several long expository passages in Tom Clancy’s in the The Hunt for Red October — not that I let that stop me from reading on. Clancy is about as much in love with technical exposition as a writer can be and still manage to tell a kick-ass story. It also amuses me that I still know the term “cavitation” 20 years after Tom explained it most, most thoroughly.

I try to approach exposition in the same way a baker works bits of butter into pie crust dough. Many small pieces, lots of rubbing and working. The dough should end up more more smooth than lumpy — and any visible butter bits can taken not as defects but as creamy promises of deliciousness to come.

What’s your approach to exposition? How do you fit all those necessary, and often lumpy, facts into your fiction?