While obviously the best content lives behind the paywall, Masterclass.com offers some excellent free content as well. As 2022 draws to a close and countless writers around the globe begin to make goals (dare I say resolutions?) for the new year, here is a link to “5 Tips for Setting Achievable Writing Goals.” And while you’re there, consider splitting the cost of their 2-for-1 offer with your BWB (Best Writing Buddy).

Had I been smart, I would have saved every newsletter created. Best that I can tell, we here at NLA have been delivering a monthly newsletter since 2008. That is basically a decade and a half of delivering insider content to help aspiring writers learn about publishing and navigate the industry. I’m not going to lie. Many a month I’ve been swamped, time crunched, and struggling to carve out the time to whip up an article. Sometimes it feels like an extra homework assignment on top of an already heavy workload. I would daydream about a final newsletter. But now that the time is possibly here, I feel a little melancholy. This has long been a part of my agenting life. 

But in the end, stats tell a unique story. Although we’re proud of having over 7,000 subscribers, only about half ever open the email. Of that half, only 500-1,000 click on a link to read an article we are sharing. What’s clear is that we certainly have a loyal readership (and we heart you folks if you are reading this right now!), but in the end, that’s a lot of time, work, and content development on our part for so few eyeballs. Please do keep in mind that we crunched the data prior to our unexpected hiatus in mid-2022. 

All this is to say with a heavy heart that it might finally be time to retire the newsletter. For the beginning of 2023, the newsletter will be on hiatus as we evaluate the cost-benefit ratio. We might retire it for good, or we might decide to relaunch it in the future with a new look, feel, and focus.

As we love stats, there was no way we were leaving our loyal readers without one last annual sum-up. I know it’s a fan favorite, so we are happy to oblige. 

THE 2022 STATS

8,539 : Queries read and responded to. Down from 13,932 in 2022 and although this looks like a precipitous drop, NLA is leaner, more focused team now, and for personal reasons, both Joanna and I were closed to queries for long stretches of the year.

287 : Number of full manuscripts requested and read (down from 353 in 2021): 61 requests for Kristin, 227 requests for Joanna (who was an obvious reading rock star!). For me, 70% were referrals or requests made at a conference or pitch event as I was closed to queries for so much of the year. For Joanna, only 17% were referrals or conference/pitch-event requests. 

64 : Number of manuscripts we requested that received offers of representation, either from us or from other agents/agencies (down from 111 in 2021). This might be an indicator of the burn-out happening across the industry, or it might just be a momentary adjustment. 

4 : Number of new clients who signed with NLA (0 for Kristin—two years in a row, eep—and 4 for Joanna)

29 : Books released in 2022 (down from 37 in 2021 as it is now just Joanna’s and my client lists).

3 : Number of career New York Times bestsellers for Joanna (up from 2 in 2021)—extra congrats to her client Kate Baer.

54 : Number of career New York Times bestsellers for Kristin (up from 51 in 2021). So wonderful to see Jamie Ford on that list again and to celebrate Shelby Van Pelt hitting with her debut novel. 

2 : Number of Today Show #ReadwithJenna Book Club picks (2 in one year, a first for Kristin’s career).

7 : TV and major motion picture deals (up from 5 from previous year, indicating Hollywood is still buying and buying a lot).

2 : TV shows in production (coming in 2023, Wool Saga on Apple+ and Beacon 23, both based on works by Hugh Howey).

109 : Foreign-rights deals done (slightly down from 126 in 2021 which shows there is some belt tightening going on, although 3 of those deals were with Ukraine publishers, bless them). 

1 : In-person conference attended by Kristin (StokerCon in Denver, and lots of people had Covid afterwards but I was okay).

0 : Virtual conferences attended by Kristin.

0 : Physical holiday cards sent (our first year of Paperless Post for clients).

762 : Electronic holiday slideshow cards sent (up slightly from 736 in 2021).

Lots : Of wonderful days reading and appreciating creators. 

(Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels)

Why don’t we place equal emphasis on endings?

Well, not every reader makes it to every book’s end—which, of course, is a function of the effectiveness of the book’s beginning and middle. So here we are, back at the importance of openings again, right?

Kind of. Here’s how I think of it:

• A good opening gets a reader to the middle of your book.
• A good middle gets a reader to the end of your book.
• A good ending gets the reader to your next book. Plus, the complete package of a good beginning, middle, and end gets you additional contracts, foreign-rights deals, and TV/film options. That’s the stuff writing careers are made of.

A memorable ending is like the dessert at the end of a fine meal. It’s the impression that readers carry with them into their world long after they finish reading your book. It’s proof you’re a master not just of prose and scene work, but of storytelling.

Endings are important. That said, endings are hard—like everything else about writing fiction. Here are seven tips I hope will make them easier.

Slow down.

How many of you have gotten 50, 60, 70,000 words down before you realize you have no idea how your story is going to end? Probably a lot. And that’s fine! But no matter your process (plotter, pantser, or hybrid), slow down at the end. Don’t rush it. Pretty much every full manuscript I’ve ever read over the years gets exponentially sloppier in the last 10-20%—proof positive that writers accelerate when they see light at the end of the tunnel. Resist that urge. Instead, put as much thought and care into your final act as you did into your opening.

Consider alternatives.

Close your manuscript and open a clean, new document. Write the summaries of at least three different ways your story could end. More than three is even better. Explore and exhaust the possibilities. For each possible ending, identify the predominate emotion you hope that ending will evoke in your reader.

Retrace all your threads.

Reread your manuscript from page one. Make a list of all the story questions you planted—all the things you planned to (and promised the reader you would) reveal later in the story. Did you? Which threads remain untied? Your ending should tie up those threads.

Be judicious with cliffhangers.

Related to retracing your threads, a good cliffhanger is singular. Of all the story questions you planted and all the reveals you set up from page one, tie up all (if not all, then most) of them. Leave one, strong, compelling story question unanswered to entice readers to pick up the next book in your series. Too many untied threads come off as sloppy story craft.

Apprentice yourself.

Read ten recently published books in your genre or watch ten movies that would appeal to the same audience as your book’s. Stop when you reach 75% or so. Then write down the ending you anticipate is coming based on clues in the story, the characters’ arcs, etc. Don’t just think about it. Write it down. Don’t skip this part. Forcing yourself to put your thoughts into actual written words is where real learning happens. Then read/watch the ending. Which ending was better: yours or the writer’s? Why?

Rewrite history.

Think about your favorite, time-tested books and movies. Pick three and write alternate endings to each, staying true to the story and character arcs already in place. Or don’t! If your preferred ending would require changes in the beginning and middle, what would those changes be? What did your endings do that the original endings did not?

Take a break.

If you’re really struggling to come up with your story’s ending, put the whole thing in a drawer and walk away for a couple weeks or even months. Sometimes coming back to a story with the fresh eyes that only time can give you is just the thing.

(Photo by Ann H. on Pexels)

I’ve read many a manuscript in which the author has become so bogged down in truth that they forget they’re telling a story. This happens in all types of fiction, but it’s especially prevalent in historicals. The author has done a ton of research—and rightfully so!—on the particular time and place in which they have decided to spin their tale. But then they frontload their novel with all that research…which, sadly, does little to engage the reader.

I’m sure the impetus is to establish both an authentic setting and narrative credibility. Good things to establish. But if the reader isn’t immediately pulled into the story by character, concept, and conflict, then no amount of careful research or meticulously described setting in the world will make the novel successful.

What do I mean by frontloading with research? I mean that the writer spends too much time and energy “papering the walls” with details that don’t drive story. Often in historicals, such opening chapters feature:

• Food (what it is; how it was prepared, seasoned, and served; what rituals or traditions exist around eating it)
• Clothing (what it looks like, what it’s made of, how it was put on, what all the various articles are called)
• Dialect (phonetically spelled accents, regional phrasing, occasional foreign words in italics)
• Music (Cyndi Lauper’s new song “Time After Time” comes on the radio)
• “Current” events being mentioned or discussed in the background (the Berlin Wall is coming down)

All this is wallpaper in your novel unless…

• the food is poisoned
• the character dressing herself is stowing the Golden MacGuffin she has just stolen in a hidden pocket in her underskirts
• the dialect causes a misunderstanding that launches a war
• the protagonist believes the song on the radio was written for him
• the fall of the Berlin Wall sends the protagonist on a journey to discover the fate of the child she was forced to abandon on the other side thirty years earlier.

OK, obviously not every setting detail has to launch a plot or subplot. But I did want to illustrate the difference between wallpaper details (yes, #notallwallpaper is bad) and plot-driving details.

Details are also wallpaper if they appear only in the opening chapter and never again. To wit, I recently read a 1980s-set manuscript in which every (teen female) character in the opening chapter was clad in carefully described acid-washed jeans, crimped hair, neon slouchy socks, and Keds. But once the story got off the ground, no character’s appearance was ever mentioned again. It was almost as if the writer thought, “There! I got all that setting stuff out of the way, so now I can just tell the story.”

Does this mean you can’t open with food, clothing, dialect-laden dialogue, music, or references to current events? No. But avoid overseasoning your dish. Too much too soon hits the palate too hard. When I encounter an opening chapter that falls into this trap, one note I’ll send the agent is, “The writer’s research is showing.”

Another example—one that can happen at any point in a story, not just the opening—is when the writer goes into extensively minute detail about a particular real-world place:

“I walked into the mansion’s grand foyer and stared in wonder at the glory all around me. Approximately five feet to my right was an ornate bench upholstered in red-and-gold brocade. It was two-and-a-half feet wide and twelve-inches deep and fourteen inches high, and on either end sat two small pillows. They were ten inches square and made of red velvet with gold tassels tied to each corner. I turned to my left, where, approximately eight feet away, a statue of a knight stood guard. He was made entirely of gray marble with veins of white and black and tiny flecks of purple. He was about ten feet tall and holding a sword high above his helmeted head that stretched out over the foyer like he was pointing the way. I took exactly fifteen steps forward, crossing the tiled floor, noting that the tiles were royal blue and arranged in a parquet design and that each tile was exactly the size of my size-six Louboutin pumps…”

You get the idea. I can’t tell you how many passages like this I’ve come across. When I suggest that the author cut them, the objection is, “But I’ve been there! It’s a real place, and that’s exactly what it looks like!”

My response? “Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.”

Photo by The Lazy Artist Gallery

In short, I actually don’t know. This kind of high-profile visibility is rare in the book world. Like the insider mechanics of how a title lands on the New York Times bestseller list, the truth of how a novel is picked for a major book club is only known by the parties who do the choosing. 

But here is what I do know as the agent of several titles that have been chosen in the last two years (The Downstairs Girl for Reese Witherspoon’s Hello Sunshine Book Club, Remarkably Bright Creatures and The Many Daughters of Afong Moy for the #ReadwithJenna Today Show Book Club for May and August, respectively):

• If a title is chosen before it is released, the publisher was instrumental in putting the book on the book club’s radar. After all, book clubs need advanced reading copies (ARCs) so they can read and consider a book prior to its publication. 

As you can imagine, a publisher can’t spotlight every title coming out on a fall or spring release list. That would overwhelm those doing book-club considerations. Publishers will choose from a list created in-house that might include lead titles, sales-rep favorites, and/or special choices from previously published house authors.

However, once a publisher sends an ARC, they don’t have any further influence on the decision. That is solely the province of the book club itself. I have no insight into GMA, but I do know Reese and Jenna personally read the books chosen—which is fun and awesome. 

• Book clubs can also choose a previously published title as a pick and when that happens, those titles are chosen organically. The initial readers might see a sale announcement and request an ARC. The readers might have a friend or relative who recommended the title (old-fashioned book discovery!), which might move it up the consideration chain. A title that simply has momentum via word-of-mouth or social media attention might catch a book club’s eye. Or the book club might be tracking certain authors, and a recent release is a good fit. 

When this happens, it’s just magic for the author, the publisher, and of course, the agent. 

In the case of Shelby and Jamie, a visit to Studio 1A was part of the dream coming true (although I personally would find a TV appearance a bit nerve-racking). Studio 1A looks glam on camera, but the green room isn’t green and feels kind of like a teacher’s lounge (and about as sexy). Celebrity guests get the private green room (which I caught a peek of). TV does a great job of creating illusion, but it’s an illusion that’s fun to see in person.

What I can definitively say is this: Being a book-club pick moves the needle on sales. In a big way. 

So worth the daydream. 

Hugo Award-winning Writing Excuses offers quick, fifteen-minute episodes—58 so far—for writers at every stage of their journey…”because you’re in a hurry and we’re not that smart.” Episodes cover a wide range of topics, like genre, the writing life, career building, character development, and story structure. In addition to the core crew listed above, additional hosts include Maurice Broaddus, Wesley Chu, Aliette de Bodard, Piper J. Drake, Amal El-Mohtar, Valynne E. Maetani, and Mary Anne Mohanraj. Check out their website or listen now on Apple or Spotify.

The reason there has been no newsletter for the last four months is straightforward: I had a major life event in mid July into August during which I unexpectedly lost my remaining parent. As the Executor/Trustee, I suddenly had a second full-time job handling the estate. Although my siblings did an amazing amount of work, too, there are a lot of tasks delegated solely to the Trustee. Because my current clients are my priority, I immediately shut down to queries and back-burnered other non-critical tasks (i.e., the newsletter) just so I could manage. All my clients have been so hugely supportive, it makes me tear up. 

What I wasn’t ready for was the response from the outside world—and here is where the publishing rant comes in, so feel free to step out now. I have dedicated two decades of my life to educating aspiring writers by writing the Pub Rants blog and then by creating and distributing this newsletter. All I ask is when I step away for a bit of time, please respect that. Yet I was stunned by how many folks called the office to ask when I would be open to queries. Twitter messages demanding to know when I would be open to queries. Queries sent to email addresses that don’t accept queries. Queries sent to my colleague, Joanna, asking her to please forward their query to me. Emails where one writer was insistent that he “couldn’t wait any more for me to re-open,” as if I had deliberately set out to inconvenience writers, so he sent the query anyway. I even had several people hand deliver their projects to the agency doorstep (projects that, by the way, were promptly donated to the recycle bin). 

All because I had to close one aspect of my agenting life—my availability to writers looking for an agent. 

Agents are human beings first and agents second (or maybe even third in our life roles). If agents are closed to queries, there is a reason. No amount of trying to circumvent the closure is going to change our minds. An author could have sent me the next New York Times bestselling manuscript and the honest truth is, I DO NOT CARE. Not at this moment in my life. I will not be reading it. 

And to all the wonderful writers out there who only wish me well during what has been an incredibly tough time in my life, thank you for all those good wishes and positive thoughts. I know you are out there, which is why I will re-open to queries again (most likely in January 2023) and continue trying to educate aspiring writers.

Photo by Marina Shatskikh

Defining Women’s Fiction

Women’s fiction is generally written by women, about women, for women; therefore, the themes and conflicts that drive the stories are deeply, personally familiar to, well, women:

• Fertility, motherhood, empty nesting
• Marriage, infidelity, divorce, loss of spouse, love after loss
• Caring for aging parents
• Complicated female friendships
• Family secrets, dysfunctional families, sisters
• Homecomings, returning to one’s roots
• Balancing any or all of the above while also…
  • navigating societal expectations that women do/be/have it all
  • building a career
  • re-entering the workforce after raising a family
  • searching for happiness and personal fulfillment
  • dealing with life-altering tragedies

In sum, WF has traditionally boiled down to one thing: Women overcoming obstacles.

Women Overcoming Obstacles: Handy but Dangerous

It’s handy when an entire genre can be distilled into three words. But it’s also dangerous. What we’ve found after reading a few thousand WF submissions over the years is this: Too many WF plots can also be summarized “woman overcomes obstacles,” and that isn’t a concept that will support the full weight of a novel. In fact, it’s not a concept at all. (For an excellent class on what concept is and isn’t, read Great Stories Don’t Write Themselves by Larry Brooks.)

In other words, just because the genre can be summarized that way doesn’t mean you should write a manuscript that can be summarized that way. In today’s WF marketplace, editors, publishers, and readers demand more.

Why do so many WF manuscripts get rejected?

We just covered one possible reason: too much suffering or victimization, too many run-of-the-mill obstacles, too many tropes that haven’t been twisted, subverted, turned upside down, or otherwise made unique. Another possible reason is that you’re using tired tropes but you don’t realize they’re tired. Here are a few we’ve seen in submissions far too many times to count, plus some possible ways to start thinking outside the box:

• Tight-knit mommy or friend groups comprised of stereotypical Mean Girls in Lululemon or Balenciaga that our protagonist feels inferior to.

Instead, maybe play with developing a diverse ensemble of unique humans, each three-dimensional and complex, with her own secrets, goals, stakes, etc.

• Yoga, spin class…and running. So much running.

Somewhere it is written that a WF protagonists must be runners. We know, we know: A lot of bestselling WF features protagonists who de-stress with a quick 5K around the park, but it’s become so overdone that it’s almost comical. Instead, what surprising, interesting, or unique ways might a female character address her concerns about her health, those extra pounds, or her stress levels?

• PTAs that are the high-school cafeteria writ large: the Mommy Mean Girls sit over there, single dads over there, the problematic president’s cronies over there…

As mentioned above, what unexpected characters can you develop for your PTA, and what surprising motivations might you give them to have joined? Further, what unexpected—rather than typical—conflicts might arise among members?

• PTAs grappling with problems that feel too typical or too familiar—anything from the outlawing peanut butter to installing gender-neutral restrooms.

Whether you’re going for comedy or drama, what surprising “no PTA has ever had to deal with this” issues could you force on your fictional PTA? How did that predicament occur, and what even more surprising outcome will feel brand-new to readers?

• The opening scene in which the protagonist is dealing with a screaming toddler, a food-flinging baby, a phone call from the PTA president (“Don’t forget you promised to bake cupcakes for Principal Johnson’s retirement party today!”), and a flustered husband who can’t find his car keys. Conversely, the opening scene in which the protagonist is spreading organic sunflower butter on gluten-free bread while her cute kids finish their breakfasts and pouring freshly brewed French roast into her husband’s travel mug as he pecks her on the cheek and heads out the door to the Tesla in the driveway…all while feeling so alone and overwhelmed.

Whether it’s the “I’m a complete mess on the outside” or the “I’m a complete mess on the inside,” these opening scenes are like siren songs to WF writers. Which makes sense, because they cut right to the heart of the universal, the relatable. But that means a ton of other WF writers are using these opening scenes too. So instead, in what surprising, unique way could you open your story? (Reminder: Avoid running in the opening scene.) What’s a hookier entry point or more compelling introduction to your character?

The Familiar: Also Dangerous

If your WF places too much focus on the familiar or too much hyperbole of the familiar—too much “it’s funny/sad because it’s true”—then your story lands more as satire than well-conceived, concept-driven fiction. Step outside that box! Explore stories, characters, settings, scenarios, and concepts that, while perhaps rooted in the familiar, also provide readers with an escape from the familiar.

How do I give my women’s fiction a glow up?

If you’re searching for that singular concept that will feel like a must-have to agents and editors, then start by upping your market awareness. What’s on the bestseller lists right now? Read the back-cover copy and zero in on the concept. Remember, “woman overcomes obstacles” is not by itself a concept, high or otherwise; it’s a genre. What are bestselling WF authors adding to that to the idea of women who overcome obstacles? How are they elevating it? Which tropes are they using and which are they perhaps inventing?

Don’t skimp on the stakes!

This one’s so important I’m giving it its own heading. Far too many WF submissions are far too light on stakes. If what’s at stake in your story is emotion based (“at the end of my story, my character will be sad or disappointed if X happens or doesn’t happen”), then your story might be in trouble. Sadness or disappointment are not compelling stakes. Again, circle back and make sure you have a strong concept, and then raise the stakes in any way you can. Do only this, and right away, your submission will stand out in the slush pile.

In WF, we at NLA are currently excited to see:

• Stories that show women exercising their power and agency in a plot-driving way from page one rather than stories about women who don’t discover their power and agency until the end.
• Sister, mother-daughter, or best-friend stories that dive deep into the complexities of those relationships throughout the whole story rather than stories about relationships under stress that are reconciled at the end.
• Hopeful, funny, poignant WF with charming ensemble casts we wish we knew and could hang out with in real life.
• Contemporary WF with speculative or magical-realism elements—like time travel (Emma Straub’s This Time Tomorrow is a current obsession).
• Dark, twisty, suspenseful stories or domestic thrillers that are rooted in women’s power and agency rather than solely in their victimhood, jeopardy, or struggle.
• Stories where no character is either completely good or completely bad (think Liane Moriarty).
• Stories that play with 80s, 90s, or 00s nostalgia in plot-driving ways rather than as fun “wallpaper” for the background of the story.

Photo by cottonbro: www.pexels.com

Writers, Ink is a podcast that, according to its tagline, promises to be “your backstage pass to the world’s most prolific authors.” Turns out, with 145 episodes produced since its inception in December 2019, Writers, Ink more than delivers on that promise. Hosts JD Barker, J. Thorn, and Zach Bohannon have interviewed not just some of today’s most prolific authors, but also some of the most respected and recognized bestselling writers of our time. Recent episodes feature conversations with Blake Crouch, Barbara Graham, Emily St. John Mandel, Don Winslow, Gillian Flynn, and Dean Koontz. From inspiration, process, drafting, and revision to tenacity, publication, branding, and professionalism, Writers, Ink touches on everything writers at any stage of their careers need to know.

Find Writers, Ink here and drop us a comment below letting us know your favorite episode. Know of a cool online resource for writers? Drop us a comment about that below, too!

A rhetorical question is one that’s asked merely for effect with no answer expected. Here’s an example of how fiction writers use it as a narrative device:

James stared at Rob, fists at his sides. How could Rob accuse Anna of such terrible things? Didn’t Rob know that Anna was the love of his life? Didn’t he care that after this they could never be friends again? “Take it back,” he said through clenched teeth.

Here’s another:

I stared at the mysterious symbols carved into the tree. The last symbol was an arrow pointing into the woods. I shivered. Should I follow the arrow? Allow myself to be swallowed up by the shadows? What choice did I have? This was the first clue I’d found in months. Was there any other way to find out what really happened to my sister? I squared my shoulders and marched toward the treeline.

­Writers who use this device are giving us a glimpse of what’s going on inside the POV character’s head in moments of confusion or indecision. Nothing wrong with that, per se. In fact, fiction writers should give us that glimpse; otherwise, if they’re only writing what can be seen and heard, they’re probably writing scripts in prose form rather than fully developed fiction. (Which is why “show don’t tell” can result in bad scene work, but that’s a topic for another day.)

However, here’s a caution. When the rhetorical-question device is used too often, a piece of fiction can begin to sound like a choose-your-own-adventure story narrated by someone outside the scene rather than in it, living it, being acted upon by it. When you look at the device more closely, you can see that it fails to give meaningful insights into how a character thinks—that is, what makes that character unique and interesting. In other words, if they’re asking themselves the same questions anyone would ask themselves in the scene’s particular situation, they risk becoming everyman or template characters.

In the immortal words of Jo Bennett to Dwight Schrute on The Office, “Stop asking yourself easy questions so you can look like a genius.”

OK, a little comic relief there. I get that characters aren’t pulling a Dwight and trying to look like geniuses—they’re often just trying to figure out what to do. But easy questions make for weak narrative. One way to do get your characters to stop asking themselves easy questions is to simply turn those questions into statements. Complete thoughts. Instead of showing us your character’s confusion or indecision, show us their belief or their resolve. Then show us how they’re applying that resolve to their decision about what to do or say next. If you do, then right away, you’ll be opening the door to more meaningful character development.

Let’s take a stab at revising our examples:

James stared at Rob, fists at his sides. No way would he let Rob get away with accusing Anna of such terrible things. Sure, he and Rob had been best friends since kindergarten, but Anna was the love of his life. No one—especially not Rob, who always got every girl he ever wanted—got to talk about Anna that way. “Take it back,” he said through clenched teeth.

Notice how James comes across as much more resolved in this revision. He skips over the questions and gets straight to the heart of what he’s really thinking in that moment. But what if James is the type of character who really is always questioning himself? Then try:

James stared at Rob, fists at his sides. He had two options. One, back down the way he always did, walk away and let Rob’s lies about Anna hang in the air between them. Or two, stand up for himself and the love of his life once and for all, thirty years of so-called friendship be damned. “Take it back,” he said through clenched teeth.

There are myriad ways to develop or stay true to a character in a moment of analysis and decision without using the rhetorical-questions device.

Let’s revise the second example:

I stared at the mysterious symbols carved into the tree. The last symbol was an arrow pointing into the woods, where shadows hung like shrouds from gnarled branches. I shivered. Everything in me wanted to turn and run, but this was the first clue I’d found in months. Someone in those woods knew what happened to my sister. Soon, I would know too. I squared my shoulders and marched toward the trees.

In this case, questions like “Should I follow the arrow? Allow myself to be swallowed up by the shadows?” can just be cut. They waste space that otherwise can be used to paint atmosphere (“shadows hung like shrouds from gnarled branches”), clearly express internal conflict (“Everything in me wanted to turn and run”), or develop tension (“Someone in those woods knew”).

None of this is meant to say that you can never use this device or have your characters ask themselves rhetorical questions. It’s just to point out that overuse of any device is a good thing for writers to be aware of and, hopefully, add another tool to your self-editing toolbox.

(Header Photo by Olya Kobruseva)