Until last week, I hadn’t written any fiction for over two months. I’d entertained passing thoughts about revisions I should make to my novel and a few fleeting ideas for short stories, but nothing sufficiently inspiring for me to do any actual writing. I don’t believe in writer’s block (that’s for another post), although I hadn’t planned on so long a break. Besides, I was sending out stories (see next post) and writing the blog, buzzing with ideas and words, and fascinated by how absorbing I found it (another post on that coming soon, too), but it wasn’t fiction – or not quite.
Anyway, last week a story finally got written and I realised two things I get from fiction that I don’t get other kinds of creative writing. The first is how the characters lend a hand in the crafting of the story (but I think I’ve got enough to say about that for another post) and the second is the sheer alleluia joy of language.
Anyway, last week a story finally got written and I realised two things I get from fiction that I don’t get other kinds of creative writing. The first is how the characters lend a hand in the crafting of the story (but I think I’ve got enough to say about that for another post) and the second is the sheer alleluia joy of language.
I try to write well even if it’s just a note to the milkman (and no, this isn’t poetic licence, we still have our milk delivered even if it is twice the price, and I’ll occasionally write notes to the man who brings it) and I draft and check my blog posts (you think this is bad you should see the originals) but it’s in fiction where I want the language to fly. I’m no poet by any means, but when I changed Dad held his mug to Dad cradled his mug in my new story, even if I might have changed it back again, I knew I’d come home.
Muscular verbs bring vigour to our writing without recourse to those pesky adverbs. They're appealingly economical, enhancing the description without upping the word count. Choosing the right one can be a load of fun.
But we need to be careful not to get carried away. Too much muscle and it gets exhausting. Sometimes I really need to just walk into a room and curb my desire to amble, bounce, careen, dance, edge, flounce, gambol, hobble, etc. Actually, when it gets to that stage there’s probably no need to show the transition into the room at all.
Since I’m back into writing stories, next up is a post on how to publish them. In the meantime …
How about you? Do you get turned on by muscular verbs? Which are your
favourites and are there any you overuse? Or is there something else about fiction writing that other forms of writing don’t quite touch?
Muscular verbs bring vigour to our writing without recourse to those pesky adverbs. They're appealingly economical, enhancing the description without upping the word count. Choosing the right one can be a load of fun.
But we need to be careful not to get carried away. Too much muscle and it gets exhausting. Sometimes I really need to just walk into a room and curb my desire to amble, bounce, careen, dance, edge, flounce, gambol, hobble, etc. Actually, when it gets to that stage there’s probably no need to show the transition into the room at all.
Since I’m back into writing stories, next up is a post on how to publish them. In the meantime …
How about you? Do you get turned on by muscular verbs? Which are your
favourites and are there any you overuse? Or is there something else about fiction writing that other forms of writing don’t quite touch?
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