I should have known what I was getting into when I started dating Holly. I mean, any girl who will get close to literally kicking a customer out the front door has to have an issue or two, right?
A few weeks after we had first gone out, I picked her up on a Friday from work. After we had chatted for a little while and agreed that Wafflehouse two nights in a row wasn’t healthy, we made our way to Café Yoko’s.
She accepted it with a gracious nod. “Thanks. How much was it.”
I seated myself across from her and put my beer on the table. “Don’t worry about it.”
She regarded me with just a hint of irritation. “I can pay for my own coffee, you know.”
I rolled my eyes. We had done this dance every time we came here. “Then buy the next round. It’s not a big deal.”
“Fine. I will,” she told me. I shrugged and took a drink from my pint glass. If she wanted to pay the price of a beer for a cup of coffee, that was her business. “So,” she said after she had ruined a perfectly good cup of coffee with cream and sugar. “What’s the real reason you wear sunglasses all the time?”
I raised an eyebrow at her, though I doubt she could see it. “I told you, I broke my normal pair and this is all I have left in my prescription.”
“Sure they are,” she agreed, letting me feel her sarcasm. Then she gave me a small smile. “Please. We’ve known each other for over a month now, and I’ve yet to see you without those sunglasses. You’re not going to tell me your optometrist still has them back ordered, are you?”
“Well, glasses are expensive. And I’m not exactly working with much income right now. You have seen my car, right?”
She gave me a skeptical look. “I don’t buy that one either.” When I didn’t say anything, she scowled, irritated. “C’mon! What could possibly drive you to wear your sunglasses everywhere you go?”
I gave her a cryptic smile. “Privileged information.”
Her mouth twisted a little. “Fine. Be that way.” Then she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “But I warn you, I’ll find out soon enough.”
I took a quick drink before answering. “I’m sure you will.”
“I will. Just you wait.” She went silent, staring at me thoughtfully, unconsciously tracing patterns in the water from her glass. “It’s not some stupid macho thing like you think it’ll help you in a fight, is it?”
“No…” I answered, frowning at her. “Where’d you get that idea?”
She flushed a little. “Nowhere. Just… My ex-boyfriend always wore sunglasses all the time, too. He said he wore them so that if he got in a fight, they couldn’t see his eyes.”
“Sunglasses, huh.” I considered it briefly, then glanced at her over my beer. “Sounds like a jack-ass.”
“He was,” she agreed readily.
I gave a dry laugh. “Really? Is that why you broke up with him?”
She shook her head. “No.” She paused. “Actually, he broke up with me… It was a messy break-up and I took it pretty hard. I spent most of the year afterwards in near-depression.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I got over it, though.”
“So if he was a jack-ass, why were you so hung up on him?”
Her eyes snapped back up to mine and she glared. “It took me a year to figure out he was a jack-ass, okay?”
“All right, all right,” I said.
“Sorry… I doubt you really wanted to hear about my past loves, did you.”
So are you here for me? Or the sunglasses? “No, no, it’s fine. I mean, that wouldn’t have been my choice in conversation, but that’s no problem.”
She laughed. A rich, playful laugh. “Then what do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know, something more current? You have any boyfriends?”
“Nope,” she answered. I had figured as much, but I wanted to be certain. “What about you?” she countered. “Any girls you’re seeing?”
“Nah. Haven’t really dated anyone since college.”
“And why would that be?” she teased. “Can’t find the right girl?”
“More like I can’t find the time.”
“Oh come on! If you wanted it badly enough, you could find it.” She gave me a smug grin. “Or maybe you just haven’t found a girl yet who was worthy of a precious hour of your time.”
“Maybe,” I said, then took a drink to give me an excuse not to say anything else.
“Anyway, what do you want to do after…” She trailed off and her eyes narrowed at something over my shoulder. “Him!”
“Who?” I asked, turning around. Her ex, maybe?
“Hold on.” She got up, not even noticing I had said anything. “I’ll be right back.” As I watched, she marched purposely up to a lone man in a suit ordering a drink at the counter. I couldn’t tell if it was her ex or not. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses, but maybe he was just another boyfriend she had yet to tell me about. Whoever he was, he had met Holly before, because when he saw her striding so purposely towards him, the look on his face went from confusion to recognition to out-right fear. He took a few step backwards, tripped over someone’s feet, and then fell flat on his ass, knocking several drinks out of people’s hands and all over his suit. The only thing he could do was look up and blink as Holly stood over him.
Without a word, she reached over, grabbed his beer from the top of the counter, then promptly dumped it over his head. It was mostly a pointless action since her ex, or whoever he was, was already more or less soaked. She clanked the glass back down, then turned and marched back to her seat across from me, an utterly satisfied smile on her face.
I looked at her, looked at the guy, then looked back to her, considering. “Remind me never to piss you off… Was that him?”
My words brought her back from whatever ecstasy she had found from completely humiliating the guy. “Huh? Who?”
“Your ex-boyfriend?”
She burst out laughing. “No, no…. He came by for ice-cream this afternoon and was a total ass-hole.”
I just looked at her, shocked for a second, and started laughing myself. “Wait… wait a minute! You mean all he did was piss you off at Baskin Robbin’s?”
She straightened up a bit. “He went off on one of our 15 year olds,” she answered primly. “The poor boy was pale for the whole shift afterwards. And that jerk’s only reason was that he didn’t think he had gotten enough ice cream. What?”
“Nothing, nothing.” I answered, lifting my sun-glasses up just enough to wipe my eyes. “It’s just… Well, like I said. Remind me never to piss you off.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Am I supposed to take that as an insult or a compliment?”
“However you want to,” I answered, then glanced over at the mess around the counter. “But we might want to consider leaving pretty quick.”
She followed my eyes, then let out a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose so. Did you want to take me home.”
I finished my beer and then grinned at her. “Actually, I was wondering if you might want to go home with me.”
She looked slightly taken aback. “And finally meet this infamous room-mate of yours?”
I shrugged. “Well, you’ll have to eventually, I imagine.”
“True,” she agreed, blushing a little.
“Anyways…” I indicated the staff, who were mopping up the mess at the counter and glaring at us, “we should probably get going. Now.”
”Comment
Okay, I’ve seen this around way too many times, and I am utterly sick of it.
I don’t have a problem with the whole list. There’s some good stuff there. But, believe you me, it has problems.
Now, while I have an issue, as a reader, with #2 (Never use prologues, he says. I like reading prologues, I say.), the issue I have the biggest problem with is #3 – Never use any word other than “said” to carry dialogue. Of course, this also brings in #4, as well, where you never use an adverb with “said”.
For the record, back before I ever put pen to paper, I read a dialogue heavy novel and realized how powerful a tool dialogue could be. I also realized that “said” could be replaced by dozens of other alternatives, helpfully supplied by the English Language, that all have more details attached to them. “Whispered” meant something was said quietly. “Hissed” had a serpentine aspect, if you wanted to imply deception or evil intent. “Bellowed,” denoted a boisterous personality, noisy, oblivious, and happy. “Shot back,” meant your character was being antagonistic with their response, even if the words themselves were polite. I could go on and on, but my point is that an alternative to “said” could hand your reader information about the character and their emotions without ever having to break dialogue. I consider this to be an efficiency of words, and something a good writer would do well to develop.
In the foolishness of youth, I reached the conclusion that you should never, ever, use the word “said”, because there was always a better alternative. Now, obviously, I don’t believe that anymore. But it’s a stylistic choice. My fantasy novel makes liberal use of alternatives to “said.” My more mainstream, “quick and dirty” web-serial, 1001 Insomniac Nights, uses primarily “said,” with the occasional “replied” and “sneered” to break up the monotony.
“Said”, as my wife relayed to me from her friend, is invisible. It’s like water. It’s useful, but it carries no weight. The alternatives, generously supplied to us by the language itself, have substance of their own.
Seriously, synonyms are one of the English language’s strengths. We’d be fools not to use them.
Now, I also protest to only using “said” because sometimes the work itself insists you use something else. Prose has a rhythm, a distinctive and insistent rhythm. And I listen to this rhythm, because it defines my writing. Too many times, a line simply hasn’t read right with just the word “said.” “Answered” was simply necessary for the flow of the paragraph.
I refuse to believe that our society has fallen so far that even in our dialogue we have to use a one syllable word above all others. I refuse to believe that using “blurted out” instead of “said” will confuse my reader.
And now, the fun part: Proving my point.
Let’s say I’m writing a scene where I have two characters standing in a crowded hall. One of them says to the other, “Who is that tart with the King?” Now, if I just write, “Beatrice said, ‘Who is that tart with the King?’” I tell my reader that she just blithely blurts that out. This leaves her open to being overheard, leading to possible intrigue and accusations of treason. Now, obviously, a sane person would say this under her breath. But is Beatrice sane? What if she’s the first sane person we’ve met in the novel? What if you just met her? What if she’s sane, but she ranks higher than the King, or has some black-mail on the King, and wants to show it off? Or maybe the point is that the kingdom is particularly lax and no-one cares if someone bad-mouths the King’s fling-of-the-week. These are questions that an intelligent reader will be wondering, upon reading that Beatrice speaks without bothering to muffle her voice.
“Ah ha!” says I. “I have to let my reader know that she’s sane, she doesn’t have naked pictures of the King, and speaking out of turn is not kosher.” Therefore, I have to imply that she pitches her voice low. I’d love to make this easy and say, “Beatrice whispered, ‘Who is that tart with the King?’” But I have to contend with Rule #3. So what about “Beatrice said quietly, ‘Who is that tart with the King.’” But wait! that violates the almighty rule #4. So what about, “Beatrice said, her voice pitched too low for any but Hero to hear, ‘Who is that tart with the King?’” There we go! And I only had to use eleven more words to accomplish that than if I had simply been willing to violate the almighty rule #3! What an accomplishment!
Wait! Maybe I should have used physical actions to imply that she’s whispering? What about, “Beatrice nudged Hero gently with her elbow and said, ‘Who is that tart with the King?’” That works. The action of nudging with the elbow implies exchanging a secret, keeping her voice low. Or maybe even, “Beatrice leaned close to Hero’s ear, cupping her hand over her mouth, and said, “Who is that tart with the King?” That works too! There’s no question she’s attempting to hide her words.
Of course, both these actions are implied with the word, “whispered.” And I’m still using at least seven more words. So, no, that’s not better.
Seriously, do I have to cite more examples? I’m not even going to bother getting into double entendres or words, like the rarely used “thanks”, that can be said with different inflections. Because it’s not like people have ever mistaken a person’s meaning on live-journals or instant messages because of a lack of tone of voice. It’s not like emoticons weren’t brought into existence so people could tell the difference between malicious and facetious. Oh, wait…
Look, I get it. Sometimes “said” is simple, concise, and and therefore perfect. I understand. I use it, often, for that very reason. But to imply that an author practicing intelligent word conservation is somehow flawed or amateurish because they’re trying to streamline their work? That’s just stupid.
I have had an epiphany that I’m sure others have already had. But I would like to share this one with you, anyway.
The question of “What use does literature serve?” isn’t a new one. Back in 1579, Sir Philip Sidney wrote “In Defense of Poesy”, an argument for the virtue of fictional literature. Because pre-dating that time, it was seen simply as fluffy entertainment, of no real value in and of itself.
My, how things have changed.
Still, if you’re not working on “high” art, you sometimes find yourself having to justify the relevancy of what you’re working on. Sometimes, “entertaining” simply isn’t enough. I remember going rounds in high school with a friend of mine over this, especially since I was working in a fantasy novel at the time, and he was challenging me as to why he should take it seriously.
I don’t know if I ever really produced an answer that satisfied him. Or that satisfied me, for that matter.
I saw a poster in high school that always resonated with me. It said, roughly paraphrased: “I read to see that I am not alone. And I write to show others that they are not alone.” At the time, I was a properly angsty, emo teenager and I instantly realized why I had been drawn to so many of the books I had been reading, that as I read through them, the author shared something with me and, somehow, made me feel not alone.
As a writer, I feel I have acquitted myself well on that score, at least concerning 1001Insomniac Nights . (Which if you’re not reading it, you SHOULD.) And when I write fantasy, I hope that I am giving my readers a reflection of the world, that I am giving them something to think about. I don’t know if I succeed, although simply telling a good yarn is usually satisfactory.
My epiphany, however, concerns science-fiction.
Now, this is one genre that, since high-school and reading Fahrenheit 451, I realized would never need to justify itself. Science-fiction is modern prophecy, a warning. “If you continue on this path, this is where you will end up.” The whole cyberpunk sub-genre is a critique of 80’s culture. Go back and read Brave New World and see if you don’t feel a shiver go down your spine when you realize just how close we are to becoming that hedonistic, self-centered, amoral world.
But even on top of that, there is the inspirational factor, and that was my epiphany. Science-fiction points to the sky and asks you, “Why not?” It paints a future of interstellar travel and other life and challenges you, challenges the whole human race, to make that future a reality. And really, that’s all the justification it needs. If Star Trek pseudo-science makes a child interested in interplanetary travel, if that child is then drawn to sciences in school, and if that child then grows up and figures out how to construct a nuclear-fusion based engine that gets us to near light-speed and a probe to Alpha Centauri in six-years, hasn’t it justified itself? And with the Constellation program now cut, this inspiration just became even more important.
Of course, can’t this inspiration be found in all genres? That’s the crux of Sidney’s argument – that fiction can inspire a person to virtue. Human advancement and development has always been pushed by inspiration. And if a fantasy can inspire a person to seek to make the world a better place, this isn’t that justification enough?
So, while pondering the usages of twitter as an advertising tool, I wondered whether or not “web-serial” could justify its own hashtag. So I do a search for it – and find entries. And somewhere among these entries, I see reference to a wiki-page. A WIKI-PAGE! And go check on it.
And sure enough, there’s a new wiki-page. New because there was already a wiki-page in 2003 or 2004-ish, thanks to an enterprising friend of mine, which mentioned that I exist. But I digress.
Anyway, so on said wiki-page, there’s links to web-pages that are devoted to reviewing and linking web-serials.
So I go to the first two, I’m sure there’s more to find and I’ll do that some other night, and of course I submit my web-serial to be approved to be linked.
But it’s dumb-founding, to be honest. When I first started 1k1in, there was nothing on ‘net about web-serials. I think there was one other that popped up around the same time. But for the most part, no one had heard of, nor read, a web-serial. And now, seven years later, it’s here. Wiki pages, web-serials, reviewers, everything. Where the hell was everyone, seven years ago.
Here’s a free tip to all aspiring writers: If you want your readers to love your characters, you better love them too. Because your reader will know. Believe me, they will know.
This was the lesson Holly taught me, in all her passion and charm. When I was writing 1001 Insomniac Nights, Holly was my favorite character. And in the end, she was the favorite characters of my readers, too. When you love a character, it will come out in your writing, and your reader cannot help but love them, too.
Who is Holly? Well, for starters, she’s the hot-tempered manager of the local Baskin Robbins. She does not suffer fools lightly and occasionally acts without really thinking through the consequences. But she has the confidence, and personality, to pull it off. She also won’t hesitate to toss an ice-cream cone at you, if you really, really deserve it.
I have a Twitter account! Follow me.
Okay, now that that’s out of the way, I had an epiphany a few days ago. It was the realization that one of 1001 Insomniac Nights‘ strengths is, if you’ll forgive me a little preening, the myriad of funny one-liners. I’m fairly sure I can find at least good one in every post. So sure, in fact, that I’m going to start a little weekly advertising tradition.
Every Friday morning, after the weekly post goes up, I’m going to “tweet” my favorite one-liner in the story along with a link to the post. And if you like the one liner, or the post, or just the web-serial in general, “re-tweet” the one liner. And if you find a line in there you like more, well, tweet that one instead.
I’m a firm believer in “word of mouth” advertising. Almost every book I ever loved was recommended to me by a friend first. And I’m hoping that people will like 1001 Insomniac Nights enough to recommend it to friends.
So – If you love it, re-tweet it.