Reason #2 – Head Hopping

Head hopping

Head hopping is where the point of view for the characters is not fixed and hops from head to head. One of the things we look for when we read is a narrator who’s voice we like. The narrative voice chosen to tell the story affects the tone of the story and how the story is perceived. Without a fixed POV the tone and perception is muddled. The POV is slippery and elusive.

Peter Selgin says in the August 2007 issue of The Writer, “NO POINT OF VIEW = NO STORY.” He goes on to say, “Of all the problems plaguing amateur works, none is more common or fatal than mishandling of viewpoint.” Not because the chosen viewpoint is wrong, “…but because no viewpoint has been firmly established to start with, so there is nothing to violate.”

No POV is not the same as Omniscient POV. There are lots of definitions of OPOV, Crawford Kilian says there are three types of Omniscient Narrative:

  1. Episodically limited. Whoever is the point of view for a particular scene determines the persona. (Italics added for emphasis)
  2. Occasional interrupter. The author intervenes from time to time to supply necessary information, but otherwise stays in the background.
  3. Editorial commentator. The author’s persona has a distinct attitude toward the story’s characters and events, and frequently comments on them.

I’m not here to argue that there aren’t scads of examples of head hopping in the classics. I know some who say that there are, and I like them. One such critic is my friend Lexi. Dickens and Shakespeare rolled around in heads like peas bouncing in and out of coffee cans .

Whether it used to happen (and still does for published authors) is beside my point. I’m saying today there is an industry bias against HH. Agents, editors, and contest judges want to see unpublished writers demonstrate tight control of POV and not jumping around within paragraphs or scenes. In his Flogging the Quill blog Ray Rhamey, “surveyed a number of New York publishing pros…and asked for their views.” One responded, “If you tell your story with recourse to everyone’s head at all times, you’re basically throwing out all the rules and permitting yourself everything.” That’s playing fast and loose with the rules. Click here to read his full post.

I liked the take Me, My Muse, and I blog had on the subject called “Why I Can’t Head Hop.”

Rules are made to be broken, the saying goes. Just wait until you’re published and a bestseller to do so.

Reason #4 – No Hole in the Soul

The character lacks yearning–the “hole in the soul”

Every story is in some way a journey that moves the story’s hero from a place he is comfortable to one that is different from what he is accustomed. It is the trials and troubles that the hero deals with that allow him to see the hole and learn (and then know) how to fill it (and with what). The hero doesn’t know he has a “hole in the soul” until he’s forced to face it. Scrooge learns that he needs people (for more than money) as he is confronted with his past, present, and future. The hole in the soul is the hero’s blind spot.

Reason #5 – Throat Clearing

Too far removed from the inciting incident

Don’t spend time warming your engine. Start close to the point where the hero’s world starts to change.

James N Frey says, “…beginning writers falsely believe they have to ‘set the stage’ and ‘inform the reader about past events’ before getting on with the story.”

In his Top Ten Rules of Writing Elmore Leonard says, “even if you’re good at [writing scenes with weather or scenery], you don’t want descriptions that bring the action, the flow of the story, to a standstill.” If the story is at the beginning, the effect can be mind numbing and turn the reader off before even getting started.

Reason #6 – Beginning with a flashback or dream

Beginning with a flashback or dream

I am guilty of this, one of my first beginnings (yes, there was a previous and I’m on iteration seven) started with a FATS (Firearm Training Scenarios) scenario. Only, I didn’t reveal it wasn’t “real” (fictional reality) in the story. The jig was up when the proctor called an end to the program.The jig was up for me when I got called on starting with a dream.

James N Frey, author of How to Write a Damn Good Novel , really cautions against flashbacks. He does admit it’s not absolute. His article On Flashbacks is worth reading. The skill comes in “bleeding” in the backstory at the right time in the right way.

For more on handling Flashbacks see Flogging the Quill.

Reason #7 – Talking Heads

Talking heads instead of narration

According to Jack Bickham, author of Scene and Structure, there are four components to dialogue (CoD):
• words that are spoken
• attribution—so your readers don’t forget who’s talking
• stage action—action, expression, and body language
• internalization—thoughts and feelings

Too often it’s just the words that are spoken and the other parts of dialogue are forgotten. I seem to remember a “rule of three” about not having more than three sentences of a person speaking before it’s broken up by another bit of something.

Nothing should occur in a vacuum.

Reason #8 – Telling

Telling instead of showing

“Show don’t tell” is an aphorism often heard in writer’s groups. Anton Chekhov wrote, ‘Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.’

Showing gives information that stands out and is more plausible. It allows us to feel, see, smell what the character is feeling, seeing, smelling and it gives the scene reality by engaging our senses. Like so much of life, it’s the detail that imprints on memory.

Yet, telling does have a place in a story; during transitions between scenes telling provides a shift in tone and change of pace by allowing a character to reflect on and summarize what just happened, and for background, technical, or historical information.

Instead of “show, don’t tell,” perhaps it should be “show more, tell less.”

Reason #9 – Lacking Action

Here’s the next in the top ten of new novelist’s pitfalls:

Setting and description delivered in large chunks

Now you’re going to get my take and memories of what the items mean. The list of Top Ten Pitfalls was read and not handed out or displayed, so any confusion is mine and mine alone.

Setting/Description in large chunks means lengthy description of scenery and weather with no action and no tension and—since tension is the torque that propels a story along—no story.

No story = No Readers.

Reason #10 – Flat Writing

I’m taking a community college novel writing course. I wrote down the instructor’s list of Top Ten Mistakes Newbie Novelists Make and thought I’d deliver it like Letterman. Number 10…

Flat writing (passive sentences/weak verbs)

Passive sentences and weak verbs drain life from writing. I’ve read (and written no doubt) stuff that lacks ‘zaz. Every sentence is passive and action is lacking. I have started snatching beefy verbs and packing them away.

I will unveil #9 tomorrow.

Harry Splutter & the Lure of Hollyweird

“Time is an illusion, lunchtime doubly so.” ~ Douglas Adams

Epi-soda 15

“My word.” Bumblebore sighed. “It seems like we been riding the McClatchy—formerly Knight-Ridder—bus for weeks.”

“It only feels that way,” said Hermione knowledgably and rather smugly. She reached her arm all the way past the elbow into her clutch bag and pulled out The Year of Magical Thinking. She opened the book at the place that she had bookmarked previously.

“What are you going to do with that?” asked Randalf the Burnt Sienna morosely. He sat next to Bumblebore wishing he could twiddle his thumbs. That is Randalf wished he could twiddle his own thumbs, mind you, not Bumblebore’s.

Hermione had her nose in the open book and while tapping her teeth with a tasseled bookmark. She looked up. “Hmm?”

“He said,” Bumblebore grumbled, “what are you going to do with that?”

“Read it,” said Hermoine obviously.

“We thought you were going to make a point,” observed Bumblebore.

He went on, “perhaps with the bookmark.”

She stared cross-eyed at the bookmark for several sentences in which the narrator discusses how the McClatchy Bus is hurtling through London at astonishing speeds, magically becoming narrower as it squeezed between cars, taxis, lorries, jitneys, and fairies.”

“Hey!” cried Bumblebore.

“Sorry,” apologized the narrator magically.

“The point I was making,” said Hermione at last, “was that we were in ‘bookmark time.’”

“Of course!” exclaimed Bumblebore. “You’re right.”

“Mmmph?” muffled Randalf the Rouge.

“She’s saying,” grumbled Bumblebore irritatedly and pushing Randalf the Rogue—”

“That’s rouge,” huffed Randalf.

“Whoops, sorry.” apologized the narrator again.

“May I continue?” asked Bumblebore, annoyed at the interruption.

“Of course,” said the narrator.
“That the time we’ve been away,” Bumblebore continued gravelly, “which seemed like weeks or months, was rather like the time period that occurs when you put a bookmark between pages and then set it aside. When you return to it, you open it to the bookmark and the characters are right where you left them.”

“Brilliant!” cried Der Weasel (it being in his contract that he must say ‘brilliant’ once an episode).