An Exercise for Considering Sentence Variety

I teach creative writing at the college level. Though, I never liked the term “creative writing”… I think all writing (blog writing, essay writing, news writing, technical writing) is an act of creativity.

So, I teach fiction writing, and one thing I work on with my students is an awareness of their style.

One lesson I teach comes right out of the book What If? … a great book! It’s full of exercises for fiction writers. (I receive no $$ if you decide to purchase it).

What If? can be purchased: here

So, here’s the lesson. Take 10 sentences in a row from your writing. Ideally, these include no dialogue… so 10 narrative sentences in a row.

Now, number on a piece of paper like so.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

Now count the number of words in each sentence and record it. You’ll get something that looks like this…

1.     14

2.     19

3.     6

4.     34

Etc.

Now, you have a snapshot of your writing style… especially a quick snapshot of any sentence length you tend to favor.

I tell my students that what they take from the snapshot is what they take. More than anything, I’m asking them if they see a variety of sentence lengths.

Problems might be… 1. 38

                                    2. 45

                                    3. 36

I would say that’s a lot of really long sentences for your reader to get through back to back. Maybe you favor an overly-long sentence and it’s making for a tedious style.

Same could be said of having too many short sentences back to back. Might make for an overly- simplistic style.

I also point out to them that this could be problematic.

1.     14

2.     16

3.     12

4.     16

5.     15

6.     10

I would say, even though the sentences aren’t particularly long or short, that this favoring of stacking medium length sentences back to back could make for a dull style.

What the numbers say to you are what the numbers say to you… but let them speak. Don’t immediately be satisfied by what you see. Ask yourself, “Is this telling me I should break up some of my longer sentences? Do I need more variety?”

Here is a random excerpt from Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury.

1. 7

2. 4

3. 23

4. 51

5. 11

6. 12

7. 12

8. 7

9. 38

10. 10

I see a wide variety of sentence lengths in this (even with that 11, 12, 12) back to back. He has a sentence with as few as 4 words, but then that beast at 51 words. And do you see how after the 51 he ratchets back to an 11? It’s not until five sentences later that we see anything over 30. The reader can ingest the long sentences, but then gets that brief digestion time.

Now, is Bradbury counting his words as he writes (“Hmm, let’s get a 7, 18, 3, 22 combo”)?

Doubtful. But he is either aware or intuitively aware of sentence variety.

Now, of course, numbers alone don’t make for good style. There are some, like Hemingway, who can make multiple short sentences back to back work. And, like with Bradbury, some can weave a beautiful (but effortless for the reader) longer sentence. We can’t all do that, though.

But, this exercise can be an interesting beginning to looking at the sentence variety in your own style.

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

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One-Minute Films... Good for Beginning and Seasoned Indie Filmmakers

I sometimes forget that I wanted this to be a blog about indie filmmaking as much as I wanted it to be about fiction. With that in mind, I wanted to do a post about one of my favorite types of movies… the one-minute movie.

The one-minute movie is a great start for indie filmmakers to cut their teeth… although it’s also a great outlet for more experienced filmmakers looking for a project in between their longer projects. Many film festivals now are either completely dedicated to one-minute films or they have a one-minute category. The key search terms for such festivals on Filmfreeway are: one-minute, one minute, 1 minute, sixty seconds, 60 seconds, short short, and micro.

For indie filmmakers, the one-minute movie has many benefits. Although, like any film, they could be expensive, on the whole I’ve shot all of my one-minute films for less than $25… and often, because I use props I already have, they don’t cost me anything. One-minute films tend to have less locations and can usually be shot in one day. They also have less scenes/shots, so the indie filmmaker can really focus on the cinematography of each shot. (Sometimes with longer projects, as the shooting day wanes, I find myself getting in the mind frame of “we just need to get this shot” which can detract from quality).

A one-minute film that I watched early in my filmmaking venture really opened my eyes to how powerful a one-minute film can be. You can watch Polyanna by Roman Gubin here:

https://vimeo.com/253583084

Obviously that one had some budget behind it… and it actually looks like it was a longer film, and Gubin decided to make a one-minute version as well (which filmmakers can do—and I have done!—which allows you to submit to more festivals as you have a longer and a one-minute version to submit).

I’m not really going to talk about cinematography or shooting techniques when it comes to one-minute films. I’m still slowly learning the nuances of those myself and probably will never get as good as a truly dedicated cinematographer.

What I want to talk about – and which I believe is my strength – is the one-minute script. So, this blog post applies to budding screenwriters too because a one-minute script might be the first opportunity for them to see their words adapted for the screen.

A traditional narrative one-minute film (nothing experimental or art house) functions a lot like a joke. That’s not to say that they are all funny. It’s just that they have a build-up and then an ending with a real payoff. I don’t necessarily call the endings twist endings (never like that term… almost like you’re tricking the audience). Instead, I call them inevitable, satisfying, but also unexpected.

And, remember, with a good joke the buildup can be just as satisfying as the punchline. And, there’s a real balance… what needs to happen in the buildup to make the payoff as strong as possible?

These two neighbors who have lived next to each other for years discovered their common interest in fishing. On a Saturday, they take a boat out to a lake, drop their worms over the side and wait. As it turns out, they have little in common and little to say to each other… and the fishing is absolutely dead. Not even a nibble. After three hours, one of the neighbors reels up his line, reaches into his tackle box, takes out a stick of dynamite, lights it, and then throws it twenty feet from the boat into the water.

Boom! A huge explosion of water erupts into the air. A moment later, huge fish begin to float to the surface stunned from the blast.

“What the hell are you doing?” the other neighbor asks.

Without answering, the other draws up the anchor, rows to the fish, and begins scooping them into the boat with his net.

“Are you crazy? Do you have any idea how illegal that is? This is why the world is falling apart. People feel they can do whatever they want. They think the rules don’t apply to them.”

The other neighbor, seemingly oblivious, keeps scooping the floating fish into the boat.

“You can ignore me all you want, but as soon as you’re done there, I demand that you take me back to shore. I’m calling a game warden. Neighbor or not, you’re not getting away with this. Do you hear me? Do you?”

Without answering, the other flops the last fish into the boat, reaches into his tackle box and takes out another stick of dynamite. He lights it and then tosses it on the boat floor next to the other guy’s feet. Then he looks the ranting neighbor in the eye and asks: “You come out here to talk or to fish?”

I believe that joke works because of the setup. Even the dialogue in the setup is satisfying. I believe if the objecting neighbor doesn’t go on long enough, the payoff falls a little flat. If the dialogue goes on too long, the payoff isn’t worth the wait. Just like with making a one-minute film, there’s an art to telling a joke. Plus, before the payoff even happens, you have this odd moment where the neighbor is lighting dynamite and using it to fish! It creates a mystery that gets the audience wondering… where is this going? So, they are ripe to experience the ending.

The nice thing is that a one-minute script tends to be one page long. It can be worked and reworked until it’s perfectly fine-tuned. And it should be… before any kind of pre-production happens. Live with the script and make certain the story works on paper first.

For my own one-minute films, I often start with a unique location or prop that I already know is available to me. That becomes my starting point for creativity. For instance, I have an oil change pit in my garage. It goes some six feet down with cement walls and a cement floor. I decided I was going to write a script using that pit… and ended up writing a script called “The Pit.”

Here: https://vimeo.com/290392146

Sometimes I’ll start with an idea. I often hear older guys say things like “If I knew at 20 what I know now, my life would have turned out differently.” Playing off of that idea, I wrote a one-minute script called “Eleven Eleven.”

Here: https://vimeo.com/259201755

Another time, I was inspired by a flash fiction piece by my good friend Josh Maday. I had to adapt it to work with what I had available to me. I called it “A Fool and His Money.”

Here: https://vimeo.com/288010971

“The Pit” cost me nothing… I bought the cereal, but my kids ended up eating it after I was done shooting. “Eleven Eleven” cost nothing. “A Fool and His Money” cost me about $6 because I bought the coin flips.

So far, “Eleven Eleven” has had 12 film festival acceptances with one Best Micro Comedy win from Avalonia Film Festival. “A Fool and His Money” has had 5 acceptances with one award for Best Micro Comedy from the Berlin Flash Film Festival. And “The Pit” has had 7 film festival acceptances.

I hope watching some one-minute films has inspired you to write and shoot your own… or to write one and find someone to shoot it. To get inspired, you might think in terms of… “what’s a unique location or prop I can use to get inspired? What’s an idea that can be pulled off in a minute?”

I’ll end with what has been my best one-minute film to date (with 19 festival acceptances and 5 awards)… it’s called “Stood Up” and takes on more serious subject matter.

Here: https://vimeo.com/300645882

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

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Part Two: Fly Fishing and Publication

Just recently, I wrote a blog post about three things that fly fishing can teach you about being more successful when it comes to submitting for publication. One of the three concepts was the idea of “keeping your fly on the water” – meaning you can’t catch fish if you’re not floating your fly, and you can’t get published if your work is sitting on your laptop.

Then, serendipitously enough, I left for a three-day fly fishing trip with my good friend. We had a decent first day and a half. We each had some fish (though no keepers), and we were having a great time.

On the second night, we were fishing the same stretch of the river. I was downstream from him where some brook trout were rising, but they weren’t much interested in what I was casting. As dusk faded into the darkness of night, I left the river and started along the trail, where I knew my friend would be fishing The Big Bend… or just The Bend as we call it.

The Bend is well-known to us (after 20 years of fishing it) to hold some really good-size brown trout that start feeding off the surface right around 9:30 p.m. For my fishing partner, the second night of our trip was no exception. As I was walking the trail back, my partner yelled to me, “You just missed the fight! I landed a 13 and half-inch brown!”

Just so you know, fishing with a dry fly and a fly rod, that’s a very good-sized fish.

I went back into the river and waded to the bank where he was cleaning the fish on an outcropping of sand. It was a big fish! And everything about my buddy’s demeanor was so upbeat. He was talking fast, smiling, and just elated to have caught such a good fish… his best fish in the over 20-year history of us fishing together.

I tried really hard to be happy for him. I did. But I was struggling. Standing in the dark in the river a few feet from him, I could hide my sullen expression. I had my rod in hand, and I casted a couple half-hearted attempts at The Bend… (but chances were slim to none that another fish would strike after the hole had been so riled up by my buddy’s fight with his fish.)

So I stood, feeling sorry for myself (because I didn't catch a fish)… and then my rod bent over like one of McDonald’s golden arches. “Hey!” I said. It was so dark, my friend didn’t know what was going on. “What?” he said, but then in the halo of his hat’s brim light, he must have seen me standing there clearly struggling with a BIG fish.

I could tell by the force yanking and pulling beneath the surface that this was a good-sized fish. Don’t imagine me as Brad Pitt from A River Runs Through It. I was really pathetic. I was so certain that I was going to blow it… that I was getting this big chance, but I wouldn’t be able to make it happen. I was saying aloud in a high pitched voice to my friend, “I’m going to lose it! I’m going to lose it!”… even as it was still clearly on my line. After I asked (practically begged), my buddy agreed to net the fish for me, so I just had to play it up to the surface (easier said than done) so he could get the net under it.

Some of what was happening I couldn’t see because my pal’s back was in front of me. I saw flashes of the fish here and there on the surface as it thrashed. I knew it was at least a keeper. In fact, I knew it was more than a keeper because my buddy kept saying, “This thing is a pig!”

He eventually scooped it into his net, and brought it to the same sand bank where he’d cleaned his fish. We measured it… and the fish was 16.25 inches long. It was the best fish of my life (and might remain so).

Ok, what does any of this have to do with writing/publishing? Well, first, I am ashamed that I couldn’t be truly elated for my friend that he’d caught such a good fish. I was happy for him, but like with almost anything, there’s a degree of competitiveness. Ken Kesey, author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, said in an interview once, “A victory for any writer is a victory for all writers.” Same is true for fly fishing. Catching a big fish on a tiny fly attached by dental floss-thin leader is about as likely as making it big as a writer.

When it happens, the moment should be truly celebrated. 

I failed there.

But, I guess some of it comes down to what I did with that self-pitying moment. I sulked, but I didn't quit. Somehow, through it all, I still managed to flick my fly into The Bend a few times. I kept going. I kept my fly on the water. The payoff (and there might have been a degree of luck… as there is with publishing too)… I landed the best fish of my life.

None of that would have happened had I not kept my fly on the water!

But, also… and this is important… I didn’t do it alone. If my buddy hadn’t been there to net it for me, I’m not sure I would have landed that fish. That’s some of what fly fishing can teach about publishing too. The publication isn’t truly ours only. People helped us. Someone taught us to read. An aunt gave us books. A teacher encouraged. A professor opened our eyes to something. A friend gave a great beta read. A lot of people helped us “net” that publication.

Publication is nothing to get arrogant about because you likely didn’t make it happen on your own. Just like I thanked my friend several times that night for netting that fish we, upon publication, must take the time to try to thank everyone who helped us make publication happen.

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

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What Fly Fishing Can Teach You About Submitting for Publication

Getting ready to go on a fly fishing trip for a few days, and it made me think of a presentation I used to do comparing fly fishing to submitting work for publication. Getting published and catching a keeper with a fly are both long shots, but you can improve your chances.

 

Some of this probably applies more for those wanting to go the traditional publishing route (but some has universal application)

 

Submitting a novel for possible publication? Here’s how an understanding of fly fishing strategy could help.

 

Three things fly fishing can teach you about submitting your written work.

 

Check Your Gear

 

Before you go fly fishing, you’ll want to check your waders for leaks. You want to make sure you have leaders and fly dressing (which helps your fly float). Is your fly line frayed? Are you really ready to fish or are you just overly excited to fish and jumping the gun (I know, mixed metaphor… there’s no starting gun in fly fishing)

 

Before you submit your written work, are you really ready? Have you tried some beta readers? Have you thoroughly proofread? Have you let your manuscript sit awhile and then come back to it with fresh eyes? With many outlets and venues, you get one chance (just like with holes on the river)… are you making it your best chance or are you just overly excited to submit and jumping the gun? (again, mixed metaphor).

 

Know Your Fish

 

With fly fishing… what kind of fish are you fishing for? Flies made for bass fishing are not likely to land you a trout. (Can’t tell you how many times my well-meaning family has bought me Gulf Coast flies. “Um, this is nice, but why did you buy me a shrimp pattern?” Daughter: “It’s pretty.” True enough, but it’s not going to catch me a trout in Michigan!) You need to do your research. If mayflies aren’t hatching, your mayfly pattern is not very likely to be successful. Do your research into what insects are hatching. Make sure you have fly patterns that match the hatch.

 

For writers, the shotgun approach to submitting or querying is likely to be a waste of your time. Do your research. Did you just finish a fantasy novel? Make sure the agents or presses that you are submitting to actually have an interest in fantasy. You’ll really increase your chances of getting a nibble. Sure, with so many taking online/email queries/submissions, it typically doesn’t cost you cash (envelopes/stamps, etc) but time is money as they say. Why waste your time casting a Spanish mackerel pattern to a feeding brown trout?

 

Keep Your Flies on the Water

 

In my experience, the more time on the water with a well-tied, carefully selected fly, the more likely you’ll catch a fish. Nobody has ever caught fish just sitting on the shore dreaming of catching a fish. You gotta keep your flies on the water. Yes, you almost had a big one on. You lost it. You’re wasting your time casting and casting again to the same hole. Those big ones usually only give you one chance. Don’t stand upstream of the hole lamenting what could have been. There are more fish downstream, but you won’t catch them standing there. What happened with one fish does not mean it will happen with the next fish. Your next cast could be a keeper, but it won’t be if you don’t keep your fly on the water.

 

Same goes with writing. When you are certain it’s ready, keep your fly (manuscript) out there. Yes, it’s heartbreaking to have an agent request the first 30 pages only to hear three weeks later, “This just isn’t right for me.” You can’t let that crush you. Get the rejection, feel the feels, and then press on to the next hole. Keep your manuscript out there. Too many writers get that rejection and then waste time questioning their work. If you’ve done step one and thoroughly checked your gear, well, your fly is as ready as it’s ever going to be. Keep casting. Keep submitting. No fly=no fish the same as No submission=no publication.

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

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Hands and Fiction's Sleight of Hand

I’m often telling my fiction students that they are like magicians. Instead of pulling a rabbit from a hat, however, they are pulling a believable world from words. No camera, no microphones, no actors, no special effects… the only thing they have available to them is words. Just like the magician only has sleight of hand and misdirection. It's easy to fail...

...but when it works, it’s magic. 

A fiction writer at her best can make words seem like a world… something visceral that the reader could almost walk into.

That’s the sleight of hand involved in fiction… words masquerading as world.

And, I think thinking of your characters’ hands as additional props (barometers even for how they are feeling) can really help as an element to your magic show.

Think about how often we do something with our hands/arms. I’m typing this right now. You might be holding a cup of coffee or absently petting an animal on the couch next to you.

Someone in your house is brushing their teeth, scratching an earlobe, touching an old scar, or washing dishes.

Dr. Fauci, flabbergasted, puts his head down into his hand.

We, as people, are forever doing things with our hands: some of it utilitarian and some of it more nuanced and associated with emotion.

Utilitarian: we pound a nail because we want to hang a picture

Emotional: we cross our arms because we feel vulnerable

Like with our world, our characters should use their hands in utilitarian and emotional ways.

I often allow some writing time in class. While my students are writing, I’ll shout out prompts and reminders, and one of them is “Get their hands doing something.”

As an example, here’s a scene:

            Nick walked into the kitchen. His daughter was sitting at the counter texting.

            “Please tell me that’s anyone but that Hayes boy.”

            She didn’t look up from the screen. “You said not to lie to you.”

            Nick was clearly getting angry. “I don’t understand, two nights ago you said yourself he’s a loser.”

            “I never said that.”

            “You see,” he said, “now there’s the lying again.”

            “Whatever.”

            Nick walked over to the coffee pot and refilled his cup. He turned back to face his daughter. “Ok, name one good thing about him.”

            She looked up into the ceiling as though her answer were there. Then she looked at Nick. “Well, he’s not you.”

            Nick stood seething with anger.

Now, that same scene except with an emphasis on how hands might “flesh out” the scene.

            Nick walked into the kitchen. His empty coffee cup dangled by its handle from his finger. His daughter was sitting at the counter, her thumbs like little pistons on her phone.

            Nick closed his eyes and squeezed his forehead with his free hand. “Please tell me that’s anyone but that Hayes boy.” He opened his eyes and watched her from under the brim of his palm.

            She didn’t look up from the screen. Her thumbs didn’t stop. “You said not to lie to you.”

            Nick set the coffee cup down. He leaned, holding the sides of the island’s countertop. His knuckles whitened under the pressure of his grip. “I don’t understand, two nights ago you said yourself he’s a loser.”

            One of her fingers found its way to her ear and she itched inside it absently. “I never said that.”

            “You see,” he said, pointing at her, but then taking the finger back just as quickly, “now there’s the lying again.”

            Her thumbs were back to business. “Whatever.”

            Nick walked over to the coffee pot and refilled his cup. He turned back to face his daughter. “Ok, name one good thing about him.”

            She looked up into the ceiling as though her answer were there. Then she looked at Nick. Her thumbs were still. “Well, he’s not you.”

            Nick squeezed the coffee cup in his hand until it registered a slight internal crack.

It’s not the only way, but orchestrating your characters’ hands is a way to add more visceral life to your story. It’s almost a choreography of sorts. If you want to get started, just watch the people in your own household. Their hands are seldom still.

Your characters’ shouldn’t be either.

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

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