To Cuss or Not to Cuss--How Will My Characters Talk?

Sometimes I worry I do my readers a disservice. They never know what they're going to get from me. Depending on my characters, language can run the gamut from one or two "dirty words" to more "F-bombs" dropped than gunfire in a war.

So, why the difference?

Why don't I write all my books in the same language style?

In short, it's my characters.

As I write their stories, some characters tell me they wouldn't use that word so I clean up the language. Yes, I hear voices. Others, like my hero in a book currently with an editor, have no qualms about using the F-word frequently. The hero in the book I'm writing now speaks with less spice.

But why? Aren't I the writer? Aren't I the one putting the words on the computer screen? Yes. Yes, I am. I am also in my character's head. If I'm striving for deep point of view, I have to mentally become them. Yup...there are times, for hours a day, I might think and write like a man. I have to act and react in an Alpha male manner. Use my pretend hunk swagger.

If I choose not to listen to my character's directions, he or she wakes me up at night. Or preys on my mind during the day long after I've moved onto another chapter.

Not all authors think the way I do. And that's okay. They don't have to deal with how my mind works. I do. So one time you might read a book of mine with little swearing and other times the language will make your hair curl. It's my characters' fault.

DRIVE YOUR READERS INTO DEEPER POINT OF VIEW

Rarely does one start out as a good writer. I wince as I read over my earlier efforts. Gee, and I thought they were so great at the time. Writers improve by writing. Write in your genre. Write in another genre for growth. The more you write, the better you will become. It’s just that simple.

Or so I tell myself as I aim for continual improvement. Just as I get one bad habit conquered, I'm told about two more.

My first problem to conquer was point of view issues. If I had six people in a scene, by golly you knew what all six people were thinking. I had no clue I was displaying weak writing. Boy, did I have a lot to learn. So I began studying point of view (pov) through books and online classes.

Allow me to share some things I've learned. Then maybe you can add what tips you've picked up about point of view in your comments. We can learn from each other. How cool is that?

Years ago, books were written in omniscient pov, with the writer as the literary god who knew everything, saw everything, heard everything. By and large, that pov has gone out of style like teased hair and polyester leisure suits. Enter the singular pov. Many mysteries are written in first person pov (I suspected he was a liar.). Novels are usually written in the third person pov of the main character (Molly Brown hated liars.). Romances mainly include the third person pov of the hero and heroine (Fabio had to admit the woman fascinated him).

Remember, pov is the vehicle your reader uses to travel through your story. And you want your reader to ride in style from the words "Chapter One" to "The End." We don't want them riding on the front bumper as we tell them the story. No. We want them settled into the cushiony leather seats of our vehicle while we show them the characters, action, emotions and conflict of our story.

To quote Alicia Rasley in her The Power of Point of View (Writers Digest Books, 2008), “we see and hear and feel a particular event from the perspective of one person. We might not consciously think that we are in Johnny’s head and body during a battle scene, but we know that Johnny’s ears are ringing from the artillery fire, his vision is blurring, and he’s seriously considering dropping his weapon and heading for the woods. We get the vicarious experience of exhaustion, despair, and pain without actually having to fight the battle.”

Our goals, as a writer, are twofold. First, we want to tell a good story. Second, we want to draw the reader into the head and body of our pov character. We want our reader to experience everything our character is seeing, hearing, tasting, touching, thinking, smelling and feeling. In effect, we want the reader to become the pov character. We do this by becoming the pov character while we write.

Of course that's not always easy to do, is it? I have no clue what's its like being chased by a werewolf, for example, but I do know what it's like to be chased by a swarm of bees. I know the effects of the "flight or fight" syndrome: heart pounding in my ears, rapid breathing, trembling, dry mouth, clenched stomach and so on. So, if I were to write a scene about being chased by a werewolf, I'd draw on those feelings to show readers what my pov character is experiencing. 

Avoid using “she heard” or “she saw” or “she thought.” These phrases distance the reader from the character and are not needed. If we are in Sally’s pov, for example, the reader already knows you, the writer, are writing about what Sally experiences. Let me show you—

Sally stood on the corner waiting for the bus and heard the church bell chime eight times. It was so cold outside this morning she felt a shiver raise goose bumps on her arms. Instinctively, she covered the bruise on her cheek when she saw Mr. George walking toward her. Behind her, she heard Toby, her husband, call her name and turned. Just as she thought, he was still angry. Oh, how she wished she were already on the bus, far away from here.

 Now, without the distancers (sorry, I know that’s not a word): 

Sally stood on the corner waiting for the bus. The church bell chimed eight times, adding an echo to the crisp coldness of the morning air. She shivered and huddled into the fleecy lining of her jacket, blowing warm breath into her cupped, chilled hands. Footsteps crunched on the snow-covered sidewalk as Mr. George approached. Instinctively she covered the bruise on her cheek, her touch making it throb. She nodded a silent greeting to her neighbor, which he returned. Had he noticed the bruises? Toby called her name, and she tensed. When she glanced back over her shoulder, her husband was running toward her, unshaven, disheveled and clearly angry. Oh, how she wished she were already on the bus, far away from here.

Which scene did you feel more a part of? Since we knew we were in Sally’s pov, the distancers “she heard”, “she saw” and “she felt” were unnecessary. 

Now, we’re going to talk about deep pov. In deep pov, we show the reader why. Why does our pov character behave this way? React this way? Think this way? Why does a woman tense when she’s alone with a man? Why does our male character distrust women? Why does a teenager hate family social functions? Why does a man turn to alcohol every day after work?

We all have a history. Our history helps shape our behavior and thoughts.

Readers will also understand and accept a character’s bad behavior if they understand the pain or history behind it. This becomes our job as writers to show—not tell—why our characters behave the way they do. We draw them into the character’s head, into their psyche, if you will.

POV is more than knowing whose head we are in. As writers, we seek to draw our readers into the character’s body. By incorporating the senses, we can show them how scratchy wool feels against the skin, how a whisper at the ear can feather the hair, how yucky it feels when water gets into the character’s shoes or how a loud heavy-metal song jangles the nerves. As writers, we help the reader live the experience. We also make the reader privy to the emotional secrets and pains the character carries within. And don't we all carry around pain from a past experience?

By using deep pov, we add texture, emotion and strength to our writing. Use the power of pov to make your stories memorable. Make the power work for you, your way, your style, your voice.

Here's an excerpt from Those Violet Eyes set to release from The Wild Rose Press on Wednesday.

He had no right. No right to reawaken a dream long ago snuffed out by the force of her family’s demands. She’d be lucky to move off the ranch into a place of her own, much less go back to college.

Her mare raced up a gentle hill toward high grass and shrubs. A pond came into view on the other side of the rise. She reined in her horse, slowing her to a walk. The mount stepped to the water’s edge and took a drink. After a minute, Evie urged her on. “Let’s walk around the pond, Molly Mae.”

Butterflies flitted from bush to bush.

Grosbeaks chirped pretty songs.

Gnats buzzed.

Evie fumed.

College was out of the question. As it was, her employment at the Lonesome Steer depended on how long Win kept on cooking there. Once Win quit, Gus’s need for a waitress would quickly decline. How would she pay rent and tuition then? She’d have to endure the pain and disappointment once more of having her dream snatched away. She could not, would not go through that again.

A movement caught her eye. Win sat on Blaze at the top of the rise, watching her. Waiting.

Damn him and his waiting. She hiked her chin and glared at him. He can wait until his hair turns gray. I’m not going to him.

Win evidently saw her determined features. He shook his head a couple times and clicked his tongue for Blaze to approach her. When his horse stopped beside hers, he glanced across the pond, watching the birds—or waiting. Damn him.

Well, she could wait, too.

She slipped a foot out of her stirrup and slung it across her saddle. Leather creaked. A bullfrog plopped into the water. Silent minutes clanged by, growing louder with each tick of some unseen clock.

“Never took you for a coward, kitten. Not with all that attitude you’ve got.” Win slid his gaze to her, his hazel eyes growing hard. “Or was that all bluster to hide a scared little girl.”

Before she thought it through, Evie slid off Molly Mae. “You come down here and say that to my face, Win Fairchild, you overbearing, pushy bastard. I’ll slap your ears so hard, they’ll make a jam sandwich. Two floppy ears jammed together, you no-brained idiot. What gives you the right to push at me like this?”

Win slipped off Blaze, all ease and grace. In a flurry of movement, he grabbed her arms and hauled her to him. “What do you want out of life, Evie? Do you want to rot away on the Double-Bar working for Dooley? Or do you want to go after your dreams?”

“Some dreams are just that—dreams.” Didn’t he understand?

 

Did you feel a part of the scene? Did I take you deep into Evie's point of view? What tips have you learned about the power of deep point of view? Please share...

MAKE ME FEEL, AND I'M YOURS --

I love books that make me feel. If an author can write well enough to make me cry or laugh or have my heart pounding with fear for some scary thing I know is about to happen, I'm going to make note of that writer's name and buy her or him again and again.


Now you know why I have almost every book written by David Morell. Yes, he wrote the Rambo series, but many other action thriller books, as well. Once the professor of creative writing at Iowa University, he is a master story-teller. My favorite of his books is The League of Night and Fog.

Books one and two of Janet Evanovitch's Stephanie Plum series are my favorites for bed shaking laughter (now that I'm writing fulltime, the only chance I have to read is in bed). That woman can write such vivid pictures of her characters that you can't help but laugh.

AJ Neust, one of my sweet online buddies, certainly made me cry as I read Jezebel's Wish. And there are many others.


Still, the question remains. How does a writer suck you into the emotions on the page?

Deep point of view.

When we write in a way that shows, we engage our readers. If I write--Someone was walking behind Gloria, and she turned to see who it was. She saw a man in a dark coat and black ski mask.--that's telling. But notice the difference in overall tone, if I show you. A twig snapped and foilage rustled in the night. Someone was behind her, following her, stalking her. Gloria's footsteps increased as she peered over her shoulder. A man in a dark coat and black ski mask stood not ten feet away. Moonlight glinted off the chrome barrel of his gun, and it was pointed directly at her.

Did you hear the twig snap under his foot? Did you feel the unease creep up her spine? Did you almost gasp when she saw the man and his gun?

When a writer uses "she heard" or "she felt" or "she saw," we are distanced from the story. We're being told the story. There's no chance for us to experience it. But if the writer shows us what the point of view character sees, hears, feels and thinks, we become a part of the experience. We're sucked into the story. We're at one with the point of view character. We're hooked.

My goals as a writer are two-fold. One, I want to tell a good story. Two, I want to hook you from the first paragraph and whisper in your ear, "Hang on, I'm about to take you for a ride." I'm going to introduce you to some great characters, some sweet, some nasty and some quite quirky. I'm going to have you feel a range of emotions between the words "Chapter One" and "The End." Or at least try very hard to do so. I want you "in" my story. And I want you coming back for more.

THE ALL-IMPORTANT BACKSTORY

We all have a backstory. You know, those events in our past that affect how we react to things now. Things that push our buttons. Take me, for example, as a child who stuttered, I was often perceived as less intelligent than others, as if my stuttering were an indication of my IQ. So, now if you want to push my buttons, treat me as if I'm stupid. Believe me, it won't be a pretty sight.

We all react to things differently. Take someone falling; I grew up during the age of slapstick comedy, full of prat-falls. Now, if someone falls,  including myself, I have to fight the urge to laugh like a demented loon.

Different things affect our deep emotions, too. I am a weepy soul. News stories, movies and some well-written scenes in books can make me cry. My Calvin says, "I'm a soft-hearted woman in a hard-hearted world." But basically, I can't stand to see someone sad or belittled or abused--things that point back to my childhood, my backstory.

As writers, we need to know our character's backstory. What makes them tick? Why does our hero mistrust women? Why does our heroine have an eating disorder? Why does this person get angry when he or she is no longer in control of a situation? A backstory gives our characters flaws, makes them real to the reader and creates room for personal growth within the story.

Even so, we must dribble in the backstory in little dabs. How many of us have read pages of backstory only to feel our eyes glaze over. Usually, by this time, I'm thinking let's get on with it. Move the story forward! This becomes a writer's challenge: Putting in enough backstory to explain the character's quirks, but not so much as to beleaguer the point by droning on and on and on.

Do I handle this part of writing well? Not yet, but when I find myself writing more than two paragraphs about someones backstory, I ask myself if there isn't a quicker, more interesting way for my readers to know why...why does my character act or react this way? Writers, create and use your character's backstory.

The New Art of Narration

A friend told me yesterday she was reading Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea. I groaned inwardly, remembering that boring book from my sophomore reading class. Yet she was animated as she gushed on about it. I suppose I should revisit it myself.

I do that, you see, judge a book by my immature reaction to it as a teenager. A Tale of Two Cities, The Scarlet Letter, Moby Dick...et all. Couldn't the teachers have chosen something more spell-binding? Books that contained less narration and more dialogue? Books that drew the reader into the mind of the character?

That's the mind-set of current day novels. We've moved away from long narrations in books. We're told by editors that this is too old-fashioned or literary -- as if being literary is a bad thing.

I grew up on gothic romances where detailed descriptions of rooms and clothing could take up pages. We readers, who figured we'd never have a chance to enter those worlds, devoured every description.

Now, writers tend to focus on dialogue-driven text, with fast pacing and a deep focus on the emotions and thoughts of the point of view character.

Narrative has been defined as information the reader needs to know that helps move the story forward. Back in the day when people had long attention spans, a novelist could take a long time up front giving the reader the history of the character. "Those days are over," claims James Scott Bell in The Art of War for Writers.

"Now you have to give the reader little bits of narrative at a time--not pages, but paragraphs, perhaps a sentence or two woven in with dialogue so that it's well done, not overdone." Narrative, including the backstory Bell speaks of here, must serve a purpose.

Authors struggle to write opening scenes in their novels that move at a brisk pace or delve readers right into the heart of a conflict, emotional or physical. This crucial first scene sets the tone for the reader. "Act first, explain later," Bell so astutely says. Gone are the openings with narrations about the weather or the scenery or the reflections of the character. If we can't hook an agent or editor on our first page, our carefully crafted manuscripts are tossed. Talk about stress levels!

Todays readers often freeze when they see big chunks of narration. They claim it's unfriendly looking. They skim. They yawn. Sometimes they put the book down. The intrepid readers sludge through narrative mud, hoping something interesting will emerge, waiting to return to the action. Which is how I felt reading that long narrative on economic history and policies in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Big yawn here.

Still, we writers must create a balance of narrative and dialogue/active scenes. It's a fine dance and if you have two left feet, like me, it can be daunting, if not painfully awkward. 

Effective narrative...

• is best in bits, not chunks
• works best when told from the deep point of view of the character
• should never stagnate
• contains sharp imagery and sparkling verbs
• has varying sentence lengths
• is essential to the story
• conveys crucial info the reader needs at that particulat point in the story
• should be done so well that the reader isn't aware there has been a break in the story
• must be properly paced so it won't deaden emotional impact, kill tension, or result in the reader taking a nap or abandoning the book.