James Field's Blog

“That” in Writing: When to Use It, When to Lose It, and How to Get It Right

Hello, fellow fiction writer.

If you’ve ever sat staring at a sentence and thought, “Do I need that ‘that’ or not?” — congratulations, you’re officially a writer.
“That” is one of those words we can’t live without—but also one we overuse like salt in bad soup. Sometimes it’s invisible, sometimes it’s clunky, and sometimes it’s just plain wrong. Let’s look at how to spot when that earns its keep and when it’s just loitering around your sentences.

🎯 Why “That” Trips Writers Up
Because “that” is everywhere. It’s one of English’s most flexible little words—it can be a pronoun, a conjunction, a determiner, or a relative pronoun.
In fiction, though, the problem isn’t understanding its grammatical category—it’s knowing when to cut it, keep it, or replace it for smoother flow.

✏️ The Three Big Problems: Underuse, Overuse, and MisuseLet’s break it down.

1. Overuse — When “That” Is Just Taking Up Space
We often drop “that” into sentences out of habit, even when it’s not needed. Too many of them make your writing feel heavy.
Example (overused):
She said that she thought that the storm would hit soon.
Cleaner version:
She said she thought the storm would hit soon.
See? Nothing lost, everything gained.
👉 Quick tip: If your sentence still makes sense without “that,” cut it.

2. Underuse — When “That” Actually Belongs There
Sometimes writers, in their zeal to cut words, chop out a “that” the reader needs for clarity.
Example (underused):
He told me the car he bought was stolen.
Wait… whose car? His or mine?
Fix:
He told me that the car he bought was stolen.
Now it’s clear—he’s the one with the hot wheels.
👉 Quick tip: If removing “that” causes confusion or makes readers backtrack, keep it.

3. Misuse — When “That” Stands Where “Who” Should Be
This one’s common in fiction. We use “that” when referring to people instead of “who.”
Example (misused):
She’s the woman that lives next door.
Better:
She’s the woman who lives next door.
👉 Quick tip: Use “who” for people, “that” for things, and “which” for non-restrictive clauses. (We’ll unpack that in another post!)

👣 A Personal Oops Moment
In one of my earlier drafts, my editor circled a paragraph and wrote: “Count how many ‘thats’ are in this section.”
I counted.
There were fourteen.
In three paragraphs.
I’d been writing like “that” was going out of fashion. Once I trimmed them, the scene felt leaner, sharper, and way more readable.

🧠 When “That” Adds Flow (and You Should Keep It)
Sometimes cutting “that” makes your sentence sound choppy or weirdly abrupt. Here are a few cases where it actually helps the rhythm:
✅ Keep “that” when:It smooths the sentence:
He assured her that everything was fine.
(Without “that,” it sounds clipped: He assured her everything was fine.)It prevents ambiguity:
She realised that lying had consequences.It adds natural cadence to dialogue or narration.
Fiction is about voice, after all—sometimes we think in “thats.”
🛠 Tips for Fiction WritersDo a “that” search in your manuscript. You’ll be surprised how many are hanging around.Read aloud. If a sentence feels smoother without it, delete it.Don’t overcorrect. Some “thats” are essential for clarity and natural rhythm.Let voice guide you. If your character would say it in conversation, keep it.
🎬 Wrapping It Up
“That” is neither your enemy nor your saviour—it’s just a word that needs supervision.
Use it when it clarifies. Cut it when it clutters. And remember: the goal isn’t perfection; it’s flow.
In the end, your reader won’t notice your brilliant use of “that.” But they will notice if your writing feels heavy or confusing because of it.

​Your turn: Are you a chronic “that”-user or a ruthless cutter? Try running a “that” search in your latest chapter—you might be shocked at how often it sneaks in! Share your results in the comments.

Tautology in Writing: What It Is and How to Avoid It in Your Fiction

Hello again fellow fiction writers.

Writers love words. Sometimes we love them too much. We pile them on, thinking we’re being clear, only to end up saying the same thing twice in slightly different ways. That’s called tautology, and it can weigh your prose down like bricks in a backpack.
The good news? Once you know how to spot tautology, it’s easy to trim it out and let your sentences breathe.

🎯 What Is Tautology?
A tautology is when you use two or more words that mean the same thing, creating needless repetition. It doesn’t add clarity—it just bloats your sentence.
Think of it as a verbal echo. Your brain already heard it once; it doesn’t need the encore.

✏️ Common Examples of Tautology
Here are some everyday examples you’ve probably seen (or written):Free gift (aren’t all gifts free?)Advance planning (as opposed to planning in the past?)Final outcome (just say “outcome”)Added bonus (bonus already means something extra)Close proximity (proximity already implies closeness)Past history (all history is in the past)
🧠 Why Tautology Trips Writers Up
Fiction writers often slip into tautology without realising it. Why? Because when we’re drafting, we’re focused on getting the idea across, not polishing. We throw in “extra” words to feel safe, to hammer home our point. But instead of helping, those words drag the pace and make your prose feel clumsy.

👣 A Personal Oops Moment
In one of my early stories, I wrote:
“He nodded his head in agreement.”
Of course he did—what else would he nod? His elbows? My beta reader circled it and wrote, “Your characters nodding heads is getting redundant. Just say ‘he nodded.’” It was a small cut, but the whole paragraph instantly read cleaner.

✅ How to Spot and Fix Tautology
Here are some quick tips to hunt down tautology in your drafts:Look for redundancy in phrases.“She whispered softly” → “She whispered.”“He shouted loudly” → “He shouted.”Trust strong words to do their job.
If you write “sprinted,” you don’t need “quickly.”Watch out for double modifiers.“Absolutely essential” → “Essential.”“Unexpected surprise” → “Surprise.”Read aloud.
Your ear will catch what your eyes miss. If it sounds repetitive, it probably is.
📝 Examples in Fiction
Tautology (weak):
She sat down on the chair and looked at the red-coloured rose.
Tighter version:
She sat on the chair and looked at the red rose.

Tautology (weak):
He kicked the ball with his foot.
Tighter version:
He kicked the ball.

See how cutting those redundancies makes the prose sharper?

🎬 Wrapping It Up
Tautology isn’t the end of the world—it’s just one of those sneaky habits we all fall into. But trimming it out makes your writing cleaner, faster, and more professional.
So the next time you revise, hunt down those redundant echoes. Your readers will thank you, and your prose will thank you too.

Your turn: What tautology do you find sneaking into your drafts? Drop it in the comments—I promise, you’re not the only one. I answer all comments personally.

James

Starting the Story Sooner: What It Means and Why It’s So Important

Hello, fellow fiction writers.

We’ve all been there—you hand your manuscript to a beta reader, and the first thing they say is, “It takes a while to get going.” Ouch.
Here’s the hard truth: readers these days are impatient. If your story doesn’t hook them fast, they’ll put the book down and scroll TikTok instead. That’s why starting your story sooner is one of the most important things you can do as a fiction writer.
But what does that actually mean? And how do you pull it off without chopping all the good stuff? Let’s break it down.

🎯 What “Starting the Story Sooner” Really Means
It doesn’t mean rushing. It doesn’t mean skipping all the setup. It means dropping readers into the action—the conflict, the tension, the reason your character’s life is about to change—without pages of throat-clearing first.
In plain terms: start as close to the story problem as possible.

✏️ A Tale of Two Openings
Opening 1 (Telling/Too Slow):
It was a beautiful spring morning. Jane woke up, brushed her teeth, picked out her clothes, and wondered if she’d have toast or cereal for breakfast. She thought about her school years and her best friend who moved away…
Are you yawning yet? Readers will be.
Opening 2 (Starting Sooner):
Jane ducked as the first bullet smashed through the kitchen window, scattering glass across her untouched toast. She’d only been awake ten minutes, and someone already wanted her dead.
Boom. We’ve met Jane. We’ve got tension. And we want to know what happens next.

🧠 Why It’s So ImportantModern readers have less patience. With so much competition for attention, you can’t afford three chapters of backstory before things get moving.It sets expectations. Your opening scene tells readers what kind of ride they’re in for—thriller, romance, horror, fantasy. If it’s too slow, they may misjudge your book’s tone.It hooks the right audience. Starting with action and conflict draws in the readers who’ll actually love your story.
👣 Personal Anecdote: My Own False Start
In one of my early drafts (long since buried in a drawer), my first chapter was twenty pages of my protagonist walking around a small town, saying hi to neighbours, and reflecting on how bored he was. My critique partner looked at me and said: “You know the story doesn’t actually start until Chapter 3, right?”
I cut the first two chapters, started where the conflict hit, and suddenly the book came alive. Painful, yes. Worth it? Absolutely.

🚀 How to Start the Story Sooner
Here are a few practical tricks you can use in your own writing:Ask yourself: What’s the first moment of change? That’s probably where your story should begin.Cut the warm-up. Most drafts start with the author easing in. That’s fine—just trim it later.Drop backstory in later. You don’t need your character’s entire life history up front. Weave it in when it becomes relevant.Hook with conflict or curiosity. It doesn’t have to be a car chase—an overheard secret, a missed train, or a strange visitor can do the job.Start in motion. A character making choices, reacting to something, or stepping into new territory is always more engaging than one just waking up.
📝 Quick Before-and-After Example
Before (Too Slow):
Mark stared out the window, thinking about his dull job and the argument he had last week with his boss. He sighed, wondering if life would ever change.
After (Starting Sooner):
Mark’s boss fired him before lunch. By dinner, he’d stolen the company car and was halfway to Mexico.
See how much more promise the second one has?

🎬 Wrapping It Up
Starting your story sooner doesn’t mean cutting all setup—it means giving readers what they came for: conflict, tension, and change. If you hook them quickly, they’ll happily follow you anywhere, even through the slower, quieter scenes that come later.

Your turn: Have you ever chopped your first chapter (or two… or three) to get to the real story? Share your war stories in the comments—I promise, you’re not alone. I answer each comment personally.

Spelling and Word Meaning in the U.S. vs. the U.K.: What Fiction Writers Need to Know

Hello, fellow fiction writers. If you’ve ever sent your manuscript to an editor across the pond, you might’ve gotten it back looking like it’s bleeding red ink. And no—it’s not because your writing’s terrible. It’s because American and British English have different spellings, word choices, and even meanings.
For fiction writers, this can be a sneaky source of confusion. Your story might be perfectly polished in Chicago style, but if you’re aiming for a U.K. audience, suddenly your “color” becomes “colour” and your “apartment” mysteriously turns into a “flat.”
Let’s unpack the most common differences, with a few anecdotes and examples along the way.

🎯 Why US vs UK English Matters for Fiction Writers
Readers notice details—and nothing pulls a U.K. reader out of a story faster than “gray sidewalks,” just as “neighbours with torches” can throw off U.S. readers. Knowing the spelling and word differences between American and British English keeps your fiction consistent and your readers happy.

✏️ Common US vs UK Spelling Differences
Here are the most frequent American vs British spelling variations fiction writers need to watch out for:-or vs -our (color/colour, honor/honour)-ize vs -ise (organize/organise, recognize/recognise)-er vs -re (theater/theatre, center/centre)-l vs -ll endings (traveled/travelled, canceled/cancelled)
🔄 US vs UK Word Meaning Differences Every Writer Should Know
Sometimes the spelling’s the same, but the meaning isn’t. These American vs British English words can cause awkward mix-ups in your manuscript:Pants → U.S.: trousers / U.K.: underwearChips → U.S.: potato chips / U.K.: friesTorch → U.S.: flaming stick / U.K.: flashlightRubber → U.S.: eraser / U.K.: condomBoot → U.S.: footwear / U.K.: car trunk
👣 A Funny American vs British English Anecdote
In one of my drafts, a U.K. character said his “pants were too tight.” My U.S. readers thought: skinny jeans problem. My British readers thought: oversharing about his underwear. Proof that word meaning differences can completely change a scene.

🛠 Tips for Fiction Writers Navigating US and UK EnglishPick your market first: Are you writing mainly for American or British readers?Stay consistent: Don’t mix “color” and “grey” in the same book.Use the right style guide: Chicago Manual of Style (US), Oxford/New Hart’s Rules (UK).Adjust dialogue: Let characters use region-specific words naturally—but don’t overdo it into parody.Check with your editor: Always tell them which convention you want to follow.
🚀 Wrapping It Up
Understanding US vs UK English differences in spelling and word meaning isn’t about “right vs wrong”—it’s about knowing your readers and keeping your story smooth. Whether it’s “color” or “colour,” “flashlight” or “torch,” choose your lane and stick with it.
​
Your turn: Have you ever had a funny U.S./U.K. word mix-up in your writing—or in real life? Share it in the comments; I’d love to hear your story! I answer every comment personally.

Simple Word Revisions to Instantly Improve Your Fiction Writing

Hello fellow fiction writers.
When it comes to editing fiction, it’s often the little things that make the biggest difference. Forget grand rewrites for a second—sometimes all your story needs is a few smart word swaps to take it from meh to magnificent.
I like to think of it like cooking. Sure, you can spend hours slow-roasting, braising, and flambéing, but sometimes all your dish needs is a pinch of salt or a squeeze of lemon to wake up the flavour. Writing’s the same way—tiny word tweaks can wake up your prose.

🎯 Why Word Choice Matters
Readers don’t usually notice the individual words you use—unless you get them wrong. Clunky, vague, or overused words drag your story down like soggy socks. Sharp, precise, and fresh word choices, on the other hand, make your sentences sparkle and keep readers hooked.

✏️ Examples of Simple Word Revisions
1. Swap Weak Verbs for Strong Ones
Before:
She quickly ran to the door.
After:
She sprinted to the door.
Stronger verbs cut the clutter. Instead of stacking an adverb on a bland verb, choose one that does the heavy lifting.

2. Cut Redundant Fillers
Before:
He nodded his head in agreement.
After:
He nodded.
The head part is obvious. The “in agreement” is implied. Cleaner is better.

3. Replace Vague Words with Specifics
Before:
She looked at the thing on the table.
After:
She studied the silver locket on the table.
“Thing” tells us nothing. Specific nouns add clarity and atmosphere.

4. Tone Down the Adverbs
Before:
He whispered softly.
After:
He whispered.
Sometimes the verb says it all. Adverbs aren’t evil, but they’re often unnecessary.

5. Refresh Clichés
Before:
Her heart raced like a runaway train.
After:
Her heart thumped like a fist pounding on a locked door.
The first one? We’ve read it a thousand times. The second one paints a fresher, more vivid image.

👣 A Personal Anecdote
In one of my early drafts, I had a character who “looked” at everything. He looked at the clock. He looked at the sky. He looked at his shoes. By the tenth page, he was basically a pair of eyeballs rolling around the story.
During edits, I replaced half those “looked”s with stronger, more precise verbs: glanced, studied, stared, peered, squinted. Suddenly, my character wasn’t just looking—he was alive, reacting, thinking. A simple word swap changed the feel of the whole chapter.

🛠 Tips for Revising Word ChoiceDo a “find” search for your crutch words (just, very, suddenly, really). You’ll be amazed how many sneak in.Read aloud. If a sentence feels clunky, it’s probably word choice, not plot.Keep it simple. Fancy words don’t impress readers—clarity does.Use words that fit your character’s worldview. A soldier, a poet, and a teenager won’t describe the same object in the same way.
🚀 Wrapping It Up
You don’t always need a massive rewrite to improve your novel. Sometimes it’s the smallest word-level revisions—tightening, sharpening, refreshing—that make your prose sing. Think of them as polish on your storytelling.

Your turn: What’s the one word you find yourself overusing in every draft? (Mine used to be “just”—it haunted my manuscripts like a needy ghost.) Drop it in the comments—I’d love to commiserate. I answer each comment personally.

Launch Day: Dead Easy – Edgar Allan Poe Retold in Plain English (Just $0.99 This Week!)

Hello friends,

At last — launch day! 🎉

My new book, Dead Easy: Edgar Allan Poe Retold in Plain English, is officially out in the wild.

This project is close to my heart. I’ve always loved the idea of Poe — gothic horror, mad narrators, eerie old houses — but his tangled 19th-century prose nearly scared me off as a young reader. So I decided to do something about it.
With a little patience (and a little AI magic), I’ve retold his creepiest stories in clear, modern English. All the atmosphere, terror, and madness remain — just without the cobwebs.
Inside you’ll find:The Tell-Tale HeartThe Pit and the PendulumThe Black CatThe Masque of the Red DeathThe Fall of the House of UsherAnd more…
💡 For launch week only (9–16 September), the book is just $0.99 (or free with Kindle Unlimited). After that, it goes up.

👉 [Grab your copy on Amazon here]

Thanks so much for following along — and sorry in advance if these stories give you nightmares. Poe would be proud.

All the best,
James

Simile Use to Enhance a Narrative: How Comparisons Bring Stories to Life

Hello fellow fiction writers.

Let’s be real—writing fiction without similes is a bit like eating chips without salt. You can do it, but it’s bland. Similes add flavour to your storytelling by creating vivid comparisons readers instantly connect with. When done right, they’re powerful little tools that can sharpen description, deepen emotion, and even sprinkle humour into your pages.
But (and here’s the kicker) similes can also be overdone. Ever slogged through a paragraph where the writer crams in comparisons like a buffet plate at an all-you-can-eat? Not fun. So, let’s talk about how similes enhance a narrative, and how to avoid turning them into clunky distractions.

🎯 Why Use Similes in Fiction?
At their core, similes make abstract things relatable. They take the unknown and anchor it to the known. Here’s what they can do for your story:Paint sharper pictures: “Her smile was like sunlight breaking through clouds.” Boom—instantly visual.Convey emotions: “He felt like a balloon with the air slowly leaking out.” We’ve all been there.Show character voice: A cynical detective might compare the world to “a cigarette stubbed out in a puddle,” while a romantic heroine might see it “like a song waiting to be sung.”Add humour: “He ran like a penguin late for a wedding.” Similes aren’t just decoration—they can reveal perspective, tone, and personality.

✍️ Personal Anecdote: When a Simile Backfired
In one of my early drafts, I described rain “like a thousand mice tap dancing on the roof.” My critique partner burst out laughing, which wasn’t quite the gothic mood I was aiming for. That’s when I realised similes are a double-edged sword—they can amplify your tone, or completely derail it. Lesson learned: match your simile to the mood of the scene.

✅ Examples of Similes That WorkRomantic fiction: “Her laugh was like champagne bubbles, light and irresistible.”Horror: “The silence pressed in on him like a coffin lid.”Fantasy: “The sword gleamed like a shard of fallen starlight.”Comedy: “He strutted into the room like a cat who’d just licked the cream—and half the furniture.” Notice how each one fits its genre. A simile that’s perfect for romance might feel laughable in a gritty thriller.

🚫 Simile Mistakes to AvoidToo many in one scene: If every line has a “like” or “as,” readers stop noticing them.Clichés: “As cold as ice,” “as busy as a bee,” “like a rock.” Yawn. Readers want fresh.Unintentional comedy: A tense moment ruined by a goofy comparison. Unless you want the laugh, tread carefully.Over-explaining: Don’t use a simile and explain it. Trust your reader’s imagination.
🛠 Tips for Using Similes Like a ProMatch the mood: Keep similes in line with the tone of your scene.Keep them fresh: Invent new comparisons that reflect your character’s worldview.Test out loud: Read the simile aloud. If it sounds clunky, it’ll read clunky.Think voice: A farmer, a scientist, and a teenager won’t compare things the same way. Use similes to show character.
💬 Wrapping It Up
Similes, when used with care, can take your narrative from flat to fantastic. They’re not just decorative fluff—they’re little bridges between your reader’s imagination and your character’s world. Think of them like seasoning in cooking: sprinkle just enough to make your writing tasty, but don’t dump in the whole spice rack.
​
So, how do you use similes in your fiction? Do you love them, loathe them, or struggle to keep them under control? Drop a comment—I’d love to hear your take. I reply personally to every comment.

Showing vs. Telling in Writing – What It Really Means (With Examples)

Hello fellow fiction writers.
If you’ve been around writing circles for more than five minutes, you’ve probably heard the advice: “Show, don’t tell.” It’s the most over-quoted (and often least explained) rule in fiction writing.

So, what does “showing versus telling” actually mean? And how do you get it right without turning every paragraph into a purple-prose description of how your hero ties their shoelaces? Let’s break it down with some practical tips, examples, and a few personal “oops” moments.

🎯 What’s the Difference Between Showing and Telling?Telling is when you inform the reader what’s happening.Showing is when you illustrate what’s happening through action, dialogue, or sensory details so the reader experiences it. Think of it this way: telling is like reading a weather report. Showing is stepping outside and feeling the rain hit your face.

✏️ Examples of Showing vs. TellingTelling:
Telling: She was angry.
Showing: Her jaw tightened. She slammed the cup on the counter, sending coffee sloshing over the rim.

Telling: It was cold outside.
Showing: The wind cut through his coat, stinging his ears and numbing his fingertips.

Telling:John was nervous about the interview.
Showing:John’s palms slicked with sweat as he rehearsed answers under his breath, his tie suddenly too tight against his throat.

See the difference? Telling delivers information. Showing makes your reader feel it.

🧠 Why “Show, Don’t Tell” MattersEngagement – Readers are far more invested when they can experience emotions and settings instead of just being told about them.Character depth – Showing reveals personality through behaviour and choices, not just labels.Immersion – Great fiction pulls readers into the story world. Showing does the heavy lifting here.
⚖️ But Wait—Telling Isn’t Always Bad
Here’s the part a lot of writing advice skips: you actually need both.
Imagine if every line of your book was entirely “shown”:
“He walked across the room, one foot in front of the other, the floor creaking beneath his weight, his socks damp from the laundry he’d spilt earlier…”
Ugh. Exhausting. Sometimes it’s perfectly fine (and even necessary) to just tell.

Use telling when:You’re moving quickly through unimportant transitions (“They drove to the airport.”)You need to summarise events to avoid bogging down the pace.You’re giving context or backstory in small doses. Use showing when:Emotions run highYou’re in a key scene that reveals character or conflictYou want readers to connect on a sensory or emotional level
📝 A Personal Oops Moment
In my first novel draft, I thought I was nailing “show, don’t tell.” Instead, I ended up with entire paragraphs describing how my character looked at the floor, then at the wall, then at the door while internally monologuing about the meaning of life. My critique partner circled a page and wrote: “You’ve shown me every blink, but told me nothing.”
Lesson learned: showing isn’t about piling on detail—it’s about choosing the right detail.

🚀 Tips to Balance Showing and TellingHighlight the big moments. Save your showing energy for emotional or plot-heavy scenes.Use body language. A clenched fist or trembling lip goes a long way.Leverage dialogue. What characters say (and how they say it) shows emotion better than adverbs.Sprinkle sensory detail. Don’t just say “the room was old”—show the peeling wallpaper and musty smell.Trust your reader. You don’t need to tell them a character is scared after showing sweaty palms and a racing heartbeat.
🎬 Wrapping It Up
“Show, don’t tell” isn’t about eliminating one in favour of the other—it’s about balance. Telling moves your story along; showing makes your story come alive. Together, they’re the perfect duo for compelling fiction.
​
Over to you: Have you ever been told your writing was “too much telling”? Or maybe you’ve gone overboard on showing? Share your experience in the comments—I’d love to hear how you’ve tackled it. I personally answer every message.

Restrictive and Nonrestrictive Clauses – A Fiction Writer’s Guide to Getting Them Right

Hello, fiction writers. If grammar terms make your eyes glaze over faster than a rainy Sunday afternoon, you’re not alone. Restrictive and nonrestrictive clauses sound like something pulled from a dusty English textbook. But if you’re a fiction writer, they’re actually pretty important—because getting them wrong can change the meaning of your sentences (and confuse or mislead your readers).
Let’s make this painless—and maybe even fun.

First, What Are We Even Talking About?
A restrictive clause is essential to the meaning of the sentence. Without it, the sentence changes completely.
A nonrestrictive clause, on the other hand, is extra info—nice to have, but the sentence would still make sense without it.
Think of it like this:Restrictive clause = the meat of your burger. Take it out, and you’re left with an empty bun.Nonrestrictive clause = the pickles. You can toss them and still have a burger, but pickle lovers will protest.
Examples in ActionRestrictive clause:
The detective who wore a red scarf was the one who caught the killer.
Translation: There were several detectives, but only the red-scarf one caught the killer.
Nonrestrictive clause:
The detective, who wore a red scarf, caught the killer.
Translation: There was only one detective, and by the way, they happened to wear a red scarf.

The Comma Question
Here’s the easy rule:Restrictive clauses don’t get commas.Nonrestrictive clauses do. Those little curved bits of punctuation aren’t just decoration—they signal whether the clause is essential or just extra detail.

Why This Matters in Fiction Writing
Messing up your clauses can unintentionally mislead readers.
Example:
"Her brother, who lived in Paris, sent her a letter."
— This tells us she has one brother, and he lives in Paris.
"Her brother who lived in Paris sent her a letter."
— This means she has more than one brother, and the Paris-dwelling one sent the letter.
See? One set of commas and you’ve completely changed her family tree.

A Personal Oops Moment
In one of my early drafts, I wrote:
"The man who smelled faintly of fish stepped into the shop."
Except I meant all the men in that scene smelled like fish (don’t ask—it was set by the docks). I accidentally made it sound like there was only one unfortunate fish-smelling guy. Cue three beta readers asking, “Why single him out?” Lesson learned: commas can make or break clarity.

Tips for Fiction WritersRead aloud – You’ll naturally pause where commas should be in nonrestrictive clauses.Ask yourself: Is this info essential to identifying the subject? If yes, no commas.Keep it smooth – Too many nonrestrictive clauses in a row can bog down pacing.Use them for characterisation – Nonrestrictive clauses are great for slipping in personality details.
Example: Maggie, who hated mornings, slammed the coffee pot on the counter.
Wrapping It Up
'Restrictive and nonrestrictive clauses aren’t just grammar trivia—they’re tools that help you control meaning, pacing, and tone. Think of them as part of your storytelling toolkit. Get them right, and your readers will glide through your prose without hitting speed bumps of confusion.

Your turn: Have you ever had a “comma catastrophe” that changed your sentence’s meaning? Share it in the comments—I promise, we’ve all been there. I answer each comment personally.

Redundant Words and Phrases: How to Spot and Fix Them in Your Writing

Hello, fiction writers.

Ever read through your own draft and thought, “Wow… did I really just use ‘suddenly’ five times on one page?” Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Redundant words and phrases are like uninvited guests at a dinner party—they sneak in quietly and refuse to leave until you spot them.
The problem is, most writers don’t notice them during the heat of creation. When we’re drafting, our brains are in “story mode,” not “editor mode,” so it’s easy to sprinkle the exact words and phrases across every paragraph. The result? A manuscript that feels clunky, repetitive, or unintentionally funny.

Let’s talk about how to spot these sneaky little echoes and boot them out before they tank your story’s flow.

🎯 Why Redundant Words Are a Problem
Redundancy in writing doesn’t just make your sentences longer—it drags your reader’s attention off the story and onto the words themselves. Here’s why that’s a problem:

-It slows the pace.
Imagine reading: She nodded her head in agreement as she sat down on the chair.
Yikes. Her head is the only thing that can nod, and of course, she sat on the chair. Half of those words could vanish without changing a thing.

-It dulls the impact.
When you repeat words like “really,” “just,” “actually,” or “suddenly” too often, they lose all their punch. Suddenly… nothing feels sudden anymore.

-It makes readers roll their eyes.
If your detective “narrows his eyes” on every page, your readers might start narrowing theirs—at you.

🔍 Common Redundant Words and Phrases
Here’s a hit list of common culprits that love to sneak into fiction:Free gift (is any gift not free?)End result (just say “result”)Each and every (pick one)Close proximity (proximity already means “close”)Unexpected surprise (all surprises are unexpected, right?)Absolutely essential (essential is already absolute)He shrugged his shoulders (what else would he shrug?)She whispered softly (whispering is already soft) And then there are the word tics—those personal favourites we use without realising. Mine used to be “a little.” My characters were a little tired, a little annoyed, a little in love… until my beta reader begged me to stop a little.

🛠 How to Spot and Fix Redundancy
-Use the “Find” Tool Like a Detective
Pick a word you suspect you overuse—like “just,” “looked,” or “felt”—and search your entire document. You might be shocked (and maybe slightly horrified) at how many times it pops up.

-Read Your Work Aloud
Our ears catch patterns that our eyes miss. If you start droning the exact phrase over and over, your brain will wave a big red flag.

-Trim the Fat
Challenge yourself to remove redundant words without changing the sentence’s meaning.
Example:
Before: He stood up and walked over to the table.
After: He stood and walked to the table.

-Swap for Variety
If a word is essential but appears too often, grab a thesaurus. Variety adds texture without pulling focus.

✏️ A Quick Anecdote from My Editing Desk
In my early drafts of a horror novella, my characters were constantly “freezing in fear.” I counted. Eleven times in three chapters. My beta reader joked, “Are they scared or just very cold?” That was my wake-up call.
I went back and rephrased most of them:Her breath caught.He rooted to the spot.She couldn’t move. Suddenly, my terrified characters didn’t sound like they’d all caught hypothermia.

💡 Wrapping It Up
Redundant words and phrases are like background noise—they clutter your story without adding value. The good news is they’re easy to fix once you know where to look.
Next time you revise, hunt down those repetitive little gremlins. Your readers (and your future self) will thank you.

Your turn:
​What’s the one word or phrase you always catch yourself overusing? Drop it in the comments—I promise, we’ve all been there. I reply to every comment personally.