James Field's Blog, page 2
July 27, 2025
Redundancy in Writing: How to Handle Alliteration, Sibilance, and Repetitive Letters
Hello, fellow fiction writers—sometimes we writers get a little carried away. We love words. We love rhythm. We love it when sentences sing. But sometimes that lyrical magic we think we're creating just ends up a bit much.
Today, we're diving into redundancy in fiction writing, especially when it comes to alliteration, sibilance, and the good ol' repetitive alphabet trap. These sound-based flourishes can work beautifully when used with intention—but they can also bog down your prose, pull readers out of the moment, or worse, make your writing feel like a tongue-twister gone rogue.
So, how do you spot these issues? And more importantly, how do you fix them? Let's break it down—with examples, a few personal oops moments, and a healthy dose of "you're not alone."
🎯 What Is Redundancy in Fiction Writing?
Redundancy happens when your writing says the same thing twice—or more—without adding anything new. In terms of sound, it can show up in subtle ways:Overuse of the same starting letters (alliteration)Excessive hissing or breathy sounds (sibilance)Repetition of the same letters or sounds in a way that clutters rather than enhances These techniques aren't inherently bad. In fact, they can be powerful when used with purpose. The trouble comes when they're unintentional or overdone.
✏️ Alliteration: The Over-Eager Attention Seeker
Alliteration is when you repeat the same starting consonant across several words. Done right, it creates rhythm and emphasis. Done wrong, it sounds like you're writing ad copy for a toothpaste brand.
Example (bad):
Peter proudly placed the porcelain platter on the polished pine table.
That's a mouthful, isn't it? The point of the sentence (that Peter put a plate on the table) gets buried under all those Ps.
Fix:
Peter set the porcelain dish on the table, careful not to scratch the wood.
Much smoother. Still clear. And hey, we didn't lose the image—we just dialled it back a notch.
🐍 Sibilance: Slippery Slope or Stylish Sound?
Sibilance is the repetition of soft consonant sounds like s, sh, and z. It can sound lyrical—or like a snake convention.
Example (bad):
She silently slid the sash shut, shivering as a soft sigh slipped past her lips.
It's dramatic, sure. But it's also exhausting to read. Try reading it out loud—you'll hear the hiss.
Fix:
She closed the sash and pulled her coat tighter, her breath fogging in the cold.
Now we've got the same vibe without sounding like a cartoon villain.
🔁 Repetitious Alphabet: When the Same Sounds Get Old
This one's sneakier. You're not exactly alliterating or creating sibilance—you're just overusing a particular letter or sound, usually unintentionally.
Example:
Benny bought a bundle of balloons before breakfast.
Feels like a nursery rhyme, doesn't it? That's not great if you're trying to build tension in a thriller.
Better:
Benny picked up a few balloons before breakfast.
Still simple, but it doesn't read like a tongue-twister.
💡 So, When Can You Use These Techniques?
Here's the good news: alliteration, sibilance, and repetitive sounds aren't evil. In fact, they're tools—just like metaphor, dialogue, and pacing. The trick is intention.
Use them when:You want to draw attention to a momentYou're writing poetic narration or internal monologueYou're creating a specific tone (playful, eerie, whimsical)You're writing for younger audiences, where sound play is part of the fun
👣 Personal Anecdote Time
I once submitted a short story that opened with this line:
"The storm screamed, slashed, and surged through the shattered streets."
I thought it was brilliant. The editor gently (but firmly) wrote back: "I think your storm might need to take a breath." Oof. But she was right. The drama was undercut by the overuse of alliteration.
I trimmed it down. The storm still raged—it just did it with less flair and more impact.
✨ Final Tips for Fiction WritersRead your work out loud. If your tongue trips, your reader's brain might too.Trust your verbs. Strong verbs can carry a scene without extra fluff.Avoid drawing attention to the writing. The goal is immersion—not showing off your Scrabble skills.Be deliberate. If you use alliteration or sibilance, ask yourself: "Does this enhance the story—or distract from it?"
💬 Over to You!
Have you ever caught yourself writing "clever" alliteration that didn't quite land? Got a favourite example of sibilance used well (or terribly)? Drop a comment and share—it's a common experience, and we're all still learning. I answer each message personally.
Today, we're diving into redundancy in fiction writing, especially when it comes to alliteration, sibilance, and the good ol' repetitive alphabet trap. These sound-based flourishes can work beautifully when used with intention—but they can also bog down your prose, pull readers out of the moment, or worse, make your writing feel like a tongue-twister gone rogue.
So, how do you spot these issues? And more importantly, how do you fix them? Let's break it down—with examples, a few personal oops moments, and a healthy dose of "you're not alone."
🎯 What Is Redundancy in Fiction Writing?
Redundancy happens when your writing says the same thing twice—or more—without adding anything new. In terms of sound, it can show up in subtle ways:Overuse of the same starting letters (alliteration)Excessive hissing or breathy sounds (sibilance)Repetition of the same letters or sounds in a way that clutters rather than enhances These techniques aren't inherently bad. In fact, they can be powerful when used with purpose. The trouble comes when they're unintentional or overdone.
✏️ Alliteration: The Over-Eager Attention Seeker
Alliteration is when you repeat the same starting consonant across several words. Done right, it creates rhythm and emphasis. Done wrong, it sounds like you're writing ad copy for a toothpaste brand.
Example (bad):
Peter proudly placed the porcelain platter on the polished pine table.
That's a mouthful, isn't it? The point of the sentence (that Peter put a plate on the table) gets buried under all those Ps.
Fix:
Peter set the porcelain dish on the table, careful not to scratch the wood.
Much smoother. Still clear. And hey, we didn't lose the image—we just dialled it back a notch.
🐍 Sibilance: Slippery Slope or Stylish Sound?
Sibilance is the repetition of soft consonant sounds like s, sh, and z. It can sound lyrical—or like a snake convention.
Example (bad):
She silently slid the sash shut, shivering as a soft sigh slipped past her lips.
It's dramatic, sure. But it's also exhausting to read. Try reading it out loud—you'll hear the hiss.
Fix:
She closed the sash and pulled her coat tighter, her breath fogging in the cold.
Now we've got the same vibe without sounding like a cartoon villain.
🔁 Repetitious Alphabet: When the Same Sounds Get Old
This one's sneakier. You're not exactly alliterating or creating sibilance—you're just overusing a particular letter or sound, usually unintentionally.
Example:
Benny bought a bundle of balloons before breakfast.
Feels like a nursery rhyme, doesn't it? That's not great if you're trying to build tension in a thriller.
Better:
Benny picked up a few balloons before breakfast.
Still simple, but it doesn't read like a tongue-twister.
💡 So, When Can You Use These Techniques?
Here's the good news: alliteration, sibilance, and repetitive sounds aren't evil. In fact, they're tools—just like metaphor, dialogue, and pacing. The trick is intention.
Use them when:You want to draw attention to a momentYou're writing poetic narration or internal monologueYou're creating a specific tone (playful, eerie, whimsical)You're writing for younger audiences, where sound play is part of the fun
👣 Personal Anecdote Time
I once submitted a short story that opened with this line:
"The storm screamed, slashed, and surged through the shattered streets."
I thought it was brilliant. The editor gently (but firmly) wrote back: "I think your storm might need to take a breath." Oof. But she was right. The drama was undercut by the overuse of alliteration.
I trimmed it down. The storm still raged—it just did it with less flair and more impact.
✨ Final Tips for Fiction WritersRead your work out loud. If your tongue trips, your reader's brain might too.Trust your verbs. Strong verbs can carry a scene without extra fluff.Avoid drawing attention to the writing. The goal is immersion—not showing off your Scrabble skills.Be deliberate. If you use alliteration or sibilance, ask yourself: "Does this enhance the story—or distract from it?"
💬 Over to You!
Have you ever caught yourself writing "clever" alliteration that didn't quite land? Got a favourite example of sibilance used well (or terribly)? Drop a comment and share—it's a common experience, and we're all still learning. I answer each message personally.
July 23, 2025
Behind the Scenes of Modernising Poe
When I first set out to retell Edgar Allan Poe’s stories in plain English, I thought it would be a reasonably straightforward job. Take a sentence, simplify it, and move on.
Turns out, modernising a dead genius is like trying to fix a Victorian grandfather clock with a butter knife. You want to preserve the beauty, but half the time, you’re trying not to get stabbed by your own edits.
Poe’s stories are brilliant. No question. But his language hasn’t aged all that well. Nineteenth-century readers loved a long, curling sentence full of philosophical tangents and words like “whereupon” and “betwixt.” Today’s readers… not so much.
My goal was to keep the bones and trim the lace.
I wanted each story to feel like Poe was sitting across the room, telling it to you by candlelight — but using modern words you didn’t have to decipher.
With a bit of help from AI (and a lot of human fiddling), I worked line by line to make sure each tale still dripped with dread, madness, and shadow — but flowed like a good spooky yarn should.
Here’s a tiny example from The Tell-Tale Heart:
Original: “True!—nervous—very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?”
Modernised: Yes, I’ve always been nervous—jumpy, in fact—but why does that make me mad?
Simple, right? But try doing that for fourteen stories, and you’ll quickly learn how Poe loved commas more than life itself.
The hardest part?
Knowing what to leave out. There are long-winded philosophical detours that kill the pacing, even when the ideas are interesting. I had to be ruthless while still being respectful, like pruning roses with a meat cleaver (don’t try that at home).
What surprised me most was how funny Poe can be. Darkly humorous, but amusing all the same. His narrators are often mad as a box of frogs and utterly unaware of it, which makes them both terrifying and oddly endearing.
Anyway, it’s been a wild ride. And now that the book’s nearly out in the world, I hope readers who’ve never been able to finish a Poe story before will finally get to enjoy the genius behind the gloom.
If you’re curious, you can pre-order Dead Easy: Edgar Allan Poe Retold on Amazon now, or read The Tell-Tale Heart free here: [StoryOrigin/freebie].
Let me know what you think — I’m always up for a chat about madness, murder, and misplaced commas.
Turns out, modernising a dead genius is like trying to fix a Victorian grandfather clock with a butter knife. You want to preserve the beauty, but half the time, you’re trying not to get stabbed by your own edits.
Poe’s stories are brilliant. No question. But his language hasn’t aged all that well. Nineteenth-century readers loved a long, curling sentence full of philosophical tangents and words like “whereupon” and “betwixt.” Today’s readers… not so much.
My goal was to keep the bones and trim the lace.
I wanted each story to feel like Poe was sitting across the room, telling it to you by candlelight — but using modern words you didn’t have to decipher.
With a bit of help from AI (and a lot of human fiddling), I worked line by line to make sure each tale still dripped with dread, madness, and shadow — but flowed like a good spooky yarn should.
Here’s a tiny example from The Tell-Tale Heart:
Original: “True!—nervous—very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?”
Modernised: Yes, I’ve always been nervous—jumpy, in fact—but why does that make me mad?
Simple, right? But try doing that for fourteen stories, and you’ll quickly learn how Poe loved commas more than life itself.
The hardest part?
Knowing what to leave out. There are long-winded philosophical detours that kill the pacing, even when the ideas are interesting. I had to be ruthless while still being respectful, like pruning roses with a meat cleaver (don’t try that at home).
What surprised me most was how funny Poe can be. Darkly humorous, but amusing all the same. His narrators are often mad as a box of frogs and utterly unaware of it, which makes them both terrifying and oddly endearing.
Anyway, it’s been a wild ride. And now that the book’s nearly out in the world, I hope readers who’ve never been able to finish a Poe story before will finally get to enjoy the genius behind the gloom.
If you’re curious, you can pre-order Dead Easy: Edgar Allan Poe Retold on Amazon now, or read The Tell-Tale Heart free here: [StoryOrigin/freebie].
Let me know what you think — I’m always up for a chat about madness, murder, and misplaced commas.
July 20, 2025
How to Write Redemptive Characters That Transform Your Story
Hello, fiction writers.
We love a good villain. But you know what sticks with us even more? A flawed, messy, deeply human character who falls, fails, flounders—and still finds a way to claw their way back into the light.
That's the magic of a redemptive character arc, and if you're a fiction writer looking to hook readers emotionally (and keep 'em thinking long after the final page), then listen up: you need at least one character with a shot at redemption.
💡 What's a Redemptive Character, Anyway?
A redemptive character is someone who messes up—sometimes big time—but grows, learns, and works to make things right. They don't just say "sorry" and move on; their journey is full of struggle, inner conflict, and ultimately, a transformation that feels earned.
Redemption isn't always tidy. It's not about wiping the slate clean—it's about choosing change despite the mess.
🧠 Why Redemption Arcs Matter in Fiction
Redemption hits us on a gut level. Why? Because we've all messed up. We've all wished we could go back, say something different, do something better. Seeing a character fight for a second chance taps into that universal longing for a fresh start.
Additionally, watching someone strive to improve themselves is often more engaging than watching someone who is perfect right from the start.
Here's what a redemptive arc can do:🔥 Raise the emotional stakes🎯 Create complex, relatable characters🧩 Tie together plot threads in a satisfying way🌱 Show meaningful growth (and not just for the main character)
✍️ Real Talk: Writing Redemption Well
Let's go over a few tips (and pet peeves) to keep your redemption arc believable and engaging.
✅ 1. Make the Fall Real
We don't want redemption for someone who just accidentally bumped into trouble. Let your character fall hard. Let them make decisions that have consequences.
Example: In A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman, Ove isn't a criminal, but he's grumpy, isolated, and has given up on life. Watching him reconnect with his community makes his journey heartwarming and earned.
✅ 2. Redemption Should Cost Something
No one should get redeemed just because they cried once and promised to be better. Whether it's emotional, physical, or social, there has to be genuine effort—and real risk.
Example: Think Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender. He doesn't just switch sides overnight. He wrestles with guilt, shame, and identity before earning trust again.
✅ 3. Don't Make It Instant
Redemption is a process. You don't microwave a character arc. Let them stumble. Let others doubt them. Let readers doubt them.
Example: In Les Misérables, Jean Valjean goes from convict to saint—but it takes a lifetime of choices, a handful of lies, and multiple reinventions. No quick fixes here.
🪄 Bonus: Minor Characters Can Redeem Too
You don't have to save the big redemptive arc for your lead. Sometimes, a side character's quiet act of courage, apology, or honesty packs a powerful emotional punch.
Example: In Harry Potter, we all know about Snape. Love him or hate him, that twisty redemption arc had people talking (and sobbing) for years.
🛠️ Quick Writing Prompts to Try
Want to play with redemption arcs? Here are a few ideas to spark your muse:A thief decides to return something priceless—but the owner no longer wants it.A mother who abandoned her child years ago reappears when the child becomes famous.A villain saves the hero at the last second… but wants nothing in return.
💬 Final Thoughts
Redemptive characters make your story richer. They show us that change is hard but possible, and that broken things can still be beautiful.
So, don't be afraid to let your characters make mistakes. Let them fall on their faces. And when they fight to get back up? That's where the real magic happens.
🧠 Over to You:
Have you written a redemptive character? Who's your favourite redemption arc from books, movies, or TV? Drop a comment—I'd love to hear your thoughts and I answer each in person!
We love a good villain. But you know what sticks with us even more? A flawed, messy, deeply human character who falls, fails, flounders—and still finds a way to claw their way back into the light.
That's the magic of a redemptive character arc, and if you're a fiction writer looking to hook readers emotionally (and keep 'em thinking long after the final page), then listen up: you need at least one character with a shot at redemption.
💡 What's a Redemptive Character, Anyway?
A redemptive character is someone who messes up—sometimes big time—but grows, learns, and works to make things right. They don't just say "sorry" and move on; their journey is full of struggle, inner conflict, and ultimately, a transformation that feels earned.
Redemption isn't always tidy. It's not about wiping the slate clean—it's about choosing change despite the mess.
🧠 Why Redemption Arcs Matter in Fiction
Redemption hits us on a gut level. Why? Because we've all messed up. We've all wished we could go back, say something different, do something better. Seeing a character fight for a second chance taps into that universal longing for a fresh start.
Additionally, watching someone strive to improve themselves is often more engaging than watching someone who is perfect right from the start.
Here's what a redemptive arc can do:🔥 Raise the emotional stakes🎯 Create complex, relatable characters🧩 Tie together plot threads in a satisfying way🌱 Show meaningful growth (and not just for the main character)
✍️ Real Talk: Writing Redemption Well
Let's go over a few tips (and pet peeves) to keep your redemption arc believable and engaging.
✅ 1. Make the Fall Real
We don't want redemption for someone who just accidentally bumped into trouble. Let your character fall hard. Let them make decisions that have consequences.
Example: In A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman, Ove isn't a criminal, but he's grumpy, isolated, and has given up on life. Watching him reconnect with his community makes his journey heartwarming and earned.
✅ 2. Redemption Should Cost Something
No one should get redeemed just because they cried once and promised to be better. Whether it's emotional, physical, or social, there has to be genuine effort—and real risk.
Example: Think Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender. He doesn't just switch sides overnight. He wrestles with guilt, shame, and identity before earning trust again.
✅ 3. Don't Make It Instant
Redemption is a process. You don't microwave a character arc. Let them stumble. Let others doubt them. Let readers doubt them.
Example: In Les Misérables, Jean Valjean goes from convict to saint—but it takes a lifetime of choices, a handful of lies, and multiple reinventions. No quick fixes here.
🪄 Bonus: Minor Characters Can Redeem Too
You don't have to save the big redemptive arc for your lead. Sometimes, a side character's quiet act of courage, apology, or honesty packs a powerful emotional punch.
Example: In Harry Potter, we all know about Snape. Love him or hate him, that twisty redemption arc had people talking (and sobbing) for years.
🛠️ Quick Writing Prompts to Try
Want to play with redemption arcs? Here are a few ideas to spark your muse:A thief decides to return something priceless—but the owner no longer wants it.A mother who abandoned her child years ago reappears when the child becomes famous.A villain saves the hero at the last second… but wants nothing in return.
💬 Final Thoughts
Redemptive characters make your story richer. They show us that change is hard but possible, and that broken things can still be beautiful.
So, don't be afraid to let your characters make mistakes. Let them fall on their faces. And when they fight to get back up? That's where the real magic happens.
🧠 Over to You:
Have you written a redemptive character? Who's your favourite redemption arc from books, movies, or TV? Drop a comment—I'd love to hear your thoughts and I answer each in person!
July 15, 2025
Why I Retold Poe for Modern Readers
I've got a confession.I've always wanted to read Edgar Allan Poe. Always. Ever since I was a lad, way back before the internet, eBooks, or fancy AI narrators, his name had this dark, delicious mystique about it. People would whisper about him — not literally (we weren't that dramatic) — but there was a buzz. Poe was the king of creepy. The master of the macabre. The man who made ravens famous long before social media.
Naturally, I was curious. I wanted to dive into these twisted tales of madness, murder, and things that go bump in the night. So, I got hold of a book — probably second-hand, battered, and smelling faintly of pipe smoke and old paper. Opened it. Started reading.
And promptly gave up.
Poe's prose, while beautiful, was also dense and complex. Long sentences, archaic language, and phrasing that felt like wading through treacle in a fog. I was gutted. The stories sounded so good — I just couldn't get through them, not without a shovel and a dictionary.
Fast forward to now, and here's the twist.
I've taken those same stories and translated them into modern, clear, vivid language. I didn't dumb them down — I simply cleared away the linguistic cobwebs, trimmed the gothic frills just enough, and let the actual brilliance of Poe's ideas shine through.
And let me tell you — they hold up.
These stories are creepy. Clever. Darkly funny in places. Deeply human. And shockingly brutal. They don't need polishing — just a bit of translation for today's reader.
So that's what I've done. I've called the book Dead Easy: Edgar Allan Poe Retold — because that's the idea. Making Poe easy to read, without losing the edge. It's for anyone who loves horror, gothic tales, or just a good ghost story that leaves a chill crawling down your spine.
If you've ever bounced off Poe's original prose, this version is your way in. And if you've never read him at all? Well, buckle up. You're in for a treat.
If Dead Easy: Edgar Allan Poe Retold sounds like your kind of thing, you can order a pre-copy here:
👉 Get the book on Amazon
It's available as an eBook (and in Kindle Unlimited if you're a subscriber).
A paperback version is also on the way — and yes, there'll be an audiobook too (eventually, once I stop fiddling with the narration).
Thanks for reading — and if you do pick it up, I'd love to hear what you think. Reviews, messages, raven post — it's all welcome.
July 13, 2025
Why Fiction Writers Should Be Wary of Exclamation Points
Spoiler: You don't need to yell to make your point.
There's a punctuation mark that's loved by enthusiastic texters, overexcited emailers, and anyone who's just discovered caffeine for the first time: the exclamation point.
In fiction writing, though? It's a whole different story.
Let's get into why the humble exclamation mark can trip up your prose, how to use it wisely (if ever), and when to leave it well enough alone.
What's the Deal with Exclamation Points?
Exclamation points are meant to express strong emotion—joy, fear, shock, excitement, you name it. In theory, they pack a punch. In practice? They often come off as… well, a bit much.
Example:
"I love you!" she screamed.
"He's got a knife!" someone shouted.
"Watch out for the banana peel!" he warned.
Now, these aren't wrong, exactly. But if your characters are constantly yelling, it starts to feel like you're writing a comic book—or worse, a never-ending fire drill.
Why You Should Use Exclamation Points Sparingly in Fiction
1. They Tell Instead of Show
If you need punctuation to do the emotional heavy lifting, there's probably something missing in the writing itself.
Better:
"I love you," she whispered, her voice cracking like an old record.
No exclamation mark needed—we feel the intensity through the context and the delivery.
2. They Lose Power When Overused
The more you use them, the less they mean. It's like the boy who cried wolf... but with punctuation.
Example:
"Come here!" she said. "Look at this!" He jumped. "Unbelievable!" she added.
See what I mean? It's exhausting to read. If everything's exciting, nothing is.
3. They Make Dialogue Feel Forced
Most people don't speak in exclamation points. (Unless they're in a musical or trying to win an argument on Twitter.) Overusing them in dialogue can make your characters sound unnatural or overly dramatic.
So… Can You Ever Use Them?
Of course! We're not banning them—we're just asking you to use them with care.
Here's when they work:When a character is genuinely shouting or startled"Duck!"In comic relief or satire"This is a disaster! I burned the lasagna again! Call the fire department!"For young characters or very expressive personalities"You brought cake? I love cake!" The key is that it has to suit the tone and the character. And like hot sauce or glitter, a little goes a long way.
A Personal Exclamation Point Horror Story
In my first-ever draft of a YA novel, I used 347 exclamation points. Yes, I counted. I was writing emotional, high-stakes dialogue. What I really created was a caffeine-fueled scream-fest that made even my protagonist seem unhinged.
One editor's note just said: "Is everyone in this book yelling all the time?"
Ouch. Point taken.
Alternatives to the Exclamation Point
If you want your writing to feel intense or expressive, try these tricks instead:Use stronger verbs"He shouted" is more effective than "he said!"Add body language or sensory detail"He clenched his fists, eyes wild. 'You have no idea what you've done.'"Let the situation create the tensionTrust your readers—they're brighter than a piece of punctuation.
Final Thoughts
The exclamation point is like a trumpet in an orchestra. Use it too often, and it drowns out everything else. But used sparingly—strategically, it can hit just the right note.
So go ahead, use it... just not after every sentence. Your readers (and your editor) will thank you.
What About You?
Are you an exclamation mark minimalist or maximalist? Have you ever gone back through a manuscript and deleted a hundred of them? (I have. No shame.)
Drop your thoughts in the comments—I'd love to hear your punctuation confessions! I reply personally to all.
There's a punctuation mark that's loved by enthusiastic texters, overexcited emailers, and anyone who's just discovered caffeine for the first time: the exclamation point.
In fiction writing, though? It's a whole different story.
Let's get into why the humble exclamation mark can trip up your prose, how to use it wisely (if ever), and when to leave it well enough alone.
What's the Deal with Exclamation Points?
Exclamation points are meant to express strong emotion—joy, fear, shock, excitement, you name it. In theory, they pack a punch. In practice? They often come off as… well, a bit much.
Example:
"I love you!" she screamed.
"He's got a knife!" someone shouted.
"Watch out for the banana peel!" he warned.
Now, these aren't wrong, exactly. But if your characters are constantly yelling, it starts to feel like you're writing a comic book—or worse, a never-ending fire drill.
Why You Should Use Exclamation Points Sparingly in Fiction
1. They Tell Instead of Show
If you need punctuation to do the emotional heavy lifting, there's probably something missing in the writing itself.
Better:
"I love you," she whispered, her voice cracking like an old record.
No exclamation mark needed—we feel the intensity through the context and the delivery.
2. They Lose Power When Overused
The more you use them, the less they mean. It's like the boy who cried wolf... but with punctuation.
Example:
"Come here!" she said. "Look at this!" He jumped. "Unbelievable!" she added.
See what I mean? It's exhausting to read. If everything's exciting, nothing is.
3. They Make Dialogue Feel Forced
Most people don't speak in exclamation points. (Unless they're in a musical or trying to win an argument on Twitter.) Overusing them in dialogue can make your characters sound unnatural or overly dramatic.
So… Can You Ever Use Them?
Of course! We're not banning them—we're just asking you to use them with care.
Here's when they work:When a character is genuinely shouting or startled"Duck!"In comic relief or satire"This is a disaster! I burned the lasagna again! Call the fire department!"For young characters or very expressive personalities"You brought cake? I love cake!" The key is that it has to suit the tone and the character. And like hot sauce or glitter, a little goes a long way.
A Personal Exclamation Point Horror Story
In my first-ever draft of a YA novel, I used 347 exclamation points. Yes, I counted. I was writing emotional, high-stakes dialogue. What I really created was a caffeine-fueled scream-fest that made even my protagonist seem unhinged.
One editor's note just said: "Is everyone in this book yelling all the time?"
Ouch. Point taken.
Alternatives to the Exclamation Point
If you want your writing to feel intense or expressive, try these tricks instead:Use stronger verbs"He shouted" is more effective than "he said!"Add body language or sensory detail"He clenched his fists, eyes wild. 'You have no idea what you've done.'"Let the situation create the tensionTrust your readers—they're brighter than a piece of punctuation.
Final Thoughts
The exclamation point is like a trumpet in an orchestra. Use it too often, and it drowns out everything else. But used sparingly—strategically, it can hit just the right note.
So go ahead, use it... just not after every sentence. Your readers (and your editor) will thank you.
What About You?
Are you an exclamation mark minimalist or maximalist? Have you ever gone back through a manuscript and deleted a hundred of them? (I have. No shame.)
Drop your thoughts in the comments—I'd love to hear your punctuation confessions! I reply personally to all.
July 6, 2025
How to Use a Semicolon in Fiction Writing (Without Sounding Like a Snob)
Hello, fellow fiction writers. Let's talk about the most misunderstood punctuation mark in the English language: the semicolon.
Some writers love it. Some fear it. Some use it like they're sprinkling Parmesan over pasta—way too generously. But when used well, the semicolon is a beautiful, subtle, mature little squiggle that can smooth out your fiction like a well-placed sigh.
So, if you're writing a novel and wondering how (or if) to use semicolons, this one's for you.
Wait, What Even Is a Semicolon?It's that punctuation mark that looks like a period sitting on top of a comma: ;
Think of it as a supercomma or a soft full stop. It connects two related thoughts more tightly than a period, but with more pause than a comma. It says: "These two ideas belong together."
3 Times You Can (and Should) Use a Semicolon in Fiction
1. Link Two Related Independent Clauses Without a ConjunctionThis is the classic use. You've got two complete sentences that belong together, but you don't want the abruptness of a full stop. So you semicolon them.
Example:
She wanted to scream; instead, she smiled and poured the tea.
See how the semicolon holds that emotional tension together? A period would feel too cold. A comma would be grammatically wrong. The semicolon walks that fine line.
2. In Complex Lists That Already Contain CommasWhen your list items are complicated and include commas themselves, semicolons step in to save the day. They're the traffic cops of clarity.
Example:
He'd lived in Rome, Italy; Kyoto, Japan; and Reykjavik, Iceland—all in less than five years.
If you'd used commas only, the sentence would read like a travel brochure from chaos.
3. For Rhythm and Style—Used SparinglySemicolons have a certain literary feel. Used well, they add rhythm, gravitas, and flow to your sentences, especially in longer passages of internal thought or complex emotional states.
Example:
He wasn't a good man; he'd never claimed to be; but in that moment, he wished he'd tried harder.
That would be clunky with commas and too choppy with periods. The semicolon keeps the emotion rolling without tripping over itself.
When Not to Use a Semicolon
Here's where things go sideways:❌ Don't use semicolons in fast-paced action scenes. They're slow and thoughtful, which kills tension. Use short sentences or em dashes instead.❌ Don't overdo it. If every other sentence has a semicolon, it's like wearing a tuxedo to brunch. Try to limit it to one or two per page, max.❌ Don't replace commas with semicolons just to sound smarter. The semicolon isn't a "fancy comma." It serves a different purpose.
A Personal Writing Oops (Or: The Great Semicolon Era of Doom)
I once went through what I now call my "Semicolon Renaissance." Every paragraph had at least two; I thought I was being deep. My critique partner—who is both wise and ruthless—highlighted every one in neon yellow and wrote, "Why are all your sentences slow, sad, and full of soup?"
Lesson learned. These days, I use semicolons like I use truffle oil—just enough to elevate, never enough to overwhelm.
Final Thoughts: Should You Use Semicolons in Fiction?
Absolutely—if they fit the tone, the rhythm, and the pacing of your story. Semicolons are excellent for complex thoughts, emotional nuance, and elegant transitions. Just remember: less is more, and clarity always wins over cleverness.
Over to You!
Do you use semicolons in your fiction? Are you a proud semicolon minimalist or a recovering addict like I was?
Let me know in the comments—I'd love to hear your take!
Some writers love it. Some fear it. Some use it like they're sprinkling Parmesan over pasta—way too generously. But when used well, the semicolon is a beautiful, subtle, mature little squiggle that can smooth out your fiction like a well-placed sigh.
So, if you're writing a novel and wondering how (or if) to use semicolons, this one's for you.
Wait, What Even Is a Semicolon?It's that punctuation mark that looks like a period sitting on top of a comma: ;
Think of it as a supercomma or a soft full stop. It connects two related thoughts more tightly than a period, but with more pause than a comma. It says: "These two ideas belong together."
3 Times You Can (and Should) Use a Semicolon in Fiction
1. Link Two Related Independent Clauses Without a ConjunctionThis is the classic use. You've got two complete sentences that belong together, but you don't want the abruptness of a full stop. So you semicolon them.
Example:
She wanted to scream; instead, she smiled and poured the tea.
See how the semicolon holds that emotional tension together? A period would feel too cold. A comma would be grammatically wrong. The semicolon walks that fine line.
2. In Complex Lists That Already Contain CommasWhen your list items are complicated and include commas themselves, semicolons step in to save the day. They're the traffic cops of clarity.
Example:
He'd lived in Rome, Italy; Kyoto, Japan; and Reykjavik, Iceland—all in less than five years.
If you'd used commas only, the sentence would read like a travel brochure from chaos.
3. For Rhythm and Style—Used SparinglySemicolons have a certain literary feel. Used well, they add rhythm, gravitas, and flow to your sentences, especially in longer passages of internal thought or complex emotional states.
Example:
He wasn't a good man; he'd never claimed to be; but in that moment, he wished he'd tried harder.
That would be clunky with commas and too choppy with periods. The semicolon keeps the emotion rolling without tripping over itself.
When Not to Use a Semicolon
Here's where things go sideways:❌ Don't use semicolons in fast-paced action scenes. They're slow and thoughtful, which kills tension. Use short sentences or em dashes instead.❌ Don't overdo it. If every other sentence has a semicolon, it's like wearing a tuxedo to brunch. Try to limit it to one or two per page, max.❌ Don't replace commas with semicolons just to sound smarter. The semicolon isn't a "fancy comma." It serves a different purpose.
A Personal Writing Oops (Or: The Great Semicolon Era of Doom)
I once went through what I now call my "Semicolon Renaissance." Every paragraph had at least two; I thought I was being deep. My critique partner—who is both wise and ruthless—highlighted every one in neon yellow and wrote, "Why are all your sentences slow, sad, and full of soup?"
Lesson learned. These days, I use semicolons like I use truffle oil—just enough to elevate, never enough to overwhelm.
Final Thoughts: Should You Use Semicolons in Fiction?
Absolutely—if they fit the tone, the rhythm, and the pacing of your story. Semicolons are excellent for complex thoughts, emotional nuance, and elegant transitions. Just remember: less is more, and clarity always wins over cleverness.
Over to You!
Do you use semicolons in your fiction? Are you a proud semicolon minimalist or a recovering addict like I was?
Let me know in the comments—I'd love to hear your take!
June 22, 2025
Why You Should Avoid Using Parentheses in Fiction Writing
Hello, fiction writers! Let's talk punctuation—specifically, the kind that slips into your story like it belongs in a textbook, not a novel: parentheses.
Those curved little brackets might be helpful in essays, blog posts (like this one 😅), and maybe your grocery list, but in fiction? Parentheses are one form of punctuation you're almost always better off avoiding.
Let's break down why parentheses don't work in most fiction, what to use instead, and how to rewrite those parenthetical moments so your prose stays smooth, immersive, and reader-friendly.
🧠 First Things First – What Are Parentheses?
Parentheses (or round brackets) are used to set off extra, clarifying, or explanatory information. Like this:
She couldn't find her phone (it was in her back pocket, as usual).
In nonfiction or casual writing, that's fine. It adds a side note or a chuckle. But in fiction—especially third-person or limited POV fiction—it breaks the flow and yanks readers out of your story.
🚨 Why Parentheses Don't Belong in Fiction
1. They Break Immersion
When writing fiction, your job is to create an immersive world. Readers want to sink into the moment—not be interrupted by what feels like the author whispering an aside through parentheses.
Example:
Tom kicked the door open (he'd always wanted to do that, like in the movies) and stormed inside.
It's not the worst line ever—but those parentheses feel like the narrator poked me on the shoulder while I read.
👉 Fix it:
Tom kicked the door open. He'd always wanted to do that—like in the movies.
Cleaner. More natural. No interruption.
2. They Mess with Tone
Parentheses often sound sarcastic or overly casual—two things that don't always fit your scene's tone.
Example (serious scene):
She stared at the coffin (the same one they picked out together last spring) and said nothing.
That parenthetical detail might be powerful—but the brackets undercut the emotional weight. They make it feel too clinical or self-aware.
👉 Fix it:
She stared at the coffin—the same one they'd picked out together last spring—and said nothing.
Now the line hits harder, right?
3. They're Lazy Substitutes for Strong Narrative
When we use parentheses in fiction, we're trying to cram in info that we didn't fully integrate into the narrative.
Example:
The car was messy (empty fast food wrappers, crumpled receipts, and a lonely sock on the dashboard).
It reads like a grocery list someone slapped in parentheses.
👉 Fix it:
The car was messy: empty fast food wrappers littered the floor, crumpled receipts filled the cup holders, and a single sock sat on the dashboard like a forgotten passenger.
Boom. Same info, but now it's alive.
💡 But What If It's First-Person? Can I Get Away With It Then?
That's a fair question! First-person narration often sounds like internal monologue, and yes, sometimes parentheses appear in casual thought-driven styles.
But here's the thing: you can still write internal thoughts without brackets.
Bad:
I hated math (who didn't?), but I needed to pass this exam.
Better:
I hated math—who didn't?—but I needed to pass this exam.
Or:
I hated math. Seriously, who didn't? But I needed to pass this exam.
Both options sound more natural and keep the flow strong.
✂️ When Can You Use Parentheses in Fiction? (Rarely, But Here's When)Emails, texts, or in-story documents: If your story includes written communication between characters, parentheses might appear for realism.Comedy or satire: If your style is intentionally self-aware, meta, or tongue-in-cheek, parentheses can be used sparingly for punchlines.Inside footnotes or faux-academic fiction: Think Douglas Adams or Terry Pratchett. But even they preferred footnotes over parentheses for big asides. In short, it's safer to skip the brackets unless you're doing it for style and know what you're doing.
🛠️ Rewriting Parenthetical Moments – Quick Fixes
Let's fix a few awkward examples you might find in your own draft:
🔧 Example 1:
He was a regular at Joe's Diner (except on Tuesdays when he did his weird yoga thing).
✅ He was a regular at Joe's Diner—except on Tuesdays when he vanished for that weird yoga thing.
🔧 Example 2:
The book was heavy (and not just physically—it carried memories).
✅ The book was heavy. Not just physically. It carried memories.
🔧 Example 3:
She laughed (a little too loudly if you asked anyone else in the room).
✅ She laughed—a little too loudly if you asked anyone else in the room.
See how each fix keeps the meaning but ditches the clunky brackets?
🎬 Wrapping It Up
Parentheses might be handy for blog posts, side notes, or cheeky text messages, but in fiction writing? They're usually more trouble than they're worth.
They interrupt.
They dilute emotion.
They're almost always unnecessary.
If you're tempted to use parentheses in your manuscript, take a step back and ask: Is there a smoother way to say this? Odds are, there is.
Your turn! Have you ever overused parentheses in your writing (and regretted it)? Do you think there's ever a time they work in fiction? Drop your thoughts in the comments—I'd love to hear your take!
Those curved little brackets might be helpful in essays, blog posts (like this one 😅), and maybe your grocery list, but in fiction? Parentheses are one form of punctuation you're almost always better off avoiding.
Let's break down why parentheses don't work in most fiction, what to use instead, and how to rewrite those parenthetical moments so your prose stays smooth, immersive, and reader-friendly.
🧠 First Things First – What Are Parentheses?
Parentheses (or round brackets) are used to set off extra, clarifying, or explanatory information. Like this:
She couldn't find her phone (it was in her back pocket, as usual).
In nonfiction or casual writing, that's fine. It adds a side note or a chuckle. But in fiction—especially third-person or limited POV fiction—it breaks the flow and yanks readers out of your story.
🚨 Why Parentheses Don't Belong in Fiction
1. They Break Immersion
When writing fiction, your job is to create an immersive world. Readers want to sink into the moment—not be interrupted by what feels like the author whispering an aside through parentheses.
Example:
Tom kicked the door open (he'd always wanted to do that, like in the movies) and stormed inside.
It's not the worst line ever—but those parentheses feel like the narrator poked me on the shoulder while I read.
👉 Fix it:
Tom kicked the door open. He'd always wanted to do that—like in the movies.
Cleaner. More natural. No interruption.
2. They Mess with Tone
Parentheses often sound sarcastic or overly casual—two things that don't always fit your scene's tone.
Example (serious scene):
She stared at the coffin (the same one they picked out together last spring) and said nothing.
That parenthetical detail might be powerful—but the brackets undercut the emotional weight. They make it feel too clinical or self-aware.
👉 Fix it:
She stared at the coffin—the same one they'd picked out together last spring—and said nothing.
Now the line hits harder, right?
3. They're Lazy Substitutes for Strong Narrative
When we use parentheses in fiction, we're trying to cram in info that we didn't fully integrate into the narrative.
Example:
The car was messy (empty fast food wrappers, crumpled receipts, and a lonely sock on the dashboard).
It reads like a grocery list someone slapped in parentheses.
👉 Fix it:
The car was messy: empty fast food wrappers littered the floor, crumpled receipts filled the cup holders, and a single sock sat on the dashboard like a forgotten passenger.
Boom. Same info, but now it's alive.
💡 But What If It's First-Person? Can I Get Away With It Then?
That's a fair question! First-person narration often sounds like internal monologue, and yes, sometimes parentheses appear in casual thought-driven styles.
But here's the thing: you can still write internal thoughts without brackets.
Bad:
I hated math (who didn't?), but I needed to pass this exam.
Better:
I hated math—who didn't?—but I needed to pass this exam.
Or:
I hated math. Seriously, who didn't? But I needed to pass this exam.
Both options sound more natural and keep the flow strong.
✂️ When Can You Use Parentheses in Fiction? (Rarely, But Here's When)Emails, texts, or in-story documents: If your story includes written communication between characters, parentheses might appear for realism.Comedy or satire: If your style is intentionally self-aware, meta, or tongue-in-cheek, parentheses can be used sparingly for punchlines.Inside footnotes or faux-academic fiction: Think Douglas Adams or Terry Pratchett. But even they preferred footnotes over parentheses for big asides. In short, it's safer to skip the brackets unless you're doing it for style and know what you're doing.
🛠️ Rewriting Parenthetical Moments – Quick Fixes
Let's fix a few awkward examples you might find in your own draft:
🔧 Example 1:
He was a regular at Joe's Diner (except on Tuesdays when he did his weird yoga thing).
✅ He was a regular at Joe's Diner—except on Tuesdays when he vanished for that weird yoga thing.
🔧 Example 2:
The book was heavy (and not just physically—it carried memories).
✅ The book was heavy. Not just physically. It carried memories.
🔧 Example 3:
She laughed (a little too loudly if you asked anyone else in the room).
✅ She laughed—a little too loudly if you asked anyone else in the room.
See how each fix keeps the meaning but ditches the clunky brackets?
🎬 Wrapping It Up
Parentheses might be handy for blog posts, side notes, or cheeky text messages, but in fiction writing? They're usually more trouble than they're worth.
They interrupt.
They dilute emotion.
They're almost always unnecessary.
If you're tempted to use parentheses in your manuscript, take a step back and ask: Is there a smoother way to say this? Odds are, there is.
Your turn! Have you ever overused parentheses in your writing (and regretted it)? Do you think there's ever a time they work in fiction? Drop your thoughts in the comments—I'd love to hear your take!
June 15, 2025
Pronoun Agreement in Fiction: How to Avoid Common Linkage Errors
Hello fiction writers! Today, we're tackling one of those sneaky little grammar issues that love to trip up even seasoned authors: pronoun linkage errors — especially when you've got singular subjects referring to plural objects or vice versa.
You've probably seen (or written) sentences like these:Everyone sat on the edge of his seat.Everyone sat on the edges of his seat.Everyone sat on the edges of his seats.Everyone sat on the edge of the seat.Everyone sat on the edges of the seat.Everyone sat on the edges of the seats. Looks like a grammar buffet, right? The problem is: which one is actually correct? And which ones just sound plain awkward?
Let's dig in, clear it up, and throw in some more natural examples you can use in your fiction.
🎯 The Core Problem: Singular vs. Plural Agreement
The issue is that "everyone" is singular, but you're referring to multiple people. And everyone probably has their own seat (unless your scene is much weirder than I imagine). This conflict is what creates those odd-sounding sentences.
Quick grammar refresher:"Everyone" = singular (even though it refers to a group).The object each person interacts with (like a seat) may logically be plural.
🚫 Let's Break Down the Awkward Examples
1️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edge of his seat."👉 Technically correct (old-school grammar), but it sounds stiff and outdated. Plus, using "his" excludes half of your readers.
2️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edges of his seat."👉 Now, we imagine one person sitting on multiple edges of a single seat. Um, no. It doesn't make sense.
3️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edges of his seats."👉 Sounds like one person has several seats. What are they? A king? A concert promoter?
4️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edge of the seat."👉 Feels like everyone is sharing the same seat. Awkward mental image.
5️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edges of the seat."👉 Even more confusing. This makes it sound like multiple people are perched around a single seat's edges. Physically bizarre.
6️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edges of the seats."👉 Closer, but still clunky. You're trying to force plural agreement where singular should rule.
✅ What Actually Works? (And Sounds Good, Too)
In modern fiction writing, clarity and flow trump rigid grammar rules. Here's a better, cleaner way to handle it:
💡 "Everyone sat on the edge of their seat."Uses singular "everyone" but pairs it with gender-neutral, natural-sounding "their.""Their" is widely accepted today as singular and inclusive.Keeps the image simple: each person, one seat, one edge.
🔄 Let's Try Different Examples That Work
Since we're tired of staring at seats, let's mix it up for your fiction writing:
✅ Tension scene:Everyone held their breath, waiting for the verdict.
✅ Horror scene:Everyone clutched their flashlight as the wind howled through the trees.
✅ Romantic scene:Everyone watched the couple, hearts pounding in their chests.
✅ Comedy scene:Everyone scratched their heads, wondering how the goat got into the office.
See? The singular "everyone" blends smoothly with "their," keeping the sentence fluid and natural.
🧠 Why Fiction Writers Especially Need to Nail This
In fiction, rhythm, clarity, and immersion are everything. If your reader stumbles over a weird pronoun-antecedent mismatch, they're pulled out of the story. You want them to feel your scene, not mentally diagramming your sentence.
Personal Anecdote:
In one of my early drafts, I wrote:
"Everyone reached for his weapon."
My critique partner circled it with, "Are we writing a grammar textbook or a thriller?" 😅
I changed it to:
"Everyone reached for their weapon."
Boom. Cleaner. Modern. Much better pacing.
📝 Quick Rule of Thumb for WritersUse "their" as the default pronoun for "everyone" in modern fiction.Focus on what feels natural to read aloud.Avoid awkward phrases like "edges of the seat(s)."Don't overthink it — your reader won't.
🎬 Wrapping It Up
Everyone sat on the edge of their seat—and so should your readers, eager for your next chapter. Keeping your pronoun linkage clear helps your writing flow smoothly, your scenes stay immersive, and your editor stays happy.
Grammar is important, but never at the cost of your storytelling rhythm. When in doubt, read it aloud. If it sounds weird, change it.
Got your own pronoun nightmares or awkward sentence rewrites? Drop them in the comments—I'd love to hear your funniest grammar stumbles!
You've probably seen (or written) sentences like these:Everyone sat on the edge of his seat.Everyone sat on the edges of his seat.Everyone sat on the edges of his seats.Everyone sat on the edge of the seat.Everyone sat on the edges of the seat.Everyone sat on the edges of the seats. Looks like a grammar buffet, right? The problem is: which one is actually correct? And which ones just sound plain awkward?
Let's dig in, clear it up, and throw in some more natural examples you can use in your fiction.
🎯 The Core Problem: Singular vs. Plural Agreement
The issue is that "everyone" is singular, but you're referring to multiple people. And everyone probably has their own seat (unless your scene is much weirder than I imagine). This conflict is what creates those odd-sounding sentences.
Quick grammar refresher:"Everyone" = singular (even though it refers to a group).The object each person interacts with (like a seat) may logically be plural.
🚫 Let's Break Down the Awkward Examples
1️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edge of his seat."👉 Technically correct (old-school grammar), but it sounds stiff and outdated. Plus, using "his" excludes half of your readers.
2️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edges of his seat."👉 Now, we imagine one person sitting on multiple edges of a single seat. Um, no. It doesn't make sense.
3️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edges of his seats."👉 Sounds like one person has several seats. What are they? A king? A concert promoter?
4️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edge of the seat."👉 Feels like everyone is sharing the same seat. Awkward mental image.
5️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edges of the seat."👉 Even more confusing. This makes it sound like multiple people are perched around a single seat's edges. Physically bizarre.
6️⃣ "Everyone sat on the edges of the seats."👉 Closer, but still clunky. You're trying to force plural agreement where singular should rule.
✅ What Actually Works? (And Sounds Good, Too)
In modern fiction writing, clarity and flow trump rigid grammar rules. Here's a better, cleaner way to handle it:
💡 "Everyone sat on the edge of their seat."Uses singular "everyone" but pairs it with gender-neutral, natural-sounding "their.""Their" is widely accepted today as singular and inclusive.Keeps the image simple: each person, one seat, one edge.
🔄 Let's Try Different Examples That Work
Since we're tired of staring at seats, let's mix it up for your fiction writing:
✅ Tension scene:Everyone held their breath, waiting for the verdict.
✅ Horror scene:Everyone clutched their flashlight as the wind howled through the trees.
✅ Romantic scene:Everyone watched the couple, hearts pounding in their chests.
✅ Comedy scene:Everyone scratched their heads, wondering how the goat got into the office.
See? The singular "everyone" blends smoothly with "their," keeping the sentence fluid and natural.
🧠 Why Fiction Writers Especially Need to Nail This
In fiction, rhythm, clarity, and immersion are everything. If your reader stumbles over a weird pronoun-antecedent mismatch, they're pulled out of the story. You want them to feel your scene, not mentally diagramming your sentence.
Personal Anecdote:
In one of my early drafts, I wrote:
"Everyone reached for his weapon."
My critique partner circled it with, "Are we writing a grammar textbook or a thriller?" 😅
I changed it to:
"Everyone reached for their weapon."
Boom. Cleaner. Modern. Much better pacing.
📝 Quick Rule of Thumb for WritersUse "their" as the default pronoun for "everyone" in modern fiction.Focus on what feels natural to read aloud.Avoid awkward phrases like "edges of the seat(s)."Don't overthink it — your reader won't.
🎬 Wrapping It Up
Everyone sat on the edge of their seat—and so should your readers, eager for your next chapter. Keeping your pronoun linkage clear helps your writing flow smoothly, your scenes stay immersive, and your editor stays happy.
Grammar is important, but never at the cost of your storytelling rhythm. When in doubt, read it aloud. If it sounds weird, change it.
Got your own pronoun nightmares or awkward sentence rewrites? Drop them in the comments—I'd love to hear your funniest grammar stumbles!
May 25, 2025
Why Prologues Can Be a Problem for New Fiction Writers (and What to Do Instead)
Hello, fiction writers! Let's talk about something that stirs up debate in writing circles almost as much as Oxford commas and whether "said" is dead: prologues.
Some authors love them. Some agents roll their eyes at them. And for early-stage writers—those still finding their voice and rhythm—prologues can be a sneaky little trap dressed in fancy backstory.
So what's the deal? Should you write a prologue, or are you better off jumping straight into Chapter One? Let's dig into what prologues are, what problems they can cause (especially for new writers), and how to know if yours is helping or hurting your story.
🧐 First, What Is a Prologue?
A prologue is a section that comes before the main story starts. It may occur at a different time, show a distinct character, or provide the background your reader needs to understand what's coming.
Sounds harmless. Sometimes it is. But sometimes… it's the literary equivalent of starting a marathon by tripping over your shoelaces.
🚧 Common Prologue Problems for Newer Writers
1. It's All Backstory, No Hook
Many first-time writers use a prologue to info-dump everything they think the reader needs to know before the story starts: the world's history, the villain's childhood trauma, the political system of the realm, the family curse from six generations ago...
Here's the thing: readers don't care yet.
Example of a flat start:
"Two hundred years ago, the kingdom of Sorthal was ruled by the High Lord of Flame, whose bloodline was corrupted by the Nightwind, a dark spirit from beyond the veil of... Zzzzzzz..."
Better approach:
Hook your reader first with Chapter One's action, tension, or mystery. Let them learn about the world as they go.
2. It Feels Disconnected from the Main Story
Prologues often occur far before or after the novel's main events. If the connection isn't clear or doesn't show up again until Chapter 20, readers forget about it—or worse, feel misled.
Personal Anecdote:
In my first attempt at a fantasy novel, I wrote an epic, dramatic prologue full of fire and prophecy. By Chapter Five, even I had forgotten how it connected. My beta reader's comment? "Cool opening. Is this a different book?" Oof.
3. It Delays the Story's Momentum
In the age of TikTok attention spans, you've got a page or two to grab a reader. If your prologue meanders or drags, it might be the last thing they read.
Agents and editors have confessed they often skip prologues. If you're using one, it has to be stellar.
4. It Repeats What Chapter One Could Do Better
Sometimes, the prologue sets up an event that gets repeated or retold in Chapter One—usually in a more engaging way. In that case, why not just start with Chapter One?
Example:
Prologue: "A child is left on a doorstep under mysterious circumstances."
Chapter One: "Eighteen years later, she still doesn't know where she came from..."
🤷♂️ Readers get the point without the extra scene.
🧠 When Prologues Do Work
Okay, now that we've dragged prologues a bit, let's be fair: they're not all bad. Some can add richness, tension, or mystery—if used wisely.
✅ When they work:They introduce a compelling mystery that pays off early in the story.They provide a different POV that the main narrative doesn't allow.They set the tone or stakes with an intense, engaging scene.They're short, sharp, and punchy—like a teaser trailer. Example:
In Game of Thrones, the prologue shows us the White Walkers—terrifying, mysterious, and not seen again for a while. But it instantly raises stakes and tension. You know they're coming.
🚦So... Should You Use a Prologue?
Ask yourself:Could this info be woven into the main narrative more naturally?Is it really essential to understanding Chapter One?Does it raise tension or just explain stuff?Will readers remember it when it matters? If you answer "no" to most of those, it might be time to hit delete—or repurpose the prologue as a later flashback, interlude, or backstory drip.
✂️ Prologue Alternatives That Work for Newer WritersCold open scene from the protagonist's POV that throws us into a problem.Flashback chapter later in the book, once we care about the characters.Start with Chapter One and work the backstory in through tension, conflict, and dialogue.
🎬 Wrapping It Up
Prologues aren't evil. They're easy to misuse, especially when new to the fiction game. Go for it if yours is compelling, relevant, and directly tied to the story's stakes. But if it's just there to explain things before the "real story" begins, maybe give Chapter One the spotlight it deserves.
Think of it this way: your prologue should be the appetizer that makes people hungry—not the whole buffet before the main course.
What about you? Do you write prologues—or skip them altogether? Do you have a prologue you're proud of (or one buried in the revision graveyard)? Share your thoughts in the comments—I'd love to hear your take!
Some authors love them. Some agents roll their eyes at them. And for early-stage writers—those still finding their voice and rhythm—prologues can be a sneaky little trap dressed in fancy backstory.
So what's the deal? Should you write a prologue, or are you better off jumping straight into Chapter One? Let's dig into what prologues are, what problems they can cause (especially for new writers), and how to know if yours is helping or hurting your story.
🧐 First, What Is a Prologue?
A prologue is a section that comes before the main story starts. It may occur at a different time, show a distinct character, or provide the background your reader needs to understand what's coming.
Sounds harmless. Sometimes it is. But sometimes… it's the literary equivalent of starting a marathon by tripping over your shoelaces.
🚧 Common Prologue Problems for Newer Writers
1. It's All Backstory, No Hook
Many first-time writers use a prologue to info-dump everything they think the reader needs to know before the story starts: the world's history, the villain's childhood trauma, the political system of the realm, the family curse from six generations ago...
Here's the thing: readers don't care yet.
Example of a flat start:
"Two hundred years ago, the kingdom of Sorthal was ruled by the High Lord of Flame, whose bloodline was corrupted by the Nightwind, a dark spirit from beyond the veil of... Zzzzzzz..."
Better approach:
Hook your reader first with Chapter One's action, tension, or mystery. Let them learn about the world as they go.
2. It Feels Disconnected from the Main Story
Prologues often occur far before or after the novel's main events. If the connection isn't clear or doesn't show up again until Chapter 20, readers forget about it—or worse, feel misled.
Personal Anecdote:
In my first attempt at a fantasy novel, I wrote an epic, dramatic prologue full of fire and prophecy. By Chapter Five, even I had forgotten how it connected. My beta reader's comment? "Cool opening. Is this a different book?" Oof.
3. It Delays the Story's Momentum
In the age of TikTok attention spans, you've got a page or two to grab a reader. If your prologue meanders or drags, it might be the last thing they read.
Agents and editors have confessed they often skip prologues. If you're using one, it has to be stellar.
4. It Repeats What Chapter One Could Do Better
Sometimes, the prologue sets up an event that gets repeated or retold in Chapter One—usually in a more engaging way. In that case, why not just start with Chapter One?
Example:
Prologue: "A child is left on a doorstep under mysterious circumstances."
Chapter One: "Eighteen years later, she still doesn't know where she came from..."
🤷♂️ Readers get the point without the extra scene.
🧠 When Prologues Do Work
Okay, now that we've dragged prologues a bit, let's be fair: they're not all bad. Some can add richness, tension, or mystery—if used wisely.
✅ When they work:They introduce a compelling mystery that pays off early in the story.They provide a different POV that the main narrative doesn't allow.They set the tone or stakes with an intense, engaging scene.They're short, sharp, and punchy—like a teaser trailer. Example:
In Game of Thrones, the prologue shows us the White Walkers—terrifying, mysterious, and not seen again for a while. But it instantly raises stakes and tension. You know they're coming.
🚦So... Should You Use a Prologue?
Ask yourself:Could this info be woven into the main narrative more naturally?Is it really essential to understanding Chapter One?Does it raise tension or just explain stuff?Will readers remember it when it matters? If you answer "no" to most of those, it might be time to hit delete—or repurpose the prologue as a later flashback, interlude, or backstory drip.
✂️ Prologue Alternatives That Work for Newer WritersCold open scene from the protagonist's POV that throws us into a problem.Flashback chapter later in the book, once we care about the characters.Start with Chapter One and work the backstory in through tension, conflict, and dialogue.
🎬 Wrapping It Up
Prologues aren't evil. They're easy to misuse, especially when new to the fiction game. Go for it if yours is compelling, relevant, and directly tied to the story's stakes. But if it's just there to explain things before the "real story" begins, maybe give Chapter One the spotlight it deserves.
Think of it this way: your prologue should be the appetizer that makes people hungry—not the whole buffet before the main course.
What about you? Do you write prologues—or skip them altogether? Do you have a prologue you're proud of (or one buried in the revision graveyard)? Share your thoughts in the comments—I'd love to hear your take!
May 23, 2025
The Real-Life Inspirations Behind the Haunting
People often ask if I believe in ghosts.
My answer: I’ve never seen one. But I’ve lived with one.
Years ago, back in England, we lived in a house that felt... off. Not in a horror movie kind of way—creaking floorboards and slamming doors—but something subtler, colder, more persistent, something that lived with us.
Our children were young then. The youngest, just a little girl, often spoke of a kind woman who came to see her at night. She wasn’t frightened—just matter-of-fact. “She sits at the end of the bed,” she’d say as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
What was strange was the cold. Their bedroom was always icy, even on the hottest summer afternoons. I put a heater in there once, but it didn’t make the slightest difference.
Then there were the lights.
I’d hear the pedal bin in the kitchen open and close in the middle of the night. When I went downstairs to check, the lounge lights were on. I’d turn them off and go back to bed. Minutes later—click. Click. The switches again. Back on.
Once or twice is odd. Night after night?
The most chilling moment came late one evening.
I was upstairs, in bed, waiting for my wife to join me. I heard her coming up the stairs and saw her shadow pass the hallway light as she entered the bathroom.
But after a while, I wondered what was taking her so long.
I got up to check.
She was still downstairs—and hadn’t come up yet.
So, who did I see? Who did I hear?
I never found an answer. But that feeling—the presence, the quiet wrongness, the sense that someone or something is sharing your space unseen—stayed with me.
Years later, it shaped the story into The Bell Tower Suite.
If you’ve read the novella, you’ll see the echoes: the icy rooms, the quiet footsteps, the ghost who doesn’t mean harm… until he does.
I didn’t need to invent the haunting. Just listen.
📘 The Bell Tower Suite is available now on Kindle for 99¢.
Read it here.»
🎁 And the Goodreads paperback giveaway runs through May 29.
Enter here »
My answer: I’ve never seen one. But I’ve lived with one.
Years ago, back in England, we lived in a house that felt... off. Not in a horror movie kind of way—creaking floorboards and slamming doors—but something subtler, colder, more persistent, something that lived with us.Our children were young then. The youngest, just a little girl, often spoke of a kind woman who came to see her at night. She wasn’t frightened—just matter-of-fact. “She sits at the end of the bed,” she’d say as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
What was strange was the cold. Their bedroom was always icy, even on the hottest summer afternoons. I put a heater in there once, but it didn’t make the slightest difference.
Then there were the lights.
I’d hear the pedal bin in the kitchen open and close in the middle of the night. When I went downstairs to check, the lounge lights were on. I’d turn them off and go back to bed. Minutes later—click. Click. The switches again. Back on.
Once or twice is odd. Night after night?
The most chilling moment came late one evening.
I was upstairs, in bed, waiting for my wife to join me. I heard her coming up the stairs and saw her shadow pass the hallway light as she entered the bathroom.
But after a while, I wondered what was taking her so long.
I got up to check.
She was still downstairs—and hadn’t come up yet.
So, who did I see? Who did I hear?
I never found an answer. But that feeling—the presence, the quiet wrongness, the sense that someone or something is sharing your space unseen—stayed with me.
Years later, it shaped the story into The Bell Tower Suite.
If you’ve read the novella, you’ll see the echoes: the icy rooms, the quiet footsteps, the ghost who doesn’t mean harm… until he does.
I didn’t need to invent the haunting. Just listen.
📘 The Bell Tower Suite is available now on Kindle for 99¢.
Read it here.»
🎁 And the Goodreads paperback giveaway runs through May 29.
Enter here »
