Bruce Beckham's Blog - Posts Tagged "james-patterson"
Writing Better
Having studied first biology and then business, the extent that I have learned to write creatively owes much to 25 years in advertising.
As a copywriter I have discovered lots of useful tips – did you know, for instance, that 4 times as many people read the body copy of an ad if it has a benefit in its headline?
Or how about this. Modern English is basically a duplicated amalgam of Anglo-Saxon and Latin. In advertising copy, it is the short, punchy Saxon words that sell. (Why say, “Obtain this complimentary beverage” when “Get a free drink” uses 60% fewer characters?)
To write good ads you simply avoid clichés, platitudes and hyperbole. Just stick to the facts. And, of course, say “You” not “We”.
So my current reading – Self-Editing for Fiction Writers: How to Edit Yourself Into Print – has come as a bit of a shock.
Authorial voice. Beats. Exposition. Interior monologue. Narrative distance. Omniscience. Speaker attribution. Viewpoint. Yikes!
Ought I be doing these things? Am I doing these things? (Am I overdoing these things?)
The answer appears to be ‘Yes’ to all three.
That I am getting something right I can only put down to the power of reading. That there is much to learn is at once daunting and inspiring.
Still, if Stephen King’s criticisms of the likes of Stephanie Meyer (Twilight), Erle Stanley Gardener (Perry Mason) and James Patterson (Alex Cross) are anything to go by, maybe I should just keep bashing away with the advertising method?
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2009...
As a copywriter I have discovered lots of useful tips – did you know, for instance, that 4 times as many people read the body copy of an ad if it has a benefit in its headline?
Or how about this. Modern English is basically a duplicated amalgam of Anglo-Saxon and Latin. In advertising copy, it is the short, punchy Saxon words that sell. (Why say, “Obtain this complimentary beverage” when “Get a free drink” uses 60% fewer characters?)
To write good ads you simply avoid clichés, platitudes and hyperbole. Just stick to the facts. And, of course, say “You” not “We”.
So my current reading – Self-Editing for Fiction Writers: How to Edit Yourself Into Print – has come as a bit of a shock.
Authorial voice. Beats. Exposition. Interior monologue. Narrative distance. Omniscience. Speaker attribution. Viewpoint. Yikes!
Ought I be doing these things? Am I doing these things? (Am I overdoing these things?)
The answer appears to be ‘Yes’ to all three.
That I am getting something right I can only put down to the power of reading. That there is much to learn is at once daunting and inspiring.
Still, if Stephen King’s criticisms of the likes of Stephanie Meyer (Twilight), Erle Stanley Gardener (Perry Mason) and James Patterson (Alex Cross) are anything to go by, maybe I should just keep bashing away with the advertising method?
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2009...
Plot or Pants
This strikes me as one of those ‘lost in translation’ moments, at least as far as English is concerned. Pants, in particular, is problematic, referring to an entirely different layer of clothing, depending upon which side of the Atlantic you sit.
In the writing context, however, the intra-pants distinction is relatively academic, whereas the plot-pants dichotomy is a hot topic of debate. To cut to the chase, there are ‘plotters’ and ‘pantsers’ (honestly). The former methodically plan out their literary journey, the latter metaphorically fly by the seat of their pants. (And it really doesn’t matter which pants, even on a Zoom call with your editor.)
Reputedly in the plotter camp are J.K. Rowling, John Grisham and James Patterson. Famous pantsers include Mark Twain, Stephen King and Raymond Chandler.
One glance at this list tells you there can be no right answer. It would seem to be a matter of personal preference. I come down on the side of the fence where you must look out for the protruding nail.
To flesh out a skeleton plot strikes me as the literary equivalent of painting by numbers. And I really can’t imagine how you can possibly have all your best ideas in advance. It would be like going fishing with a list of what you were about to catch, or to the football knowing the score (though maybe I would take that one).
There must be merit, however, in the alternative method; certainly, less stress as the deadline approaches and the end is still not in sight. About this time of year I receive emails from Amazon suggesting I might like to pre-order the book with which I am simultaneously wrangling. No pressure!
On reflection, in practice there must be fifty shades of grey; a hybrid approach. It stands to reason that you can’t write a novel without some vague notion of the plot. And surely even the most pig-headed planners will change course for a humdinger of a brainwave.
Which brings me back to transatlantic semantics. While you can see where my loyalties lie, I ought to mention that ‘pants’ is also British slang for ‘rubbish’ or ‘hopeless’!
In the writing context, however, the intra-pants distinction is relatively academic, whereas the plot-pants dichotomy is a hot topic of debate. To cut to the chase, there are ‘plotters’ and ‘pantsers’ (honestly). The former methodically plan out their literary journey, the latter metaphorically fly by the seat of their pants. (And it really doesn’t matter which pants, even on a Zoom call with your editor.)
Reputedly in the plotter camp are J.K. Rowling, John Grisham and James Patterson. Famous pantsers include Mark Twain, Stephen King and Raymond Chandler.
One glance at this list tells you there can be no right answer. It would seem to be a matter of personal preference. I come down on the side of the fence where you must look out for the protruding nail.
To flesh out a skeleton plot strikes me as the literary equivalent of painting by numbers. And I really can’t imagine how you can possibly have all your best ideas in advance. It would be like going fishing with a list of what you were about to catch, or to the football knowing the score (though maybe I would take that one).
There must be merit, however, in the alternative method; certainly, less stress as the deadline approaches and the end is still not in sight. About this time of year I receive emails from Amazon suggesting I might like to pre-order the book with which I am simultaneously wrangling. No pressure!
On reflection, in practice there must be fifty shades of grey; a hybrid approach. It stands to reason that you can’t write a novel without some vague notion of the plot. And surely even the most pig-headed planners will change course for a humdinger of a brainwave.
Which brings me back to transatlantic semantics. While you can see where my loyalties lie, I ought to mention that ‘pants’ is also British slang for ‘rubbish’ or ‘hopeless’!
