The Difference a Word (or two) Makes

Hurricane update:

Although the greater Orlando area wasn't hit as hard as we had feared, the shoreline counties north of here, as well as Georgia and the Carolinas took a beating. Flooding is still a problem in the Carolinas, including a burst dam. As for the Florida shoreline, school did not reopen until almost a week after the storm hit, and some are still without power as I write this on Friday, October 14th.


Addendum:  And then Nicole came along - I suspect it swallowed the remnants of Matthew, and even though it was headed north, well out to sea, it grew so large, the outer bands are affecting us, producing five straight days of clouds and spitting rain. Strange weather for October, one of Florida's most idyllic months.

~ * ~

A sneak preview of the lovely cover Delle Jacobs did for  

Tangled Destinies, my fifth Regency Gothic.

(Hopefully out in November.)

~ * ~

THE POWER OF A SINGLE WORD

When offering Writing & Editing examples, I have to admit I don't spend a lot of time on research. I usually just borrow my examples from whatever I'm working on at the moment. Or, as in the past few weeks, I get ideas from books I'm editing for other authors. (These books, of course, are never used for exact examples, as I do not reveal what is in anyone else's book.)

I will, however, reveal that once upon a time I ran across a book where it was obvious the author had never even run spell check, let alone done any self-editing. This resulted in a great deal of extra work when the Track Changes edits came back, as the author had to "accept" a whole slew of changes to typos and duplicate words that would have been caught in a simple spell check.

As my regular readers know, I am a strong advocate of self-editing—adding, subtracting, clarifying, etc. There may be a few geniuses in the world who get it right the first time, but most of us don't. We have to slog through, and slog through again, line by line, finding ways to make things better. Sometimes it's only a single word - or the deletion of a word - that makes that sentence zing instead of fall flat. And yes, you doubters out there, a single word can make a difference. So go ahead, fuss! Get it right. Don't just write, write, write, sit back, say, "Whew!" and send it off without another look. 

And, believe me, having judged at least 450 RWA chapter contest entries, as well as being a professional editor for more than a quarter of a century, there are authors who do exactly that. Is their work any good? Sometimes, but poor presentation shoots them in the foot, the end result—not a winner. 

So, listen up! Read over your work. Find those missing words. Find the awkward phrases. Find the places where you thought you said one thing, but it came out something else entirely. Find the meager descriptions. Find the places where you ran on and on about something that didn't affect your story one way or another. (Get rid of it! Or that pesky secondary character who's intruding on the primary plot!)

Below are some examples of the kinds of things you might change on a second or third edit (after you've made all the big, obvious changes). These are seldom earth-shattering, just the last little tweaks that make your sentences more clear, more dramatic. Or simply because they sound better. And sometimes it's just to avoid duplicating a word used in a previous sentence. All picky little things, but if you really care . . ., you'll take the time to get it right!

All examples are from my Work-in-Progress, Regency Gothic #5, Tangled Destinies.

Additions shown in hot pink. Deletions in blue.

Yet somehow life went on, although I admit to a few twinges of the heart when I received a succession of letters . . .

Yet somehow life went on, although I admit to more than a few twinges of the heart when I received a succession of letters . . . .

"When Lord Thornbury returns, please tell him I must speak to him at once."

"When Lord Thornbury returns, please tell him I must speak with him at once." 

Nell!—sleeping while he was being whisked away to God alone knew where. Or why.

Nell!—sleeping while her charge was being whisked away to God alone knew where. Or why. 

So he did know.

My last doubt disappeared.

Searching for Nell Scarlett would be fruitless.

A search for Nell Scarlett would quickly reveal that no such person existed . . .

Yet he was there, I knew he was. Hunting.

Yet he was there, I knew he was. Stalking me.

. . . ten-foot walls of yew, no matter which direction I looked. No-o-o!

. . . ten-foot walls of yew. No matter which direction I looked, dead ends.

Dear Flora, what a Godsend she'd been.

Dear Flora, what a Godsend she'd turned out to be.

Nonetheless, perhaps it was guilt that caused me to wake later that night.

Nonetheless, perhaps it was nagging guilt that caused me to wake later that night.

"Ye c'n practically see the steam rising, like one of them pump engines on the canal."

"Ye c'n practically see the steam rising. Not like a tea kettle, miss. More like one of them pump engines on the canal."

Totally chagrined, I begged his pardon.

Chagrined, I begged his pardon.

(Grace note:  There are a number of words, particularly adverbs, that we all overuse. "Suddenly" is also a good example. When you see an "-ly" word, ask yourself if you really need it. Would your sentence sound better, fresher, without it?)

My voice rose to a height unbecoming enough to paint my cheeks scarlet. I could feel the hot flush.

My voice rose to a height unbecoming enough to be called a shriek. 

Though fear demanded I slow my footsteps to a crawl, I forced myself to a steady pace.

Fear demanded I slow my footsteps to a crawl, but somehow I forced myself to a steady pace. 

I clamped my lips tight over the words of response that were exploding in my head.

I clamped my lips tight over the angry words exploding in my head.

. . . although my nerves did not begin to settle until I heard the snick of the bolt behind me.

. . . although my nerves did not begin to settle until I'd snicked the bolt closed behind me. 
(Grace note: # 2 more active)

Getting rid of him quietly made sense.

Getting rid of my poor Nick quietly made sense. 

My dressmaker had been adding a good two inches of fabric to my tops since I was sixteen.

My dressmaker had been adding a good two inches of fabric to my bodices since I was sixteen.
(Grace note: more correct Regency language)  
 

With the uncertain aid of the rocker's arm, . . .

With the uncertain aid of the rocking chair's arm, . . . 

Now that I'd bloodied my brother-in-law, delivered a baby, and ended up in the country seat of the heir to a marquisate, albeit in the attics . . .

Now that I'd bloodied my brother-in-law, delivered a baby, and ended up in the country seat of a marquess, albeit in the attics . . .

Aunt Trevor had paid me a visit shortly before the dinner bell the previous day.
Shortly before the dinner bell the previous day, Aunt Trevor had paid me a visit.

I could, of course, think of highly legitimate reasons why he was not. 
An absurdity easily destroyed by reason.

Not even feeding would satisfy him.
Not even a feed would satisfy him.  (Grace note: more Brit-sounding)  

 . . . worse were the words chasing through their minds.
. . . worse were the words chasing through the congregation's minds. 

. . . where I plopped into the upholstered chair near the window and forced my whirling thoughts . . .
. . . where I plopped into my favorite chair near the window and forced my whirling thoughts . . .

"Hermione, balked of her quarry, is capable of wrecking havoc wherever she can."
"Hermione, balked of her quarry, seems bent on wrecking havoc wherever she can."

The "but" that was coming screamed at me.
The "but" that was undoubtedly coming screamed at me.

Good advice, but not easy to follow, except those times when I held Nick in my arms . . .
Advice not easy to follow, except for those times when I held Nick in my arms . . .


The dawning horror on his face as I described Nick and the wagon sailing off the ha-ha was almost worth all the fear and doubt that had gone before.

 Horror dawned on his face as I described Nick and the wagon sailing off the ha-ha.

Lady Winterbourne treated me with some ambiguity.
Lady Winterbourne continued to treat me with some ambiguity. 

. . . my right shoulder, which reminded me daily of the knocks it had taken on coach and stairs.
. . . my right shoulder, which reminded me daily of the knocks it had taken in the coach accident and on the stairs.  (Grace note: original too "shorthand")

. . . and were almost to the copse nearest the house when I heard a commotion behind me.

. . . and were almost to the cluster of trees nearest the house when I heard a commotion behind me.

(Grace note: changed to avoid repetition of "copse" & to give an explanation for those not well acquainted with Brit-speak.)

~ * ~

Thanks for stopping by,

Grace
 

For Grace's website, listing all books as Blair Bancroft, click here.

For a brochure for Grace's editing service, Best Foot Forward, click here.