Critique #2: M.T.
Kevin Andrew Murphy June 16th, 2006
Submitted June 16, 2006:
I visited her, every day.
I loved her, I cherished her.
I didn’t know what to do with her.Piles upon piles of paperwork faced him as he ran his fingers through a filing cabinet. With an effort he forced the metal drawer shut, after pulling out a manilla folder that threatened to spill all over the floor. He cradled it carefully in his hand, making his way towards a desk that faced the wall.
On the desk was a thin, silver computer screen and a white keyboard and mouse to match. The table itself was a dark, polished cherry wood with golden-knobbed drawers down its left side. He hopped onto the navy blue cushioned chair, stopping it from spinning by letting his foot hit the interior wall of the desk.
He had navy blue hair that parted in the middle of his bangs, and jutted out behind him in a stiff ponytail. The eyes studying the text on the sheets were grey, and his pallor was natural. He wore a plain dress shirt and dark pants, but his tie was nowhere to be seen.
If anything, the whole entire room was meant to be used by someone much larger in stature.
Kevin Andrew Murphy says:
There’s too much unnecessary description here. I refer you first to some excellent literary advice from Mark Twain:
http://www.pbs.org/marktwain/learnmore/writings_fenimore.html
Note rule 14: Eschew Surplusage meaning “Avoid unnecessary details.â€
However, that said, there are problems even with the unnecessary details here. Again, I refer you to Twain, 13: Use the right word, not its second cousin.
Going through the first actual paragraph:
Piles upon piles of paperwork faced him
You’re anthropomorphising the paperwork here. Not necessarily wrong to do, depending on the effect you want, but “paperwork†is the wrong word. Once paperwork is completed, neatly ordered and filed, it is no longer paperwork, but files. There is nothing here left to fill out or sort, only to read. These are files.
as he ran his fingers through a filing cabinet.
Ow! That would hurt. No, what he does is flip or rifle through files.
With an effort he forced the metal drawer shut, after pulling out a manilla folder that threatened to spill all over the floor.
The funky word order in the above has him forcing the drawer shut before the reader knows he’s taken his fingers out. Again, Ow!
He cradled it carefully in his hand, making his way towards a desk that faced the wall.
Again, wrong word. You can cradle an overstuffed folder with your arm, or a baby bird with your hand, but to “cradle†something you need to be able to partially envelop it. If the folder is nearly spilling out of his hand, it’s by definition not cradled. Also, why isn’t he using both hands and just shoving the file draw shut with his shoulder like most people would?
Going on from here:
On the desk was a thin, silver computer screen and a white keyboard and mouse to match.
Nicely coordinated, but really, who cares?
The table itself was a dark, polished cherry wood with golden-knobbed drawers down its left side.
The table? I thought this was a desk. And it certainly must be a desk if it has drawers down the left side.
He hopped onto the navy blue cushioned chair, stopping it from spinning by letting his foot hit the interior wall of the desk.
So it’s a desk again. The hopped/stopping/spinning rhyme business is cute, but really has nothing to do with anything.
He had navy blue hair that parted in the middle of his bangs, and jutted out behind him in a stiff ponytail.
Finally something SF–navy blue hair. Kinda neat, but is it just coincidence that his odd hair coordinates perfectly with the ordinar “navy blue†chair in previous sentence? And hair and chair rhyme….
The eyes studying the text on the sheets were grey, and his pallor was natural.
You are in an SF story. Do not talk about body parts, especially eyes, as disembodied things, because it’s entirely possible for them to be disembodied things. Also, while it’s nice to know that his pallor is natural, rather than being due to skin-bleaching or anemia, “pallor†is kind of a fusty word for “pale skin.†Moreover, the reader is more curious as to whether his navy blue hair is natural, and why has your omniscient narrator skipped that detail?
He wore a plain dress shirt and dark pants, but his tie was nowhere to be seen.
This is your omniscient narrator playing stupid. A description like this is fine from a first person narrator, or even third person limited omniscient, but the third person full omniscient just annoys when it plays coy about even trivial factoids. Either his tie was in his pocket or he didn’t have one on him.
If anything, the whole entire room was meant to be used by someone much larger in stature.
How does this follow from what we’ve seen before? It sounds like an ordinary office, and while he sounds bouncy, we haven’t had any indicator that he’s notably tiny, other than having trouble with a filing cabinet.
Someone much larger would likely have an especially big chair or some other indicator.
Anyway, I’ve picked through this in more detail than it contains, but you need to tell the parts of your story which contribute to reader interest and ignore the rest. Omniscient is okay, but it should be an interesting omniscient.
I really like Kevin’s critique here, to which I would only add that a manila folder doesn’t spill all over, its contents spill all over.
Whew. To be honest, I expected worse. And…uh…it does look pretty bad already. I feel like hiding under my desk. …even more so since what I wrote on the “Writing My First Novel” page in reply to this critique didn’t seem adequate. (I just knew that I had to write something, but I wasn’t thinking straight.)
First of all, thank you (both of you) for pointing out all of the inconsistent bits. I wonder sometimes if it’s because my understanding of English is skewed, or if I just don’t pay enough attention. It’s happened in the past; they were rather embarressing moments, actually.
Sticking to one noun and not changing it half-way through a paragraph. A’ight. …and using the right words. Your ‘ow’ comment about the filing reminds me of the time I wrote that a teacher clucked reprovingly at a student (I love teachers, I really do.). At the time, my proofreader wrote ‘ouch’ in the margin of the story. Is one of my problems choosing words/phrases that are a bit too…’extreme’, then?
I went to the page, and found it very informative. Saved a copy to my hard drive so I wouldn’t loose it.
As for the rhyming…yeah. :/ I still have to work on that. I keep finding myself rhyming without a thought. When I re-read bits and pieces of my writing and find rhymes lying around, sometimes I think they are annoying and other times just fine. …and then I don’t know what to do with them.
I also had no idea I was writing in omniscient. Eep. I’m going to have to fix that. The idea of the main character being ‘bouncy’ never crossed my mind- it gives a pretty…interesting…image. Forgive me, but the same comment also made my day a bit brighter.
As for why the detail about his hair was skipped… I know this is a poor excuse, but despite being an important character in the short story, not a whole lot of focus was being put on his origins or what he is. Therefore… I suppose I’ll have to explain it somehow.
M.T.,
Actually, I’d missed your response on the novel thread until you mentioned it, so yes, thanks for posting here. We should try to keep commentary for the critiques in the same threads.
Another bit of wisdom from Mark Twain from the same essay, reproduced here:
http://www.ewritermagazine.com/News/mark_twain.htm
With the business of sticking to one noun and not changing it halfway through the paragraph, the rule you need to use is Twain’s #13: Use the right word, not its second cousin. If you’ve got an exact synonym, you can swap them around as you like, the same as you can vary proper names and pronouns. However, if there is no exact synonym, you simply have to work around it.
English, with it’s rampant theft of verbiage from every other language, is a very kind language to writers, with some small exceptions. For example, there’s no exact synonym for “garden.” You can have subtypes of gardens–melon beds, pumpkin patches, orangeries–but there’s no exact synonym. And if you call an orangerie a melon bed, people will think you’re nuts. Similarly, a desk is not a table nor is it a vanity, a sideboard, a buffet or any of many similar furnishings.
With the detail about his hair, readers want to know the answer to intriguing details and don’t care about the boring ones. If there’s a dragon currently flying over the town, nobody cares what Brother Absolom had for lunch, unless you are trying to point out that dragons flying overhead are an everyday (and thus ignorable) occurence, whereas having tea with the Abott is truly remarkable.
With rhymes and so forth, get into the habit of reading your work aloud. Not only will this get you used to public readings, but it will also catch snags in the flow of the prose. You should also know that some readers subvocalize or listen to the sound of the words in their head, and if you have a snag, you’ll stop them dead. Study poetry and you’ll learn when rhyme is your friend and when it’s your enemy.
Anyway, best on revisions, and I’m glad this was useful to you.