Are you are thinking about having an audio book made of your novel? There are some things you need to know. Unless you are famous, your sales will be scanty. Audio books, while they are fun, are not a huge money maker.

So, still interested?

Before you begin, you need to ask yourself, what do I want? Are you looking for a physical CD of your book that you can sell at events? Or will a digital version satisfy your needs? How much are you able to spend on this project? Narrators can charge anywhere from $30-$145 per hour or more to record your book.

If a digital version works for you, there are two sites you might want to check out:

Audible (ACX.com)

This site produces a digital-only version of your book. You will not get a CD and nor can you download the files to create your own.

The pluses for Audible are:

1. For the budget conscious person, Audible offers a royalty share option*. The narrator and the author split the royalty. *This option locks you into a 7-year contract agreement with Audible.
2. Audible has a wide variety of narrators from which to choose.
3. Audible posts the finished product on Amazon.com and Audible.com.

Another site that produces digital versions of your book is:
Find A Way Voices (findawayvoices.com)

This site produces a digital-only version of your book.

The pluses for Find A Way are:

1. For the budget conscious person, they offer a Voices Share option. The narrator cuts their fee in half and takes 20% of the author royalty in exchange. So, as an example: if it was going to cost $1000 to record your 50k word novel, it would cost $500 upfront.
2. There are a number of narrators from which to choose.
3. Your audio book will be posted on 40+ websites.

 
Aside from these two options, there is also the DIY option. You can hire a narrator to make a digital copy of your book. Then you can produce a CD yourself, and distribute digital versions across the internet via findaway.com.

You can find freelance narrators at: upwork.com. Their hourly rates can vary from $30 per hour on up to over $145 per hour. But once your book is finished, you own your book's recording.

With all of these options, YOU will still need to market your product via social media, your website, newsletters, mailers, podcasts, etc. Your success will depend a lot on you and the time you invest.

Why is it important?
 
For the indie author of any genre, an author bio is crucial. Readers want to connect with the author, and in today’s world, your bio is the one way they can do that. Just as the blurb is your book’s first impression, your bio is your introduction to the potential reader. However, in order to make the right impression, you need to know what makes up a memorable bio.
 
In researching this topic, I have complied the following information. However, before you begin, here are a few tips:

• Keep it short and concise.  Your bio should be under 300 words. People want a glimpse of who you are.
• Professional bios are written in 3rd person. A true sign of an amateur is to write your bio in 1st person.
• Keep your bio updated.

 
 
What, then, are the components of a memorable bio?
 
I will list four.
 
1) Begin with a byline.  This is a one-sentence summary of you.
 
            for example: John Smith is a retired English professor and author of. . .
                               
 
2) Next you need to state the theme of your work. Simply put, tell people what you write about: fiction/non-fiction, sci-fi, fantasy, murder mysteries etc. Also mention your area of expertise and if you have published other works.
 
            for example: As a retired medical examiner, John has seen and is keenly aware of the various
                                 causes of death and he uses this knowledge to add realism to his debut thriller, 
                                 The Graveyard Shift.
 
 
3) You can also mention your credentials and awards, but a word of caution, readers don’t want to read a list of every diploma or award you have received. Mention only those things that are directly related to the book in hand. If your book is sci-fi, there’s no need to mention your award for romance novels. Keep it relevant.
 
            for example: John is a decorated Vietnam Vet and has lived and breathed the same air as his
                                 characters.
                                 or:    Mary, winner of the Newberry Award for Young Adult Fiction, is . . .
             
 
You may also want to include accolades from a famous personality that are pertinent to the genre of your book.  
 
4) Finally, give your bio a personal touch. Readers who feel a connection with YOU are more apt to buy your book, so mention a personal tidbit about yourself.  But remember, it’s not necessary to go into a detailed autobiography. A first-time reader glancing at your bio doesn’t want to hear about your first pet or a list of authors who inspired you to start writing. Give them glimpses of who you are that are applicable to your book.
 
            for example: If your book is a young reader novel set in a boarding school you could say:
                                 John spent his teenage years in a boarding school and is keenly aware of the
                                 struggles of living away from home for the first time.
  
 
Or you could give them a glimpse of your life subtly in your byline.
 
            for example: John, a psychologist, works from his home in the shadow of Mt. St. Helens in
                                 Washington State.
 
The main thing to remember is to let your personality show through.
 
 
Finally, what do you do with your bio once it’s written?
 
Your bio is a marketing tool.

• Add it to your website, in the back of your books under “About the Author,” and on your Amazon author page, to name a few.
• If your book is part of a series, use your bio to encourage readers to buy the other books in the series.
• Advertise your website – for example: For more about John Smith and his thrilling books, visit his website: johnsmith.com.
• Encourage readers to leave reviews – if you enjoyed this book, let the author know by leaving a review.

 
In conclusion, your author bio is extremely important. Give it the attention and thoughtful care it deserves. Your memorable bio could make the difference in your book becoming your next best seller.  

Submitted by James M. McCracken, current President of NIWA and author of the five book, young reader series, A Charlie MacCready Mystery, available at Amazon.com and on my website,
jamesmmccracken.com.

Although I was married for many years, I'm not sure my mother ever believed I actually had sex. In fact, I had to wait until after she died to write bedroom scenes. Which brings me to a truth about fiction authors: we often grapple with subjects that are usually kept secret.
 
A novelist has to be capable of diving deep within her characters if they are to be more than stick figures. This means telling it like it is. Maybe the protagonist is a nymphomaniac. Maybe she is a terrorist. Maybe he has incredibly bad flossing habits.
 
Of course, some unknown buttinsky came along and perpetrated the belief that you should only write what you know. Consequently, a certain amount of readers think if you write it, you've also done it. You've committed a murder or burgled a bank or omitted shaving your legs. This is nonsense: just because the character carries out a startling act, doesn't mean the author has done the same.
 
Nonetheless, it is true that a fiction writer needs to tackle the tough stuff. Some can do it through keeping a journal or writing a diary where they reveal their deepest and darkest. I learned to do it by blogging. Dozens of people were reading my words, and I had to make those words worth sharing if I wanted them to matter to anyone, most especially myself.
 
So, I blogged about sex. And fear of fatness. And being a widow. And bankruptcy. And cancer. Personal stuff like that. I got better at it with practice. Writing about things that hurt became a way to heal the wounds.
 
Then the epiphany happened. If I could do it for myself, surely, I could make up characters who could do it for others! I'd learned to let loose and share my feelings all the way to the bottom of the well. It was time to create fictional protagonists who could help real readers through the murky days of their own journeys.
 
It has taken time to develop the ability not to flinch. But over the years, I have written scenes about the desolation of missing persons, the fury of rape, terror of abuse, grief of a nursing home, rejection by your family. All my novels are about keeping hope through dark times, and doing it with a certain amount of humor intact.
 
Along the way, I have learned something from my fiction that has been rather startling in my real life: letting go feels great!
 
We all keep too many secrets, I think, weighing ourselves down with needless baggage, being dishonest with ourselves. Turns out candor is not such a bad thing. Imagine learning such a life lesson from writing stories that aren't even true! 
_________________________________________________________________________________________

​Linda B. Myers is a founding member of Olympic Peninsula Authors and author of the new historical novel Fog Coast Runaway, available on Amazon.com, at lindabmyers.com, or at local retailers. Contact her at myerslindab@gmail.com  

If we are writing fiction, we need to be able to think critically and see a character’s thought processes from all sides. If we have tunnel vision in our writing, we only write what is directly in front of us.
 
This makes our narrative one dimensional, boring. There is no surprise at the end because we saw it coming all along, and no effort was made to counter it.
 
So how do we take that one-dimensional idea and make the reader believe we have (figuratively) plucked them from their comfortable existence and placed them in a real, three-dimensional world?
 
We do it layer by layer. Some layers are more abstract than others, but they add so much to a story.
 
Take the unexpected.
 
When you add something unexpected into the mix, the reader becomes interested in finding out more. They keep turning the pages.
 
One way to introduce the unexpected is to employ a literary device called Dramatic Irony. Employed deftly, irony inserted into the ordinary adds the element of surprise and a moment of “ah-hah!” to a scene. The ordinary becomes extraordinary.
 
Let’s consider Romeo and Juliet. When we examine the way William Shakespeare wrote the play, we see layer after layer of irony, applied heavily.
 
First, the prologue announces that the Capulets are at war with the Montagues and tells us that what happens to the star-crossed lovers at the end will bring about peace between the warring families. That the audience is aware of the situation from the outset, but the characters are not is one layer of irony. That “we know, but you don’t” factor was extraordinarily daring in its day and was one of the things Elizabethans loved most about the play.
 
Now, the next layer is one that resonates with modern audiences: The second layer of irony is laid on when Romeo falls in love with his nemesis—the daughter of his family’s arch-enemy.
 
Again, the audience sees the irony there, but (third layer) Romeo pushes onward, trying to convince Juliet that her family won’t harm him, that her love will protect him.
 
Alas, the ironic blindness of teenaged infatuation.
 
And at this point, despite the blatant warning, the prologue gives us at the outset, we are still hoping for a happy ending, even though we’ve had 400 years of “we know how this will end, and it isn’t good.”
 
Mercutio and Benvolio discuss Romeo’s love-stricken behavior, assuming he is still pining for Rosalind (fourth layer of irony). The audience says, “We know something you don’t!”
 
Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead;
stabbed with a white wench’s black eye;
shot through the ear with a love-song;
 
“Shot through the ear with a love-song” is brilliant, ironic prose in any era.
 
All through the play, from Tybalt’s murder to the suicides, the audience knows what is going on, but the characters don’t. That is dramatic irony taken to an extreme and was a contributing factor in the play’s success back in 1594-1595 when it first opened.
 
But tastes have changed over the 400+ years since that play was written.
 
I would suggest that nowadays it’s a bad idea to write a prologue explaining the end of the book. That’s the sort of thing that will encourage readers to put the book back on the shelf and purchase one where the outcome is more of a mystery.
 
But we can still inject irony into our work without being quite so heavy-handed in our writing.
 
Perhaps we open the story with a scene involving a committee’s conversation about what to do with a plot of land. Should they let it be developed commercially or make it a playground?
 
In itself, the topic might not be terribly interesting to the reader. However, if we add the fact that the meeting is closed to the public despite the fact that emotions are running high about the outcome, we imply that something shady may be going on. In that scene, we have many opportunities to inject irony in small ways, by committee member names and blatantly ignorant comments they naively (or arrogantly) make.
 
But what happens if, in the opening paragraph, a woman enters the empty conference room ahead of the meeting and places a backpack under the table? The reader watches as she makes an adjustment to its contents, sets the timer to go off at 14:25 (2:25 pm), and then leaves, being careful to leave no fingerprints.
 
Now every second that the conversation drags on ratchets up the tension. Each time a committee member gets up to get a glass of water, or make a phone call, and the clock on the wall ticks toward 2:25, you wonder: will they be the one to escape death?
 
Irony should be a metaphorical backpack lurking under the table, waiting to surprise the reader.
 
Irony, as an undercurrent, is done exceptionally well in Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451. Bradbury uses irony to convey information.
 
Bradbury challenges us by introducing “firemen” not as those brave people who put out house fires, but as men charged with starting fires and burning all books. The naming of that job title is subtle. The author never resorts to explaining the irony, but it packs a punch when you first read it.
 
So, in the case of that book, we have “situational irony” delivering information we need, in a way that packs a wallop and promises more to come.
 
In the 1948 short story, The Lottery, Shirley Jackson wrote about something we typically think of as good. After all, winning the lottery usually means we’ve won money or a wonderful prize. But in Jackson’s story, it’s not about what is won, but what is lost. The irony is that stoning someone to death yearly purges the town of the bad and makes way for the good. ‘Winning’ is not something you want to do in that town.
 
Dramatic irony adds depth to a story. It works best when done in such a way that the reader understands it but hasn’t been told what to think. Readers like to think for themselves.
 
“Depth” consists of a multitude of layers we add to a scene. When we talk about adding depth to a scene, we are talking about many things.
 
Dramatic Irony is a tool we can use to good effect if we are mindful of how we apply it.
 
                                                          >>><<<                       >>><<<                       >>><<<
 
Credits and Attributions:
 
Connie J. Jasperson is a published poet and the author of nine fantasy novels. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies. A founding member of Myrddin Publishing Group, she can be found blogging regularly on both the craft of writing and art history at Life in the Realm of Fantasy.
 
Quote from Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare, 1594 - 1595 PD|100.
Portions of this post previously appeared on 26 June 2019 on Life in the Realm of Fantasy, in the article Dramatic Irony: Adding Depth, Connie J. Jasperson, copyright 2019, all rights reserved.

The revision process involves a close examination of many different aspects of the story. One that must be consistently portrayed is point of view.
 
Point of view doesn’t have to be solely that of one character, but it should only be shown from one character at a time.
 
Each of the major players has a story and a point of view. Some authors use the aftermath of an action scene as an opportunity to advance the antagonist’s story line. That is a good strategy, as we need to show why the enemy is the enemy.
 
Transitions and point of view are crucial to the story. A well-paced narrative has a kind of rhythm.
 

• processing the action,
• action again,
• another connecting/regrouping scene

 
The regrouping scenes are transitions, places where we move the plot forward through conversation or introspection. This allows the reader to process what just happened through one of the characters’ eyes, or their point of view.
 
We justify the events that just occurred, making them believable. Transitions are also opportunities to ratchet up the tension.
 
But these are also places where it is easy to accidentally shift to a  different point of view character, so the revision process involves paying attention to who is talking and giving them the entire scene.
 
One kind of transition is introspection:
 

• Introspection offers an opportunity for new information important to the story to emerge.
• It opens a window for the reader to see who the characters are and that they are self-aware.

 
Keep the scenes of introspection brief and go easy on them if you are given to using italics to set them off. A wall of italics is hard to read, so don’t “think” too much if you are using those.
 

• Characters’ thoughts must serve to illuminate their motives at a particular moment in time.
• In a conversation between two characters, introspection must offer information not previously discussed.
• Internal monologues should not make our characters too wise. Humanize them, show them as a bit clueless about their flaws, strengths, or even their deepest fears and goals.

 
Conversations: Each character must speak uniquely, sounding like themselves. Don’t dump conversations into a blender and pour out a string of commentary that makes them all sound alike.
 
I also suggest you don’t get fancy with speech tags/attributions. It’s best for me as a reader when the author avoids words that take me out of the narrative. Some words are eye-stoppers. I recommend you stick with said, replied, answered—common and ordinary tags that don’t leap out at the reader like ejaculated, disgorged, spewed, and so on.
 
Occasionally, you can get away with more forceful tags, but keep them to a minimum. You can also do away with speech tags for brief exchanges if the scene contains only two characters.
 
Make the characters' actions and words show the force of their emotions, rather than relying on exclamation points to convey excitement. Keep the overuse of exclamation points down so the dialogue doesn’t become breathless.
 
Fade-to-black and hard scene breaks: I’m in two minds about using fade-to-black scene breaks as transitions. Why not just start a new chapter?
 
One of my favorite authors sometimes has chapters of only five or six-hundred words, which keeps each character thread truly separate and flows well.
 
In a short story, a hard scene break is sometimes required, as you don’t have the option to do chapters. Editors with open calls will often ask that you insert an asterisk or hashtag between scenes.
 
We want to create a sense of intimacy, of being in the character’s head. One way to do that is to use stream of consciousness, a narrative mode that offers a first-person perspective by showing the thought processes of the narrative character, along with their actions and conversations.
 
This device incorporates interior monologues and inner desires or motivations, as well as pieces of incomplete thoughts that are expressed to the audience but not necessarily to other characters. Consider this passage from James Joyce’s Ulysses, as Bloom attends a funeral for an acquaintance and is unable to avoid the painful memory of his son’s death.
 
The carriage climbed more slowly the hill of Rutland square. Rattle his bones. Over the stones. Only a pauper. Nobody owns.
 
In this narrative mode, we see the POV character’s rambling thoughts, as well as witness their conversations and actions. This is a difficult device to do well, and the only time I have used it was in a writing class.
 
Many authors employ the first-person point of view to convey intimacy. With the first-person point of view, a story is revealed through the thoughts and actions of the protagonist within his or her own story.
 
And then I was alone in the dark silence of the empty street, with the rising mist as my only companion.
 
I have used first-person point of view mostly in short stories and find it easy to write.
 
However, I write my longer work in an omniscient voice. The story is told from an outside, overarching point of view. The narrator sees and knows everything that happens within the world of the story, including what each of the characters is thinking and feeling.
 
A way to convey intimacy when writing in third person omniscient is to use the third-person subjective. This mode is also referred to as close 3rd person.
 
I like this mode and frequently use it. At its narrowest and most subjective, the story reads as though the viewpoint character were narrating it. This is comparable to the first person in that it allows an in-depth revelation of the protagonist's personality but differs as it always uses third-person grammar.
 
It is easy for me as a reader to form a deep attachment to the protagonist when a story is written in this mode. This is also a good way to avoid the first draft curse known as “head hopping.”
 
When an author switches point of view characters within a single scene or even a paragraph, you have head hopping. First, you’re in her head, then you’re in his head—it becomes difficult to follow who thought what.
 
Head-hopping occurs in the first draft because the thoughts of every character are clear to the author, who writes them as she “hears” them.
 
For the reader, it’s like watching a “he thought, she thought” tennis match.  It is critical from a reader’s perspective that authors avoid head-hopping. The best way to do that is to begin a new chapter each time you change the point-of-view character.
 
And as a note, head-hopping happens most frequently when using a third-person omniscient narrative—the god-like narrator who sees all and knows all.
 
In the revision process, we want to have smooth transitions between scenes. We work to ensure consistency in our narrative mode, especially in regard to point of view. Making good revisions is a challenging project and can take longer to complete than writing the first draft did.
 
But the reward is well worth the effort.
 
           *********************************************************************************************
 
Credits and Attributions:
 
Connie J. Jasperson is a published poet and the author of nine fantasy novels. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies. A founding member of Myrddin Publishing Group, she can be found blogging regularly on both the craft of writing and art history at Life in the Realm of Fantasy.
Wikipedia contributors, "Narration," Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Narration&oldid=777375141 (accessed Dec. 30, 2019).
Quote from Ulysses, by James Joyce, published 1922 by Sylvia Beach
​

In our last post, Making Effective Revisions: Timid Phrasing (Series, Post 2), we discussed why words must be carefully chosen to have their greatest effect. If you are writing a first draft, this post contains good information, but get that story written before you begin fine-tuning it. I strongly suggest you don’t agonize over word choices until you are in the revision process.
 
In the English language, words that begin with hard consonants sound tougher and therefore carry more power.
 
Verbs are power/action words. How we use them makes our work active and immediate, or passive and makes the reader an observer rather than a participant.
 

• Placement of verbs in the sentence
  1. Moving the verbs to the beginning of the sentence makes it stronger.
  2. Nouns followed by verbs make active prose.
     1. I ran toward danger, never away.

 
VERBALIZE by Damon Suede is an excellent resource for authors who want to understand the many nuances of verbs and their importance. He is a writing craft educator as well as a best-selling Romance author.
 
We may not know how Suede will come out in the current hyperdramatic RWA kerfuffle, but one thing Suede understands is how to write active prose. VERBALIZE is jammed with hard-hitting, rapid-fire information, just like his seminars.
 
The one problem I have with this book is the barrage of information. There is a lot going on visually as well as informationally. I find it easiest to absorb the book in small doses, which allows me to think about what he is saying.
 
I read a bit, think a bit, and write a lot.
 
If you learn nothing else from reading his book or attending one of his seminars, verb placement is crucial. What Suede has to say about verbs, their importance in character development, and how best to place them in the sentence is well worth the cost of the book.
 
We all know verbs are action words. That means they are all forceful, right?
 
Not exactly. Some verb forms weaken the narrative.
 
An infinitive verb is a verb with the word “to” in front of it:
 

• to be
• to have
• to hold
• to walk
• to dream
• to sleep

 
Without the word “to,” each of the above words is just a base verb. They are finite, limited. They are the action, end of story.
 
When you add the word “to” in front of the action, it is no longer finite—it becomes unlimited, or infinite: an infinitive.
 
This lack of boundaries creates a passive voice when telling a story.
 
For some, more literary narratives, occasionally injecting the passive voice into prose is appropriate. It can make a passage feel poetic if that is the author’s intent.
 
However, for genre fiction, we want our work to have an active voice. To that end, we avoid the overuse of infinitives.
 
When we first begin sharing our work in writers’ groups, we are shown instances where our use of infinitives creates a passive narrative, separating the reader from the action.
 
A less experienced author might try to combat that by changing some verbs into what they think is a more active form: the gerund. By doing this, they are actually changing verbs into a form that is derived from a verb but functions as a noun. In English, gerunds are verbs ending in -ing.
 
There are no exceptions. Example: asking, as in do you mind my asking you?
 
A side bit of trivia: in modern speech, expressions such as “can’t stand,” “couldn’t help,” and “it’s no use” are frequently followed by gerunds:
 

• I can’t stand running in place.
• It’s no use harping at me; I won’t change my mind.

 
SO: a gerund is a form of a verb used as a noun. But what about the present participle? A participle is a form of verb used as an adjective or as a verb in conjunction with an auxiliary verb.
 
In English, the present participle has the same form as the gerund, in that it is a verb ending in -ing. The difference is in how they are used.
 
Consider the verb walk, as in to step forward. When used with an auxiliary verb (is walking), it serves as a verb and is the present participle.
 
When used as an adjective, such as in a walking contradiction, it is also a participle. However, when used as a noun (walking is difficult when going uphill), it is a gerund.
 
Phrasal Verbs: We use phrasal verbs all the time in our daily speech and in our writing. Phrasal verbs are  two or three words (an action word + modifiers) forming what can be considered a separate verb-unit with a specific meaning. In other words, they use more words than are needed to express a thought:
 

• Who is looking (action word) after (modifier) (phrasal verb unit) the kids? Could be made active: Who is watching the kids?
• They brought (action word) that up (modifier) (phrasal verb unit) twice. Could be made active:  They mentioned it twice.
• Who can put (action word) up (modifier) with (modifier) (phrasal verb unit) that? Could be made active:  Who can endure that?

 
We use these phrasings because they sound natural to us. It’s the way people in your area might speak. But when used too frequently in a written piece, phrasal verbs junk up the narrative. They subtly contribute to what we call “purple prose” because the overuse of them separates the reader from the story.
 
For that reason, we should look for simpler ways to phrase our thoughts when writing. The exception would be when we write conversations spoken in the local vernacular.
 
Choosing which bits of backstory are important to convey and binding them into small packets inserted only when the reader needs to know is critical. Impart that information by using verbs and words beginning with consonants to evoke powerful feelings.
 
Use power words in conversations to distribute packets of exposition (backstory). In this way, you can give both the reader and the characters necessary information without resorting to a blatant info dump.
 
All words—verbs or nouns or adverbs or adjectives--all words have their place in our writing process. The way you choose and combine them is your voice, your style. However, if we are writing science fiction or fantasy, or mystery, or a thriller—using an active voice is the key to conveying a sense of immediacy and emotion.
 
Place your verbs toward the beginning of most of your sentences and make minimal use of gerunds and phrasal verbs. Front-loading your sentences with the action makes the prose more active. Active prose draws the reader into the action and creates an emotional bond with the characters and their situation.
 
Readers remember books that involved and moved them emotionally. They insist their friends must read them.
 
Authors want to be remembered for having written a story that so moved a reader emotionally that they had to talk about it and share the book with a friend.
 
To me, there is no higher praise.
 
      ***********************************************************************************************
 
Credits and Attributions:
 
Connie J. Jasperson is a published poet and the author of nine fantasy novels. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies. A founding member of Myrddin Publishing Group, she can be found blogging regularly on both the craft of writing and art history at Life in the Realm of Fantasy.
​

An editor will point out and encourage you to correct all instances of timid phrasing. If you are self-editing, you must do this yourself. Weak prose tells the story, holds the reader away from the immediacy of the experience. Timid phrasing leads to wordiness, which most readers dislike.
 
Overuse of forms of to be (is, are, was, were) also lead to wordiness. Long, convoluted passages rife with compound sentences turn away most readers.
 
The verb “be” is comprised of eight forms:
 

• Base form: be
• Present tense: am and are
• Present tense: being
• Past tense: was and were
• Past participle: been

 
“Was” and “were” are verbs that are called “subjunctives.”
 
Subjunctive verbs are words that (in the English language) are used to form sentences that do not describe known objective facts. They indicate possibilities only. Something might be or it might not.
 
New writers frequently guess at how to use “was” and “were,” and in doing so, guess wrong. 
 
There are times when we use a form of the verb ‘was’ even though the subject of the sentence has not yet happened or may not happen at all. This is the past subjunctive verb form. It is unreal and may remain that way. “If I were.”
 
Consider the song from Fiddler on the Roof: If I Were a Rich Man. As I am a woman and intent on remaining so, I will never be a rich man. As I am an author and intent on remaining so, I will never be rich. So, for me, that song title contains two impossibilities. “If I were” is the correct subjunctive mood.
 
When you are supposing about something that might be true, you use a form of the verb “was” and don’t sweat it.
 

• If it’s likely real: Was (possibly is) I heard he was training his dog to fetch.
• If it’s likely unreal: Were (possibly isn’t) If I were a penguin, I wouldn’t need to rent a tuxedo.

 
To avoid wordiness, use action words (verbs) in place of forms of to be. In active prose, our characters don’t begin (start) to move. Instead, they move. They act as opposed to beginning or starting to act.
 
That and which are two commonly misused words. When it comes to eliminating the word “that,” it’s crucial you look at each instance of how it is used.  Sometimes, “that” is the only word for a given situation.
 
Something you need to know: “that” and “which” are not interchangeable, so you can’t just use a global search to change every instance of "that" to "which."
 
“That” is a pronoun used to identify a specific person or thing observed by the speaker, a determiner, an adverb, and a conjunction.
 

1. "That’s his dog on the curb." (Identifier)
2. "Look at that red car." (Determiner)
3. "I wouldn’t go that far." (Adverb)
4. "She claimed that she was married." (Conjunction)

 
In the case of number 4 (above), the sentence would be stronger without it.
 
“Which” is a pronoun asking for information. It specifies one or more people (or things) from a particular set, and it is also a determiner:
 

1. "Which are the best diapers for newborns?" (Pronoun)
2. "I’m looking at a particular house, which is for sale on Black Lake." (Determiner)

 
Go lightly with “which” and “that” but use them when they are required.
LIST OF TIMID WORDS TO WATCH FOR. Do a global search and examine each instance. Eliminate or rewrite to make active:
 

• All forms of To be
• Basically
• Too many emdashes
• Exclamation points (usually not needed)
• Finally
• I think
• -ing (do a global search and examine each instance. Change to make active if possible.)
• Its / it’s (its: Possessive form of it / it’s: contraction of it is)
• –ize –ization (do a global search and examine each instance. Change to make active if possible.)
• Just
• Like
• -ly (do a global search and examine each instance. Change to make active if possible.)
• Now
• Okay
• Only
• Really
• Said (decide if speech tags can be eliminated and shown by actions)
• Seem
• Still
• Suddenly
• That (often not needed)
• The
• Then (often not needed)
• There was (a subjunctive)
• –tion (global search)
• Very (usually not needed)
• Which (not a substitute for ‘that’)

 
In the second draft, I look at words like “went.” In my personal writing habits, “went” is a code word that tells me when a scene is ending and transitioning to another scene.
 
In fact, all info dumps, passive phrasing, and timid words are codes for the author, laid down in the first draft.
 
Clunky phrasing and info dumps are signals telling me what I intend that scene to be. In the rewrite, I must expand on those ideas and ensure the prose is active. I must cut some of the info and allow the reader to use their imagination.
 
Often, these rough passages indicate transitions from one scene to the next. The characters or their circumstances are undergoing a change. One scene is ending, and another is beginning.
 
For example, when I see the word “went,” I immediately know someone goes somewhere. But “went” is a bald telling word.
 
I ask myself, “How did they go?” Went can be shown as a scene:
 

• they walked (to the next room, or down the street, or to Mordor.)
• they drove (a car, a wagon, a spaceship.)
• they rode (a horse, donkey, motorcycle, or dragon.)
• they took a plane (bus, ferry, space shuttle, or sleeping pill.)
• they teleported (vanished into the ether)

 
You get the idea. In the rewrite, I find the “telling” paragraphs that connect my dramatic scenes together and decide what will stay and what should be cut. If the necessary information requires a paragraph, I have to consider how to rewrite it so that it is interesting and not a mind-numbing wall of words.
 
If you notice a few flaws in your manuscript in your final pass but think no one will be bothered by them, you’re wrong. Readers always notice the things that stop their eyes.
 
In my own work, I have discovered that if a passage seems flawed, but I can’t identify what is wrong with it, my eye wants to skip it.
 
Revising the first draft is a long, complicated process. The few pointers I have offered in this post are just the tip of the iceberg that is your manuscript. Eliminating timid phrasing is only part of the quest for an enjoyable manuscript.
 
The next post will appear on January 1, 2020, and will cover ways to make verb placement your tool for creating active prose.
 
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Connie J. Jasperson is a published poet and the author of nine novels. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies. A founding member of Myrddin Publishing Group, she can be found blogging regularly on both the craft of writing and art history at Life in the Realm of Fantasy.

Indie authors are financially responsible for getting their manuscript revised, edited, and proof-read. This can be a costly process as freelance editors are working for a living and expect to be paid for their work. A 70,000 word manuscript can cost from around $700.00 or more to have edited, depending on the services you want.
 
If you can, it’s a good idea to hire an editor because our eyes may skip typos and autocorrect errors in our own work. When we read what we have written, we are immersed in visualizing the scene. Some errors will be missed no matter how hard we try to edit our work because our eyes see what is supposed to be there, rather than the typos or missing words.
 
Many editors offer a service called “Beta Reading” at a much more affordable price. Beta reads are helpful in identifying areas you may want to revise.
 
If you’re a member of a writers’ group, you have a resource of people who will “beta read” for you at no cost. As a member of that critique group, you will read for them too, so be careful how you phrase your comments on their work. Be accurate and find positive things to point out as well as areas that need work. If you are harsh and dismissive, your work will receive that treatment in return.
 
Regardless, if you are publishing that work, you are responsible for making the line edits in your work.
 
If you are unable to afford a full professional edit, there is a way to make a pretty good stab at revising your own manuscript, but it is time consuming, which is why an editor’s services are not cheap.
 

1. Open your Manuscript. Break your manuscript into separate chapters, and make sure each is clearly and consistently labeled. Make sure the chapter numbers are in the proper sequence, and that they don’t skip a number. For a work in progress, Baron’s Hollow, I labeled my chapter files this way:

• BH_ch_1
• BH_ch_2

1. Print out the first chapter. Everything looks different printed out, and you will see many things you don’t notice on the computer screen.
2. Turn to the last page. Cover the page, leaving only the last paragraph visible.
3. Starting with the last paragraph on the last page, begin reading, working your way forward.
4. With a yellow highlighter, mark each place that needs correction.

 
TO BEGIN MAKING GOOD REVISIONS YOU MUST KNOW YOUR BASIC RULES OF GRAMMAR.
 
First, if you aren’t going to hire an editor, you should consider investing in Bryan A. Garner’s Chicago Guide to Grammar, Usage, and Punctuation. This is a resource with all the answers for questions you might have regarding grammar and sentence structure.
 
The basic rules of grammar are like traffic signals.
 
They regulate the flow of our words, making our sentences understandable. A professional author will make a stab at learning a few rules regarding punctuation and will apply them to their work.
 
It doesn’t require perfection, but people who don’t think the common rules matter are doing their work and their reputation a disservice. Readers want to enjoy the book, not struggle through rambling, garbled sentences.
 
Simple Rules for Common Punctuation:
 
Commas: Never insert commas “where you take a breath” because everyone breathes differently.
 
Do not insert commas where you think it should pause, because every reader sees the pauses differently. DO USE COMMAS TO:
 

1. Use commas to separate independent clauses when they are joined by any of these seven coordinating conjunctions: and, but, for, or, nor, so, yet.                                                                                                                                                                     Good: My dog has fleas, and he needs to go to the vet.
2. Do not join dependent clauses to independent clauses with commas.                                                                                                          Good: My dog has fleas and needs to go to the vet.

 
We like people to understand exactly what we mean, so we ALWAYS use the Oxford Comma, also known as the Serial Comma. If there are only two things (or ideas) in a list, they do not need to be separated by a comma. I like dogs and birds.
 
If there are more than two ideas, the comma should be used as it would be used in a list. I like dogs, cats, rabbits, and birds.
 
Semicolons: Semicolons are NOT extra-firm pauses; they are connectors. Join two short but related sentences this way:
 

1. (WRONG) Mary is dating John; the Dairy Queen is open until eight. (The two sentences have no relation to each other.)
2. (RIGHT) Mary is working until eight but the busses aren’t running; John will drive her home. (The sentences pertain directly to each other.)

 
Avoid comma splices at all cost. Use conjunctions or semicolons to join related independent clauses, not commas.
 

1. COMMA SPLICE (BAD): My dog has fleas, he needs to go to the vet.
2. PROPER JOINING of two complete sentences with semicolon: My dog has fleas; he needs to go to the vet.

 
Colons are used in technical manuals. They can denote lists but are never to be used in the literary narrative:
 
To use the typewriter:

1. Insert paper into feeder
2. Make sure ribbon is installed correctly
3. For best effect, use even keystrokes

 
Question Marks: Always use one question mark at the end of an interrogative sentences (a question). “Would you like to go dancing?” It goes inside the quotation marks.
 
Exclamation Marks: These are “power punctuation” and should be used sparingly.  They are used for emphasis when the narrative doesn’t express excitement or other intensity well enough. Used to freely, the narrative becomes breathless! Painful! Too much, even!
 
Interrobang (?!) NEVER USE TWO punctuations at the end of a sentence. The interrobang is not an accepted form of punctuation in anything but comic books. The narrative should show the reader that the protagonist is shocked and confused.
 
Dialogue and Quotation Marks: ALL punctuation in dialogue goes INSIDE the quotation marks:
 

1. “Hello,” said the man at the door. “Can I interest you in a new product? I’m selling Corbie Brand Cleaners.”

 
The Ellipsis is NOT Punctuation. It is a symbol showing where words have been omitted. The ellipsis requires punctuation the same as if it were the words it symbolizes, even if it is at the end of a sentence of dialogue. Bryan A. Garner, on page 396 of The Chicago Guide to Grammar, Usage, and Punctuation lists five uses and two misuses of the ellipsis.
 
First, we’ll talk about the uses, listed with examples on page 396.
 

1. Use an ellipsis when an unfinished sentence trails off.
2. Use an ellipsis to signal rumination, musing, or hesitant continuation of thought.
3. Use three ellipsis dots to signal that you’ve omitted one or more words within a sentence you are quoting.
4. Use four dots—an ellipsis and a period—when you’ve omitted one or more words at the end of a sentence. A space goes before the first ellipsis dot.
5. Use four dots—an ellipsis and a period—when you’ve omitted material within a quoted sentence, but the quotation continues. No space goes before the first dot (the period).

 
On page 398, Garner lists two misuses.
 

1. Don’t use the ellipsis dots without the equivalent of a letter space between each pair, and don’t allow the string of dots to be split between consecutive lines.
2. Don’t begin a quotation with an ellipsis.

 
Now that you have a quick reference guide to basic punctuation, the next posts will deal with the nuts and bolts of the self-editing process. You will learn how to spot passive phrasing, eliminate inadvertent repetition, correct grammar, and ensuring consistency.
 
Self-editing is not an easy task. It is highly rewarding, though, to put out your best product possible. Over the next few posts, NIWA will give you the tools to make your work as literate and easy to read as possible.
 
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Connie J. Jasperson is a published poet and the author of nine novels. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies. A founding member of Myrddin Publishing Group, she can be found blogging regularly on both the craft of writing and art history at Life in the Realm of Fantasy.