Category: Blog (Page 14 of 25)

Ignoring the Internal Critic

My Internal Critic is a jerk. So is is yours.

Everyone’s Internal Critic says the same things in different ways. It tells us we’re not good enough, that we shouldn’t publish our work, that other writers are better. Internal Critics are those voices in our heads that remark, “I don’t think I would’ve used that adverb.” I’m going to date myself here, but I imagine the Internal Critic as a mini Simon Cowell.

Yes, the Internal Critic can be a jerk. And the truth is, you’ll never quite silence it. However, I believe you can learn to listen to it less. Here are several ways to do it.

Take a Break

Internal Critics love criticizing current projects. Nostalgia usually prevents them from lambasting older projects; anticipation does the same for future projects.

Therefore, guard your current project by making it a past project. Take a break. Let your Internal Critic forget about the mistakes of the past. The Internal Critic is usually an opportunist—it likes going after whatever’s closest. Put down your project, then come back to it.

But make sure you come back to it! Don’t let your Internal Critic talk you out of your work. When you return, you’ll probably be more objective than you were before. There will likely still be problems, yes, but you’ll also spot delightful bits you hadn’t noticed before. That sharp line of dialogue will jump off the page. That sick description will spark your imagination. It will impress even the Internal Critic. So don’t miss this opportunity!

Remind Yourself of the Next Draft

Hey, Internal Critic. There is such a thing as a second draft. In fact, the first draft is always bad. So don’t criticize it so harshly.

Reiterate this to yourself (and your Internal Critic). The first draft is bad, yes, but it’s also just the beginning. Criticizing a first draft is like criticizing a team at their first practice. Of course it’s going to be bad. Of course there will be mistakes. Expecting immediate perfection isn’t just unfair—it’s downright unrealistic!

Improvement is an iterative process. If your Internal Critic forgets that, remind it.

Listen (A Little)

It might sound odd, but sometimes it’s beneficial to take the Internal Critic’s advice—at least at the beginning. For example, imagine you’re writing a novel with multiple point of view characters. Four of them work great, but the fifth feels increasingly unnecessary to the plot. Cue the Internal Critic.

“Hey buddy. IC here. Listen, I’ve been wondering. That fifth POV character. Umm…why?”

Despite the obnoxious tone, you might try considering the Internal Critic’s critique. Treat it like you would any member of your writer’s group. If it’s helpful advice, use it. If it’s just the Critic being critical, discard it.

A Few Exercises to Try Against Your Inner Critic

  • When you feel your Inner Critic pushing you, push back. Evaluate all the reasons your Inner Critic is wrong.
  • Hey Internal Critics! Just because you aren’t the best doesn’t mean you’re not good. That would be like saying Scottie Pippen is bad at basketball because Michael Jordan’s better. Pippen’s still one of the all-time greats, even if he’s not the greatest. So, even if you aren’t as good a writer as Margaret Atwood or Kurt Vonnegut, that doesn’t mean you aren’t a good writer. And if you work hard enough, maybe someday you’ll become better than both.
  • If your Inner Critic constantly reminds you how hard writing is, say, “Yeah. You’re right!” Writing is hard. Writing is very hard. But that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. In truth, it’s a good thing. Because most of the best things in life require dedication. Easy tasks are forgettable. Difficult ones are meaningful.
  • Remind yourself that everyone has an Inner Critic, and that everyone’s Inner Critic is hardest on themselves.

Let’s ignore those Internal Critics as much as possible. Who needs ’em, anyway?


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

The Power of Revision

Here’s a fact of fiction writing: nobody gets it right on the first try.

You’ve probably heard the phrase “great books aren’t written—they’re rewritten.” I totally buy this. It’s the power of revision. It’s chiseling a block of formless stone into a statue. I found this out first-hand with a recent project.

A few years ago, I wrote a manuscript entitled Who the Hell is Julian Strange? It was a novel about a famous rock star, Julian Strange, who got whacked. The rest of the story was about all that happened in the wake of his murder. The novel’s ensemble cast featured a journalist writing Strange’s biography, Strange’s former band mate, Strange’s biggest fan (also kind of a stalker), and a few others. One of those others was a mopey Los Angeles police detective named Gerald Barkley.

For a while, Who the Hell is Julian Strange? felt like an Infinity Draft (more info on what that means here). I started and restarted and found nothing interesting enough to keep me going. Finally, I shelved the project.

Months passed. Eventually, it was my turn to submit to my biweekly writer’s group meeting. I went delving through my files and found a chapter about a guy named Gerald Barkley.

I’d almost forgotten about this piece. One line in particular jumped out at me:

“Detective Barkley sipped at his seltzer. He wondered if anyone would make a toast to him when he died.

Seemed unlikely.”

I’m not sure what it was about this sentence that I liked so much, but I wanted to learn more about Gerald Barkley. Why does he care about his death? Why does he have such a low opinion of himself? Where is he? (Also, I liked that he likes seltzer. I like seltzer.)

I revised my entire draft, this time focusing on Gerald Barkley instead of Julian Strange. Since the former is more relatable than the latter, I found the essential conflict worked much better. The characters felt natural and authentic rather than cartoonish and forced. When I finished my new draft, I renamed it Gerald Barkley Rocks. 

But choosing a new focal character wasn’t all I did. I revised. I revised for about eight months before I shared with family and friends. I spent even more time afterward refining Barkley’s story. I asked myself, “Does this book stink?” It went through many iterations, but finally, I got my story to a place I like. Gerald Barkley Rocks is not yet published, but it will be soon. I’ll let you know more details when I have them.

Anyway, my point with this post is simple: revision is essential. The first draft is never, ever good enough. Characters change, plotlines shift, and your work decides its own path. Keep on revising until you discover the story you were meant to tell. You’ll dig the results.


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

3 Signs You’re Starting Your Story in the Wrong Place

Story Beginning

Beginnings. They’re a pain.

Starting your story might be the most challenging part of any short story, book, script, or whatever. It’s difficult to pinpoint that exact moment when the festivities should commence, and when it’s most appropriate for readers to enter your world.

In fact, your story might start in the wrong place without you even knowing it. Here are three signs that’s the case (and some suggestions on fixing it):

1. Readers Think Your Intro Needs Work

Last time I submitted a book to my writer’s group, many members were iffy on my first chapter. To put it simply, they found it boring. When I cut the chapter, I found the piece worked much better. You might find a similar solution in your work.

Why does this happen? It’s often because we’re still getting to know our characters. We might not even have a firm grasp on what our book is about, let alone our characters’ personalities. We have to explore through writing, and most of the time that exploration is done in beginning chapters. These chapters prove useful for writers, though not especially interesting for readers. Write them, learn from them, then cut them.

2. You’re Not Excited By Your Beginning Chapters

This is a telltale sign of a story starting in the wrong place. If you can’t get excited about your writing, why should anyone else?

Copywriting guru Joseph Sugarman said the purpose of the first sentence of copy is to get the reader to read the second sentence. Similarly, the purpose of a story’s beginning is to get readers to read the rest. So trust your intuition. If you feel your writing isn’t grabbing readers, it probably isn’t.

In this case, try starting elsewhere. Try a different scene, or focus on another character, or cut your previous intro entirely. When you find the right fit, you’ll feel it.

3. You Constantly Reference Events Preceding the First Chapter

Flashbacks are one thing. Constantly referencing events from before is quite another. If your first chapter is entirely backward-facing, it might be because you’ve started your story not too early, but too lateIt’s uncommon, but it happens.

This is tricky.  Some stories might have many flashbacks, even with a proper beginning. Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake, for instance, is about both the present and the past. There are two parallel timelines, so numerous flashbacks are essential to the plot itself.

If you’re unsure, consider leaning on the first two signs for reference. They could point you in the right direction.

In Conclusion

Beginnings are a pain, but they don’t have to be. Regroup. Restart. Trim where necessary. Begin your story with a flourish.


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

6 Telltale Signs You’re Reading an Epic Fantasy Novel

Fantasy is a fantastic genre. And thanks to the brilliance of series like The Lord of the Rings and A Song of Ice and Fire, epic fantasy has become one of the most popular flavors of fantasy. How do you know you’re reading epic fantasy? These six signs should point you in the right direction:

1. There’s a Prologue

I’m starting to think literally no other genre has prologues. Though, to be fair, many epic fantasy novels probably don’t need them, anyway. Prologues are supposed to set the stage for the book, but often they just add a few pounds to an already hefty volume.

2. It’s Part One of a Ten Volume Series

Fantasy authors have a definite obsession with the multi-volume epic. For example: “This is part one of the first trilogy of three interconnected trilogies, all set in the same world.” Even Tolkien would be giving you the stink eye right now.

3. There’s a Map

I think it’s safe to say we can blame J.R.R. for this one, too. They’re not necessary to the story as it is, but whatever—they give authors an excuse to make up names for cities their characters never end up visiting.

4. Quotes Begin Every Chapter

These tend to be passages from books within the book or quotes from people with silly names. Either way, you don’t feel too guilty for skipping them.

5. Peasants

No fantasy story is complete without illiterate peasants, presumably speaking with cockney accents.

6. Every Character is a History Buff

In many epic fantasy novels, characters possess an encyclopedic knowledge of the world—even the peasants. Which is funny, because most people in the real world probably can’t even tell you who the 30th president of the United States was (I definitely cannot). And in fantasy novels, they don’t even have Google.

Okay, that’s all I can think of for now. What did I miss? Let me know in the comments!


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

Be Concise

Ever heard the phrase “brevity is the soul of wit”? Though William Shakespeare coined it four centuries ago, this proverb remains essential for writers.

Here’s a less fancy way of saying it: one can often do more by saying less. Here are some ways to do that with your writing.

Cut Redundant Actions

I tend to overpack my sentences with actions that don’t contribute much. For example, here’s an excerpt from a piece I’m working on now:

“‘Oh, yeah, absolutely.’ Watson smiled, nodded, and flashed her a thumbs up. ‘You’re the boss.'”

In this sentence, Watson performs three actions that express one idea: He approves of the plan. Three verbs make the sentence a tad jagged, not to mention longer than necessary. Let’s revise this to one action:

“‘Oh, yeah, absolutely.’ Watson smiled. ‘You’re the boss.'”

It’s a minor edit, but it makes a big difference.

Limit “Verb to Verb” Sentence Constructions

How many times have you heard a sentence like this: “She started to rise from the couch”? Or, “He began to collect all fifty two discarded cards”?

I’ve noticed this sentence structure in other people’s writing, as well as my own. It’s fine for emails, but otherwise clunky. But this mistake, like the last, has a simple solution: cut “started to” and “began to.” Get ’em outta here!

Of course, things get trickier when specifying timing. For example: “She started to rise from the couch when she heard a noise from the other room.” If it’s imperative to describe that timing, go for it. I’d just remember that such sentences are distracting and should be streamlined whenever possible.

Excise Adverbs!

Adverbs are words that modify verbs, usually ending in -ly. Quickly, widely, really, strongly, quietly, strangely. We all use them. While they shouldn’t be completely avoided (there’s one right there!), they’re best kept to a minimum.

Adverbs are like fat on a steak; They add weight to the cut, but they don’t have much nutritional value by themselves. Overusing adverbs slows a reader’s progress without adding anything nutritional.

For example, try this sentence, “Soley happily leapt after the bee as it carelessly flew on the softly-blowing breeze.”

This is one fatty sentence. Let’s trim it down a bit.

“Soley sprang after the bee as it glided on the summer breeze.”

The second sentence works far better than the first. The verb “sprang” hints at the happiness we mentioned in the original version, but here we get the same meaning from one word. The verb “glided” conjures up ease and grace. The summer breeze adds context to the scene while also providing subtle sensory details. This sentence now reads much more smoothly (whoops, sorry).

Like fat, adverbs are acceptable and even healthy in moderation. If you feel a particular sentence requires an adverb, use it. (Using them ironically is also encouraged.)

Since brevity is the theme of this post, I’ll keep my conclusion short. Let’s all write less!


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

Is Your Prologue Unnecessary?

Prologues are like infomercial blenders—we rarely actually need them, yet we want them anyway. Writers, especially epic fantasy writers, can’t resist writing them.

Today, I’m taking a stand against prologues. I think they’re overused, I think they’re underwhelming, and I think many books would be better off without them. In this article, I’d like to discuss when prologues work, when they don’t, and how to get them working the right way. Let’s get started.

When a Prologue Doesn’t Work

Fantasy ArtworkWhen prologues don’t work, it’s because they only serve one purpose: plot. They’re not establishing main characters or setting up essential conflicts—they’re simply saying, “This is how things got the way they are now.” It’s heavy-handed, and the same goal can often be accomplished more organically by other means.

Furthermore, prologues so often tend to be the same as all the others we’ve already read. Here’s an example:

We find ourselves in an idyllic world, thousands of years before the actual action. We follow a character who’s described little and ultimately isn’t that significant. There might even be some seemingly innocuous character who we can already tell ends up being the villain. Anyway.

There’s often some kind of war or dispute going on. The seemingly innocuous character does something evil, either by force or by choice, and it plunges the whole world into disorder. The characters in the prologue quickly become obsolete, and then the real story actually begins, usually without any of those others characters.

Too many prologues work this way—which is to say, they don’t work. But not every prologue is a bust. Which leads me to my next section…

When a Prologue Works

Prologues work best when they actually lend something to the rest of the book. I don’t mean setting the stage for the world or showing off the magic system early; one can do better through traditional storytelling techniques. What matters is getting your story going as soon as possible.

More Fantasy ArtworkOne possible exception to this rule is adding a prologue to a story in which there’s just too much flashback going on. Let’s say, for example, that you’re writing a book where you constantly add flashbacks and references to events happening previously. This certainly gets tedious after a while. As a reader, we don’t want forward motion halted constantly by allusions to the past. Here, a prologue might be appropriate.

If this sounds like a corner case to you, that’s because it is. Few stories have that much relevant backstory. There’s a reason most books do not have prologues; it’s because it’s often best to get right into the action of a book, then only provide backstory when it’s absolutely necessary. Otherwise, it impedes the flow of an unfolding tale.

Why then do so many epic fantasy writers rely on prologues? For one, I think it’s because they’ve become established tropes in the genre. Writers love them and many readers expect them. Furthermore, fantasy—especially alternate world fantasy—is more reliant on worldbuilding than other genres. Therefore, writers often feel a need to set the backdrop early, usually with a prologue.

Don’t let your prologue be an infomercial blender. If you’re going to include it, make sure you do it the right way.


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

Why You Should Write What You Don’t Know

Cartoon Writer

Write what you know.

You’ve probably heard that phrase before. It’s pretty common advice for writers, especially those who are just getting started, and I suppose it’s not bad. Starting somewhere familiar makes a lot of sense.

That being said, oftentimes you’ll do some of your best writing when you write what you don’t know.

In my case, if I only wrote what I knew, I’d have a pretty limited repertoire. All my characters would have roughly the same life experiences, the same interests, the same opinions. If I only wrote what I knew, I might be able to write book. If that.

Furthermore, what if I decided to write a story in which the world is entirely composed of cats? If I only wrote what I know, I wouldn’t even be able to write this story, because there’s no such thing as Catworld. (Though there totally should be.)

Okay, I realize I’m being a bit literal here, but I think the point is valid: there are going to be a lot of parts of your writing which you don’t know all that well. And that’s a good thing!

Now that’s not to say that you shouldn’t do any research. No matter what your story is about, you should research it. In the above example, for example, I could research feline behavior, speak to a vet, or pretend to be a cat for a few hours. This research will give me some good details for my story.

Research helps pretty much every book, even those you might not guess. Take The Lord of the Rings trilogy, for example. Though Middle-Earth is an alternate world, it’s heavily based in legends and mythology. Creatures like trolls, elves, dwarves, goblins—these have all appeared in various mythologies over the course of human history. In fact, few of Tolkien’s creatures are completely original.

Still, before Tolkien wrote The Hobbit, none of this territory had been thoroughly explored in literature. Therefore, if Tolkien had only written what he knew, would he ever have tried creating his own languages? What about his fictional histories? If he had only written what he knew, how would he come up with everyone’s favorite weirdo, Tom Bombadil?

If you’re familiar with everything you write, then you might not be pushing yourself enough. Try writing on subjects you know nothing about. Try exploring territory which you’ve never seen before. This will help you progress as a writer, and it will make things feel a little more fresh.

This idea extends beyond genre, even. If you write primarily fantasy, try writing some creative nonfiction. Try writing a straight romance (no vampires, please and thank you). Try writing in a time period you know little about.

Always do your research, but do your best to write about what you don’t know. See what happens!

The Perks of Keeping a Notebook

Ideas are the fuel that keep writers going. Without them, we find ourselves with an empty tank on the side of the road.

Notebooks are great at refueling that creative need. Here’s why you’ll love having one:

Record What Inspires You

Everyone has ideas every day. Ideas for businesses, solutions to problems at work, new ways to reconfigure the living room furniture—ideas are everywhere.

Notebooks

The thing is, ideas tend to flutter away in the wind if you let them. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had a cool story while drifting off to sleep, only to awaken having completely forgotten it.

That’s what your notebook is for. At the very least, it preserves your ideas. At best, your notebook will provide you inspiration when you need it most.

Take Your Notebook Everywhere

What kind of notebook should you get? A small one. Your notebook is for snippets, not entire stories. Get something light, portable, and pastel (that last part is optional).

Every idea you have, no matter how inconsequential, should go into your notebook. When you think of something, write it down. When you hear a turn of phrase you enjoy, write it down. If you hear a name that might go well on that protagonist you’re working on, write it down. You never know what might inspire you a week, a year, or even decades later.

Whatever you do, make sure your notebook is portable. It’s important to keep it on-hand at all times, so you never miss an idea.

Refer Back to Your Ideas When You Need Them Most

I woke up the other day to do some writing and found that I had nothing to write about. Really, I couldn’t think of a thing. So, I turned to my notebook. I found the following line, which I’d written on December 19th, 2012: “The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman.”

That’s a line from William Shakespeare’s King Lear. I don’t think he was referring to Ozzy Osbourne there, but whatever. It’s a cool line, and it helped inspire an entire short story.

Your notebook is only as powerful as you make it. Take it with you wherever you go; give it your thoughts and interests. And next time you find yourself out of creative fuel, refer back to it. You never know where those ideas might take you.


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

Celebrating Father’s Day with 4 Famous Dads of Sci-Fi & Fantasy

Happy Father’s Day! Since today is the day of the dads, the timing’s perfect to give shoutouts to some famous fathers. And since I’m a science fiction and fantasy fan, I’ve chosen four dads from those genres. Take a look!

1. Ned Stark, A Song of Ice and Fire

Ned Stark

Illustrated by Michael Komarck, from awoiaf.westeros.org

Does your dad give you a dire wolf, chop off fugitives’ heads with a gigantic sword, and serve as the vice president of his kingdom? Eddard Stark of Winterfell did, and that’s why he’s first on our list.

Ned makes his first (and tragically, last) appearance in A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin. He’s an all-around good guy, known throughout Westeros as an honorable warrior, a just ruler, and yes, a good dad. It’s not easy ruling a kingdom while raising five kids (plus a bastard son), but Ned and his wife Catelyn make it work.

But what makes Ned such a great dad is everything he does for his children. He offers his son Bran guidance for being a lord. He offers his daughter Arya a sword and a fencing instructor, even though Westerosi girls aren’t usually given such gifts. And when he dies, he does so to save his daughter Sansa. Ned’s relationships with all six of his children are carefully developed.

Anyway, I’m still bummed about his death. Let’s move on, before I start tearing up.

2. Darth Vader, Star Wars

“What did you do at work today, Dad?”

“Oh, not much. Just force choked a guy for not following orders.”

It’s probably a good thing Darth Vader isn’t your dad. He’s certainly not the typical father, what with his proclivity to the dark side and all. And though we don’t know exactly what Vader looks like under all that armor, I’d say it’s safe to assume he doesn’t have a dad bod.

Of course, Vader is perhaps best known for uttering one of the most famous lines in movie history: “Luke, I am your father.” He was clearly looking for a Father’s Day gift and got irked when he didn’t receive one. Understandable.

On a more sentimental note, Vader’s reconciliation with his son Luke in Return of the Jedi is what earns him a spot on this list. It shows us that deep down, he truly does love his son. I mean, if you hurl an electrified old weirdo in a hoodie down a mineshaft, that totally qualifies you for father of the year.

3. Thanos, Avengers: Infinity War

Thanos

Okay, this is probably a bad joke. Thanos makes is a great villain, but he’s pretty much the worst dad in the universe, Marvel Cinematic or otherwise. A short list of his deeds: he sends three of his kids to get killed by the Avengers, pits his daughters against each other to see who can kill more, then hurls his favorite kid off a cliff. Come on, man.

4. Mr. Wednesday/Odin, American Gods

Mr. Wednesday is Odin, and Odin is the All-Father. So if he’s everybody’s dad, I suppose there’s no way to justify not having him on this list.

More specifically, Shadow Moon, main character of Neil Gaiman’s classic novel American Gods, is Mr. Wednesday’s biological son. And perhaps their best father-son moment is when Wednesday and Shadow pull off a two-man con together. It’s a weirdly heartwarming moment, especially if you read it knowing that they’re related. After all, there’s nothing like working on a project with your dad (even if it is stealing cash from the unsuspecting).

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads of the world, and especially my dad. Hope it’s an awesome day!


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.



3 Mistakes Writers Make When Writing Dialogue (And How to Fix Them)

Good dialogue is a pleasure to read. However, writing dialogue is not always a pleasure to create. As with any difficult task, sometimes we make mistakes.

DialogueFortunately for you, I make mistakes all the time. So here are three mistakes I’ve made when writing dialogue, along with some thoughts on how to avoid them. Hope you can learn something from it!

1. Overdoing Voice

Conventional wisdom states that every character should have a unique voice. While this is true, sometimes we writers make the mistake of taking this tip too far. For instance, I remember writing a character whose every other line ended with the word “chief.” Some examples:

“You gonna finish that, chief?”

“That’s it, chief, go that way.”

“Chief, you better listen to me. I’m about to lose it.”

Don’t worry, I’m laughing at it, too. Unintentional comedy is often the funniest kind.

Anyway, we definitely want our characters to have unique voices. But we also want them to sound like real people, not repetitive weirdos. Some writers overpack their characters’ dialogue with “ums” and “you knows.” Others overdo accents, turning every “your” into “yer” and every “isn’t” into “ain’t.” To be clear, I’m not calling these techniques useless. Let’s just remember that a little goes a long way.

Of note: I think it’s useful to exaggerate dialogue in early drafts. Doing so oftentimes helps us get a strong grasp of the character. In the first draft, put in as many “chiefs” as you like. Just don’t forget to scale it back to a reasonable level.

2. Being Expository

“I’m feeling so conflicted right now,” said Solara. “I could get the vanilla, but I really like chocolate. I only have enough for one scoop. Such a dilemma!”

This dialogue is just as bad as the guy who says chief all the time—maybe worse. Dialogue is at its best when it’s subtle rather than heavy-handed. When characters state exactly what they think, it feels inauthentic. People rarely say exactly what’s on their minds. Rather, they more often hint at it through subtext.

When I feel like my dialogue is too expository, I often define the information I’m trying to impart, then decide how to show that information without stating it. In the above example, Solara might instead ask her friends, “Have you had the vanilla here before?” Or maybe she asks for sample of both flavors, thinks a moment then says, “Wait. Sorry. Can I try them one more time? Please?” There are plenty of ways to show that the character’s conflicted without injecting that exact message into our dialogue.

3. Relying Too Heavily on Dialogue

People talkingI studied screenwriting in college. Afterward, I switched over to prose. I’ve stayed there ever since. The funny thing is, sometimes you might read my manuscripts and think you’re reading a movie script. Sometimes I get into a mode where my scenes are all dialogue and no description.

If you’re writing prose, using too much dialogue is like buying a tool kit and only using the hammer. The novel form grants us access to the authorial voice, so we should use it. If we try to develop everything with dialogue (character, backstory, plot, setting, conflict), we run the risk of committing mistake number two.

Of course, there are exceptions. Dave Eggers’s Your Fathers, Where Are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever? is a novel written entirely as dialogue. But this is an outlier. And let’s not forget that it was written by a guy who wrote seven other novels.

For those writing prose, dialogue is a tasty steak—but only when seasoned correctly. Think of non-dialogue sentences as your spices.

In Conclusion

Yes, writing dialogue is sometimes a pain. But that only means it’s a worthwhile pursuit. Let’s avoid these mistakes. Let’s stay determined. And please, let’s not write any characters who call people “chief.” Sorry for that.


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.



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