April Dávila

April Davila - Author

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Avoiding Detail Overload in Our Writing

A while back, I wrote a post about how details are the key to writing ourselves out of cliché. I shared my take on what a cliché is and how we, as writers, can weed them out.

The very first response I got to that post was from a reader who said he has been accused of using cliché descriptions but who countered with the argument:

I [would] rather hear: easy reading & page turner, instead of “long and unexpected way to describe a deranged mind. Figurative but way too long. Almost put it aside”

I have to admit, there is definitely something to that.

Detail Overload

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you know I’m a big believer in not finishing books that don’t grab you (check out my post on 3 Reasons It’s Okay to Stop Reading That Book if you’re curious). On occasion, I will admit to tiring of a book because of the unending descriptions.

So I wanted to write a post about choosing our details wisely to avoid detail overload, which can be just as bad for a story as a boatload of clichés.

Trust One Detail

In The Artful Edit, by Susan Bell, she quotes Walter Murch, master editor, as saying  “…trust one, well-chosen detail to do the work of ten.”

I love that quote because it supports the idea of digging deep for telling details, while at the same time removing any excess that would weigh a story down.

A teacher of mine once said something similar. She said that on our first drafts we should go ahead and drop in all the hyperbolic language we want, to likewise write in all “sky blue” and “fire engine red” clichés that come to mind. It doesn’t matter on the first draft. Those tired images can work just fine as place holders. But when we go back, we should try to edit our writing down to just one perfect adjective. Cut the rest.

That same teacher encouraged us writers to think outside the normal descriptions we already have in our heads. Light doesn’t just shine. It can smooth, dance, and scrape. Consider the homunculus pine tree or the lank marsupial. One of the more fun parts of writing is putting words together in unusual ways, then editing, editing, editing.

We Don’t Have to Suffer

We don't have to suffer for our writing, even when it's painful

On my first meditation retreat in 2009, the teacher gave a talk about the difference between pain and suffering, and I was NOT getting it. Pain and suffering. They go together like chocolate and peanut butter. To be in pain is to suffer. We suffer because we are in pain. End of story.

The Lesson

After the talk, I joined a small team of meditators in the kitchen for work duty. I stood, knife in hand, as the head cook poured out a box of onions and told us to start dicing. I wasn’t even done cutting the first onion when my eyes began to water.

By the second onion, tears were streaming down my face. I sniffed and heard the woman next to me do the same. The man on the other side of the table turned away and wiped his eyes with the inside of his sleeve.

Pretty soon, I could hardly see for the tears streaming down my face. My eyes burned. They stung. The discomfort quickly edged into pain, yet I found myself giggling at the absurdity of us all standing there, knives in hand, sobbing over onions. The other veggie choppers began to laugh as well.

I was in pain, and I was not suffering. I was, in fact, having fun.

We Don’t Have to Suffer

As writers, we struggle to shut out distractions and find our focus. We deal with writer’s block. We argue with inner critics who seem intent on shutting us down before we even get started. And we do all of this with the hopes of putting our precious work out into the world where someone (somewhere) will not appreciate it.

Writing can be hard. It can even be downright painful, but I’m here to tell you, you don’t have to suffer. I recently published a free guide titled Write More, Suffer Less: 4 Ways Mindfulness Can Help You Be A Happier, More Productive Writer.

In it, I share four ways that mindfulness has helped me in my writing life. The ideas are simple but powerful, and I know you will find them as useful as I have.

Click here to download the guide.

Hang a Lantern on Your Plot Problems

Hang a lantern on your plot problems

Back when I was doing final revisions on my first novel, I found a small plot hole. It was nothing major, but one of my beta readers noticed it (thanks Summer!) and I couldn’t decide what to do about it. It wasn’t a big enough issue that I wanted to rewrite the whole book to make room for it, but I did feel like it need to be addressed. Believe it or not, I found my answer in a book.

I was on vacation a few months before that, reading “Where’d You Go Bernadette” by Maria Semple, and something caught my attention.

No spoilers, because you really should read it – it’s wonderfully charming and funny – but in a letter from one character to another a mom is complaining about her daughter’s school. It’s not the first time this character has voiced dissatisfaction with the school and a reader MIGHT start to wonder why didn’t they just switch schools.

Hang a Lantern on It

To address the “why don’t they change schools” issue, Semple drops this little gem:

So why didn’t I switch schools? The other good schools I could have sent Bee to…well, to get to them, I’d have to drive past a Buca di Beppo. I hated my life enough without having to drive past a Buca di Beppo four times a day.

And then the story moves on. It’s the only mention of Buca di Beppo in the whole book. That’s all the explanation we get – and it totally works. Brilliant. Semple took something that was a bit of a hole and, instead of revamping with long backstory, she just hung a lantern on it, like: yep, that’s there, moving on.

(Side note: my writing buddies and I often use this phrase, “hang a lantern on it,” and I realized when I sat down to write this that I didn’t actually know how it became a thing. I mean, it seems obvious enough – if you hang a lantern on something, you bring light to it – but a quick google search revealed that it became a common turn of phrase in the 1980s when it was used by Chris Mathews, a former chief of staff to Speaker of the House of Representatives, when he suggested that politicians needed to get ahead of bad press by admitting and defining their problems by “hanging a lantern” on them. The Internet said it, so it must be true.)

Turn a Problem into an Asset

Then, I was thinking about those hanging lanterns when I sat down with the kids to watch “Tangled.” For those of you without children, it’s Disney’s take on the Rapunzel story.

The guy who pulls the long-haired princess from her tower is wanted by the local authorities and there must be eight or nine times in the movie where we’re reminded of this fact by a wanted poster. But the poster bit doesn’t feel repetitive because every time we see one, the dude’s nose is different. It becomes a running gag.

What I realized as I was watching it was that the gag completely distracts from the fact that they needed those wanted poster beats in the story, and they would have gotten very boring if the story creators had tried to pretend the repetition wasn’t an issue. Instead, by turning attention toward the posters, they created a story element that worked really well. It’s super silly, and emphasizes the character’s vanity.

Finding Somewhere to Hang My Own Lantern

So I took a lantern to my own story. I found a way to say: “yep, that’s not quite explained in full,” and then moved on (and if you read it and didn’t notice, then I’ll say it was a successful fix – if you haven’t read it: click here.)

Writing Brain and Editing Brain

Writing brain and editing brain - they don't get along

The older I get, the more I recognize my writing brain and my editing brain as two distinct parts of myself.

Writing Brain

My writing brain is creative. It has all kinds of crazy ideas. This is the brain I need engaged when I’m working on a first draft. My writing brain is also highly sensitive. It can clam up in a heartbeat if it doesn’t feel enthusiastic support (and I mean stupidly enthusiastic).

This is why I don’t tell anyone what I’m working on until I have a first draft down on the page. When I have, in the past, shared an idea before it was a draft I have inevitably gotten discouraged. I don’t fully understand why, but it has to do with the energy I feel around an idea. Somehow talking about it dissipates that energy like a bubble popping and turning into stringy bits of soap scum.

But I can also get discouraged by my own damn self. My inner critic is loudest when I’m working on a first draft. And man, does it get loud. Thankfully, my mindfulness practice has helped me to tame that little voice. I’ve gotten quite good at acknowledging it, dismissing it, and continuing on with my writing.

It’s kind of like a little voicemail I’ve set up in my head. When my inner critic comes calling I just say “Thank you, but I’m not accepting criticism at this point. Please call back at a later time.”

Editing Brain

Once I have a draft, then my hyper-critical editing brain takes over to help me make it better. I like to envision that my inner critic has been sitting in the corner, dejected and impatient, and then I turn to her and say, “let’s do this” and she gets so excited.

My editing brain is mean. I need it to be mean. I need it to read my work with the assumption that it sucks and then help me to see where I can improve it. Thankfully, she is really good at this.

She is also super tough. I am most resilient when I’m in editing mode. I can discuss the work with other people, hear their thoughts, take their feedback (usually) and hardly even cry at all (most of the time).

They Don’t Get Along

To be productive as a writer, I have to keep these two parts of my brain as far apart as possible. That’s why I tend to write through an entire draft without editing, then let it rest for a while, then take another pass at it.

If I’m in editing mode and decide to scrap something (say a chapter or scene) and have to rewrite from scratch I have a hell of time. I write a sentence and my inner critic tells me its crap, so I delete it. I do this over and over until I gradually re-engage my writing brain and tell my inner critic to sit down for a bit.

Even with shorter pieces, like this blog post or freelance work, Ideally, I need a night between writing and editing. I usually write the first draft, let it sit overnight, take a more critical pass at it, and then either repeat the process again, or call it done.

If you’re interested in learning more about how to be the boss of your own brain so you can write more effectively, check out my Sit Write Here coaching program. By integrating mindfulness practice into my writing training, I help writers overcome writer’s block and build a regular habit of writing so they can finally finish their book.

Working With Beta Readers (Bonus Round)

working with beta readers

A while back I wrote this blog post on 7 Tips for Working With Beta Readers, and I recently had a conversation that inspired me to add a few more thoughts on the topic. Consider this a bonus round.

The conversation was with a client who, since going through my Sit Write Here coaching program, has continued to attend workshops with me. He told me he was feeling a little frustrated because his beta readers were taking a long time to get back to him with their feedback on one of his projects (he has a few in the works).

I suggested he reach out and touch base with his readers, to gently ask how it’s coming and to schedule a time to talk with them. Well, he did, and every single one of his readers had more or less forgotten that they promised to read the manuscript. One even asked the writer to re-send it. Ug. To have waited months for feedback and realize that a reader doesn’t even have the draft was super frustrating. Understandably.

Set Expectations

Before you send a draft to a beta reader, be sure to ask them if they have time to read it and GIVE THEM A DEADLINE. You don’t have to be a hardass about it, but say something like, “I’m hoping to start doing edits in about two months. Would you have time to read it in the next six weeks and then we could get together to discuss it sometime during the week of (be specific)?”

Writers often feel funny giving deadlines to beta readers if they themselves are not on an official deadline, but if you don’t put a time frame on these things they can stretch out for years. Years!

When you ask, always give them an out. Tell them that if this timeline doesn’t work for them, you will almost certainly have more drafts that need feedback in future. I like the phrase “I can save you for a fresh read a little further along in the process.” Because the truth is, most people will be excited to be asked and you don’t want them to think they’re missing out if they don’t have time right now.

Build in Cushion

If you do happen to have a deadline from an outside source, make sure to build in ample cushion. For example, if your editor wants your edits in three months and you need a month to do the work, don’t tell your beta readers two months. Tell them six weeks. Because something always comes up. And if nothing comes up then lucky you, you’re ahead of schedule.

Follow Up

When you send the draft, reiterate the deadline. I always like to hand (or even send) my beta readers paper versions, because it’s nice to read on paper and printing out hundreds of pages is a pain. I always include a little thank you note on the top of the manuscript, reminding them of when we will meet to discuss it.

Then, a few weeks before we’re supposed to meet up, I drop them an email to ask how it’s coming. Often this is the point at which they actually start reading. That’s why I do it a few weeks ahead of time.

People are busy, but they do want to help. Meet them half way by being super clear about your timeline and then reminding them along the way (once or *maybe* twice – don’t check in more than that, and DO NOT start talking story – not yet).

When it comes time to actually sit down and hear their thoughts – refer back to this post for my suggestions on how best to navigate that part.

Good luck!

Fear of Judgment

It's not writer's block, it's fear of judgment

Worrying about how people will respond to our writing can be paralyzing. In fact, it's number two on my list of things that masquerade as "writer's block." And make no mistake, fear of judgment is a powerful thing, even for those of us who insist we … [Continue reading] about Fear of Judgment