Editorial Notes = clarifying information, additional insight, annotations

Hiya Reader,

The following issue is a reader favorite from the Editorial Notes archives, to keep your inbox company while Helene is on sabbatical at her writing residency.

I unlocked a new level of peeve this week. It's not related to writing, but it does qualify as writing-adjacent: My library blocked me from putting any more digital titles on hold because I'd "reached the maximum allowable."

I have many questions. For starters:

• What difference does it make? Books are automatically returned (if someone is waiting) or renewed (if no one is waiting) after two weeks.
• How am I supposed to keep track of my to-be-read books if they aren't on deck in my hold list?
• Do the library gods really expect me to limit my wish list to just 40 books? Just? 40?

The culprit is likely the large number of "best books of the year" lists put out every December or January by numerous publications and sources I follow. Due to general life stuff this year, I ran behind schedule in combing through them all for "good read" recommendations. Hence, the backlog.

Sigh.

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Example of the Week

Sometimes this is a good example—or a great one. Sometimes this is a bad example—or just a funny blooper. Sometimes a combination. You never know.

Readers enjoy suspense, but they do not enjoy being tricked. Make sure not to surprise them in a bad way. Either providing too little information or the wrong information shows no respect for your readers. Consider the theory of Chekhov's gun, which comes down to the principle that everything in your writing must have a clear purpose. Don't bring in irrelevant objects, people, or details. And whoever or whatever you include should do something essential.

Here's what happens when writers go too far in the other direction: important information indeed, but don't beat us over the head with it, please.

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Actionable Tip of the Week

A trick to add to your self-editing toolbox right now!

A cliché is a familiar, predictable, and—let’s face it—boring comparison. “Everything but the kitchen sink,” “easy as pie,” “dead as a doornail”—these and other clichés are used so often they have been drained to the dregs of all meaning as comparisons.

Try this switcheroo!

Find the clichés (or just phrases that don't excite) you've written and put them in a list, like so:

• everything but the kitchen sink
• easy as pie
• break the ice
• once in a blue moon
• calm before the storm
• curiosity killed the cat

And so on. When you’re finished, make sure you have an even number of items in the list. Then switch the order of your objects from last to first.

• everything but the cat
• easy as the storm
• dead as a blue moon
• once in the ice
• calm before the pie
• curiosity killed the kitchen sink

Not everything here works, of course. (Though I imagine a tense extended family dinner remaining calm before the pie!) But by creating the list, we've broken apart the language and let in the fresh air.

Maybe you won't want to specifically replace "everything but the kitchen sink" with "everything but the cat," but you can nevertheless see another option for more surprising and apt language choices.

Reader Question of the Week

Sarah asked: My beta reader gave feedback to "show, don't tell." Here is an example: "His feet were frozen to the floor, and his heart hammered in his chest." I thought I was showing this, so I don't understand what they mean by this feedback.

Sarah! I'm not surprised you don't understand "show, don't tell" in this context, because the real issue lies elsewhere.

First, a quick definition. "Show, don't tell" encourages writers to use images and figurative language to demonstrate something for the reader (interesting) rather than just come out and say that something flatly (tedious). You could have written: He was too scared to move. But you used comparisons instead to demonstrate the "He" was either so afraid or shocked* that his heart rate was highly elevated and physical movement felt impossible. Your instincts are right!

However, the phrasing, because it's clichéd, doesn't evoke an image—the unstated goal of all "show, don't tell" suggestions. These clichés are most likely what your beta reader responded to.

How can you describe an elevated heart rate in a more evocative way than a "hammering heart"? What is another way to describe someone standing immobile instead of "feet frozen to the floor"? Try those out instead. Maybe this week's Actionable Tip of the Week will help?

*Choosing an unexpected phrase also clarifies whether "He" was scared or shocked or something else entirely. A word like "quiver" indicates fear, while "grapple" suggests confusion.

Using interesting verbs and nouns goes a long way toward doing more show and less tell.

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Link of the Week

Recently I was part of a discussion about this classic skit from season three of Saturday Night Live. I believe The Olympia Cafe gets the first place slot on the list of all-time funniest SNL skits of all time. My reasoning:

Other than the smoking patrons, you could walk into any similar cafe in any major city worldwide and have the exact experience. Unlike many "classics," this one has aged perfectly from its 1978 original airing. It isn't racist or sexist or anything-phobic. It's just funny, brilliantly performed, and totally quotable. If you haven't watched this one in a while—or, horror of horrors, ever—check it out for four minutes of joy.

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Thanks for Reading!

~Helene, your writing sherpa

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