Chopped Livah 1: Commas, Six Senses, the POV Character, and Setting Description

Open, Transit, HiTense, HiAct, Rest, EndD

Preface to the First Truly Meaty Post

Huh. This is meant to be a newsletter that drills down deep into whatever topic I toss out. And of course, as a brand new newsletter, it will grow and shift and adjust over time.

So here’s the first adjustment:

As I was initially writing the post below, In my effort to go deep I also consciously tried to avoid restating some of the more basic information that I assume everybody knows.

But that’s a stupid assumption, because we all learn and absorb information at different rates. So what’s basic to one writer is deep (or at least deep-er) to another.

So I’ve decided when I begin a topic here on CL, I’ll more than likely begin with what will seem basic to some of you, especially given that most current CL readers are veterans of TNDJ.

Then, when I normally would have stopped writing a TNDJ post due to a self-imposed length restriction, I’ll go deeper with the post here, complete with examples and exercises where applicable.

So when you encounter parts that are “basic” for you, maybe skim over them until you get to something you haven’t read or realized or otherwise encountered before.

I think that would be the best way to proceed.

Also Please Note

that everything I write in Chopped Livah is for your conscious, critical mind in its capacity for learning.

I recommend you read the information and consider it like you would consider the information in any textbook on any topic you enjoy. What you need and are ready for will seep into your creative subconscious and your characters will begin applying it when you write fiction.

Don’t worry about whether you’ll consciously remember it when you sit down to write. You probably won’t. But that’s fine. The less you allow your conscious mind to butt in on your writing process, the better.

What’s important is that your creative subconscious will remember it.

This absorption process has been at work for all of us during our entire life.

You don’t consciously think about which letters go into making a word, right? Except maybe that “i before e” thing. And you don’t have to ‘figure out’ whether to put a period at the end of a declarative sentence or a question mark after a question, right?

All of that stuff works ‘automatically’ because you trust that you know it.

You and your creative subconscious have also been absorbing Story in all its facets from stories and books you’ve read and from TV sitcoms and movies and docudramas and radio (maybe, for some of us) and even from the better commercials.

So relax and try to learn to trust yourself. Seriously, you’ve got this.

• IF you read and study the articles you’ll find in Chopped Livah, and then

• IF you practice applying what you learn to your writing,

all of this stuff will quickly become second nature to you. I promise.

All About Commas

The only reason punctuation even exists is so writers can use it to direct the reading of their work.

Like the maestro with his baton does for an orchestra, punctuation helps set the rhythm and beats for fiction and nonfiction alike. It also emphasizes or de-emphasizes passages of text, forcing the reader into short, medium, and long pauses as they read.

And the thing is, readers don’t have a choice. You can’t choose to read through a mark of punctuation. That’s exactly what makes it such a powerful tool for writers.

But as is the case with most things, the Powers That Be got hold of punctuation, drove down to a coffee shop somewhere, and tried to impress each other by adding new, often unnecessary “rules.” They made it more and more difficult to even understand, much less to use.

As a result, many writers (even professionals and even bestsellers) either don’t have a clue how to use punctuation or are flat afraid of it because they don’t understand it. You know, like spiders.

And no wonder they don't understand it. My old HarBrace College Handbook had either 9 or 19 (I forget) pages of “rules” just for the comma.

That’s what gave rise to my little book Punctuation for Writers. It clarifies a lot of that, and it does so in simple, straightforward language.

Because it’s necessary to use words and phrases like “clause” and “dependent clause” and “phrase” and “preposition” etc. to explain the use of punctuation, I even included a brief grammar refresher in the book.

Anyway, probably the most misunderstood and most abused mark of punctuation is the lowly but very powerful comma. It’s also the mark that gives writers the most fits.

But I can fix that for you, right here, right now. Here, just quickly, these are from the second edition of Punctuation for Writers:

The Five Rules of Comma Use

1. Never place a comma between a subject and its verb or between a verb and its object. (Realize that a subject may have more than one verb and that a verb may have more than one object. See Chapter 7.)

2. When a subordinate clause introduces an independent clause, separate the two with a comma. (If you aren’t sure about clauses, Rule #2 is an example of itself as is this explanation. Also, see the discussion about clauses in Chapter 7.)

3. Do not use a comma to separate the clauses when a subordinate clause follows an independent clause. (In Rule #3, “Do not use a comma to separate the clauses” is an independent clause and the remainder is a dependent clause. This rule, again, is an example of itself.)

4. Use a comma before the appropriate coordinating conjunction to join two related sentences. (The coordinating conjunctions are for, and, nor, but, or, yet, and so. Remember the acronym FANBOYS.) By the way, you very seldom need a comma after a coordinating conjunction.

5. Trite as it sounds, when you are in doubt about whether to use a comma, leave it out. Believe it or not, most comma problems arise from misuse of commas, not from their omission.

All of that’s true, and it’s all you need to know to use commas to direct the reading of your work.

I even used the 16-page handout I wrote, titled The Rules as They Should Read, to teach English to college freshmen, New Citizens Project students, and GED students at the Roswell Campus of ENMU before I finally expanded it and turned it into Punctuation for Writers.

As a result my students never had to buy the expensive HarBrace College Handbook. When the dean of the college called me in to ask why, I shrugged. “Why confuse students instead of enabling them to learn?”

A Quick Disclaimer

“Six Senses, the POV Character, and Setting Description” is coming up, but I won’t be handing you any absolutes with regard to handling your setting-description problems.

Fortunately, there are about as many absolutes in fiction as there are in real life—almost none—but that’s a good thing. With absolutes come restrictions.

The good news is, that leaves you a lot of leeway and almost no restrictions.

With that in mind....

Six Senses, the POV Character, and Setting Description

We all know the five physical senses are sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch (that is, texture: how bits of the setting feel physically).

Most of the fiction-writing pundits recommend including all five physical senses at least once in every major scene.

I agree, primarily because that makes complete sense.

Yet most writers, including some of those pundits, don’t. Even some bestsellers stick primarily to the sense of sight.

So let me get this out of the way up front:

If you want the character and the story to feel real—and trust me, you do—sticking to (or remembering to include) only the sense of sight is a serious mistake.

Any subscene, scene, or story that depends only or primarily on the sense of sight will be thin or shallow.

Likewise, the POV character who notices only what he sees—who doesn’t notice scents on the air or hear anything but other characters’ dialogue—is a thin or flat character.

More importantly, that character won’t feel ‘real’ to the reader, although the reader usually won’t know why. He’ll only know there’s something missing or that something isn’t quite right about the character.

As you probably know, your secondary and tertiary characters are necessarily flat, and that’s fine. Those characters exist primarily to foreshadow events or provide red herrings with a quick line of dialogue or an action or both. (That’s why the dialogue of secondary and tertiary characters is usually memorable. If I get questions, maybe I’ll talk at greater depth about this in another issue.)

But your POV character has to be as real as possible (the pundits say “well-rounded”), and to do that he has to notice various things with his physical and emotional senses continually just like we ‘real’ people do.

In real life we continually process physical stimuli with our physical and emotional senses. We take in everything, then pay attention to what’s important or super-important in the moment, and we dismiss what isn’t.

For example, if we see a detail or hear a sound or smell a scent or feel a texture that startles us (e.g., a snake slithering across your bare foot), that becomes super-important until we’re able to do something about it or recognize it isn’t a threat or remember what it reminds us of, etc.

Those things, at the bare minimum, are the things that go into the story.

Most writers DO include the sixth sense (Emotion) to at least a limited degree with anything from a smile or a frown or a scowl to a kiss or a bodice-ripping moment or a screaming match.

But a lot of them don’t let all the emotion of a scene come through. I’ll more than likely discuss a lot of that in other posts (facial expressions, body language, etc.).

For now, just know that if you include all five physical senses plus the emotional senses whenever possible (whenever the POV character gives them to you), you will pull the reader to much greater depth and the scene or story will be far more engaging for the reader.

Just so you know, when I say an “engaging story” I mean one in which the reader feels like an active observer or even a participant, one in which he feels as if he’s in the scene with the characters.

Also just so you know, I’m absolutely convinced that anyone who has the passion to write fiction can write a truly engaging story. So that means you.

Your story can include all of those senses, and it really isn’t difficult to include them. You only have to Take Your Time during writing and cycling (more on this later in the article).

The only thing blocking you is your own lack of awareness that you’ve been leaving things out. And what will help you grow is being aware of them and your determination to include them in your future stories and novels.

Speaking of future stories and novels, I don’t recommend going back and applying what you learn here to stories you’ve already written or published. I recommend letting those stand as a testament to your skill at the time. Keep moving forward.

Omitting details about the setting is usually the result of bad writing advice or criticism that you’re including “too much” description.

Which, by the way, is bullshit.

My advice is this: Don’t think about what’s too much or too little description, dialogue, or anything else.

Just know within yourself that the POV character is a real person living a real story in your creative subconscious (or in an alternate universe or on another plane of existence or wherever works for you).

So if he provides a detail, write it, and if he doesn’t, don’t.

It really is that simple. Never second-guess the POV character by omitting anything he gives you or by adding anything he doesn’t give you.

More on that later in the article too. For now....

The POV Character Is the Key to Writing Strong, Engaging Fiction

As your POV character moves into a setting and a scene, just like the rest of us he always notices certain sights, smells, and sounds.

Depending on the scene, he might also notice textures and flavors. And he almost always focuses down on some of those sights, smells, sounds, etc.

So if any of that’s missing from your presentation in the manuscript, that’s on you.

The POV character NEVER omits any sensory detail (any sight, sound, smell, texture, taste, memory, or emotion) that pops onto his mind or matters to him in the moment. And that’s true whether he’s in a Rest scene, a Transition scene, or smack in the middle of a High-Action scene.

The key to “what matters” to him varies only with the setting and with the requirements the scene places on him.

In my experience, the level of the POV character’s focus on details of the setting is usually less intense in a Rest scene (lower stakes) than in a High-Action scene (higher stakes) even if those scenes take place in the same setting.

But ‘usually’ doesn’t mean ‘always’. Everything depends on the situation, what the other characters (if any) say or do, whether and what annoying or enjoyable thoughts pop into his head, etc.

For just one brief example, in a Rest scene during which the POV character is going about his typical daily routine, maybe he mentions to his significant other that he’d like to attend a certain event or visit a certain restaurant or watch a particular movie on TV.

And maybe the significant other frowns and that little vein pops out in the middle of her forehead as she crosses her arms over her chest, assumes a stance, etc. (depends on her personality).

In that subscene, for an instant (less than the length of time it takes to write “That little vein popped out on her forehead”) the POV character’s entire focus is on that vein as a precursor to what’s coming.

Well, unless she’s also holding a gun or knife. Then he probably wouldn’t notice the vein.

Anyway, if that vein wasn’t significant to him, he wouldn’t have noticed or mentioned it. So if he does mention it, write it.

Admittedly, that detail isn’t as big a deal (to us flesh-and-blood humans) as the explosion of a firearm going off and a bullet splintering a doorframe so close to the POV character’s face that splinters imbed in his cheeks.

But in that Rest scene example, the sight of that vein is just as significant to the POV character in that moment. So again, be sure to write it.

A Little Deeper

The POV character will also notice different sensory details—and he’ll notice them with a lesser or tighter focus—in the different types of scenes and in different situations within those scenes.

Naturally, in every case, what the POV character notices in the setting and how tightly he focuses on bits of that setting depends on the setting and the scene.

But it also depends on his own internal tension: He’ll naturally be more tightly wound during a Transition scene in which he’s approaching a high-action scene, or as he’s entering or involved in a high-action scene.

He might also be tense as he’s approaching a high-tension scene: He’ll almost definitely be tense if he’s anticipating a high-tension scenario, but he won’t be if it comes as a complete surprise to him.

Whether he’s tense and therefore more attentive and focused on his surroundings also depends on his usual priorities in his everyday life and on his anticipated priorities in the moment:

• what upcoming or current task[s] he has to achieve,

• his level of discipline,

• his level of training and experience,

• his personality, and

• his attitude.

The bookend extremes of the POV character’s personality will range anywhere from timid to bold, and the bookend extremes of his attitude will range anywhere from unsure of himself and wary to self-reliant and cocky.

His attitude will also depend on his discipline, training, experience, and personality and will further define and refine what and how closely he notices bits of the setting.

Going into a high-action scene, he’ll probably scan the room or area generally looking for adversaries, places where adversaries might be lying in wait, and considering (and accepting or rejecting) places that will give him cover.

Of course, he’ll focus down on some of that.

For example if he spots a particular place where he thinks an antagonist might be hiding, he’ll look it over closely (all in an instant):

• Is it wide enough to conceal an assailant?

• What’s adjacent to it that might provide additional cover?

• Can I shoot through it with the ammunition I have? etc.

Now, kind of another disclaimer that just occurred to me:

I’m primarily a writer of action-adventure and thriller and SF. But the brief example above holds true for the Regency heroine searching the barn or haymow for the stable boy, the combat soldier or Marine closely eyeing the jungle or sand-colored buildings through a dusty haze while on patrol, or the elf peering over or past a leaf watching for that pesky dragonfly, etc.

But back to the in-text example.

While all of that’s going on, depending on the ambient temperature, his level of tension, etc., sweat might be beading on his forehead and cheeks or trickling down his face (a minor, tickling distraction that he might or might not address depending on whether he feels safe in doing so).

Or maybe he notices one of his boot laces is untied. If that causes a problem (e.g., he notices it because he stepped on the lace when he tried to take a step and it caused him to stumble), it might cause both annoyance and fear (emotional senses).

All of that and a lot more goes into what the POV character notices of the setting in any given scene. (If you have any questions, leave a comment or email me.)

You should be able to think of a ton of situations and aspects of setting that I didn’t mention specifically. Try to think them through in light of what I gave you above, but you can also email me about those if you want to.

Still at Depth, a Lateral Move

Now, much earlier in this article I said the POV character ALWAYS notices certain sight, smells, and sounds, and that depending on the scene, he might also notice textures and flavors.

Again, if that stuff doesn’t make it into the story, that lack is on you. When that happens, chances are good you either

• forgot to Take Your Time and accidentally omitted something the POV character gave you, or

• you omitted a detail intentionally because you don’t think it ‘fit’ for some reason (that’s your conscious, critical mind and/or bad writing advice: you still have reservations about trusting the character to tell the story that he, not you, is living), or

• you’re comparing yourself with some other writer and trying to mimic how s/he writes, or

• you’ve made the story ‘important’.

Please don’t do any of those, but especially that last one. Any story or novel is only a few minutes’ or hours’ entertainment. It’s no more important than that.

Beyond you wanting your characters to entertain you, no individual story or novel matters in the slightest except as it matters to one individual reader or another.

But it will matter to a great many more readers if they believe they’re reading an authentic, “real life” story. And it will only feel authentic if you let the POV character be who he is and tell it himself through your fingertips on the keyboard.

For that reason I recommend you relegate yourself to the lowly position of the POV character’s stenographer. It’s a great place to be.

The Best Current Example I Can Give You

To see all of the above at work in an actual story and what I consider one of the best scenes I’ve ever written—one that illustrates the physical and emotional senses of an aspiring assassin during his very first assignment—read Chapter 23 of A Most Unusual Day. You’ll see most if not all of the stuff I’ve been talking about above in that one chapter. It’s a little over 1600 words.

The Role of Cycling in What Goes Into a Scene

As you’re writing any scene, all of the above and more goes into your head as the POV character conveys the story to you.

HOWEVER, what actually makes it onto the page is only what you allow through and put on the page. That part is up to you, and that’s usually where the problem starts.

We all get into too big a hurry—I’m no exception—especially when a scene is flowing out faster than we can type it.

That’s where cycling—a kind of passive revision with the creative subconscious—comes in.

When you finish a scene, take a break (anything from several seconds to however long) then come back, sit down, and read what you wrote during the previous session.

This is all-important: Do not read consciously, ‘looking for’ things to fix or correct. Read strictly as a reader, for entertainment.

But as you read, allow you fingers to rest on the keyboard, and when something pops into your head, type it in.

The first time you try cycling, you might also sit down with a question in the back of you mind:

• Did I put on the page everything the character gave me?

You can even be more specific:

• Did I include the weather?

• Did I include any physical sensations (sweat, etc.) the character’s experiencing?

• Did I include [whatever]?

But again, with that stuff in mind, don’t consciously ‘look for’ anything. Just read and let your fingers move when the POV character wants them to.

I can almost guarantee you didn’t include something that was in your head as you raced through the story with the character. Fill it in as you read (or rather, let the character fill it in for you as you read) and the scene will be better.

One note: If you start to get a queasy feeling in your gut as you type something in, chances are your conscious, critical mind has slipped in and tried to add something. That queasy feeling is your creative subconscious warning you off.

If you decide to go ahead with the change, please at least hit Save As first and add a number or letter to the end of the filename. That way you’ll still have the unchanged file to go back to when you realize your mistake. (I speak from personal experience.)

But back to cycling.

In a high-action scene, I might cycle back over the scene three or four times or more. When it’s finally ‘right’—meaning when the character has nothing left to add or tweak—I can feel it.

It’s important to make the distinction between cycling and what most folks think of as ‘revision’ or ‘rewriting.’

Both revision and rewriting are functions of the conscious, critical mind. When revising or rewriting (I advise strongly against doing either one), the writer reads consciously, like an editor would, and he allows his conscious mind to ‘figure out’ how the scene should read or what details to add, etc.

If you make even one change, even only a little one, with your conscious mind, you can throw off the whole story. So guard against that.

Also, the critical mind is always negative. That’s one way to recognize it.

So if you catch yourself thinking “Wouldn’t this be better?” or “Shouldn’t I add…?” etc., I recommend you stop and regroup. You might even get up and walk away for a few minutes.

While you’re gone, tell your conscious, critical mind it has no role to play in your fiction. Or just tell it to shut up and leave you alone.

I know that probably sounds silly, but it works. And as a bonus, it also sends a subliminal signal to your creative subconscious that you believe in yourself and your characters.

Then go back to the keyboard and your manuscript, trust the character, and just read for pleasure with your creative subconscious (the same way you read when you’re lost in someone else’s story or novel). And when the character makes your fingers move, go with it.

When you get back to the white space at the end of you cycling session (no more than a few minutes), you’ll be knee-deep in the story again. Then just continue to write.

Again, if the POV character put it in your mind, I strongly recommend you put it on the page. Never second guess the POV character, and never allow anyone else to.

The POV character knows what he’s doing, and neither your conscious, critical mind nor the CCMs of “beta readers” or “critique groups” or anyone else can possibly know the story better than your POV character does.

Lemme ask you this:

If your neighbors were regaling you with a story about their recent vacation in Nicaragua, would you interrupt them or correct them and tell them your notion about what happened?

Of course you wouldn’t. Show the same respect for your POV character,

Talk with you again in a week or maybe two.

Please ask questions if any occur to you.