Monthly Archives: July 2021

On the Hunt for Weak Verbs

The English language cries out for more verbs.

Verbs strengthen sentences and energize them with action. Nouns, adjectives, adverbs, prepositions and the rest just sit there, doing nothing, until the verb wakes them up and sets them into motion.

Yet, for all their importance, verbs constitute only about one seventh of all English words. We need more of them.

I know, I know. Writers, especially advertisers, are creating more verbs all the time. They’re ‘verbing’ nouns as fast as they can. Not fast enough, in my view.

In the meantime, we must work with what we have. Still, beginning writers tend to choose the worst and weakest verbs from among the few available. Why? Because it’s easier.

But that easy path results in flat sentences, drab paragraphs, and uninspiring prose. It’s time you hunted down those weak verbs and replaced them with strong ones to make your sentences sturdy, your paragraphs powerful, your tales tantalizing.

Join me now on a hunt for weak verbs. After I give you a few pointers, you’re free to hunt on your own, through the thorny thickets of your own manuscripts.

I classify the so-called “state-of-being” verb as the weakest species of verbs. These simply equate a noun to an adjective or adverb. They include the following: Am, Are, Be, Been, Being, Can, Could, Do, Does, Did, Had, Has, Have, Is, May, Might, Must, Shall, Should, Was, Were, Will, and Would.

As an example, consider this sentence: “She was on a hunt for weak verbs.” It conveys meaning, but packs no punch. Better to write: “She hunted for weak verbs.” That draws us in more, forces us to look over her shoulder as she seeks her game.

Sometimes you can’t avoid using these state-of-being verbs, but don’t load a paragraph down with them, and try to think of good alternatives first.

The next species of weak verbs isn’t as bad as state-of-being verbs, but is worth hunting to near extinction. I’m talking about abstract verbs like add, give, go, look, make, put, run, and walk, along with the various tenses of these verbs. They tell us something, but just the bare minimum. They beg for an adverb to spice them up.

Rather than, “She looked carefully in every corner of her manuscript for weak verbs,” consider “She peered into (or examined) every corner…”

Again, circumstances may force you to use an abstract verb now and then, but strive to minimize those times.

Note that my list of abstract verbs excluded ‘say/says/said.’ Yes, ‘said’ and its forms belong in the list of abstract verbs, and tell us in a bland way that a speaker uttered audible words. However, they represent an exception. While hunting, we pass them by.  

Why? Because nobody sees that word—it’s invisible. Readers skip right over it. Use it as often as you like. No reader will tire of reading ‘said.’

That verb’s mild nature might tempt you into modifying it with an adverb. Don’t. You’ll end up with a “Tom Swifty.” Also, suppress your urge to substitute different synonyms for ‘said,’ such as avowed, declared, professed, spoke, or stated. That comes across to readers like you’re overusing your Thesaurus.

I hereby pronounce you qualified to hunt for weak verbs on your own. Good luck! To get you started, you might try seeking out a few weak verbs in this blogpost, left there as practice for you, by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 25, 2021Permalink

8 Valuable Tips for Writer Elevator Pitches

You’ve just met someone new. Once they find out you’re a fiction writer, they might ask, “What do you write?” You have thirty seconds to answer. Go.

These interactions can happen anywhere—at a writers’ conference, at the store, at a bus stop, at a party, and, yes, even in an elevator. Every interaction is a chance to entice a new reader. Or a chance to flub it.

Let’s not flub this. Here are my tips for creating and delivering a masterful elevator pitch.

  1. Plan the pitch. Visualize the interaction. The person will ask you what you write about, but they’re really wondering if you write what they like to read. You’d like them to be a new reader, to buy your books. This is a chance to find out if those different goals intersect. Write down a four or five sentence answer you can deliver in thirty seconds. Rewrite these until they’re interesting, upbeat, and compelling. Remember, you’re answering a question about what you write, not selling a used car.
  2. Rehearse the pitch. Speak your sentences aloud, as if to a new acquaintance. Do this in the mirror. Smile. Make eye contact. Exude confidence and enthusiasm.
  3. Wait for the invitation. When the meeting occurs, don’t launch into your pitch. Let them ask the question, which may occur when they find out you’re a writer. They may not ask, which is a sign they’re not a potential reader.
  4. Speak naturally. Yes, you rehearsed, but don’t let your pitch sound rehearsed. Let your voice tone rise and fall normally, and avoid speaking in monotone. Don’t talk too fast.
  5. Smile and make eye contact. Just like you rehearsed it. The first reason for this is to make your pitch more compelling. There’s a second reason…
  6. Watch for signs of interest. As you’re speaking, watch the person’s eyes for signs of increased interest. If that occurs, alter your pitch to follow up on what you just said that perked their interest.
  7. Be ready for follow-up questions. The person might well ask, “What else have you written?” or “What are you writing now?” or “I like stories about [whatever]. Have you written anything like that?” Of course, the best follow-up question is, “Where can I find out more about your books?”
  8. Make the connection. If they ask for more information, be ready to provide it. You can offer to send an email. You can trade contact information using smartphones. You can mention your author website. You can even provide an author business card.

Soon you’ll be, as they say in the elevator biz, going up. But that’s only if you follow the wise advice of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 18, 2021Permalink

Maslow’s Hierarchy of (Fictional Character) Needs

You may have heard of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, but have you thought about how that hierarchy might apply to the characters in your stories?

An excellent post by author K.M. Weiland inspired me to write about this topic. I encourage you to read her post, too.

As a refresher, Abraham Maslow published a paper in 1934 titled “A theory of Human Motivation.” In it, he postulated that people are motivated in stages by various categories of needs. Moreover, he thought the more basic needs must be satisfied before a person can be motivated by higher level needs. If circumstances change and a more basic need becomes unsatisfied, the person drops back down the hierarchy.

Most often, you’ll see this hierarchy depicted as a pyramid. However, a succession of overlapping curves more accurately reflects Maslow’s theory. A person doesn’t just step up the levels of a pyramid, but rather moves through a series of waves.

Fictional characters have motivations and needs like real people. Maslow’s theory applies to them, too. If your character is practicing to be a concert pianist (Self-actualization), and her house catches fire, it’s more realistic to have her run to save herself (Physiological need) than to remain at the piano.

When creating characters for a story, I write down both their motivation and goal in my notes. Think of these two things this way: a goal is a specific thing you want; a motivation (or need) is why you want it.

Here are my listed motivations for some characters in my stories, along with how Maslow might have categorized them:

  • Hototo, from “Broken Flute Cave.” Motivation: to maintain traditions of the tribe, to keep connections with ancestors, and to sustain music.  Maslow’s categorization: belongingness and love needs.
  • Edgar Allan Poe, from “Reconnaissance Mission.” Motivation: to find order, rationality, and discipline in all things. Maslow’s categorization: self-actualization. (Poe’s needs shift during the story to basic survival—physiological needs.)
  • Brother Eilmer, from “Instability.” Motivation: Knowledge. Maslow’s categorization: self-actualization.
  • Lani Koamalu, from “The Cats of Nerio-3.” Motivation: to finally outsmart the Artificially Intelligent character or at least prove its equal. Maslow’s categorization: esteem needs. (Lani’s needs shift during the story to basic survival—physiological needs.)
  • Johnny Branch, from “After the Martians.” Motivation: adventure, making a difference in the world. Maslow’s categorization: esteem needs. (Johnny’s needs shift during the story to basic survival—physiological needs.)

Here’s my takeaway—don’t get hung up on the details of Maslow’s hierarchy. It’s a theory, and many have criticized it. However, be aware that people (both real and fictional) can have many needs, and the needs can shift based on circumstances.

You should have a good understanding of your characters and their needs. To have sufficient conflict in your story, the needs of the protagonist should differ from (and be in conflict with) the needs of the antagonist. Whether these characters’ needs fit into Maslow’s hierarchy is not really important.

Needs form the basis of goals. The pursuit of goals drives behavior (speech and action). Characters with opposing goals result in conflict. The behavior of characters as they deal with the conflict moves the plot. At the story’s end, a goal is satisfied, or not, but the protagonist either learns something or dies in a meaningful way.

Those essentials of story-writing are far more important than strict adherence to a theory of human needs. You may find Maslow useful, but don’t feel bad if your story doesn’t fit his theory. Writing a good story is one of the primary needs of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 11, 2021Permalink

Leading a Writers’ Group

Have you joined a writers’ group in your local area? If so, have you given any thought to running for president of the group? There are good reasons to do that.

Many years ago, I served as president of such a group. Back then, it was known as The Writers’ Association of Anne Arundel County, or TWAAAC. (All the good acronyms were already taken.) Sometime after my term ended, they changed the name to the Maryland Writers’ Association (MWA).

This past week, the current MWA officers held a Zoom meeting to gather and honor all the past presidents of the group. It was wonderful to talk to people I hadn’t seen in many years, and to learn how much the organization has grown and to find out about all the new activities going on.

All volunteer organizations have too few members doing all the work and too many members doing nothing. Writers’ groups are no different, and might even be worse, given that writing is a solitary, time-consuming activity. Still, I believe if you’re asked to serve in some official position, even as president, you ought to consider doing it. Here’s why:

  • It will serve as a new life experience for you, especially if you’ve never led a group before. As a writer, you should seek out such new experiences. That way you can write with authority about characters going through their first leadership positions.
  • You’ll meet and work with other writers. This expands your network of contacts, several of whom might become readers or critique partners someday.
  • It many develop your leadership capabilities. As president, you’ll face problems and you’ll have to think of solutions or at least evaluate and implement the best ones proposed by other group officers.
  • It will help overcome a fear of public speaking. Being the leader, you’ll have to speak to the group. That experience will serve you well when it comes to giving readings from your books at writing conferences, or talking to readers at book signings.

Yes, there’s a small downside to serving as president of a writers’ group. Time spent performing presidential duties is time not spent writing. However, your term will not last forever. Typically, presidents of such groups serve for only a year or two.

Perhaps you believe you’re too young to serve as president. Maybe most members are older and seem more experienced. That’s how it seemed to me. Here’s the reality—most volunteer organizations seek out young people who are full of energy and ideas. They’re the ones who keep such groups fresh and vital. The more senior members are looking for people like you.

In many cases, those older members have already served their time as president and now lack the time or energy to do so again. Often, they’ll gladly serve as a mentor for you if you’re not sure what to do.

If you do get elected president of your group, I’d encourage you to spend some time thinking about the future of the group. What activities would inspire and nurture writers? How might the organization reach out to gain new members? In what ways could the group be better in five years and what steps are necessary to make those improvements happen?

Finding answers to these questions and acting on them could make your term as president enjoyable and valuable to the group.

I hope you are able to serve as president of your local writers’ group. You’ll do well. It’s not rocket science. That job can even be performed, with some competence, by a much younger—

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 4, 2021Permalink