by Ellen Tanner Marsh / Writer’s Digest
Ellen Tanner Marsh, in her article “Editing Fiction Like A Pro: The 5 Most Common Mistakes that Bog Down Your Narrative,” tells her readers to focus on the “don’ts” of sentence structure rather than agonizing over every word until it’s just right, which is something I am VERY guilty of.
I mean, have you ever sat down at your writing desk or comfy chair and tweaked, twisted, phrased, and rephrased your prose until you look up at the clock and it’s five hours later, and you’ve written only a paragraph? Yep, Guilty.
As a long-time freelance editor, Marsh has helped countless authors fine-tune their plots, characters, and prose. Some of these authors, whether gifted or just getting there, tended to make the following mistakes… Read More
By D. K. Hundt
Have you ever been asked to write a short story and felt that twinge in the pit of your stomach?
Yep, me too.
That’s just old man anxiety waving his doubt encrusted sign in front of your eyes saying you can’t when you and I both know you can.
I was going to start off this blog post by saying “The biggest mistake I made when trying to write a short story…,” but that wouldn’t be accurate at all.
I honestly don’t view my trial and error process of writing as being a mistake, but rather a continuous learning curve that I’ve navigated, roughly at times, over the years.
Now, I have a B.A. Degree in Creative Writing, but I personally don’t feel that makes me an expert in this art form by any means; however, I share with you what’s worked for me in my prose, that I hope to one day get published.
When I first started writing mini-tales (so many moons ago), I used the plot outline for writing a novel and kept wondering why my word count was so high.
Well, that was the problem. I was using the wrong outline.
Keep on reading
“Along the riverbanks beware
People disappear down there
Never to return again
That’s where the legend
– Jim Boy
“The Cascade Mountains used to be the heart of Yakima Washington, a landscape burning with color this time of year. That is before the trembling aspen and maple pine leaves lay to rest on the surface of the Snohomish. A river that divides the land into two parts of a long-forgotten whole. The days belong to the locals here. You’ll find them on the river banks catching salmon and crawfish under the pillars of the waterfront restaurants. A feeding ground primed with entrails. But the nights. Well, the nights are seasoned with tourists who camp near the river’s edge.
“All are hoping to catch a prize picture of the myth we relics call Qah-lin-me,” Harry said.
“Who’s Kwa…ah-lin-me, grandpa?” Marc asked.