Hearts Matter

What did it matter? There was no point in doubt or regret. The minute he turned his back on her, there was no turning back. Like a marionette under someone else’s command he walked down the street towards the railway station. Only this time, he was dancing to a barely heard internal tune that was no longer hers. He could hear her crying, but her tears didn’t mean anything. They didn’t change the fact that her kisses and her tears may be warm, but her feelings were frozen. He would never be let inside, to the heart of her matter.

I like adverbs. I use them. I enjoy them. I use them sagaciously, I use them capriciously, and what's more, I use them effectively.

And the anti-adverb nazis can kiss every inch of my six published novels, seventh coming out this year, if they don't like my pretty pretty adverbs.

This is why I don't read the damned "how to" books - I trust my instincts more than I trust their advice. It's like parenting books: don't do this! do that! This is the Only Way!

Screw that. The occasional properly placed adverb never hurt anyone.

Lawrence Bloch's "Telling Lies For Fun and Profit" agrees with you, deb. I love him. He doesn't take the authentically useful advice to the extreme of "You'll only look like an amateur if you don't do it my way." Which is why I bought a copy of his book and only got the other one out of the library.

I think grammar and parenting books are useful only in providing well-chosen stats and examples, not as rulebooks. IOW, a book giving info like "At six weeks your baby will probably develop acne. It's normal." or "Most editors find page-long paragraphs off-putting." can be helpful. "You must feed your child strained beets." is not.

The problem with the how-to books is on the bottom line: they leave out the obvious.

Terry Pratchett uses a bazillion judiciously placed adverbs. This is Against the Grain. OK, but what does he do with the adverbs?

He tells a story with them. He tells a really really good story. With reallly interesting characters that people can get into.

And the only people who get pissy about the adverbs are the people who notice that sort of thing, decide there Ought To Be A Rule, and proceed to write a bunch of "how-to" books about it.

Terry Pratchett has how many published novels? Which have sold how many copies?

As opposed to the how-to writers - how many novels?

Even I can do that math.

In rough drafts, I use adverbs in bulk form. I buy those puppies at Costco. Kirkland Signature Brand Adverbs, all over my prose.

I try to get rid of at least 3/4 of them before I submit my work anywhere, though. Especially the "said thusly" ones. 45% of the time, they're unnecessary--telling something I've already shown through dialogue and context. 45% of the time, they're a sign I need to polish the dialogue a bit. And 10% of the time they work, and damn the rulebooks, I'm leaving them there.

I don't worry half so much about the ones that aren't attached to a "said."

An adverb is just a word. That's all it is. It's not the antichrist and it's not the second coming, either.

If I find three of them in the space of two sentences, I tend to find they're being used as a tell device, by a writer who is either unsure of their own abilities to show me by painting a scene, or by someone so damned cocksure and convinced of their own talent that they think they don't have to paint a scene.

I use them, rather a lot, in dialogue. Not attached to a said, but within a speech pattern, for specific characters. In Matty Groves, Charlotte Leight-Arnold, an eccentric and an endearing whackaloon with a scary amount of privilege, uses the word "truly" every third or fourth sentence. It's a Charlotte thing.

And Char is one of things my not inconsiderable network of beta readers loved the best about the novel.

They're like anything else - it's how and where you use them. Also, why you use them.

If I find three of them in the space of two sentences, I tend to find they're being used as a tell device, by a writer who is either unsure of their own abilities to show me by painting a scene, or by someone so damned cocksure and convinced of their own talent that they think they don't have to paint a scene.

To make a small divergence -- the show/tell comment reminded me -- my Dad has lent me The Da Vinci Code and Angels and Demons (I assure you, this is the correct thread for this post). He really really REALLY wants me to read them, because he loved them and wants to discuss them with me. Even though people whose opinion I respect have said that the books aren't that well-written, nor are they All That, I took them.

I started Angels and Demons tonight.

Sweet Italian Jesus. Four pages in, and he's already using paragraphs to describe Our Hero, rather than letting the reader figure it out by how Our Hero acts.

I've made it to page 6 so far, where I found this sentence, and I quote (Our Fair Hero has received a Fax with Shocking News): "Instantly the breath went out of him. It was like he had been hit by a truck."

I swear to you I'm not making that up.

How does crap writing like that make the bloody best-seller list? HOW?!?

Also, I have no idea how I'm going to get through 2 books of such dreck just to please my dad. I wonder if there are Cliff's Notes....

How does crap writing like that make the bloody best-seller list? HOW?!?

(kissing Teppy repeatedly)

I couldn't get past page 15 or so of DVC. Haven't even tried A&D. I give up.

Me neither.

I think the books are the written versions of Muzak or the kind of paintings they sell in Malls. if you care about the art form, it is painful to listen to or look at--but if you don't, the actual flaws of the piece are exactly what appeals to you.