This time I'm going to compare the openings of two novels by the same author.
EXTRACT 1
The village slowly began to shake off its slumber and come to life. Slowly because nothing ever happened with speed in that part of Wiltshire; a mood of timelessness carefully cultivated by the villagers over the centuries prevailed. (The Fog by James Herbert (1975) and published by NEL)
EXTRACT 2
The small mounds of dark earth scattered around the graveyard looked as though the dead were pushing their way back into the living world. The girl smiled nervously at the thought as she hurried from grave to grave. (Shrine by James Herbert (1983) and published by NEL/Hodder and Stoughton)
Which of these is better?
The second by a long way. Let me explain.
In the second extract we have, very quickly, place, image, action and a question (who is the girl and what is she doing?).
The first extract, however, is badly written. You don't need both 'slowly' and 'began to' as they imply the same thing. Neither do we need the repeated 'Slowly' or 'because.' That way we can get rid of the incorrect semi-colon and replace it with a dash. Prevailed refers to the timelessness not the centuries and should be placed as such. Also we don't need 'carefully,' since for the villagers to cultivate an atmosphere over centuries they would have to be very careful indeed.
So, overall, the first exract should read as follows:
The village slowly shook off its slumber and came to life. Nothing ever happened with speed in that part of Wiltshire - a mood of timelessness prevailed, cultivated by the villagers over centuries.
There - that's better. Same meaning, six words less.
But there's still another problem: who wants to go to a place where we are told directly nothing ever happens?
Jack Orchison
June 18, 2014.
Wednesday, 18 June 2014
Tuesday, 17 June 2014
My biographical bit, part 15: University 6
There are things you wouldn't believe that go on in a chemistry lab, perpetrated by highly qualified graduates too. This is the stuff of the Dick of the Day award mentioned last time.
The reaction that crawled out of the pot on its own was, of course, one of mine, but there were others. Like spending all might isolating a product by column chromatography only for it to go off. Like the reaction that went from clear to yellow to green to blue and, finally, black. Like incinerating the floor next to my bench when a tin of sodium hydride caught fire (I was banished to the chemistry library for weeks for that one)...
My friend Phil Thomas (he of the long walk from Grantham) was once pressurising a massive chromatograohy column, known as the Drainpipe, which contained kilos of silica and litres of solvent, and he forgot to open the tap...Bang! The thing sheared in two with a mighty crack and dumping of its contents. He did this with a smaller one, too, where the pieces of flying glass miraculously missed everyone. He also once spent all night in the lab, where he was still there at 4am when the security man came round, and went to sleep between the bookcases in the library.
Pete Amos, a newcomer when I was in my last year, got off to a bad start when, on the very first day when he introduced himself, he sat on the end of my bench - always a bad idea with chemicals around - and broke some NMR tubes with samples in them soneone else had left for me to analyse. This had to be the fastest winner of Dick of the Day. Yes, he fitted right in!
Andy Hobbs once lovingly isolated the wrong product because he'd forgotten to scrub the acetone out of the acetylene he was using, and set light to a pyrophoric lithium compound on the balance - crimson flames licked at the ceiling tiles.
The fun just continued...
Next time, more cock-ups, fires etc.
Jack Orchison
June 16, 2014.
The reaction that crawled out of the pot on its own was, of course, one of mine, but there were others. Like spending all might isolating a product by column chromatography only for it to go off. Like the reaction that went from clear to yellow to green to blue and, finally, black. Like incinerating the floor next to my bench when a tin of sodium hydride caught fire (I was banished to the chemistry library for weeks for that one)...
My friend Phil Thomas (he of the long walk from Grantham) was once pressurising a massive chromatograohy column, known as the Drainpipe, which contained kilos of silica and litres of solvent, and he forgot to open the tap...Bang! The thing sheared in two with a mighty crack and dumping of its contents. He did this with a smaller one, too, where the pieces of flying glass miraculously missed everyone. He also once spent all night in the lab, where he was still there at 4am when the security man came round, and went to sleep between the bookcases in the library.
Pete Amos, a newcomer when I was in my last year, got off to a bad start when, on the very first day when he introduced himself, he sat on the end of my bench - always a bad idea with chemicals around - and broke some NMR tubes with samples in them soneone else had left for me to analyse. This had to be the fastest winner of Dick of the Day. Yes, he fitted right in!
Andy Hobbs once lovingly isolated the wrong product because he'd forgotten to scrub the acetone out of the acetylene he was using, and set light to a pyrophoric lithium compound on the balance - crimson flames licked at the ceiling tiles.
The fun just continued...
Next time, more cock-ups, fires etc.
Jack Orchison
June 16, 2014.
Sunday, 1 June 2014
Being a writer, part 12: Real examples 3
Another two examples for you. Both excerpts are from published novels. They are examples of committing some sort of gaffe (or gaffes) on the first page, even in the first paragraph. Your first page must be perfect!
EXCERPT 1
High up in the thin mountain air of the Andes, Professor Kent looked out for one last time over the moonlit beauty of the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu, stretching away along the valley's edge three hundred feet down below. Only ten minutes earlier he had been lying sound asleep in his warm bed in the Hotel Ruinas, not far from the world famous UNESCO heritage site, when suddenly, without warning, he had been shaken from the depths of sleep by two strangers (Pyramid (2007) by Tom Martin and published by Pan Macmillan).
We get what's happening, but where the hell was the editor? We don't need the word 'up' in the first line, we can replace 'looked out for' by 'gazed.' We don't need 'down' in line two. 'Sound asleep' is a cliché. The research is obvious. 'Suddenly,' which we should never use, means the same as 'without warning,' so this is tautological. And we know he's asleep - what is wrong with replacing 'from the depths of sleep' by 'awake?' And, oh dear, my critique is nearly as long as the passage chosen...
EXCERPT 2
In the distance a dust devil skimmed along the horizon, its trajectory zigzaggig with uncanny intelligence. The Bedouin believed such dust storms to be the restless spirits of those who lay unburied, bone-naked, lost in the harsh desert. Was this a bad omen? Worried that the roughnecks might think so, I glanced over. The field workers, big, fearless men, their overalls blackened with grime and oil, were paused in awe, tools in hand, staring at the phenomenon (Sphinx (2010) by TS Learner and published by Sphere).
If a dust devil is on the horizon, then it must be in the distance, so there is no need for the first three words. Also, how could it be seen to zigzag at that distance? We don't need 'that' in line three, and neither do we need the question. It would be better to say 'Worried the roughnecks might think this a bad omen.' And then there is the real clanger: any guy with his tool in his hand is not going to be doing any work! Unintentional humour kills off all the seriousness the author is trying to build.
This one had ne laughing out loud.
Jack Orchison
June 1, 2014.
EXCERPT 1
High up in the thin mountain air of the Andes, Professor Kent looked out for one last time over the moonlit beauty of the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu, stretching away along the valley's edge three hundred feet down below. Only ten minutes earlier he had been lying sound asleep in his warm bed in the Hotel Ruinas, not far from the world famous UNESCO heritage site, when suddenly, without warning, he had been shaken from the depths of sleep by two strangers (Pyramid (2007) by Tom Martin and published by Pan Macmillan).
We get what's happening, but where the hell was the editor? We don't need the word 'up' in the first line, we can replace 'looked out for' by 'gazed.' We don't need 'down' in line two. 'Sound asleep' is a cliché. The research is obvious. 'Suddenly,' which we should never use, means the same as 'without warning,' so this is tautological. And we know he's asleep - what is wrong with replacing 'from the depths of sleep' by 'awake?' And, oh dear, my critique is nearly as long as the passage chosen...
EXCERPT 2
In the distance a dust devil skimmed along the horizon, its trajectory zigzaggig with uncanny intelligence. The Bedouin believed such dust storms to be the restless spirits of those who lay unburied, bone-naked, lost in the harsh desert. Was this a bad omen? Worried that the roughnecks might think so, I glanced over. The field workers, big, fearless men, their overalls blackened with grime and oil, were paused in awe, tools in hand, staring at the phenomenon (Sphinx (2010) by TS Learner and published by Sphere).
If a dust devil is on the horizon, then it must be in the distance, so there is no need for the first three words. Also, how could it be seen to zigzag at that distance? We don't need 'that' in line three, and neither do we need the question. It would be better to say 'Worried the roughnecks might think this a bad omen.' And then there is the real clanger: any guy with his tool in his hand is not going to be doing any work! Unintentional humour kills off all the seriousness the author is trying to build.
This one had ne laughing out loud.
Jack Orchison
June 1, 2014.
My biographical bit, part 14: University 5
Last time I'd reached the various people that were in my PhD lab during 1981-1984. I'd forgotten one other guy: Wole Shode, another African postdoc. He was a serious and conscientious chap and didn't hold with all our cavorting and pissing around!
One of the things we used to do was play five-a-side football against the other research labs. Our team was okay and I played in goal.
These are the two incidents I remember best:
1. A shot came through a sea of legs, took a slight deflection to my right then, when I was wrong-footed, a big one to the left. I just got down in time to push it round the post.
2. The ball was bounding towards our goal pursued by an enemy striker. All I could do was advance to the edge of the circle to cut down the angle, and I saved the shot too. Pity it was point blank with my genitalia. We were winning 1-0 at that point, but ended up losing 3-1 because I couldn't move.
Then there was the Dick of the Day Award.
This was the basically the top of the head and the ears of a Space Hopper (remember them?) with a cocktail stick in the top bearing a flag made from a sticky label that said Dick of the Day. Dick was underlined. It was specially awarded to any chemical cock-up committed in the lab and was a trophy to be worn with pride on your bench until the next incident, which was hopefully by someone else. It reminded us that a man who never made a mistake never made anything. At least that was our excuse.
Next time: recipient events of the Dick of the Day award - and other gross errors and unbelieveable events.
Jack Orchison
June 1, 2014
One of the things we used to do was play five-a-side football against the other research labs. Our team was okay and I played in goal.
These are the two incidents I remember best:
1. A shot came through a sea of legs, took a slight deflection to my right then, when I was wrong-footed, a big one to the left. I just got down in time to push it round the post.
2. The ball was bounding towards our goal pursued by an enemy striker. All I could do was advance to the edge of the circle to cut down the angle, and I saved the shot too. Pity it was point blank with my genitalia. We were winning 1-0 at that point, but ended up losing 3-1 because I couldn't move.
Then there was the Dick of the Day Award.
This was the basically the top of the head and the ears of a Space Hopper (remember them?) with a cocktail stick in the top bearing a flag made from a sticky label that said Dick of the Day. Dick was underlined. It was specially awarded to any chemical cock-up committed in the lab and was a trophy to be worn with pride on your bench until the next incident, which was hopefully by someone else. It reminded us that a man who never made a mistake never made anything. At least that was our excuse.
Next time: recipient events of the Dick of the Day award - and other gross errors and unbelieveable events.
Jack Orchison
June 1, 2014
Monday, 26 May 2014
My biographical bit, part 13: University 4
I graduated with first class honours in Chemistry in 1978, and I knew that I wanted to carry study further. I began a PhD, still at Nottingham, in sythetic organic chemistry under the supervision of Don Whiting - he was a Reader in organic chemistry, in the UK the next payscale down from Professor.
And so began a whole new era, and some very odd stuff along the way. Mostly down to the daftness of the people in the research lab, C29, who were there at various times: Dane Toplis, trumpeter and research technician, who was always a laugh; Ray Denman, a chubby guy who loved his dogs who was a Demonstrator to undergraduates; Roland Smith, postdoctoral researcher, who was known as either the Baldy Moron or Mr Semi-Erect but whose intelligence was not in doubt and did not walk around in a state of dubious arousal; Andy Hobbs, known as Hobbs the Gob (or HG for short) who always bragged how great he was until his girlfriend left him and he crashed his car into a bridge, luckily wothout injury; Paul Clawson, whose Danish grandfather changed his name from Claussen after the war, fellow chess player, and the only person I know to have saved on a student grant, who was always stirring mixtures in conical flasks - it looked very simple but was actually a delicate reaction of a carbonyl ylid; Phil Thomas, known as Dick Brain (or DB for short), fellow chess player, and very high on the list for entertainment value with many lab cock-ups; Clive Till, postdoctoral reaearcher who got his PhD at Southampton, and who had the ability as a personal timepiece - you could set your watch by him when he rolled up at 10am every day, who had a girlfriend called Rowan from Huntingdon (or Humpingdon as we called it); Khalid Khan, lothario, and the palest Pakistani I've ever seen; Peter Amos, known as Groper for his wandering hands, who was Roland Smith's morning running partner; Samuel Yeboah, postdoctoral researcher from Ghana, who wondered how I got to be always filtering off fine crystals (I kept some odd hours); then there was me - the guy who once managed to get a crappy brown froth to ooze out of a flask before I'd even put the solvent in or heated it up. There was a special award for that, bestowed by the lab members, but that is for next time.
Jack Orchison
May 25, 2014.
And so began a whole new era, and some very odd stuff along the way. Mostly down to the daftness of the people in the research lab, C29, who were there at various times: Dane Toplis, trumpeter and research technician, who was always a laugh; Ray Denman, a chubby guy who loved his dogs who was a Demonstrator to undergraduates; Roland Smith, postdoctoral researcher, who was known as either the Baldy Moron or Mr Semi-Erect but whose intelligence was not in doubt and did not walk around in a state of dubious arousal; Andy Hobbs, known as Hobbs the Gob (or HG for short) who always bragged how great he was until his girlfriend left him and he crashed his car into a bridge, luckily wothout injury; Paul Clawson, whose Danish grandfather changed his name from Claussen after the war, fellow chess player, and the only person I know to have saved on a student grant, who was always stirring mixtures in conical flasks - it looked very simple but was actually a delicate reaction of a carbonyl ylid; Phil Thomas, known as Dick Brain (or DB for short), fellow chess player, and very high on the list for entertainment value with many lab cock-ups; Clive Till, postdoctoral reaearcher who got his PhD at Southampton, and who had the ability as a personal timepiece - you could set your watch by him when he rolled up at 10am every day, who had a girlfriend called Rowan from Huntingdon (or Humpingdon as we called it); Khalid Khan, lothario, and the palest Pakistani I've ever seen; Peter Amos, known as Groper for his wandering hands, who was Roland Smith's morning running partner; Samuel Yeboah, postdoctoral researcher from Ghana, who wondered how I got to be always filtering off fine crystals (I kept some odd hours); then there was me - the guy who once managed to get a crappy brown froth to ooze out of a flask before I'd even put the solvent in or heated it up. There was a special award for that, bestowed by the lab members, but that is for next time.
Jack Orchison
May 25, 2014.
Being a writer, part 11: Real examples 2
I'm going to let you compare extracts from the beginning of two novels, one published, one not (yet). I wonder if you can tell which is which?
FIRST EXTRACT
Alan Greening was drunk. He'd been boozing all night in Covent Garden: starting at the Punch, where he had three of four pints with his old friends from college. Then they'd gone to the Lamb and Flag, the pub dowwn that dank alleyway near the Garrick Club.
How long had they lingered there, sinking beers? He couldn't remember. Because after that they'd gone to the Roundhouse, and they'd met a couple more guys from his office. And at some point the lads had moved from pints of lager to shorts: vodka shots, gin and tonics, whisky chasers.
SECOND EXTRACT
'George,' Olivia says, 'are you a bad person?'
I take her little hands in mine and kneel down to her level, completely disarmed by her. I gaze at the pretty face with the sparkling blue eyes below the blonde hair and the black hair band, knowing I can't lie to her. 'I've been a very bad person.'
'Are you going to do bad things to me, like make me deaded?'
'No, sweetheart, but you do need to pretend you're my little girl for a while. There's something I need to finish. I think you can help me.'
The first is from The Genesis Secret (Harper, 2009) by Tom Knox, the second is from one of my works in progress, entitled Victim.
The trouble with the first passage is that it's a boring pub crawl itinerary and you don't care about Alan Greening and his drunken mates. Chances are, you've already switched off. This is not the way to start a story.
The second passage sucks you in, even if I say so myself. The named characters speak and interact, coming to life in the process, we are in the head of the creepy, evil George, and we are shown (not told) that the two characters have a captor and captive relationship, that the captive is very young. And it poses questions: what has George done and what has George yet to do? Doeas George tell lies? Does Olivia survive? This is why we read on, why we turn the pages. Make the reader care, make the reader ask, and you'll not go far wrong.
Jack Orchison
May 25, 2014.
FIRST EXTRACT
Alan Greening was drunk. He'd been boozing all night in Covent Garden: starting at the Punch, where he had three of four pints with his old friends from college. Then they'd gone to the Lamb and Flag, the pub dowwn that dank alleyway near the Garrick Club.
How long had they lingered there, sinking beers? He couldn't remember. Because after that they'd gone to the Roundhouse, and they'd met a couple more guys from his office. And at some point the lads had moved from pints of lager to shorts: vodka shots, gin and tonics, whisky chasers.
SECOND EXTRACT
'George,' Olivia says, 'are you a bad person?'
I take her little hands in mine and kneel down to her level, completely disarmed by her. I gaze at the pretty face with the sparkling blue eyes below the blonde hair and the black hair band, knowing I can't lie to her. 'I've been a very bad person.'
'Are you going to do bad things to me, like make me deaded?'
'No, sweetheart, but you do need to pretend you're my little girl for a while. There's something I need to finish. I think you can help me.'
The first is from The Genesis Secret (Harper, 2009) by Tom Knox, the second is from one of my works in progress, entitled Victim.
The trouble with the first passage is that it's a boring pub crawl itinerary and you don't care about Alan Greening and his drunken mates. Chances are, you've already switched off. This is not the way to start a story.
The second passage sucks you in, even if I say so myself. The named characters speak and interact, coming to life in the process, we are in the head of the creepy, evil George, and we are shown (not told) that the two characters have a captor and captive relationship, that the captive is very young. And it poses questions: what has George done and what has George yet to do? Doeas George tell lies? Does Olivia survive? This is why we read on, why we turn the pages. Make the reader care, make the reader ask, and you'll not go far wrong.
Jack Orchison
May 25, 2014.
Saturday, 3 May 2014
Being a writer, part10: real examples
Today I'm going to look at the start of a real novel to see if it is good or bad. It goes like this:
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.
This is the start of Herman Melville's 'Moby-Dick.' The ridiculous hyphen apart, generations of writers and critics have waxed orgasmically about this opening and Melville's authority and 'voice.' But, in truth, the passage stinks.
It's sloppy and lazy, and makes Ishmael look like a flake who floats from one whim to another - and someone you don't care for very much. Not what an author needs. Oh yes - Melville goes into great detail later on about the anatomy of the whale only to call it a fish - what a plank!
He fails to put the situation in context, in scene, and to show proper reasons for Ishmael's departure - you wouldn't go to sea on a whim in the nineteenth century.
How about this instead:
I dropped my bag on the harbourside and took a last look at the grey, prospectless town that had given me only intermittent work, shoddy accommodation, and that unfaithful bitch in my bed.
'Hey, Ishmael! You comin' or what?'
I turned to see the first mate waving to me, the ship rigged and ready, and behind it a brightening horizon. I picked up my things and almost ran up the gangplank.
Okay, so I've just made this up and it's not exactly deathless prose, but I hope you get the idea. The character doesn't have to name himself, the passage shows his state of mind, and compares the new and the bright with the grey and the despised. It shows both problem and goal in a way the other version doesn't.
Next time: more openings.
Jack Orchison
May 3, 2014.
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.
This is the start of Herman Melville's 'Moby-Dick.' The ridiculous hyphen apart, generations of writers and critics have waxed orgasmically about this opening and Melville's authority and 'voice.' But, in truth, the passage stinks.
It's sloppy and lazy, and makes Ishmael look like a flake who floats from one whim to another - and someone you don't care for very much. Not what an author needs. Oh yes - Melville goes into great detail later on about the anatomy of the whale only to call it a fish - what a plank!
He fails to put the situation in context, in scene, and to show proper reasons for Ishmael's departure - you wouldn't go to sea on a whim in the nineteenth century.
How about this instead:
I dropped my bag on the harbourside and took a last look at the grey, prospectless town that had given me only intermittent work, shoddy accommodation, and that unfaithful bitch in my bed.
'Hey, Ishmael! You comin' or what?'
I turned to see the first mate waving to me, the ship rigged and ready, and behind it a brightening horizon. I picked up my things and almost ran up the gangplank.
Okay, so I've just made this up and it's not exactly deathless prose, but I hope you get the idea. The character doesn't have to name himself, the passage shows his state of mind, and compares the new and the bright with the grey and the despised. It shows both problem and goal in a way the other version doesn't.
Next time: more openings.
Jack Orchison
May 3, 2014.
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