I was recently asked to beta-read the first chapter of a new book. I understood going in that this was a rough draft, so I wasn’t really expecting perfection, but it had several glitches that got me thinking about GPS.
Huh?
Okay, bear with me.
I’ve rewritten and paraphrased some of what I read, but here’s the gist of it.
Ramrod stepped out of his spotless 2014 black Hummer and surveyed his new purchase. The concrete and steel condo rose up in front of him, its austere sense of security distinctly satisfying to him. This was the perfect place for him to pursue his obsession: flower-arranging. Except for his collection of Samurai swords, nothing gave him more pleasure than the delicate, meditative hobby he had practiced in secret for over 20 years. It would now be the secure base for his work, and no one would ever know about his alter-ego.
As we read, we generally find that the writing steers us in certain directions. One sentence leads to the next; each sentence builds on the one before to create a fluid forward motion. But with this sample, I found myself stutter-stepping backward and forward over and over, having to re-read and refigure what the author was trying to say.
It reminded me of a GPS unit that is constantly saying, “Recalculating.”
Here’s the process I went through:
Ramrod stepped out of his spotless 2014 black Hummer (lots of detail here—must be an important item) and surveyed his new purchase (the Hummer). The concrete and steel condo (oh, wait—recalculating. It’s not the Hummer that’s the new purchase, it’s the condo. Okay, got it.) rose up in front of him, its austere sense of security distinctly satisfying to him. This was the perfect place for him to pursue his obsession: flower-arranging. Except for his collection of Samurai swords, nothing gave him more pleasure than the delicate, meditative hobby he had practiced in secret for over 20 years. It would now be the secure base for his work (Recalculating—the last important noun was the hobby; but apparently It is referring back to the condo.), and no one would ever know about his alter-ego.
Reading a story should not require that much effort. As a writer, I believe my job is to lay down a nice, smooth highway that is paved with words, and my reader should be able to zoom down that highway in their readingmobile without so much as a pebble in the way. Any obstruction in the road, any detour in the story stops the reader and forces them to recalculate—to go back and try to figure out what, exactly, the writer is trying to say. Not only has the reader been knocked off that nice new highway, but now they actually have to go back and see what the problem was and even repair it—rewording the errant sentence or at least understanding it in a different context—before they can continue on so the story will make sense. After hitting two or three or five potholes like that, the reader is probably not going to be so keen on making this trip after all.
They may just take the next offramp and go find a smoother story road.
I see a serious rewrite in the very near future. I was exhausted reading the paragraph. Good points.
Thank you, Melissa. I’ve often had that conversation in my head while reading, although usually without Samurai swords.
Exactly my point, Jeff–reading should not be exhausting. Laurie, let’s see you edit in your head now withOUT Samurai swords!
I got stuck at the same places you did, Melissa — the first two times. The third time your head whipped around, my eyes had already glazed over and I missed it. 😀 Great post!
I totally agree, if reading a simple paragraph, with one person involved, is so difficult, how hard is a more involved paragraph with two or more characters going to be?
Good post, Melissa.
I probably shouldn’t say this, but I don’t have any problem reading that paragraph. I don’t see it as being exhausting or weird or anything. Kind of typical, actually. Except for the whole samuari/ikebana thing, which I assume is made up.
I didn’t have any problem following along, as a reader. The last sentence is bumpy, but can be easily fixed by changing ‘It’ to something more specific. Also, the obvious attempt at the polarity between Samurai swords and flower-arranging in order to create contrast needs another sentence or two in an attempt to come across a bit more subtly. Using this type of contrast works best when it ‘sneaks up’ on a reader, and catches them unexpected. In this case, it is too stark, and needs some finessing. I assume that the story will unfold to explain why a condo is the perfect place for flower-arranging. Otherwise, it needs to be re-worded.
My two cents.
8)
I found it disjointed. TG that I have just recruited a really picky beta-reader!
Mmm… I know it was supposed to be a first draft, and I know first drafts rarely capture all that we’re thinking when we write them, but that’s a level of first-draftishness I probably wouldn’t inflict on a beta reader. It’s hard to get a feel for global issues when simple sentence construction trips you up all the time. 🙁
Just to clarify, I rewrote the paragraph to camouflage the writer, but kept the essence of the bumpiness I found in the sentence structure. The subjects (swords and flower-arranging) were my total fabrication. Anyhoo, Lin, we all know your brain works completely differently than anyone else’s! Thanks all for letting me know it’s not just my brain that stumbles over things like this.
I got lost quickly.
Absolutely agree, Melissa. Some of us write via stream of consciousness – which can result in problems such as this one. BUT if we do that we ought to have the skill to edit them out when we do our first rewrite.