In my opinion, this kind of writing is fine for first and second drafts, it is a scenic placeholder left there with the intention of describing the character and setting in greater detail.

However, if this kind of writing remains through all of the drafts until your manuscript reaches my desk, this sentence structure will leap off the page and poke me in the eye. That is not to say it will injure your reader in parallel fashion, because this is one of my pet peeves, but it will do your reader (and your story) a great injustice.

Because what does a handsome man look like? What makes an expensive suit, other than the price tag? What does an expensive suit feel like, what fabric was used, what pattern, how does it sit on your character’s body? What makes that couch so damn comfortable? Would I find it comfortable or just the handsome man sitting on it?

See what kind of problems can arise when scenic placeholders survive all the way to your (beloved) reader? It leaves them with more questions than answers.

In my view, the purpose of literature is to communicate feelings, situations, and experiences; not raise trivial questions about itself.

1) A friend wanted to see it.

2) It was written and directed by Francis Ford Coppola.

3) It had an interesting tagline (Every Family Has a Secret) and summary (Bennie travels to Buenos Aires to find his long-missing older brother, a once-promising writer who is now a remnant of his former self. Bennie’s discovery of his brother’s near-finished play might hold the answer to understanding their shared past and renewing their bond.)

4) It received rave reviews.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not against film festivals, but I have found one has to be careful to avoid “challenging but rewarding” films (which is really just code for, “That movie really, really sucked, and I would like my time and money back, but I contributed to the arts, and if I remind myself of that enough times I won’t resent everyone involved for tricking me so shamelessly.”)

Unfortunately, even with four solid reasons to see the movie, I ended up seeing a challenging but rewarding movie. Rather than complain to you in the form of a negative movie review, I figured we could all gain something from the 127 minutes I spent wishing I had snuck into a different movie.

There were a few things that Francis Ford Coppola did that corrupted the storyline for me and at Recliner Books, we encounter some of those same things in manuscript submissions. So let’s look at some of those things so you can avoid them in your writing.

Problem Number One

Have you ever heard of a literary device known as “Chekhov’s Gun”? Anton Chekhov was a Russian short-story writer and playwright. I’ll let him explain his thoughts on fire arms as they pertain to storytelling.

“One must not put a loaded rifle on the stage if no one is thinking of firing it.”

“If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it’s not going to be fired, it shouldn’t be hanging there.”

This has evolved to include more than just guns but is usually limited to weapons. In the first half of the movie one of the main characters finds a gun. Even though there were plenty of reasons and opportunities for it, at no point did the gun go off. Which begs the question; why was there a gun at all?

In my opinion, this boils down to conserving your words. If you’ve written a novel you may say to yourself, “I don’t have to be as careful with my novel as I have been with my short stories; in a short story every word counts, in a novel, almost every word counts.” If this is your mindset then I hope something changes it.

I cannot stress this enough: in a novel every word matters. If your manuscript is accepted for publication, it should hurt your heart every time an editor wants to take out a word because you’ve spent so many hours agonizing over which words should go and which ones should stay. Of course, the editor will probably have a point, but I hope you know what I mean.

Problem Number Two

There are a lot of ways to dissect a story, for now I am going to say there are three parts to a story: back story (what happened before the story begins), story proper (what you write about), future story (what will happen as a result of the story proper). Generally speaking, back story should be used sparingly and future story only finds its way to the page in a sequel.

When you begin to tell a story your audience begins to form expectations about the scope of your story. Tetro messed with my expectations and as a result I felt like I watched three bad movies instead of one (potentially) good one.

This isn’t to say you should never experiment with the back story and story proper (if your reader feels like you are experimenting with the future story, it’s probably too long), but be prepared for some confusion, criticism, and correction.

Problem Number Three

Let your story speak for itself. One of the most discouraging things we encounter with manuscript submissions occurs when a narrator repeatedly says, “Look at how dramatic this is!!!!! Don’t you feel so bad for the protagonist???”

Obviously no one is using those exact words but their narrative is soaked in this sentiment. Good writing stands up for itself. If you’ve done your job as a writer most people who read your work will feel the feelings you want them to feel and think the things you want them to think. If you have to cheat and tell them how to feel then you haven’t done your job.

Without going into specifics; Tetro had to cheat and that’s one of the reasons it stunk. The lesson I learned: if a movie is directed by Francis Ford Coppola and written by someone else (perhaps Mario Puzo) then it might be worth a shot. If it is written and directed by Francis Ford Coppola, proceed with caution.

P.S.

Problem Number Four

To be fair, this entry is not perfect. I used the word “story” twenty-one times in this 900-word blog entry. This is also bad storytelling.

“I see you’ve replaced the first accent. I’m pretty sure that’s wrong,” I said to her.

“No, I’m quite sure it has two accents,” was her reply.

“But I looked it up. In the dictionary. It only has one accent,” the dispute continued.

“I believe the dictionary is wrong…” Oh dear, I thought.

Never before had I heard such blasphemy, questioning the dictionary? That’s a slippery slope, if you start questioning the dictionary, where does it end? Pretty soon you’ll find yourself disappearing in a puff of logic à la Douglas Adams.

In any event, the question still hadn’t been resolved so I had some research to do—and I figured I would share my findings with you, dear reader. In spelling the word in question, there are three common variations:

1) resume

2) resumé

3) résumé

I can see the reasoning behind the first option (no accents) because “English doesn’t have any accents” (according to one of the friends I polled in writing this entry). But this creates a problem as resume is a different verb (for those of you looking for bonus points this is called a heteronym) defined as: to begin again or continue after an interruption. The etymology of the word “resume” is from the Latin resumere (to re-take), whereas the etymology for the word in question is from the French résumer (to summarize).

I can also, then, see the reasoning behind the third option. The infinitive, résumer, to the past participle, résumé, is a pretty straight line.

What I can’t figure out is the second option, which is unfortunate because I think I’ve been spelling it this way for years. I was unable to find a French verb resumer, so that didn’t work. At Recliner Books we rely primarily on the Canadian Oxford Dictionary (second edition) and this is the entry for the word in question:

re•su•mé /’rezə¸mei, ’rezj℧¸mei/ noun 1 N Amer. a brief account of one’s education, experience, previous employment, and interests, usu. Submitted with job application. Also called CURRICULUM VITAE 2 a summary. [French past participle of résumer (as RESUME)]

Perhaps Recliner Books will have to reconsider our dictionary choice…

In conclusion, to rate the correctness of the three choices, I would have to go with:

1) résumé – most correct

2) resume – justifiably correct, though beware the heteronym

3) resumé – least correct (damn you, Canadian Oxford Dictionary (second edition)!)

How have you been spelling it? (all votes are 100% confidential, your name/ip address is not recorded so you are free to vote any way you like and no one will know/follow-up with you.)Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

On Friday I dropped of a manuscript for editorial review and decided to take my dog, Louis, along so we could visit Elbow Falls afterwards. But, before we get to Louis enjoying The Great Outdoors, I’d like to talk style for a bit.

Should the title be: “Louis’ Best Day Ever” or “Louis’s Best Day Ever”?

For Recliner Books’ house style we turn to The Chicago Manual of Style:

Possessives of titles and names

The possessive of a title or name is formed by adding ’s {Lloyd’s of London’s records} {National Geographic Society’s headquarters} {Dun & Bradstreet’s rating}. This is so even when the word ends in a sibilant {Dickens’s novels} {Dow Jones’s money report}, unless the word itself is formed from a plural {General Motors’ current production rate} {Applied Materials’ financial statements}. But if a word ends in a sibilant, it is acceptable (especially in journalism) to use a final apostrophe without the additional s {Bill Gates’ testimony}.

Proper nouns, letters, and numbers

The general rule covers most proper nouns, including names ending in s, x, or z, in both their singular and plural forms, as well as letters and numbers.

{Kansas’s legislature} / {the Williamses’ new house}

{Chicago’s lakefront} / {Malraux’s masterpiece}

{Burns’s poems} / {Inez’s diary}

{Marx’s theories} / {the Martinezes’ daughter}

{Berlioz’s works} / {Josquin des Prez’s motets}

{Strauss’s Vienna } / {dinner at the Browns’ (that is, at the Browns’ home)}

{Dickens’s novels} / {FDR’s legacy}

{the Lincolns’ marriage } / {1999’s heaviest snowstorm}

{Williams’s reputation}

The rule applies equally to company names that include a punctuation point.

{Yahoo!’s chief executive}

Rewording may be advisable to avoid such awkward possessives as “the Rogerses’ address”

Exceptions to the General rule:

1. Nouns plural in form, singular in meaning. {politics’ true meaning}{Recliner Books’ house style}

2. Names like “Euripedes.” {Euripedes’ tragedies}

3. Words and names ending in unpronounced “s”. {Albert Camus’ novels}

4. Other exceptions. For . . . sake expressions {for goodness’ sake}

With that bit of style behind us, here are some highlights from Louis’s best day ever:

Louis is buckled in and ready to go

Meeting a cow for the first time. I wasn't sure how close to let them get to each other.

Checking out the falls.

Elbow Falls