Guest Post: B. Morris Allen on Writing in Harmony

There’s this common misconception that the world of editing (in the sense of submitting your story to a magazine or contest) is an absolute puzzle constantly being shifted around by angry and jaded editors. In classes, writing groups, and even among non-writers, I hear it repeated that you have to have this unknowable combination of luck and talent to land a spot in a magazine, and it isn’t worth trying or learning. You got it or you don’t.

But that type of thinking leaves most people without it.

I want to say that in my years as a reader, judge, and developmental editor none of that is true. Especially about editors. We’re not shadowed goblins lying in wait to crush every writers’ dream. The reason we got into this line of work is because we want to hear a good story, a new story. We want to be entertained.

But unfortunately, most of the time, we are not. We are left wondering where’s the story.

And after a few years, I realized that most stories don’t make it because of the same reasons. Time and time again, I open a submission (always reading without knowing the info of the author) and come across the same mistakes or faults in stories that keep a cool or fun idea from making it from a submission to an acceptance. Dear writer, I’m going to tell you these faults so that you can identify them in your own stories and make it out of the slush pile.

Because I do really want to see your stories out there. Even if I never read them, someone will, and they will love them.

One of the common issues I come across are dark openings. A dark opening is when a writer aims to be mysterious but doesn’t give the reader anything to hold on to. Often, the story opens with two characters exchanging a few lines of dialogue while doing some mundane task that is an overarching metaphor for the story. That in itself isn’t bad and can be found in a lot of great stories, but where the stories fail is in how they do this.

In dark openings, characters, along with their dialogue, are usually nondescript to the point where you can’t really tell who is saying what because everyone sounds the same, and they aren’t really having a conversation but are merely stating the story in a heavy-handed way. The correct way in doing these mysterious dialogue driven openings is to use metaphor less like metaphor and more like subtext so that the point comes in without feeling like it’s being fed to the reader. And, of course, all dialogue should be distinctive to the characters, but this is even more so important in an opening.

Not only does it show the reader the characters, but it shows them that you’re an author who knows your story and characters. It builds that very necessary and crucial bridge of trust between the writer and the reader.

Another thing that holds writers back is telling their story to the reader instead of showing their story to the reader. Commonly known as telling vs showing. Based on the stories I’ve read, my theory behind this bit of advice not sinking into writers is that they misunderstand what it means to show and to tell. Writers tend to do a lot of in your face telling masking as showing. For instance, during a fight scene, the reader will get a blow by blow of flailing arms and legs.

But that is not showing.

Showing does more than just show. Showing makes the reader feel. It calls forth the image of the scene or character to the reader’s mind. There are many ways to do this, but the top way is by using descriptive language and sentence structure to control reader emotion and story. Instead of giving a blow by blow of action, give a blow by blow of evocative internal workings. How does your character feel when slicing into their foe or friend or lover? Use the right words in the right order to create magic.

The final issue that many stories have, though there are many more, is that they start too late. For a story of any length, the editor looks for whether or not the writer has introduced world, theme, problem, and character within the first paragraph. But a lot of writers, choose to open their stories with something that they think will grab the attention of the reader or will paint a picture of the setting. But what will tell an editor of place or grab their attention won’t actually cue them in on what is important to this story and to the character.

Openings should introduce world, character, and problem at least on the first page. When it is not introduced, the editor is left wondering where the story is going, instead of wrapped up in its progression.

As you will have noticed, most of these issues happen in a story’s opening. That’s the only space you really have to win a reader or an editor over. And editors can feel or sense whether or not the story they dive into is written by a writer that knows what they are doing or by a writer who is just phoning it in because they don’t think they have to try.

If you take issue with this article and feel as though I am lying to you, then I leave you with this: it is my firm belief that every writer should become a slush reader, so that they may see the wide array of mistakes laden in stories. It will not only help you realize your own faults, but it will also show you that I am right.

BIO: Aigner Loren Wilson is a SFWA, HWA, and Codex writer whose stories and articles have appeared in Terraform, Rue Morgue, Arsenika, and more. She writes or edits for Strange Horizons, Nightlight: A Horror Podcast, NYC Midnight, and other outlets. To keep up to date on where she is publishing and other news, sign up for her newsletter, follow her on Instagram, or follow her blog.

If you’re an author or other fantasy and science fiction creative, and want to do a guest blog post, please check out the guest blog post guidelines. Or if you’re looking for community from other F&SF writers, sign up for the Rambo Academy for Wayward Writers Critclub!

Things are tense these days. I hope I’m not shocking anyone by saying that. There’s a lot of negative emotions going around, and people deal with them in different ways. One of the healthier ways is to engage with a good movie, game, book, or other form of media and get lost in a story. As a person empathizes with characters, they achieve catharsis as they experience their emotional journey together with the characters they empathize with. People enjoy dramas to release their sadness, they enjoy action to feel power over a world which often shows them to be powerless. Some enjoy horror for the endorphin rush, or to release pent up negative emotions in a more healthy way than going to the hardware store and looking for a chainsaw that’s light enough to chase someone with, yet not so light that it can’t get the job done.

Um, for example.

You get the idea. Engaging with stories in all of these genres help emotions to be released, and these genres are taken more or less seriously as their own entity. They win awards, they get critical acclaim. People feel like they can discuss them as art.

But what about comedy?

Comedy provokes laughter, which is a way to achieve catharsis, too. Laughter is a bonding experience. Laughter allows us to cope with horrible situations. Laughter is, well, fun. Yet, somehow comedy doesn’t get the respect it deserves.

What is the last purely comedic book you read? Not the action-comedy, horror-comedy, romantic comedy, etc. It might be hard to remember.

It seems most times comedy is only accepted when it tags along with another genre. If genres were families, comedy would be the little brother that horror, action, romance, mystery, westerns, science fiction, fantasy, and drama are forced to drag along with them if they want to go out and play.

If you look at Amazon, or any other place to buy books, you’ll probably notice the comedy/humor section is dwarfed by the other genres. In fact, it’s lumped in with crosswords and other puzzles in some stores.

Why is that? Probably because comedy doesn’t sell. Somehow comedic novels don’t get the same attention as other genres, which is why they have to piggy-back onto them. It’s hard to figure out why. On the surface, comedic novels have the same elements as other genres. They have a beginning, middle and end. They have a plot and they have characters.

Maybe that’s where things start to fall apart. People read books for the plot; they read a series because of the characters. As the purpose of a comedy is to laugh, it’s often true that comedic novels don’t have the level of character development that other genres have, and the stakes aren’t often that high. And that’s where the trouble really lies. People need to care what happens in a book for it to grab their attention for long. Sure, some comedic books have deep characters and intricate plots, but chances are that it’s going to get a hyphen with some other genre coming first added to it to sell more copies.

So, wait. Maybe comedy novels are more popular than they first appear. True, the “pure” comedy book isn’t in fashion at the moment, but that doesn’t mean the genre is failing. On the contrary, comedic novels are doing better than ever, thanks to the expectations of modern-day readers.

Unlike in other eras, readers don’t want just one thing. No, they want at least a little of many things. Hybrid genres keep emerging constantly. Weird West, GameLit, and other genre blending categories give people more of what they want, before they even knew they wanted it. And do you know what? I bet they’ve all got a few jokes in them, too. Really, the hyphen is a friend. It’s the hook that gets comedy into your books, into your hands, and into your head.

By latching onto a larger genre, like a parasite, comedy sneaks into your favorite genres without you even noticing. Or like ninjas. Let’s say comedic books are giggle ninjas instead of parasites. Still sneaky, but less slimy. The point is, that fantasy book that made you laugh more than want to swing a sword around was a comedy novel. The horror story that made you chortle with almost shameful glee every time someone bit the big one was humor in disguise.

Comedy doesn’t have an ego. It doesn’t care if it gets second billing. No, comedy is flexible. It adapts to survive, to thrive. Like a thief in the night, comedy comes, does what it set out to do, and leaves. The hero still defeats the evil mastermind, the prince still wins the heart of the prince, princess, or whoever they’ve been trying to win over, and so on. They just do it with a little snark, a bit of whimsy, and the occasional laugh out loud moment.

Comedy never left, and it isn’t going anywhere, even if you can’t quite see it at the moment.

BIO: Noah Sturdevant is a man of many secrets. Granted, most of his secrets involve lost socks and conspiracy theories about otters, so it’s probably better not to probe too deeply. Noah is originally from the U.S.A., and currently lives in Thailand with his wife and daughter. Noah never really knows what’s going on and isn’t sure why he’s writing about himself in the third person, but he hopes you enjoy his books, which you can find on Amazon.

Quick Draw! is an anthology of humorous flash fiction, with some of the biggest names in speculative fiction. In times like these a quick laugh is something we could all use. All profits from the sale of this anthology go to True Colors United, which helps homeless LGBTQ+ teens.

If you’re an author or other fantasy and science fiction creative, and want to do a guest blog post, please check out the guest blog post guidelines. Or if you’re looking for community from other F&SF writers, sign up for the Rambo Academy for Wayward Writers Critclub!