The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes - Jack M. Bickham [28]
As to the other matter—use of synonyms for the simple attribution word "said"—I really believe things are more serious. "Said" is a transparent word—a pointer to a who who said something. Any other attribution word will stick out and perhaps distract the reader without need, unless the situation really does demand a "scream" or a "sigh" or a "shout." You should use the invisible word "said" about 90 percent of the time. Of course you will use other words like "asked," "replied," "told," etc.—when the context makes such a word obviously appropriate. But you should use even these only when it really does seem natural in context.
If you've been guilty of using every synonym in the thesaurus, using the simple "said" will worry you to death for a while. It's one of those "author worries" that readers just don't think about. Believe me: If you use stage action and thoughts, and the simple verb "said," readers will be totally happy. Why distract them and wear out your thesaurus when it's not required or even smart?
Take some time to think about this one. Examine your copy critically. Are you sure the reader is going to be oriented in the ways we've discussed here? And have you fine-checked your dialogue to make sure it doesn't sound old-fashioned or eccentric? From such distinctions good writers are made; care for the reader, along with standard usages, free you to concentrate on characters and plots—the really good stuff of fiction.
20. DON'T ASSUME YOU KNOW; LOOK IT UP
ALL OF US GO THROUGH LIFE assuming we understand some things that we really don't. You may think you know how to change a tire, but until you've had to do it on the side of a narrow road in a driving rainstorm, you can't be sure. Similarly, you may think you know all about some factual material that you're putting in your story, but—again—maybe you really don't.
"Gee, but I want to write fiction so I don't have to mess with facts!" you may say.
Nope. Wrong motivation. If you get a fact wrong in your story, somebody is going to notice it. Maybe the editor considering your story—maybe a thousand readers who notice it and complain to your editor after the yarn is published.
In either case, the end result will be similar to what can happen when you don't know how to change a tire beside the road: you might end up feeling like you've been run over by a truck.
Take it from one who learned the hard way. Once, long ago, in the earliest days of my writing career, I was writing a western novel. I gave my cowboy a Colt single-action revolver, a "Peacemaker" model, which he referred to as a thumb-buster.
The novel was set in 1868.
The Colt single-action model I described was not patented until 1872.
My editor missed it. You should have seen some of the irate letters I got from western history buffs—some of whom probably never bought another novel written by me.
An error of fact can not only make you look foolish. It can destroy your readership and your relationship with an editor. You simply cannot guess or assume you know. Even when you are 99 percent sure, look it up!
In one of my writing classes, I hand out a sheet with actions listed, and ask the students to tell me what would happen immediately following each action I've listed, stimulus-response fashion. One of the actions reads as follows:
He shoved the throttle of the plane to the fire wall.
Now, I ask them, what happens next?
Some blithely assume that a throttle on an airplane works like a throttle control on a tractor, or as it did on old automobiles, i. e., that pushing the throttle in will cut the engine to idle. (They may not know what the fire wall is, either, but they usually guess correctly that that's an airplane term for the instrument panel.) Anyway, not asking me for factual input, they guess—and write something like: The plane's engine slowed.
Which would make the plane slow down if on the roll, or its nose dip sharply