M F ALFREY

Unpacking your prose

As an indie writer and an editor, I get asked this question from time to time, and see it posed on social media a lot. It is a seemingly innocent question and usually asked by those new to creative writing. There are many answers to this, of course, but here in this brief article I will focus on something I have noticed that catches most newer writers out but also may hound experienced writers too: words and phrases that hide or summarise complex emotions.

These come in various shapes and sizes but all have one thing in common: they are vague and weak when it comes to showing a reader the world on the page. Unpacking your prose is crucial. First though, why does it happen, even with the pros?

Drafting is the crucible of creation

There is a lot going on in those tender moments when an author pens down a story in its infancy. The writer is carrying an entire world, its rules, and its people in their head (and notes), whilst furtively trying to communicate their vision on the page. At least for some, that is what it feels like. For others, it feels like a steep climb and rocks are tumbling down at them knocking their vision from their heads and they are just getting down what they can until the second draft comes along.

The point is, no matter how well you write, or the method you use, there will still be some dud sentences, flat prose, and lifeless dialogue. No one writes an absolutely perfect story straight off the cuff. There is always something that could be better. While in the initial stages of writing a new story (particularly for those new to writing), what lands on the page in some places may be gold, but in others it will likely be something I think of as placeholder text.

I am sure you are familiar with the term elsewhere. It stands to the same use when creatively writing, and usually presents itself as: clichés, common idioms, well-worn phrases, unconsciously favoured vocabulary (your idiolect), and unimaginative or plain vocabulary.

Below is a case study demonstrating what a first draft and unpacked redraft might look like:

Case study – a rough draft

Luther ran down the hall and stopped. He looked left and right, then he dared to glance behind. The creature was coming. Already it had grown twice its size, its fat bulbous eyes veiny and fixed on him.

‘Get back!’ he screamed in terror.

The creature made no reaction and then, just when Luther thought the game was up, the door to his left opened and as luck would have it, Olivia appeared.

‘What are you waiting for, an invitation? Come on!’ she shouted at him energetically.

So, this is not terrible, but there are a lot of opportunities to make this scene pull its weight a little more. As writers, we are aiming at giving our readers an emotional experience. We want to raise tension and release it at some point. We also want to show personality in our characters. To do that, there are several things we can do: communicate goal, role, and risk; and unpack the weak and clichéd language. Let’s look at the example again:

Case study – “unpacked” and redrafted

Luther sprinted down the hall. Come on, come on, there has to be an end to this bloody corridor. He came skidding to a stop. Oh crap, no. Please! The hall ended with three doors. Luther snapped his gaze left, then right.

Which one? Which one? The building was crawling with these nightmarish creatures; hiding in nooks, in the ceiling … behind doors. Which one, which o—

A screech from behind ripped through him and Luther threw his back to the central door and his bladder decided to empty itself right then and there.

The creature in front of him had swollen twice its original size and now filled the hall. Bulging eyes fixed on him, and that grin – so many teeth.

‘N-n-no! Please!’ Luther flung up his hands. ‘P-p-please. No!’ His clammy back pressed hard against the door, his sneakers slipping and sliding in his own urine.

The creature snarled as it slowly approached likely knowing Luther was paralysed by its mere presence. It was right in his face, its breath hot and putrid. Just when Luther had resigned to being the thing’s lunch, the door to his left was flung open.

‘Olivia!’ he squeaked.

Olivia grabbed Luther by the wrist. ‘Do you want to die? Come the hell on!’ She yanked him through the doorway, said, ‘Nice try, fish face!’ and slammed the door in the creature’s slathering mouth.

Summary ­– popping the suitcase

Several things have been done here. You may notice the scene is bigger now in terms of wordcount. This goes with the territory of unpacking. Before, the scene was a crammed suitcase. Now, the suitcase has been popped open and its contents exposed.

Another aspect is that there is more dialogue. Inner monologue and external dialogue have been used to show the characters’ mental state and personality. The goal is also shown through Luther’s thoughts: he needs to find an exit, but other creatures could be behind those doors, so now there is a dilemma, and tension is raised. We also get the idea that the corridor was very long and he has been wandering down it for quite some time. Again, that is shown by internal thoughts, not told through exposition.

Action, too, has been added. “Sprinting” is a much more dynamic verb than “run” and shows Luther’s desperation. “Swollen” is better than “grown” because it also gives the reader a clue as to how the creature has increased in size. Further action shows the severity of the situation when Luther wets himself in fear. He truly believes this is the end and hopefully so will the reader. The tension is increased again. The door being “flung” open is much more emotive, and Luther shows us it is Olivia through his speech rather than through exposition.

Olivia’s character is much more rounded in this brief scene. The reason is dialogue and action. She shows us what she thinks of Luther by her reaction to him and she shows us how scared she isn’t with her cheeky one-liner before slamming the door in the creature’s face. This provides release as there is now a barrier between them and the beast but also provides comedy relief from an intense scene, thus playing on two common horror-genre tropes.

This is by no means a comprehensive guide to fixing shaky prose, but I hope it raises in your mind just what can be unpacked from a seemingly “finished” paragraph or sentence.

Try it out for yourself

Try unpacking the second example. Can you improve on the improvements? The next stage would be to see if you can reduce the wordcount and make the sentences even more hardworking.

So, remember: dialogue is a powerful “showing” tool, so is action, and interaction with the environment. Seek out those weak words, and over-used idioms, and you’ll be onto a winner: tighter and more emotive prose.

Recommeded reading

A classic style guide every writer should read at least once, but likely you’ll refer back to it again and again: The Elements of Style

And for a deep dive, this is one I’ve always come back to: Writing Fiction for Dummies. I used to be put off by the branding of the Dummies books, but this really is a great comprhensive guide for the first-time writer.