Learn to write 101 by Kimberly Jackson (free e novels TXT) 📖

tense is inconsistent. Change "falls" to "fell" and you have no problem.
In number 2, the first verb ("barks") is in the present tense; the second ("crawled") is in the past. Again, there is no logical reason for the shift. Switch "crawled" to "crawls," and you're okay. (Obviously which verb or verbs you change will depend on the meaning of your sentences.)
If you haven't noticed, the key to all this is logical reason. If you need to make a tense shift for your ideas to make sense, then make it. If you write a sentence like, "Ilive in Amarillo, but two years ago I lived in Atlanta."--there's nothing wrong. You're showing a logical relation between the past and the present.
Pronouns: point of view
To make sure your pronouns are consistent, check their point of view (the person they refer to). Person is nothing more than identifying who is speaking or being spoken about. There are three types: first-person ("I," "we"); second-person ("you"); andthird-person ("he," "they").
Your point of view is inconsistent if you switch person without any "logical reason" (there's that phrase again). A couple of examples should give you the idea:
1. I like to eat when Peggy is in the backyard because you don't have to worry about her getting in the way.
2. Even though Doc tries to keep her in another room, you still have to worry.
Think about it. Why would "you" worry if "I" have a problem? I'm the one who's worried, so the sentence should show that: "I like to eat when Peggy is in the backyard because I don't have to worry. . . ." See the problem and how to fix it?
A final suggestion:
In both sentences, the problem occurs with a shift to "you." Simply avoid using "you"anywhere in your paper. It will help your problems with inconsistent point of view, and it will make your writing sound more objective (but that's different topic). Trust me on this one!


Remember our discussion of subjects? (If you need a review, click here.) A subject is "a word or phrase in a sentence that denotes the doer of the action [or] the receiver of the action in passive constructions."
To tell if a construction is active or passive simply look at the subject:
o If the subject is the "doer of the action," the sentence is active.
o If the subject is the "receiver of the action," the sentence is passive.
That's pretty easy. If you do something, you're active; if you have something done to you, you're passive. Compare the examples:
Active

o Peggy ate the bone.
o Big Dog chased the police car.
o We ate every bite of food.
Passive
o The bone was eaten by Peggy.
o The police car was chased by Big Dog.
o Every bite of food was eaten by us.
Generally, you want to make your sentences active whenever you can. Active sentences make your writing stronger, more forceful.


Lynda Barry’s Pep Talk
Dear Writer,
Reconsider your hand. Reconsider writing by hand. There is a kind of story that comes from hand. Writing which is different from a tapping-on-a-keyboard-kind-of-story. For one thing, there is no delete button, making the experience more life like right away. You can’t delete the things you feel unsure about and because of this, the things you feel unsure about have a much better chance of being able to exist long enough to reveal themselves. And the physical activity of writing by hand involves many parts of the brain which are used in story making such as time, place, action, characters, relationships, and moving forward across an entire connected gesture. And that’s just what goes on when we write a single
letter by hand.
Although word count goals may be harder to reach, your body will not feel as tired as it does after a day spent tapping buttons and staring at a lit screen, especially if you write a bit longer than you usually do.
Another thing to reconsider is reading over what you have written. If you can stand to wait 24 hours before you decide the fate of what you have written—either good or bad—you’re more likely to see that invisible thing that is invisible for the first few days in any new writing. We just can’t know what all is in a sentence until there are several sentences to follow it. Pages of writing need more pages in order to be known, chapters need more chapters. The 24 hour period will give you time to create more of the things the writing needs. 48 hours is even better, and a week is ideal.
Can you keep your story going for a week without reading anything over? You’ll find you can. You’ll find that being able to rely on this ability will help you let one word follow the next without fussing as much as you do when you believe it’s the thinking and planning part of your mind that is writing the story. There is another part of the mind which has an
ability for stories, for holding all the parts and presenting them bit by bit, but it’s not the same as the planning part of the mind. Nor is it the thing called ‘unconscious’—it is without a doubt quite conscious when we are engaged in the physical activity which allows it to be active. This something is what deep playing contains when we are children and fully engaged by rolling a toy car and all who are inside of it toward the table edge. The word imagination isn’t quite right for it either because it also leaves out the need for moving an object—a toy, a pen or pencil tip—across an area in the physical world. It’s a very old, human thing, using physical activity along with thing ‘thing’ that is neither all the
way inside of us nor all the way outside of us. Stories happen in that place between the two. The Image world isn’t anywhere else. A computer can give you a neat looking page, higher word count and delete and copy and past abilities, but they are poor producers of the thing the hand brings about much more easily: Right here, right now, the pane of paper that the paper windows and walls require to give is the inside view, the vista.
You can’t know what a book is about until the very end. This is true of a book we’re reading or writing.
Writing by hand is like walking instead of riding in a car. It’s slower, to be sure, but you’ll smell the smoke if you’re near a house that is about to burst into flame. You’ll hear the shouting from a fight about to break out in a back yard. You’ll be able to help the dog who comes running by with his leash attached and dragging behind him, and be able to help the person who has lost him calling his name. This will make writing more like living
and less like watching television.
When writing by hand, when the story dries up temporarily—as it always does, try keeping your pen in motion anyway by writing the alphabet a b c d e f g in the middle of the sentence a b c d e f g h i j k until the sentence rolls forward again on its own. Just keep your pen steadily rolling along through time, for a good time.
Best! Love!
Lynda Barry
To learn more about Lynda Barry’s work, visit her website!


Piers Anthony’s Pep Talk
Dear Writer,
You’re a fool. You know that, don’t you? Because only a fool would try a stunt as crazy as this. You want to write a 50,000 word novel in one month?! Do you have sawdust in your skull? When there are so many other more useful things you could be doing, like cleaning up the house and yard, taking a correspondence course in Chinese, or contributing your time and effort to a charitable cause? Whatever is possessing you?
Consider the first card of the Tarot deck, titled The Fool. There’s this young man traipsing along with a small dog at his heel, toting a bag of his worldly goods on the end of his wooden staff, carrying a flower in his other hand, gazing raptly at the sky—and about to step off a cliff, because he isn’t watching his feet. A fool indeed. Does this feel familiar? It should. You’re doing much the same thing. What made you ever think you could bat out a bad book like that, let alone write anything readable?
So are you going to give up this folly and focus on reality before you step off the cliff? No? Are you sure? Even though you know you are about to confirm the suspicion of your dubious relatives, several acquaintances, and fewer friends that you never are going to amount to anything more than a dank hill of beans? That you’re too damned oink-headed to rise to the level of the very lowest rung of common sense?
Sigh. You’re a lost soul. So there’s no help for it but to join the lowly company of the other aspect of The Fool. Because the fact is, that Fool is a Dreamer, and it is Dreamers who ultimately make life worthwhile for the unimaginative rest of us. Dreamers consider the wider universe. Dreamers build cathedrals, shape fine sculptures, and yes, generate literature. Dreamers are the artists who provide our rapacious species with some faint evidence of nobility.
So maybe you won’t be a successful novelist, or even a good one. At least you are trying. That, would you believe, puts you in a rarefied one percent of our kind. Maybe less than that. You aspire to something better than the normal rat race. You may not accomplish much, but it’s the attitude that counts. As with mutations: 99% of them are bad and don’t survive, but the 1% that are better are responsible for the evolution of species to a more fit state. You know the odds are against you, but who knows? If you don’t try, you’ll never be sure whether you might, just maybe, possibly, have done it. So you do have to make the effort, or be forever condemned in your own bleary eyes.
Actually, 50,000 words isn’t hard. You can write “Damn!” 50,000 times. Oh, you want a readable story! That will be more of a challenge. But you know, it can be done. In my heyday, before my wife’s health declined and I took over meals and chores, I routinely wrote 3,000 words a day, taking two days a week off to answer fan mail, and 60,000 words a month was par. Now I try for 1,500 and hope for 2,000. That will do it. If you write that much each day, minimum, and go over some days, you will have your quota in the month. On the 10th of the month of August, 2008, I started writing my Xanth novel Knot Gneiss, about the challenge of a boulder that turns out to be not stone but a huge petrified knot of reverse wood that terrifies anyone who approaches it. Petrified = terrified, get it? And by the 30th I had 35,000 words. That’s the same pace. If I can do it in my doddering old age—I’m 74—you can do it in your relative youth.
Of course you need ideas. You can garner them from anywhere. I noticed that our daily newspaper comes in a plastic bag that is knotted. The knot’s too tight to undo without a lot of effort, so I just rip it open to get at the goodies inside. It’s a nuisance; I wish they’d leave it loose. But I thought, maybe there’s this cute delivery girl who has a crush on me, and she ties a love-knot to let me know. Not that at my age I’d know what