
“Sticks and stones may break
your bones,but words
can never hurt me.”
your bones,but words
can never hurt me.”
—Old adage from 1862
Yeah, right.
Julie here, and trust me, if you’re a writer, words can not only hurt a lot, but they can cripple the message you’re trying to convey to your readers. And let’s face it, the very last thing an author wants to write is a “lame” novel.
The truth is, for writers, one solitary word can hurt you if it doesn’t work in tandem with your scene, your dialogue, or your message. As authors, we paint pictures for our readers, creating a story in their minds. But if that picture or story doesn’t match with your choice of words, it can completely derail your message, such as in the header picture above of my sweet granddaughter when she said, "Mommy, I found a cherry book!"
You see, my daughter-in-law takes her children to the library and bookstores on a regular basis, and I have to tell you, when she sent the picture above after my granddaughter found a cherry book she wanted to read, I laughed out loud. Not just because it’s funny, but because it reminded me just how important the right word is to the strength of a story.
You see, my daughter-in-law takes her children to the library and bookstores on a regular basis, and I have to tell you, when she sent the picture above after my granddaughter found a cherry book she wanted to read, I laughed out loud. Not just because it’s funny, but because it reminded me just how important the right word is to the strength of a story.
That said, I thought it might be fun to demonstrate ways we can make good words even better, and one good example I have is from one of my favorite TV shows, Person of Interest. One of the main characters, Harold Finch, is a sweet and gentle professor type who almost never loses his temper. But in this one scene where someone he cared about was being put in danger, he tells the perpetrator, “I have two modes: Calm and furious.” I remember being somewhat disappointed at that line because I thought it could be so much stronger, such as in a similar statement I made to someone once about my temper: “I only have two modes: Sweet and Rip-Your-Tonsils-Out.”
Now, admittedly, I’m a bonafide CDQ (caffeinated drama queen) and not a screenwriter, but I do think the right words—powerful words—can add punch to your story by evoking emotions and adding depth, humor, impact, power, and so much more. I mean, think about it—how much power or impact would there have been in the ending of Gone With the Wind if Rhett had said, “"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a poop."
Ouch.
It’s downright painful how the wrong word can transform a strong, hulking man into a total ninny, isn’t it? And as a romance writer who LOVES alpha-male heroes (who doesn’t??), I cannot emphasize enough how important the “write” word is, not only in describing our characters, but in every sentence of our novels.
I once read a pretty good book where the heroine—a shy, quiet thing—had just suffered a tragedy. Now mind you, I was engaged in this very low-key scene, completely feeling the angst of her misfortune, tears and all, when BOOM! The author ends the scene by having her 18-year-old heroine “skipping” out of the house and down the street to see her good friend. No, No, NO! Words must fit in with the mood and the sense of the scene or they will rip the reader right out with a scrunch of their brows, a gaping jaw, or in my case with this particular scene, a comment such as “Are you kidding me?”
So, here are just a few of my favorite ways to add power to a story with the “write” words.
Her scent of lilac water and Pear’s soap captured him, tangling his tongue—and his stomach—into more knots than the clover necklace Tillie had strung around neck.
In the same scene as above, I also wanted to show the heroine’s blush in a more potent way, so I created a "red" barn as one of the scenery pieces to do just that.
Her eyes connected with his and instantly her face fused as scarlet as the paint on the brush in his hand, the memory of his stolen kiss the night on her porch obviously coming to mind.
Marcy stood at Mrs. Gerson’s kitchen window, in bleak harmony with the rivulets of water that slithered down the pane. It was a slow and steady rain, endless weeping from a gray and dismal sky, and Marcy felt a kinship with it. It showed no signs of letting up, much like the grief in her heart over the loss of her husband. A silent mourning over a spouse who was still very much alive, but whose love was as cold and dead as any corpse.
He stood staring out the mahogany French doors, one palm braced to the wall, his charcoal suit coat strained against broad shoulders. Wisps of dark hair curled up on his high collar, typical for a man too consumed with obligations to take time for his barber. She noted the gray French Mossant fedora casually tossed on the cordovan loveseat as if he expected to stay and was making himself at home, also typical of the man she intended to show the door.
He reached in his jacket and hurled a wad of bills on the bar. “To the devil with my future. It might as well fry with the past.”
He wheeled around and bludgeoned his way through the crowd, riling customers on his way out. Outside, the bitter cold assailed him, tinged with the smells of burning peat and the slight whiff of horses. He could hear the faint sound of laughter and singing drifting from the various pubs tucked along the cobblestone road. His anger swelled.
He flung his car door open and chucked the bottle on the passenger seat. Mumbling under his breath, he rounded the vehicle to rotate the crank, gyrating the lever with such ferocity that it rattled unmercifully. The engine growled to life, its vicious roar rivaling the angst in his gut. He got in the car and slammed the door, slapping the headlights on with a grunt. With a hard swipe of the steering wheel, he jerked the car away from the curve and exhaled a loud breath.
It was happening again. He was finally past the pain of one sister and now it was beginning with the other. He gunned the vehicle down Lower Abbey Street, nearly bashing a pedestrian who probably wouldn’t have felt a thing, given the near-empty bottle in his hand. Mitch gritted his teeth. That’s what women did to you—drove you to the bottom of a bottle where you drowned in your own liquid travail. He yanked his tie off, loosening his shirt to let the frigid air cool the heat of his anger. Thoughts of Charity suddenly surfaced, and a heat of another kind surged through his body. He swore out loud, the coarse sound foreign to his ears. He turned the corner on a squeal. The bottle careened across the seat and slammed into his leg.
He’d been without a woman way too long. Once, his appetite had been voracious. But Faith had changed all that. Her sincerity, her purity, her honesty. She had ruined him for other women. Since she’d left, he’d had no inclination, no interest. No desire.
Until now.
Now I ask you—take a look at each of these sentences from the clip above and tell me which you prefer to convey the appropriate anger in this scene, A or B?
A) He turned and made his way through the crowd, disturbing customers on his way out.
OR
B) He wheeled around and bludgeoned his way through the crowd, riling customers on his way out.
______________________
A) He opened his car door and threw the bottle on the passenger seat. Mumbling under his breath, he rounded the vehicle to rotate the crank, turning the lever till it shook.
OR
B) He flung his car door open and chucked the bottle on the passenger seat. Mumbling under his breath, he rounded the vehicle to rotate the crank, gyrating the lever with such ferocity that it rattled unmercifully.
______________________
A) The engine came to life, its rumbling rivaling the upset in his gut. He got in the car and closed the door, turning the headlights on. With a swivel of the steering wheel, he pulled the car away from the curve and exhaled a loud breath.
OR
B) The engine growled to life, its vicious roar rivaling the angst in his gut. He got in the car and slammed the door, slapping the headlights on with a grunt. With a hard swipe of the steering wheel, he jerked the car away from the curve and exhaled a loud breath.
MAJOR TIP FOR POWER WORDS!
Two of the BEST online thesauruses I have ever come across are the OneLook Reverse Dictionary, a website I keep open constantly when I write. Here’s the link: http://onelook.com/reverse-dictionary.shtml. And my second favorite is Thesaurus.com, which I keep on my favorites bar: http://www.thesaurus.com/.
Okay, that’s just a few of the ways I use words to my advantage, but there are many, many more, so feel free to tell us your favorites as well.
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