Slushpile Sins #1 …
Filed under: Slushpile Sins/Writing
This is the first in a series of posts outlining some things I’ve noticed in reading short story slush for our upcoming Carnvah House anthology, “The Infinity Swords,” and in reading slush for ezines and submissions for critique groups. I’m going to highlight some things that got stories bounced from consideration. I won’t identify authors or specific stories, because my purpose isn’t to embarrass anyone. And I should add I’ve committed most of these slushpile sins myself, so if you recognize yourself in any of these posts you should realize you’re not alone.
Uneven Tone
This is a common problem. Basically, the story starts in one vein, then shifts into something else entirely, then zigs back into the first mode, then on to something else.
Changing of tone is not in itself a bad thing. It’s one way to keep a reader engaged, for one thing: a story that starts out with an amusing group of friends rattling off great, witty dialogue, then shifts into horror or suspense, can work rather well. Or maybe a terrific battle sequence gives way to a quieter mood, as the combatants ponder what their fighting has accomplished or failed to accomplish. That’s good stuff, artistry.
Then there is the other kind of literary mood swing, the kind that jolts the reader into “WTF?” mode. In this kind of story, a paragraph of hilarity is followed by one of pathos, or a gritty realistic tone goes completely by the wayside once swords are drawn; suddenly, heads are lopped off and bouncing everywhere in a story that up to then had been utterly realistic.
In one story I read recently, the author described a huge battle. One of the combatants brought powerful magic to the fight, and suddenly bodies were being ripped apart in huge, over-the-top fashion, described in phrases worthy of Monty Python or “Shaun of the Dead.” It was quite funny, actually, and had the rest of the story been written in a similar vein it might have worked on a so-gross-it’s-funny level.
But no. Aside from the fact that the earlier portions of the story weren’t quite so over-the-top, there was the sudden jolt after the flying body parts — in which the author tugged at the heartstrings by reminding readers of the widows and children who would never know what became of those who’d been blasted into bloody bits. The paragraph referring to all this wasn’t badly written or anything, and it was nice to see a writer look beyond the immediate scene for a moment and mention the repercussions. But the juxtaposition in this case was way too sudden, and way too discordant.
Other editors may view things differently, but for me it was impossible to go instantly from laughing out loud at the extreme carnage to plunging into the emotional depths. It just wasn’t going to happen, and the writer lost me right there.
The odd transition took me out of the story and made me realize a “duh!” moment. The combatants who lost their lives died in extraordinarily, spectacularly bloody fashion, all in an instant, in front of plenty of witnesses. well, people talk. Word of something like that gets around, and the poor widows and children of the slain certainly bloody well would know what became of their loved ones.
That gives me a nice transition to the next installment of “Slushpile Sins” — visualize, visualize, visualize. Stay tuned.
Oh, and feel free to comment.
– Steve
Hello, and welcome to the blog of a sword-and-sorcery writer. Most of the stuff here is about writing fiction, but you'll also find some stuff about beer and Godzilla, a few bits of Zen, really short film reviews and my now-and-then rants about social injustice.Use the box below to search for topics within this blog.You also can find topics by category, using the list further down in this sidebar.
That’s a good point– a little like mixing orange juice and toothpaste. Not easy to check without paying careful attention to composition, but certainly something to watch out for.
The example you picked had me laughing out loud, by the way.
Welcome, Eliza, O Fantasy Scribbler …
That was the strongest example I could think of, but there are loads of others. Often, it just seems the opening of a story was written by one person and the rest by someone else.
Did you find your way here via the Bragging Rites forum?
– Steve
I suffer from this every now and then. For me, it’s usually because I start with a certain feeling or vibe for a story, but then I lose it somewhere in the middle. Sometimes it’s just because I lose interest, other times it’s because I don’t always know where I’m going and I begin to flounder. In other cases, it’s simply because I set the story aside for too long before getting back to it, and I’ve lost the emotional resonance I felt for the piece.
I’m just talking short stories here. With novels, I don’t think I suffer as much from this, mainly because in writing longer works I tend to get into a “zone” that’s not so tied to the emotion of a piece as it is just getting the story out.
What bugs me is when an author tries to show the lighter or human side of the MC. When a serious, macho and/or conflicted hero suddenly breaks into giggling or humorous byplay, it’s just LAME. Very hard to do well. (Not talking about anyone here!)
Ellie: I know what you mean. Showing humor is generally a good thing — a great way to get to know someone’s character is to learn what they think is funny. But in fiction it should be organic and consistent; sometimes it seems the writer said, “OK, I gotta show this guy’s humorous side now” and then just inserted a joke.
– Steve
I’ve often wondered where this (insertion of random humor in the midst of a battle) comes from. I think it started with Dirty Harry’s one liners.
Humor is way to dicey — subjective — and that makes it almost always a “think twice, then don’t do it” proposition when it comes to inserting it in an otherwise “serious” story.
Hysterical laughter/reaction during/after/before a hack-’em-up can accentuate the fear/humanity of the situation, but trying to slip some yuk-yuk amid the gore is ultimately just yucky.
It just requires some fine-tuning of the writer’s ear. Too often, we get in a rush and don’t let a story or passage ferment… and the Internet and computers in general are a great enabler of not letting a story ripen.
My two cents, anyway.
Yep, I did, indeed, write and send “way to dicey” … guess it’s bed time, toooooo late, anyway.
Humor probably is the toughest thing to write. Well, OK, Aramaic probably is the toughest thing to write. But humor is high on the list.
– Steve