Those who have lived through trauma or with an invisible illness may feel as though they are alone in their experiences, especially when their concerns are dismissed or medical professionals tell them they can’t find anything wrong. But fiction can become the place where we find connection and see ourselves reflected. In The Scald-Crow, author Grace Daly uses compassion, empathy, and humor to give a voice to pain that is often left unseen and unspoken.

How did you develop Brigid’s voice and what role did choice of POV play in how this story was told?

 

I chose to write the story in first-person present POV because I like the immediacy of that perspective; staying tightly focused on an individual character’s view makes the story feel intimate, and the present perspective forces the reader to feel as though they are experiencing events in time with the character. It’s a great fit for horror/comedy as a genre because it makes it much easier to pull the reader into the emotional stakes of the world I’m writing, and both horror and comedy thrive on emotion.

Brigid’s voice is inspired partially by my own internal thoughts when I was younger and at my very lowest; she has markedly different traits than I do (she is less outgoing, gentler, and more conscientious than I am!) but much of her struggle with her physical and mental health is inspired directly by my own.

 

There is a noticeable shift in language when Brigid’s pain is at its worst. What led to this decision?  

 

This was, again, based on my own lived experience with chronic pain and severe dysmenorrhea. When my pain reaches a certain level of severity, my mental functioning takes a massive hit: thoughts are difficult to organize, intense emotion runs the show, and it’s nearly impossible to perceive anything other than my suffering. Since the reader is actively in Brigid’s head in the first-person present POV, I took the opportunity to try to convey the internal experience of mind-shattering pain.

 

How would her story have been different if her illness wasn’t invisible?

 

I think The Scald-Crow would be a completely different book if Brigid’s disability was apparent to the naked eye! Much of the tension and her internal conflict rests on the fact that she doesn’t trust her own perception of events due to the gaslighting from both her childhood trauma and medical trauma; if her illness was easily apparent, she would not have experienced the intense medical gaslighting feeding her self-doubt.

 

What parallels were there between Brigid wondering if her illness was in her head and doubting what she sees occurring in the house?

 

Medical gaslighting of the sort Brigid receives, where a patient’s pain is repeatedly dismissed and left untreated, can lead to the patient believing that they are melodramatic and cannot trust their perception of what’s happening in their own body. Childhood trauma and abuse can have a similar effect, leading someone to believe that they are ultimately at fault for anything bad that happens to them and that their reactions are inappropriate. These aspects of Brigid’s background naturally led to a flip of the classic “I know what I saw” trope: Brigid has been taught and conditioned to doubt herself, and therefore passively accepts the horrors for much longer than a typical untraumatized person might.

 

How important was it to include medically accurate details?

 

Medical accuracy, and accuracy regarding how health insurance and long-term disability insurance operate, was of crucial importance in The Scald-Crow. I didn’t want Brigid’s chronic pain to be mystical or metaphorical; I wanted it to be real and visceral so actual disabled folks and people with their own chronic pain would be able to relate. In my opinion, there isn’t enough accurate and nuanced portrayals of disability in fiction, and I wanted to work to correct that lack.

 

Brigid has a traumatic childhood that she’s just now accepting for what it was with the help of her therapist and a close friend. How did you portray this turning point?

 

Brigid’s turning point truly comes from the sense that she’s trapped in an environment where the stress is becoming all-consuming. As her suffering, both physical and emotional, continues to mount, the only gentleness available to her is that coming from her tender relationships with her best friend and therapist. The healing nature of these relationships is in sharp contrast against the memories and evidence of her traumatic childhood, and helps to lead her to realize human relationships don’t have to be, and indeed shouldn’t be, agonizing.

 

How did you decide how much of her pain to share without it feeling like it became her whole persona?

 

This was a difficult needle to thread, and more than one review has suggested I didn’t succeed and too much airtime is given to her experience of pain. Ultimately, though, I based the ratio off of how I behaved and spoke during my periods of profound pain; though the pain was a large and inescapable facet of my life, I still retained aspects of myself in how I chose to deal with it, how I spoke, and how I thought. I tried to let Brigid be the same. She’s still funny and irreverent, she’s still clever and determined, and she still has concerns other than her physical body.

 

Was there anything you chose to cut because it felt gratuitous once you returned to it?

 

Certainly! The biggest cut from the original outline for The Scald-Crow was more focus on Brigid’s childhood; the original concept of the novel involved a dual timeline where the reader would experience both her childhood trauma and her adulthood medical trauma from a first-person present perspective. Ultimately, though, I decided it reduced the tension to flip between the two timelines. I could say everything I needed to about Brigid’s childhood without putting her abuse directly on-page. I’m happy with that choice; it’s resulted in a snappier, more focused novel.

 

How did you weave her arc together with the supernatural events taking place? How tightly interconnected are the two?

 

Honestly, though the supernatural elements do feed into her stress level and make it more difficult for her to tolerate her chronic pain, I wanted the supernatural horror and Brigid’s medical issues to feel separate and distinct. It was important to me that Brigid be portrayed as a regular disabled person in a horror novel, rather than the disability itself being some sort of metaphorical or mystical aspect.

 

In the author’s letter, readers are encouraged to advocate for themselves. Is this something Brigid does and why is this essential?

 

Learning to advocate for herself is a large portion of Brigid’s character growth; ultimately, she is able to learn to trust her own perception and that she is worthy of defense and care. This is crucial for everyone, but particularly for disabled folks in our modern medical system and broader society that often treats disabled folks, as well as other minorities, as disposable. In a perfect world, our value would be accepted and self-evident, but we don’t live in that world. I’d like to think, though, that by continuing the fight, we can bring our world closer to one where appropriate access to care and support is the default.

 

What type of early reader feedback have you received?

 

The early reader feedback has been mostly positive; people seem to enjoy Brigid’s voice and humor, the accessible writing style, and, of course, the heroic rescue cat. Most moving, though, has been how many people with chronic pain have reached out to tell me this was the first book they’ve read where they were able to connect with the character’s experience of chronic pain. Women and other AFAB folks with reproductive health problems in particular have connected with Brigid and found validation in her story.

 

Why is it still so important to share these types of stories?

Like any minority group, it’s important for disabled people to see themselves in stories so they can fully engage with them. It’s also important to include disabled characters to prevent us from getting ‘erased’ from the public eye; disability can make folks uncomfortable, so it gets less representation. When this happens, feelings of isolation, which many disabled folks already struggle with, can worsen.

Disability representation is also important because it increases empathy for disabled people, not only from able-bodied people who might not otherwise think about the lived experiences of disabled folks, but also, crucially, for the disabled people themselves.

 

What do you most hope readers take away after reading The Scald-Crow?

 

I hope readers see Brigid’s trauma, low self-esteem, and self-doubt contrasted with her honest and affable nature and develop empathy and compassion for her, and then extend that empathy and compassion toward those with chronic illnesses. This goes double for readers who are disabled or chronically ill themselves: I hope they are able to redirect any tenderness they feel for Brigid to themselves. Ultimately, Brigid isn’t a real person. I made her up. But there are millions of real disabled and chronically ill people who deserve agency, support, care, and understanding, and I would love for Brigid to help them receive it.

 

You can find Grace online at:

 

https://www.instagram.com/gracedalyauthor/

Grace Daly (Updates Only) (@GraceDalyAuthor) / X

Grace Daly (@gracedalyauthor.bsky.social) — Bluesky

Grace Daly on Facebook

Grace Daly

 

You can purchase a copy of The Scald-Crow at:

The Scald-Crow

We often see unconventional storytelling methods used in fiction, like text bubbles, to-do lists, and playlists. But what about in memoirs? Author Jennifer Lang has successfully used a variety of forms in her own memoirs (Landed and Places We Left Behind) and graciously agreed to be interviewed to share more about this topic. 

When did you first become interested in experimental prose?

The door cracked open after reading the late Amy Krouse Rosenthal’s memoir Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life, but it wasn’t obvious. I loved what she did on different pages—using graphs and fonts and images and more—but didn’t understand what it was or know the word for it. A year later, the door opened wider after hearing Nora Krug present Belonging in which every page is illustrated in a unique way, resembling more of a coffee table book than a memoir.

How do other mediums inspire you to play with new methods in your writing?
So many other mediums inspire me: movies (specifically documentaries), modern dance performances (sadly, ballet makes me sleepy), live music (especially singer-songwriters and songs in different languages), art (textiles, ceramics, painting, collage). But I am thrilled to play the part of spectator with no desire to imitate or make any of these mediums.

How have readers responded to these experimental formats and devices? Was any of the feedback
surprising?

Initially, both of my books—PLACES WE LEFT BEHIND (2023) and LANDED (2024)—were written in conventional prose. While reading the submission guidelines for the first, I noticed that some publishers were open to experimental prose. With my curiosity piqued, I slid down the rabbit hole, researching online, first recreating the pro-con list about moving in with my boyfriend in 1989 and then zigzagging the text on the page as we zigged and zagged our way through the Old City of Jerusalem. What began as forced ended up organic as if the text was begging to be let out of the bag, to be shaped and sculpted. When one editor emailed to say she loved what I’d done, I felt validated, returned to the manuscript and continued playing. It was like I’d found the key to a hidden treasure box.
Many readers have responded favorably to the playful aspect of the books. I think the experimentation helps lighten what is at times a very heavy story, and for that, I am thankful.

What possibilities does it open up in storytelling that aren’t available when writing only in conventional
prose?

Everything except audio. Some people have asked about the audio book, which will never happen due to the strong visual component. Along the same lines, they don’t lend themselves to readings as much as they do conversations around the craft.

How have these experimental methods changed both how you write and how you look at the craft of
writing?

I feel free. When I teach writing at my studio, I always tell my students to know the rules and hone the craft so you can break the rules and challenge the craft. Breaking rules and challenging norms is energizing—for me—and befitting for my stage of life, in my fifties, as I reclaim my sense of self in my marriage and family. I’ve incorporated them into my shorter pieces too like “Right of Return”. Writing it this way was so much more interesting than sticking to the rules and staying within the lines. Now the only issue is can I go back to writing and abandon that experimentation?

Do you think there are any genres where it might be difficult to incorporate unconventional storytelling
methods?

My hope is to write historical fiction about my late grandfather, who emigrated from Russia to San Francisco in 1918. I sense it will be straight, traditional, conventional storytelling and inappropriate to experiment. But check in with me in three years, and I’ll let you know.

For those who’d like to explore this in their own writing, what advice would you like to give them?

As Nike says, just do it. Try it. What’s the worst that could happen? It won’t work, and you have to abandon and start a new sentence/paragraph/story.

To learn even more about this topic, please listen to Jennifer’s interview on the Writing and Editing podcast.

 

Award-winning author and editor Mekiya Outini shared invaluable insights for other editors on an episode of the Writing and Editing podcast. We continued the discussion after the show, and it is my hope that other editors will take his advice to heart to improve their professional and interpersonal skills.  

Did you always intend to edit academic materials?
Honestly, I had no game plan. I got into academic editing after working at university writing centers as a side hustle while pursuing my BFA and MFA. While I was in school and for a few years thereafter, my client base consisted almost exclusively of international students and scholars writing articles, theses, and dissertations. My first love is literary fiction, and these days, I work mainly with fiction and memoir, but I still take on academic projects from time to time. I’m a sucker for a really solid piece of academic writing, and I love to learn about subject matter that I haven’t formally studied, so I still get excited whenever an academic reaches out to me.

How did this lead to you working with EFL clients? Is this something that happened right away in your
editing career?
International students are overrepresented among university writing center clients. Native speakers need that support, too, but most of them don’t know it. The international students know it. They’re more likely to seek help. As a tutor, I had regulars from all over the world: Saudi, Chile, India, Indonesia, Japan. You name it. Most of them stuck with me after I left the writing center, even though it meant paying out of their own pockets, and some of them started referring their friends and colleagues to work with me as well.

When did you first realize you might need to take a different approach when editing for EFL clients?
I take a case-by-case approach to all new clients. It was only in retrospect, after I’d already worked with a few dozen EFL regulars, that I started noticing distinct patterns, in their writing and in the methods that proved useful to them, that differed from those prevalent among native speakers.

Can you explain how this editing style might differ from what’s found in common guidance for academic editors?
In many cases, it’s a difference of degree rather than kind. The likelihood of miscommunication is higher. The stakes are also higher because the client is often on a shoestring budget and/or on a scholarship that depends on their doing well in school.
In terms of substance, international students and scholars tend to have a better grasp of the subject matter than native speakers and a clearer understanding of what they want to say, but less competence when it comes to actually saying it. If they’re studying at a university in a foreign country, they’ve already been through a highly competitive screening process. (In practice, those slots sometimes go to whomever has the most money, but there’s still stiff competition that weeds out the less competent scholars who might’ve gotten in if they were native-born citizens.) Conceptually, then, the internationals are on top of it, but execution-wise, they struggle. Little things tend to trip them up: phrasal verbs, for example, are an absolute nightmare for EFL writers. They lead to all sorts of syntactical contortions, and simply altering or dropping the preposition can yield major unintended changes in meaning. The worst a native speaker is likely to do with a phrasal verb, by contrast, is to end a sentence with the preposition. I’ve found that with EFL writers especially, it’s unwise to start with what’s on the page. Start with a conversation about what they intended to put on the page. Then, once you’ve got that in your head, turn to the page, assess what’s there, and help the client understand what’s working and where they went wrong.

Additionally, international students tend to be more motivated to accept and apply feedback, but also more likely to say that they’ve understood your feedback when they haven’t. As the editor, you’ve got to develop strategies for double- and triple-checking that they’ve understood what you said without their realizing that that’s what you’re doing. Many cultures condition people to show deference to authority, and in that situation, clients are likely to read you, the editor, as the authority, so you’ve got to work around the client’s impulse to just say, “Yes, yes sir,” instead of asking the questions that would help the two of you stay on the same page. I’m speaking from my experience as a male editor here. I imagine that female editors probably face the inverse challenge when working with clients from more patriarchal cultures.

These are generalizations. I’ve worked with individuals who break every single rule I’ve listed here. Exceptions are out there. That said, they are few and far between.

You take a collaborative approach when you work with your clients. Can you explain what that looks like and why you’ve adopted this method of working together?
It grew out of the observation that what’s on the page often differs substantively from what the client intended to put on the page, and that an ongoing conversation is needed to ensure that what ends up in the final draft accurately conveys the client’s content knowledge—knowledge that you, as the editor, may not share. Whenever I take on a new project, I approach it simultaneously as an expert (on the writing and editing process) and as a novice (in relation to the material). I ask a lot of questions. I ask the same question over and over in different ways. Sometimes, I’ll ask the client to educate me about the subject matter until I understand it well enough to flag the gaps and errors in what they’ve written. It’s all about two-way communication.

What challenges do you think they sometimes face when working with and hiring editors?
I’ve lost count of how many clients have come to with horror stories about hiring proofreaders and getting nothing for their money besides having a few comma splices and typos corrected. When EFL writers hire editors of any sort, they typically assume that an “editor” is someone who will help them write more effectively, meaning more accurately, with greater elegance and clarity, in accord with the stylistic and technical specifications of their discipline. Not all editors do that. I believe emphatically that before you take someone’s money, you should make sure they understand what you will and will not provide in exchange and confirm that what you offer is what they’re seeking. Even if you call yourself a “proofreader” rather than an “editor,” that’s not enough. Make sure the client understands what those words mean.

What are some of your suggestions for best practices when editing for EFL clients?
Stay humble. Ask questions. Offer detailed explanations for every edit that you recommend. Double-check to make sure that the client’s understood your questions and your explanations. Finally, to the extent possible, get to know them as a writer, a thinker, and a person. The fact that you don’t share a culture makes it all the more important to engage with them as an individual. Above, I’ve flagged some common trends, but there are always exceptions. The next EFL client you onboard might be one of those exceptions. The only way to know is to get to know them for who they are.

How do you phrase and share your feedback and explanations?

In as many different ways as possible until I figure out what clicks. When you’re ignorant of the client’s home language and culture, their level of exposure to American culture, and their level of fluency in written English, the only way to find out what works is through trial and error. In terms of sharing feedback, I prefer to do so in both written and verbal forms whenever possible so that the client will have more material to cross-reference. Unfortunately, this isn’t always possible. Sometimes, the client is located in a different time zone and can’t schedule a live call. Sometimes, they can’t speak or listen as well as they can read or write. I try to be creative, gauge what resonates with the client, and work with whatever tools I have.

Why is it important to stay culturally curious?
You can spend your entire life traveling and learning foreign languages, and you’ll never master them all. There’s always a possibility that a client will show up from someplace to which you’ve had zero exposure, and no matter how cosmopolitan you are, you’re back to square one. Since none of us can be all-knowing, the next best thing is to be eternally curious. Every client has something to teach you. Every project is an opportunity to learn.

What is your top tip for editors who would like to begin working with EFL clients?
It’s all trial and error. Don’t be afraid to try a new approach, or even an old approach that hasn’t worked for native speakers in the past. You never know what’s going to work with any particular client until you try. Just remember to remain alert, and when you start getting signs that something isn’t landing, change your approach. You’ll develop rules of thumb and instincts over time, but in the beginning, it’s best to go in with a broad palette and brushes of every shape and size. The only absolutes are these: be respectful, stay humble, and take the client’s money only when you know that what they need is what you offer. Otherwise, it’s an art that can only be mastered with practice and time.

 

If you’d like to learn more about Mekiya or inquire about his services, you can reach him through The DataKeepers.

 

When writing a memoir, the author might wonder how much they should reveal of themselves and how much to hold back. Sharing a story that doesn’t cast us in the best light or is, quite frankly, embarrassing isn’t always easy to do, but it’s often these types of stories that most endear us to readers. Christopher Morris, author of We Are All Made of Scars, shares some of the many ways that vulnerability can build connection and understanding.

Vulnerability is sometimes confused with total honesty. Can you describe how the two are different?
Everything I learned about vulnerability comes from Brene Brown, author and research professor. I encourage readers to check out Daring Greatly (a book I reread once a year) and Braving the Wilderness. She says “the definition of vulnerability is uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure. But vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our most accurate measure of courage.” I think people can be honest and truthful without being vulnerable. The combination of being emotionally open and honest in writing a memoir is ideal in my opinion. It’s courageous and more compelling for readers.

Why do you think readers value vulnerability in memoirs?
People connect with feelings and emotions. I know in my book, oftentimes I talk about my own confusion, rawness, anger and sadness at my situation or at my alcoholic mother. Many readers have reached out to say they saw themselves in different scenarios in the book. If you think about your favorite books, chances are they have moved you because of the emotional honesty in some way or another.

How can being vulnerable help the author better understand events and people that are part of their personal history?
I think too often people don’t want to fully examine their own life because it’s uncomfortable. It’s not fun to look under all those traumatic rocks along their path! However, you have to “feel it to heal it” as they say. That discomfort is paramount to growth and understanding. I know for myself, laying out my whole story as a teenager grappling with my family’s addictions helped me make even more meaning from the events and why things happened the way they did. By the end of writing, I had more compassion for my family and my younger self. So it was definitely worth it!

Can an author ever be too vulnerable, and if so, how can they recognize when this occurs?
What comes to mind for me is events they haven’t fully processed yet, either for themselves or about other people. You don’t want that to be out in the open if you haven’t worked through it either through therapy or whatever way makes sense. The more you understand your emotions, the stronger your work will be and the better you can write about it.  As a related aside, in terms of vulnerability, I think it’s also important to ensure that you are only writing about your own emotions and feelings and not guessing at other’s.

Looking at the opposite approach, how can holding back hinder the author’s work or ability to connect with readers?
Holding back can come off as cold and dry. And fake, unfortunately. Readers will be left wanting more. Who wants that? Describing emotions and being vulnerable is such an important way to talk about a character’s motivation (you) and add deep context for action in a work. Again, it’s also a way for readers to connect with characters instead of just a play by play of events. Being vulnerable in the work will make it far richer and deeper.

Do you think vulnerability can lead to higher empathy and compassion?
No doubt. The more you understand your own emotional landscape and work those muscles, the more you can put yourself in other’s shoes. You start to realize that most people are doing their best. Not only will you be a better writer, but you’ll be a better human in all the ways!

Finally, for those who are inspired to write their own memoir, what is your number one tip for getting started?
First, what part of your story is unique from all the other memoirs? Once you get that down, decide the narrative arc around that thesis and start an outline of events, etc. to work from. Then write away!

To hear more of Chris’s tips and insights, you can listen to his interview on the Writing and Editing podcast.

Have you ever wondered just why specificity matters? Eli Burnstein is a humor writer whose first book, Dictionary of Fine Distinctions, takes a clever and entertaining look at what differentiates similar sets or pairings of words, and he shares some of his keen insights in this interview:

How did you first become interested in the importance of specificity in language?

I suppose I’ve always been interested in it. But I think reading the great prose stylists nurtured that interest. Folks like Woolf, Nabokov, Pynchon—you read them and can’t help but be bowled over by their word choice. It’s pitch-perfect.

What is the relationship between specificity and effective communication?

Precision writing, to me, is sort of like high-definition TV. The more exact you can be in your choice of words—whether it’s to describe a gesture, a landscape, an emotion, or an idea—the closer you bring the reader to what you’re describing. It’s a big part, I feel, of what we mean when we call a piece of writing “vivid.”

How do granular-level distinctions enhance the clarity of our writing?

Studying fine distinctions can be a useful exercise in sharpening our vocabularies. What’s the difference between a bay and a gulf? A kink and a fetish? An emoji and an emoticon? Mastering these subtleties—and cultivating an appreciation for nuance more broadly—can help train your ear as a writer. It helps you land, not on the almost-right word, but on the word that truly captures your meaning.

Can you explain how specificity is also linked to brevity?

Good question. I think a common pitfall in writing is the tendency to repeat ourselves, and I suspect that we’re tempted to do so whenever we don’t quite “get it right” the first time: we circle back and try to hit our target on the second go-around. Naturally, this creates a bit of bloat. Good word choice is one of the ways to offset that temptation. When you’re accurate, there’s no need for that second, third, or fourth sentence. You got it right the first time. It’s the same with adjectives and adverbs. Though valuable in countless situations, these parts of speech are all too often relied on as correctives to poorly selected nouns and verbs and can make your writing feel padded. Pick the right nouns and verbs in the first place and you don’t need so many helpers.

Do we ever risk alienating our audience by using too fine a lexical selection?

It depends on what we mean by “fine.” I don’t think you can ever be too accurate in your word choice, but I do think you can be too specific. “Elm” might be a more vivid choice than “tree,” but do we need to go all the way to “slippery elm”? Maybe, maybe not. You have to balance specificity against the other virtues of writing, like pace and readability. You have to pick your moments. In my experience, however, the more common error is not being specific enough. Writing can all too easily sag into generalities. Did your character simply “run”? That’s a bit flat. Maybe they darted instead, or loped, or bounded, or galloped. These all mean slightly different things. Which is it?

Do you think an author’s writing skills contribute to their ability to become increasingly
specific?

I suspect that most writers, as they develop, are increasingly attuned to word choice. Good diction is just one virtue among others, mind you—but yeah, I’d agree that as a writer gets “better,” one of the things they’re doing is, to put it bluntly, picking better words.

Apart from your own book, which reference materials would you recommend to those who’d like to learn more?

Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary of Synonyms is a great big reference work for those who want to learn about the differences between similar words (as opposed to just seeing those words listed side-by-side, as with a typical thesaurus).

For our final question, do you have a favorite set or list of distinctions that’s included in your
book? Or one that was particularly interesting to research?

Maze vs. Labyrinth was a really fun one to learn about. I mean, who knew!?

 

To hear more on this topic, please listen to Eli’s interview on the Writing and Editing podcast (an episode that has become a favorite with listeners!).

Author and speaker Kevin O’Connor has found that using family letters enriches a memoir by bringing past feelings into the present and adding to characterization. He kindly agreed to elaborate on some of what we chatted about on the Writing & Editing podcast.

 

When did you realize your family’s letters would be an asset to your memoir (Two Floors Above Grief)? 

 

I began saving the letters as they were written and received, starting with a letter my grandfather wrote to his six children in 1937, followed by a letter written by my mother while on her honeymoon with my father in 1939. The writing and the saving of the letters continued into the 1970s. From 2005-2007, I began to organize and catalog the letters. I’ve known for 30+ years that I wanted to write a fiction or nonfiction book. I decided on the family memoir idea about five years ago. As I started the ideation and conception stages of the writing, I realized that the letters would be an asset to the stories.

 

How did you approach family members to let them know you wanted to reprint the letters in the book? 

I didn’t formally approach them. Most were unaware that so many letters had been written AND saved. When I told them I was writing the book, I included references to the letters. During the process, I shared some of the letters with them to help them understand family history.

 

In our podcast chat, we talked a bit about character and how the letters gave them each an accurate representation of their individual voices. Do you think this would have been possible to get across to this degree without this type of material?  

Great question. Through my ideation and outlining process, I was comfortable realizing the stories I wanted to share with my extended family and the world of readers beyond my family. As I draft ideas and writing, I would recognize something like, “Hey, there’s a letter that ties right in with my thinking.” Since I had already organized the letters by date, I went to the section of my notebook where I thought a resource was located. Most times, I found the letter. The content supported my thinking. The discoveries I made in each letter’s content increased the “degree” (the word you use 🙂) to which I could support, enhance, and elevate the story I created. I would not have been able to get across what I did about events, characters, historical connections, and authenticity without the content of the letters.

 

Was there anything that surprised you in the letters?

Yes. 1. I learned more about my Aunt Mildred’s sense of humor and wit. I read her letters when I first received them and at other times throughout my life. She died in 1971, and her grandchildren ranged in age from 2 to 18. When I wrote the book and told them about my efforts, they said they wanted to learn more about their grandmother. Her letters provided that resource.

2. I discovered that my dad, mother, aunt, and sometimes my uncle were writing and mailing letters to me in Rome simultaneously. They did not know the others were writing about the same topics. When I received the letters at the time and through re-reading many years later, I realized the differences in their perceptions.
3. An editor commented on the passions conveyed in the letters between my parents and me regarding the differences in our thinking about the student protests of the Vietnam War in 1970. I was glad I could include those letters in their entirety in the book. Some reviewers have commented on how those letters taught them about that part of history and how their lives connected with it.

 

How did it feel to read about past versions of yourself or to revisit old beliefs, feelings, and ideas?

It has been revealing, impressive, reflective, and appreciative. Although I did not write journals or diaries, the letters have provided a glance into how the life and thinking of my younger years carried through to my senior years.

Did you ever find evidence of people having two different versions of the same event or story? 

Yes, see the above comments.

How did you balance these multiple perspectives in the memoir? 

I included the letters in their entirety. I did not write much commentary about the differences that I perceived. I want the reader to notice those differences and interpret them in their way.

How do you keep the letters organized? 

I have an online course I have offered in a presentation. I have plans to offer this course in other venues. There are resources online about how others have organized letters. I am confident the way I proceeded can help others. Here is the process I used:

1. I removed the cards’ letters from their envelopes and paper-clipped each letter to the corresponding envelope. I found stories inferred in the envelope, stamp, and postmark. Some of the correspondence was on aerograms (who uses those now? These are a bit of history in themselves).
2. I purchased plastic sleeves with three notebook holes. I put each correspondence into a sleeve. I bought tabs to stick to the side of each sleeve. I put the date of the letter or postmark on the tab.
3. By the time I finished, I had approximately 500 plastic sleeves containing the artifacts.
4. I put them in a pile. I reserved a space in one of my house’s rooms. I designated sections of the floor representing decades. I put the letters first according to decade. Then, I went to each decade pile and sorted the letters by year, month, and date. Eventually, the letters were organized by date from the 1930s through the 1970s.
5. I place the sequenced plastic sleeves into 4-inch three-ring binders.
6. I labeled the binder with the dates of the letters.
7. The files have been with me through my moves from Illinois to Florida and to three different locations in Florida. They are now on a shelf in my home’s closet. I used these notebooks to find the letters I wanted to include in the book.

Was this the first system you came up with or did you try other methods before this one? 

My organization was the first system I used. I have an elementary school teaching background, and my first job was as a Kindergarten teacher. In the kindergarten and elementary years, a central part of the curriculum is sequence by number, alphabet, etc. I used the teaching skills I imparted to my students to organize my collection of letters.

What parting advice do you have for someone who is eager to start writing their own memoir but doesn’t know where to begin? 

The beginning can be the most challenging part. For me, I had so many ideas from the stories I had lived, but I didn’t know where to start. So, I just started. I know that sounds too simple, but I learned not to be afraid of making a mistake. I sought out an online class about nonfiction writing. I don’t think I would have progressed as well in my writing without the direction and support of the class.

My advice is to find support from a writing group or class. There are many sources and options available through Google and social media searches.  The lessons teach and encourage writers to create a mission/vision and steps to follow. Create a schedule to work. A routine. A discipline. Stick to it. I committed 4-5 hours a day M-F (sometimes on weekends) from 11 AM to 4. Each day, I picked up from where I had left off the day before. I started in May 2021. I kept to my schedule. By October 1, I had completed a first draft of 140,000 words. Then, I took a month-long break to take a trip I had planned for many years.

The key for me was to stop talking to myself and others about writing the book and to begin by getting support and creating self-discipline.

Thanks again, Kevin! 

Visit Kevin’s website:
http://kevinoconnorauthor.com

Find Kevin on social media:
https://www.facebook.com/kevin.oconnor2
https://www.instagram.com/kevmaster62/
https://www.linkedin.com/in/kmoconnor/

Susan Day is an arts therapist practitioner, educator, author, and artist. Being creative and sharing the power of art with others is a dream come true for her. Susan is also passionate about helping people with trauma, and she has extensive experience in the disability sector, takes an interest in pet care, and has trained hundreds of dogs using her own positive, reward-based method.

She visited the Writing & Editing podcast, where she explained the ins and outs of conducting research for a nonfiction manuscript. She graciously agreed to be interviewed for this blog and shared some of her insights into her own research, the benefits of research, and why it’s important to be invested in your manuscript’s main topic.

What inspires your research?
When it comes to writing my books and researching them, my inspiration, overall, is to find out how the human brain ticks, and how art and mindfulness can change it for the better. Being able to express yourself through any form of art while being in a mindful state, has a powerful effect on developing a Zen-like state of calmness and positive energy that transcends the normal human experience, and builds emotional resilience.
A deep passion drives me to understand my topic and the research I conduct reflects this. When creating my latest book, Building Emotional Resilience in Preteens, I knew that I had to get it right from the start. There was no point stating that I believe parents should do ‘this’ or it would be great if parents did ‘that’ to help their preteens without providing facts and evidence to support my claims.
While I consider myself to be a well-read practitioner in the field of mindful arts therapy, I don’t believe I know everything. If reputable psychologists and scientists have discovered how art and mindfulness can assist an individual to build emotional resilience, then I’m going to share their findings with my readers to further validate what I have experienced anecdotally. 

Why is it important to use the original source?

This is a question of validation at a higher level. There are a lot of pseudo-experts online that share others’ research and it would be easy to quote these in my books. However, I prefer to use the original scientific documentation. That way, I can read the facts for myself and there is no room for misinterpretation. I am also confident that the facts I am sharing have been proven and are based on exacting scientific research. As well, this approach allows me to see what other research was done in the same field. I have often found myself going from one article to another, discovering more and more facts that I have been able to use in my books. This allows me to further prove that mindfulness and art therapy can change lives because science has shown this to be the case and it is not just feel-good, mumbo jumbo.

How does your research differ when your audience are parents and caregivers and not the target of your book?
When I wrote my latest title, I was speaking to parents and carers and not the preteens themselves. This was a different approach than books I have created in the past where the reader was directly my target audience. When you write a book that speaks to the reader, there might not be a need to provide so much concise information. This is due to the fact that the reader has already ‘bought’ into the ideas you are sharing because they have gone ahead and purchased your book. They might have read the blurb, considered the topic has spoken to them in some way, and already have an open mindset to the book’s message. However, with my latest book I knew I had to reach the parents and caregivers on one level, make the information relevant to them and then show them how it can be used to help the preteens in their life. I knew that I had to convince my reader to share the information I was providing with someone else. This meant that I had to prove to them that what I was stating was not only important, but it had to be written in such a way they could share it with another person who would benefit from it.

How does your approach to research differ when you are creating art therapy activity books?
When I create art therapy activity books, I keep the language succinct and straight to the point. I set out the instructions clearly, and list whatever materials are needed. I also explain why the activity is important and how it will help the reader. Each activity is followed by a page where questions prompt the reader to reflect on what they experienced while they were doing the activity. I do all the activities myself to test them and see if they do what I claim they do. This is another aspect of research I conduct which is very important to the credibility of my books.
When I am writing non-fiction books that are not activity based, I use the writing and research experiences I honed during my university years. The information might be similar to my activity books, but the way it is laid out and presented is definitely at a higher intellectual level. This, along with the research I have conducted, validates what I am saying and reassures the reader of the truth behind my claims.

What title has pushed you to go above and beyond when it comes to research?
The subject of building emotional resilience in preteens is very dear to my heart, hence the long time I have spent researching and editing my book. While my other books took a great deal of time to create and research too, I personally believe that as a society, we need to focus on supporting this vulnerable section of our community, and therefore, my book needed in depth research conducted at a high level.
Far too many teens take their own lives, and the amount that attempt suicide is so high we should all be concerned. It is also a dangerous time for careless alcohol, drug and sex experimentation. The consequences of which can have a devastating and life-long impact on their lives. There are many ways to stop this and support preteens and teens, but I believe at the heart of these issues are feelings of lack when it comes to self-worth and the inability to regulate emotions. This is why building emotional resilience in preteens is so important. If we can help them build their emotional resilience before they encounter many of the hardships of adolescence, our preteens and teens will face a brighter future. With this as my goal, I knew I had to produce a book that was so professionally researched and written, it would help support parents and caregivers to empower the preteens in their lives.

What advice do you have for authors who want to write nonfiction?
Research can be dry, time consuming, and to be honest, boring – dare I say! However, if an author approaches it with the same passion that drove them to want to write their book in the first place, I’m sure that, like me, they will become excited and empowered by the research they do. I definitely get a buzz when I discover new research about the power of art therapy and mindfulness. It’s like the universe is validating what I know in my heart to be true. And when I discover research that contradicts my ideas, I know that there is much for me to learn and that it is important to recognize this and share it with my audience. In truth, I am grateful that all researchers are working towards the truth, and I feel privileged to be able to share their work in my books whether or not it validates what I believe.

 

 

Have you ever wasted too much time that could have been spent writing looking back to see how you spelled “okay”? Or maybe you couldn’t quite remember whether Viktor’s last name was spelled Frankl or Frankel?  Creating a style sheet can save you from hassles like these and thus save you precious time. The style sheet can also be shared with others collaborating with you on your manuscript, helping to maintain consistency.

Are Style Sheets Used for Fiction, Nonfiction, or Both?

Style sheets are useful no matter what genre you’re writing in; fiction or nonfiction, you’re likely to rely on a style guide or have preferences for how to spell certain words. Or maybe you’re largely basing the styling on a well-known style guide such as the Chicago Manual of Style but there a few areas where you have made a thoughtful decision to depart from their rules and suggestions. Some of these exceptions might include how you’ve chosen to write (or not write out) numbers, where and when to use italics, or how to format quoted text messages or letters.

In addition to detailing the minutiae that inevitably comes with formatting and style choices, characters and places can be listed on a style sheet. As an example, perhaps Sosnowiec plays a pivotal role in the narrative, and it may be important for the reader to know it’s in southern Poland. Depending on when the described events take place, additional details could be added, such as who is in control of the city, the population, and the major industries. All of this can be added to a style sheet to provide an easy to find reference.

Where and How Do I Start?

While finding a place to start may seem daunting, it can help to begin with the basics. Are you using American or British English? Which dictionary and style guide are you using? From there, additions can be made as you come across them in your work, such as how you’ve decided to spell “okay” or whether or not you’re using the Oxford comma. Did you notice John somehow became Jon in chapter fifteen? Adding his name and the correct spelling to the style sheet can not only help you if you have a moment of self-doubt, but it can also be shared with an editor and avoid them needing to query you about which spelling is preferred, saving time for both of you.

Where Can I Find an Example?

There are multiple free style sheet formats available online but its design does not need to be complicated. Some may list only the basics and not even use complete sentences while others will include illustrations and elaborate, color-coded formatting. Begin with whatever makes the most sense to you and feels the least overwhelming as ultimately the style sheet has to work for you. Further organization and additions can always come later.

What Are the Three Main Benefits?

As shown, style sheets come with many benefits, though there are three that can be used to summarize why an author should create and use one.  A style sheet can:

• Maintain consistency throughout a manuscript
• Save time for the author and their editor/editing team
• Help the author stay organized

Dialogue Tag or Action Beat?

What is the difference between a dialogue tag and an action beat? Why do they matter and why should we know how to format them?

Dialogue tags help your reader understand what is happening on the page and determine who is saying what. When a dialogue tag is improperly formatted, it could confuse the reader. They might not be sure of who has said what, when the speaker has paused or finished, or the meaning could even be lost. Words commonly associated with dialogue tags include: said, whispered, yelled, shouted, told, and replied.  Dialogue tags do NOT include words like smile, laugh, and frown. This is because we do not smile out our words, but we can say them with one of these expressions: “You threw an excellent party,” Finley said with a smile.

But dialogue tags on their own may read as boring. Imagine a page of two characters speaking back and forth with only “he said” or “she said” included. Is it easy to envision the characters and what they’re doing, how they’re feeling or reacting? If the answer to that question is no and the author feels that this is imperative to the story or the scene, we can then look at adding an action beat.

Action beats or action tags are exactly what they sound like: actions performed by a character. Unlike dialogue tags, ending punctuation separates them from the dialogue. Why? Simply put, an action tag or beat is a separate sentence. One does not have to speak in order to smile, hug a friend, or perform any other action:

“I’m glad you came.” Finley hugged Arthur.

But if we already know who is speaking, what do action tags add to the dialogue? Action tags give the reader a stronger visual, such as in the example above. Without the action tag, we would have known Finley greeted Arthur but not that she also hugged him. What would the reader have imagined them doing without the action tag? Smiling at one another? Shaking hands? Maybe they would have imagined the characters doing nothing at all.

Action tags can also create a stronger or more emotive scene by hinting at how a character is feeling without needing to tell the reader Character A is mad, happy, and so on.

Take a look at how adding an action tag below does just that:

“I can’t believe you did that,” Finley said. Here we have only used a dialogue tag. We know Finley is the one speaking, but what if the author wants the reader to know Finley is enraged when she says this?

“I can’t believe you did that.” Finley grabbed Arthur’s phone and threw it across the room.

But how do we format these tags? Think of dialogue tags as being associated with movement of the mouth or any other way of conveying speech. We use punctuation to indicate the character is speaking/signing/telepathically communicating, the comma linking what is said to the one speaking. The speech is connected to the character, in most cases, with a comma:

“I love it,” Finley said.

When ending punctuation besides a period is used, the comma is replaced by that terminal point:

“I love it!” Finley said.

“I love it?” Finley said.

If we replace Finley’s name with a pronoun, notice that “she” is not capitalized like it would be at the start of a sentence, indicating this is a continuation of the dialogue tag and not a new line:

“I love it!” she said.

“I love it?” she said.

What if Finley is interrupted before she finishes her sentence?

“I cannot believe”—Finley jabbed a finger in Arthur’s direction—“you did that!” Note that this is an em dash, not an en dash (the shorter of the two little lines). The formatting changes if we include a dialogue tag during her interrupted speech:

“I cannot believe,” Finley hissed as she jabbed a finger in Arthur’s direction, “you did that!”

Maybe Finley had more to say to Arthur but trailed off:

“I cannot believe you did that…” Finley said.

Or perhaps she was interrupted by a phone call before she could finish:

“I cannot believe you did that—” Finley’s phone rang and the jaunty ringtone cut her off. “Perfect timing,” Arthur muttered.

 

Do you have questions about formatting or using dialogue tags or action beats? Post them below or feel free to message me! 

 

 

 

Like many of us in the book community, I set a Goodreads goal at the start of each year. Sometimes those goals end up being overly optimistic and impossible to reach (how much free time did I think I would have when I set it at 350 in 2021?) and other years I achieve my goal by June. But every year, a smaller goal is embedded within that larger one: read more books that help me professionally and hone my writing skills. For those looking to do the same, I’ve compiled a short list of some of my favorites and hopefully at least one will end up on your 2023 to be read (or tbr if you’re on bookstagram or booktok) stack!

WRITING:

Story Trumps Structure, Steven James

Have you ever felt at loose ends because your story’s structure didn’t fit the “rules” you were taught in school? Steven James explains that the three-act structure and those percentage markers so many of us learned shouldn’t hold us back (or even be followed). Inspiring and clearly written, James directs the reader/writer to focus on what matters in order to write a compelling story.

Revise, Pamela Haag

While the subtitle indicates this is aimed at those in scholarly or academic fields, the advice can be applied to any form of writing. Haag’s accessible style is insightful and at times humorous and she provides multiple examples to demonstrate how to apply her advice.

Writing Picture Books, Ann Whitford Paul

There is a common misconception that children’s books must be easier to write since they have a much shorter word count compared to books intended for older audiences. However, as the author explains, every word must serve a purpose and be carefully selected. Sections covering illustrations and publishing supplement the writing and plotting advice, making this a one-stop resource for those interested in writing stories for younger readers.

 

EDITING: 

The Copyeditor’s Handbook and Workbook, Amy Einsohn

Thorough and practical, this set is an excellent reference for those looking to refresh their knowledge base or take the leap into copyediting. The updated version takes our tech-heavy world into consideration and addresses many of the changes in editing that come with it.

The American Heritage Dictionary of Idioms, Christine Ammer

I know I’m not the only one who has misused an idiom in the past (usually from hearing it said a certain way only to learn years later it was incorrect). The etymology and correct phrasing of various words and phrases are included in this information-rich guide, making it a valuable resource for anyone who is part of the writing community.

An Editor’s Guide to Working with Authors, Barbara Sjoholm

Prior to beginning life as an editor, one might think experience in publishing and familiarity with at least one major style guide is enough to get started. This guide walks editors through the human aspect of the profession and offers templates and examples for everything from an editorial letter to querying potential clients. The author also touches on some trickier issues, such as respectfully setting and maintaining boundaries.