Any writer will point at their word count for the day or week, stick out their chest and proclaim with pride how many words they were able to churn out. But sadly, not every word is worth the same as the last.
While I will probably never claim to be an expert, I have picked up a thing or two. One new writer failing is the well known info dump. However, it has an equally story-derailing sibling called the over explain. In either case, the writer kills any interest in their otherwise brilliant masterpiece with too much information, too much explanation and just plain too many words.
While info dumps are talked about often enough and should be well known, I think the over explain is less visible. An over explained segment can be too much visual detail, too many internal thoughts, too much dialogue, trying to drive home a point, or just about anything done to excess in an attempt to explain beyond the needs of the story. Impossible to avoid on a first draft, these extraneous bits need to be excised like the cancerous growths they are.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Book Review: Low Town, by Daniel Polansky
(This is a repost, of my review that appeared on SF Signal recently - reposted here for posterity)
Hardcover: 352 pages
Publisher: Doubleday (August 16, 2011)
ISBN-10: 0385534469
ISBN-13: 978-0385534468
Low Town has lords with hidden agendas, willing to kill on a whim even as they smile behind veils of lace; gang lords with blood on their hands that riff poetry about their beloved deity; and artisans of magic that are powerless to stop the horrors of life. Low Town is a conundrum that tries to portray reality, with a touch of compassion, in an age where little was pretty.
Publisher: Doubleday (August 16, 2011)
ISBN-10: 0385534469
ISBN-13: 978-0385534468
Low Town has lords with hidden agendas, willing to kill on a whim even as they smile behind veils of lace; gang lords with blood on their hands that riff poetry about their beloved deity; and artisans of magic that are powerless to stop the horrors of life. Low Town is a conundrum that tries to portray reality, with a touch of compassion, in an age where little was pretty.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Flash Fic: Team-Building
This is a 519 word short that just kind of materialized. It's not fantasy, or sci-fi (I probably shouldn't be wasting my time on it),but the story wanted to be told and for any cubicle-dweller you can probably relate. Ending needs something else, but I can't imagine I'll work on it further, so here ya go.
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The below excerpt is © 2011 Clifton Hill, all rights reserved.
Team-Building
John could not believe his luck. His best friend, Rob, had just gotten hired and was working in the cubicle next to him. John could never stand his co-workers, and finally, at long last it seemed the doldrums of work were on their way out the door. It was his buddy’s second day and John had plenty planned.
But when his friend showed up for work wearing a horrid assortment of hyper-colored floral prints, short khakis and a lei—looking like nothing more than some random Hawaiian sightseer—he scowled. “What the heck are you wearing, Rob?”
Rob gestured to the garish display. “It’s Hawaiian-Friday, the girls up front said everyone was dressing up for the team-building exercises today.”
John shook his head. “Yeah, sure, all the losers are going.” He smirked and gestured to his own grey slacks and silk dress shirt. “I’ve got no time for this team-building crap. Blow it off and come with me early to lunch. I know this killer Thai place. The chilés will blow your head right off, and the waitresses are smokin’ too.”
Rob rubbed a clean-shaven cheek. “Um, sorry, John, I kind of need this job. I can’t blow this off. It’ll look bad.”
“That’s a load of—”
Rob’s face made John choke to a stop. “What’s up, boss?” He turned, as smooth as his slacks, his smile twice as glaring as his shoes.
“John. I’m glad you could finally bless us with your arrival.” Gene stood there in his Hawaiian best, his face as humorless as a rectal exam.
John chuckled. “You know traffic, Gene. Moves slower than the company’s stock price.”
“You’re right. I do know traffic. I know that it could never move faster than your mouth, but it somehow manages to get everyone else here on time, and whether team building is a joke to you or not, it is part of the work day. You know about work, right? It’s that thing you should be doing Monday through Friday.”
By now, John had his mouth firmly shut in sheer amazement. Since when did Gene grow a pair?
“Perhaps it is an odd sort of karma, but your friend’s fortuitous hire allows me to finally do this. If I had known,” said Gene, looking between the two friends, “I would have hired him a week ago.”
Gene shook a piece of paper under John’s nose.
“What’s this?”
“Now John, even your too-cool-for-the-light-of-day eyes should be able to tell through those opaque panes you call sunglasses that it is pink. Normally I would take you into my office, save your pride and make the whole thing quiet and without spectacle, but I just can’t seem to find even an ounce of patience. Here. Take it. This is yours. You’ve earned it.”
John looked down at the pink slip, then back at his friend, his replacement.
Rob barely had the decency to look down at his team-building sandals.
Snapping the paper out of Gene’s hand, John walked out the door, not needing another minute in that pit of losers and sycophants.
“Good, great. Thai sounds great to me!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The below excerpt is © 2011 Clifton Hill, all rights reserved.
Team-Building
John could not believe his luck. His best friend, Rob, had just gotten hired and was working in the cubicle next to him. John could never stand his co-workers, and finally, at long last it seemed the doldrums of work were on their way out the door. It was his buddy’s second day and John had plenty planned.
But when his friend showed up for work wearing a horrid assortment of hyper-colored floral prints, short khakis and a lei—looking like nothing more than some random Hawaiian sightseer—he scowled. “What the heck are you wearing, Rob?”
Rob gestured to the garish display. “It’s Hawaiian-Friday, the girls up front said everyone was dressing up for the team-building exercises today.”
John shook his head. “Yeah, sure, all the losers are going.” He smirked and gestured to his own grey slacks and silk dress shirt. “I’ve got no time for this team-building crap. Blow it off and come with me early to lunch. I know this killer Thai place. The chilés will blow your head right off, and the waitresses are smokin’ too.”
Rob rubbed a clean-shaven cheek. “Um, sorry, John, I kind of need this job. I can’t blow this off. It’ll look bad.”
“That’s a load of—”
Rob’s face made John choke to a stop. “What’s up, boss?” He turned, as smooth as his slacks, his smile twice as glaring as his shoes.
“John. I’m glad you could finally bless us with your arrival.” Gene stood there in his Hawaiian best, his face as humorless as a rectal exam.
John chuckled. “You know traffic, Gene. Moves slower than the company’s stock price.”
“You’re right. I do know traffic. I know that it could never move faster than your mouth, but it somehow manages to get everyone else here on time, and whether team building is a joke to you or not, it is part of the work day. You know about work, right? It’s that thing you should be doing Monday through Friday.”
By now, John had his mouth firmly shut in sheer amazement. Since when did Gene grow a pair?
“Perhaps it is an odd sort of karma, but your friend’s fortuitous hire allows me to finally do this. If I had known,” said Gene, looking between the two friends, “I would have hired him a week ago.”
Gene shook a piece of paper under John’s nose.
“What’s this?”
“Now John, even your too-cool-for-the-light-of-day eyes should be able to tell through those opaque panes you call sunglasses that it is pink. Normally I would take you into my office, save your pride and make the whole thing quiet and without spectacle, but I just can’t seem to find even an ounce of patience. Here. Take it. This is yours. You’ve earned it.”
John looked down at the pink slip, then back at his friend, his replacement.
Rob barely had the decency to look down at his team-building sandals.
Snapping the paper out of Gene’s hand, John walked out the door, not needing another minute in that pit of losers and sycophants.
“Good, great. Thai sounds great to me!”
Monday, October 10, 2011
Book Review: Game of Thrones, by George R.R. Martin
(This is a repost, of my review that appeared on SF Signal recently - reposted here for posterity)
Paperback: 720 pages
Publisher: Bantam; Reprint edition (March 22, 2011)
ISBN-10: 0553386794
ISBN-13: 978-0553386790
**Thar be minor spoilers aboard, so be watchful for you HBO TV watchers that have yet to sail this treacherous book.**
The land of Westeros is a land of old kings, of ancient magics, storied with many fables and gods; but this story is about lies and deceit, debauchery and a struggle for power that will leave you breathless. Nothing is sacred—no vow and no pledge.
Game of Thrones is incredible. A book that passionately explores what drives us and what we will do to achieve all that we desire. Some stop at nothing, and others will lose everything to try and stop them. Who will win? Who is right? And who is playing who?
 | |
| This is the cover I own |
Publisher: Bantam; Reprint edition (March 22, 2011)
ISBN-10: 0553386794
ISBN-13: 978-0553386790
**Thar be minor spoilers aboard, so be watchful for you HBO TV watchers that have yet to sail this treacherous book.**
The land of Westeros is a land of old kings, of ancient magics, storied with many fables and gods; but this story is about lies and deceit, debauchery and a struggle for power that will leave you breathless. Nothing is sacred—no vow and no pledge.
Game of Thrones is incredible. A book that passionately explores what drives us and what we will do to achieve all that we desire. Some stop at nothing, and others will lose everything to try and stop them. Who will win? Who is right? And who is playing who?
Friday, October 7, 2011
I'm Back...Sorta
July brought the birth of our second child: a ravenous baby boy. All are happy and healthy and trying to be wise in the Hill household.
Now I'm starting to get back into the swing of things with my various projects. I wrote, or at least finally finished a book review for Low Town by Daniel Polansky, and the going was slow and torturous—as if I'd never written a review in my life. Ugh. But it's done and I'm happy.
Now I'm starting to get back into the swing of things with my various projects. I wrote, or at least finally finished a book review for Low Town by Daniel Polansky, and the going was slow and torturous—as if I'd never written a review in my life. Ugh. But it's done and I'm happy.
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