Yeah, we’ve all done it. You’re writing a story and the words are flowing and when you look up… it’s full of filters.
What?
What are filters? Glad you asked.
.
Using my unreleased manuscript An Angel On Her Shoulder, I am showing you my techniques for reworking a story into a more readable, more enjoyable piece. Itās 45+ lessons in about 45 days. (To start at Chapter 1, click HERE.)
To view it best, bring up the two versions in different windows and view them side by side to see what was changed.
Then give me your thoughts in the comment section.
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I watched as
– That’s a filter.
What comes next is your story. Cutting the filter makes for a cleaner, smoother, more engaging story.
I watched as the dog bit the man.
Cut “I watched as”
Yeah, but I was there and I was watching
RIGHT! You were THERE! So just say the dog bit the man. Because as soon as you start the scene, we readers will figure out whose POV we are in, whose head, and if it’s you, we see what you are seeing. Therefore, it’s like saying “with my eyes I saw” – of course you saw with your eyes. Like you could see with you feet? And since it’s your POV, you don’t need to tell us you watched. We know. So it just happens.
The dog bit the man.
Ah, filterless bliss.
Chapter 25 “FINAL”
āStart at the beginning.ā He reached across the table and pushed a chair out for me. āAnd call me Tyree.ā
āTyree.ā I nodded, sitting down. āYou got it.ā
I thought I got lucky when Father Frank didnāt laugh me right out of the Our Lady Of Mercy. Hopefully this Tyree guy wouldnāt laugh me out of the donut shop.
āYour name is unusual sounding.ā I was stalling. āLike itās made up.ā
He took a sip of his Coke and smiled. āWell, itās a nickname, really.ā
I was sure Tyree had been in plenty of meetings like this before, and knew some small talk was usually necessary to get people to loosen up. Iād heard cops did that. Maybe he used to be one.
Sitting back in his chair, his khaki pants looked freshly ironed after his three hour drive. So did his shirt. I bet he couldāve beat up everybody in that parking lot and heād still look that way.
āThe name Tyree is an acronym and a double entendre, all in one.ā
āDoesnāt sound like a typical nickname, like calling a tall guy shorty, you know?ā
That seemed to surprise him a little, and he laughed, choking on his soda. āThatās funny.ā He coughed, clearing his throat. āNo, thatās right, it wasnāt a typical nickname. John Tyler Reed was the name they called when they took attendance in school. So the kids called me all sorts of stuff. Ty-Rod, Ty-Ree . . . but when I got into my vocation, it took on another meaning for me.ā
Vocation?
āI came up with an acronym. T-Y-R-E-E. Trust Your Religion for Everything.ā
Not an ex-cop. An ex-priest?
I guessed I had some kind of nutty bible thumper with me now, but the conversation here wasnāt jiving with the guy in the parking lot who was ready to mix it up.
I thought about his explanation for the nickname. āThat doesnāt really work. It spells tyre. Like ātire.āā
He took another drink of his Coke. āWould you want the nickname of āTireā? That’s why had the extra āEā on the end. It stands for āevery day.āā
Iād give him five minutes, and if he was batty then Iād wrap it up and head for the door. āYeah, well . . . I guess youāre entitled to your own nickname.ā
āThank you. Letās get down to business.ā He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. āWhat happened for you to call me?ā
I took a deep breath, trying to decide just how ridiculous I wanted to sound.
āWhy am I here?ā He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. āIt wasnāt just to bail you out of a fight in that parking lot. Whatās going on? Is the wolf at the door?ā
āNo, no. Not like that.ā I rubbed my eyes. āNot quite, anyway. Itāsāitās not easy to explain. Iām not sure I even understand it myself.ā
āIf you understood it, you wouldnāt need me.ā Tyree stood up. āThis sounds like it might take some time. āYou drink coffee?ā
āNo.ā
āWell, I do. By the pot. And this sounds like a two pot story. So let me get some java, and then you just start wherever you feel most comfortable starting. I have time.ā He strode off to the cashier.
I sat there, alone with my soda, wondering what I should tell and what I should keep. Deep inside I knew I had to tell somebody, even if was just to get this insanity off my chest. And talking had always been helpful for me, in a therapeutic sense. It forced me to organize and articulate my thoughts. If I ever had a problem that needed organizing, this one did.
You gotta start trusting somebody sometime, Doug.
Tyree had already earned my trust back in the parking lot. What more did I want?
He returned with a gigantic plastic coffee mug. āYou ready?ā
āSure.ā I nodded. āItās gonna sound pretty bizarre.ā
āIām sure it will. If it didnātā¦ā
āYeah, I wouldnāt have called you.ā
Tyree sat, holding his coffee in both hands. āYou mentioned three stories on the phone. Tell me the three stories.ā
āOkay,ā I said. āBrace yourself, here comes the crazy.ā
Leaning back, Tyree took a sip from the big mug. āBring it.ā
I started with the winery episode. By now, Mallory and I had talked about it so many times, it had its own name: The Winery Wreck. If either one of us used those words, the other instantly knew what they were talking about.
From there, I told him about the car fire on the bridge, and discovering the heart condition in our daughter. Again, you could call it bad luckāpoor thing, having a rare heart conditionāor you could call it good luck: Hey, you found out about a potentially fatal heart condition and were able to take steps to avoid an untimely death. You were lucky.
But the fact that these events happened around the same time of year, really pretty much always during the same week of the year, that was a worrisome fact. That put it out of the realm of good or bad luck.
Tyree agreed.
By the time I told him all three stories, more than two hours had passed. I rambled on; Tyree quietly sipped his giant plastic mug of coffee.
āWhy canāt it be both?ā
āWhat?ā I said. āWhy canāt what be both?ā
āThese things that keep happening to you and your family. Why does it have to be decisively good luck or bad luck? Why canāt it be both?ā
I didnāt know how to answer.
āLook.ā Tyree scooted his chair forward and rested his arms on the table. āWhat does a situation look like when something good and bad are happening? When they happen simultaneously?ā He let that sit in the air for a moment. āI think it looks a lot like what youāre describing.ā
I rubbed my chin. āIām not sure I follow, but letās say youāre right. What does that mean to me?ā
He took another long gulp of coffee. āI donāt know.ā
I glared at him. āWell, thatās helpful.ā
āNo, no . . . I understand. Itās not.ā He stared at the paper napkin on the table top. āNot yet anyway. But itās a step. Letās come back to that. Letās talk about something else. Give your mind a chance to rest from all this tragedy stuff for a moment.ā He stood up. āIām getting more coffee. You need anything?ā
I shook my head.
His massive mug was empty, so he went for more. I rubbed my eyes, thinking about updating Mallory. So far, I didnāt have anything to really tell her. Hey, honey, I almost got beat up in a dark parking lot. Iām now sitting in a donut shop telling a stranger our crazy stories. If she were asleep, she wouldnāt want to wake up for that, and if she were awake, it would only upset her.
I texted. Everything is okay. Still talking. Will be home soon.
Tyree came back to the table with his refill. āYou probably have some questions for me. What are they?ā
That caught me off guard. He was a straight shooter, though, so he would probably be prepared for whatever I asked. I thought for a moment. āAre you a priest?ā
āNope. I studied Divinity, though. I was looking into becoming a priest.ā
āWhat happened?ā
āI kind of had a problem with the whole celibacy thing.ā
That made us both laugh.
I ran my finger along the side of my soda, causing beads of water drip off the end. āTell me about Help For The Hopeful. How did that get started?ā
āI was gonna have Help For The Hopeful put on my license plate.ā He blew on his coffee to cool it. āYou know, āHFTH.ā People thought it meant āhave faith,ā and that was nice, too.ā
āWhat about a vow of poverty? Is there any money in doing what you do?ā
āCan be.ā He avoided saying more by taking a long drink from his mug.
I shrugged. āSeems like it could take a lot of money to run ads and meet with crazy people, maintain phones and an office.ā
āI said I wouldnāt ask you for any money. We have had a few grateful benefactors who were happy with our services. They have given us some gifts, from time to time.ā
I wasnāt grasping it. Tyree put out a hand. āYou do a big favor for a wealthy industrialist.ā He put out his other hand. āYou get to call in little favors for a long time. And they are happy to help because they benefitted.ā
I gave him a half frown. āDoes the Church know about all this?ā
āWell, kind of.ā He gazed out the window at the empty parking lot. āCāmon, itās off track betting, a white lie.ā
āItās a little different from a white lie.ā
āThatās right. It is.ā He folded his hands and looked me in the eye, assuming a flat, no-nonsense tone. āItās a gray lie, maybe even something with a little more color that that. So be it. I know that what I do is worthwhile. People benefit, and I get help from people who know people. It all works out. Besides.ā His voice softened. āI have a bit of an inside track with The Almighty. A friend does my confessions at a half price.ā
āHeād have to.ā I shook my head. āI bet youāre a volume customer.ā
Tyree smiled again. I was relaxing, and thatās what was needed. A tense mind doesnāt operate well.
āThe Church doesnāt directly know about me, usually. In places that are uncomfortable, or places where the Church feels folks are less hospitable, they outsource. Subcontractors, so to speak, so they can keep their hands clean.ā
He watched my face. His story sounded as bizarre as mine. āSo, youāre like the Churchās CIA?ā
Glancing around, he lowered his voice. āHey, be careful. They have that.ā
We both laughed.
āYouāre quite the radical, Tyree.ā
āYeah, that radical stuff was all the rage in the 1970ās. Then it kinda went out of style; everybody got into making money. Even us. Damned shame. You got a cigarette?ā
I shook my head.
āNo?ā He seemed disappointed. āOf course you donāt. Figures. I quit anyway.ā
That struck me as an odd statement. āWhen did you quit?ā
āThis time? This morning.ā He folded his hands behind his head and lack in the chair, stretching. āWhen I was talking to miss Margarita at the bar where I misplaced my keys. She said she couldnāt kiss a man who tasted like an ashtray.ā
āMargarita? Was that her name or was she a beauty pageant winner?ā
āAh, well . . . Now that you mention it, thatās a good question.ā He dropped his hands to his belly. āHow do you think your three stories connect?ā
āI donāt know that they do. My wifeās friend originally something about six months ago, that we were jinxes.ā
āNice friend.ā
āWell, she was pointing out the bad stuff happens around us, not to us.ā
āNot yet, anyway.ā
I glared at him. āThanks for that. Anyway, she said she didnāt want to catch the next disaster when it missed us. Or near-missed us.ā
āThe bullet would miss you guys and hit her, that sort of thing?ā
āRight.ā
Tyree took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his eyes fixed on his folded hands. āI think she may be closer than you think.ā
My somewhat uplifting feeling vanished. āHowās that?ā
āWell, how do you feel about all this? Lucky?ā
āNot lucky, thatās for sure.ā I shook my head. āNo way.ā
āOkay, but.ā He raised his eyes to meet mine. āDo you feel unlucky, though?ā
I thought about that. I really didnāt. āItās hard to feel unlucky when weād never been hurt, so no. Weāve just been close by when things happened.ā
āThatās your training talking.ā Tyree scoffed. āYears of social upbringing and societal norms. You have to move past that. This stuff always happens around the same time of year?ā
āSeems like it.ā I tugged at my collar.
āMaybe you donāt want to see whatās in front of you.ā The words were heavy, like bricks stacking up on my conscience. āThatās understandable. Who would want to see a threat if they didnāt have to?ā
He had tricked me, knowing Iād have to answer. Who would want to see a threat if they didnāt have to? I swallowed. āAnybody. Anybody with something to protect.ā
He raised his eyebrows, nodded slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on mine. āAnd what do you protect, Doug?ā
āWell, my wife, my daughter . . . my, uh, house . . . ā
āDid you always have these problems? I mean, the whole time you were married?ā
āNoā¦ā
āWhen did this all start? As far as you and your wife? Have ever thought about it?ā
His words pierced me, ringing in my ears. I pushed my hand through my hair. āIāI donāt know.ā
Tyreeās eyes narrowed. āYes, you do, Doug.ā
I could barely speak. āThat canāt be the answer.ā
Who would want to see a threat if they didnāt have to.
āIt canāt be . . .ā
āWhy not?ā Tyree asked. āWhy are you afraid to see whatās in front of you?ā
āWhat are you trying to say?ā I winced, turning my head away from him. āIt canāt be her. She canāt be the cause of all this!ā
The room closed in on me. The air grew stale and stuffy.
āWhen did it all start?ā He drove his finger into the table top.
He wanted me to say it out loud.
Things were falling into place in ways I didnāt want them to, squeezing the air out of my lungs. Sweat broke out on my forehead. āSheās innocent.ā
āWho?ā He shook his head. āWhen did it start? Say it.ā
I glared at him and forced myself to speak, the answer in front of me like a white hot light. āIt started when my daughter was born.ā It was barely a whisper, but it rang in my ears like a cannon shot. I slid down in my chair, dazed at how it sounded out loud.
āI think thatās significant, donāt you?ā Tyree said.
I was a traitor. A turncoat.
Worthless.
She canāt be the cause of all this. She canāt be.
āSheās just a little kid!ā I gasped, looking up at him. I was nearing my limit. āShe canāt be why this is happening.ā
Tyree just stared at me. After a long moment, he asked, āWhy not?ā
The words just hung in the air, echoing around in my head without an answer.
Why not?
Original Chapter 25, An Angel On Her Shoulder
āStart at the beginning,ā he offered. āAnd call me Tyree.ā
āTyree,ā I echoed, sitting down. āYou got it.ā
I wasnāt ready to spill my guts yet, so I stalled for time while I worked up my nerve. This was an awkward thing for me to lay out in front of another human being, especially a stranger. At least at the church I kind of knew them a little; how they operated and what I might expect. These theories that my wife and I had come up with, they didnāt necessarily make sense or add up. But if there was really something to it, I knew I needed help. That meant telling my story ā however ridiculous it sounded ā to several people.
I thought I got lucky when Father Frank didnāt laugh me right out of the Our Lady Of Mercy. Hopefully this Tyree guy wouldnāt laugh me out of the donut shop.
āThe name āTyreeā is unusual sounding,ā I said. I was stalling. āLike itās made up.ā
āWell, itās a nickname, really,ā he took a sip of his Coke and smiled. Heād had meetings like this before so he knew some small talk was necessary first, to get people loose so theyād talk. I heard that cops do that. Maybe he used to be one. But he didnāt look big enough to be a cop. āThe name Tyree is an acronym and a double entendre, all in one.ā
He probably thought I needed to ratchet down after the parking lot confrontation. I didnāt. I needed to ratchet up to start talking about my problem without sounding crazy.
āThe name āTyreeā sure doesnāt sound like a typical nickname. Like they guy they call Shorty because he was six feet tall in third grade. You know?ā
That surprised him a little, and he laughed, sending some soda down the wrong pipe. āThatās funny,ā he managed. Then he cleared his throat. āNo, thatās right, it wasnāt a typical nickname.ā
He went on. āThey just called me Tyree because John Tyler Reed was the name they called when they took attendance in school. So most kids were announced by just their first names, but I had three, and they called me all sorts of stuff. Ty-Rod, Ty-Reeā¦ but when I got into my vocation, it took on another meaning for me.ā
I waited. Vocation?
āI came up with an acronym. T-Y-R-E-E. Trust Your Religion for Everything.ā
Not ex cop. Ex priest?
āReally? Hmm.ā I thought about it for moment. āDid you come up with that yourself? Because it doesnāt really work…ā
He furrowed his brow.
āThat doesnāt spell Tyree; it spells tyre. Like ātire.āā
He smiled, taking the moment to let my attempt at humor get rid of the remaining tension. āWould you want the nickname of āTireā?ā He asked. Before I could answer, he added āthat’s why had the extra āEā on the end. It stands for āevery day.āā
Okayā¦ I guess I have some kind of nutty bible thumper here. This conversation isnāt jiving with the guy in the parking lot who was ready to mix it up.
āFair enough,ā I said, as noncommittal as possible. āI guess youāre entitled to your own nickname.ā
Give him five minutes. If heās batty, then wrap it up quick and head for the door.
āThank you. Letās get down to business.ā He leaned back in his chair. āWhat happened for you to call me?ā
I took a deep breath and blinked, trying to decide just how ridiculous I wanted to sound.
Tyree leaned in. āWhy am I here? It wasnāt just to bail you out of a fight in that parking lot. Whatās going on?ā He lowered his voice. āIs a wolf at the door?ā he asked quietly. I shook my head.
āNot like that.ā I stayed tentative. āNot quite, anyway. Itās not easy to explain.ā I sighed. āIām not sure I even understand it myself.ā
Tyree nodded. āIf you understood it, you wouldnāt need me.ā Then he stood up. āThis sounds like it might take some time,ā he proclaimed. āYou drink coffee?ā
āNo.ā
āWell I do. By the pot. And this sounds like a two pot story. So let me get some joe, and then you just start wherever you feel most comfortable starting. I have time.ā Then he strode off to the cashier.
And I sat there, alone with my soda, wondering what I should tell and what I should keep. Deep inside I knew I had to tell somebody, even if was just to get this insanity off my chest. And talking had always been helpful for me, in a therapeutic sense. It forced me to organize and articulate my thoughts. If I ever had a problem that needed organizing, this one did.
You gotta start trusting somebody sometime, Dan.
Tyree had already earned my trust back in the parking lot. What more did I want?
Tyree returned with a gigantic plastic coffee mug. āYou ready?ā he asked.
āSure,ā I nodded. āItās gonna sound crazy.ā
āIām sure it will. If it didnātā¦ā
āYeah, I wouldnāt have called you.ā
I guess I needed to trust somebody with the crazy stuff. Why not this guy? I already told a priest; he didnāt think it was so strangeā¦
āYou mentioned three stories on the phone,ā Tyree said. āTell me the three stories.ā
āOkay,ā I said. āYou asked for it. Brace yourself; here comes the crazy.ā
āOkay,ā Tyree said, leaning back and sipping his coffee. āBring it.ā
I started with the winery tragedy. By now, Michele and I had talked about it so many times, it had its own name. The Winery Wreck. If either one of us used those words, the other instantly knew what they were talking about: our near death experience while vacationing, where Michele thought that Savvy and I had been run over by the deranged winery owner in his pickup truck.
It still didnāt sit well with us. Crossing parking lots was a much more dangerous thing to do now. Even if somebody saw you, that didnāt mean that they wouldnāt drive right into you. Thatās what the winery guy did.
From there, I told him about the car fire. The day Savvy and I were supposed to drive over to my brotherās, but got stuck on the bridge while our car burned. Again, anyone could chalk it up to bad luck, or even good luck if you were that sort of person, seeing the silver lining. But the fact that these types of things always seemed to happen around the same time of year, really pretty much always during the same week of the year, that was a worrisome fact. Tyree agreed.
Then there was the whole birth event, where the doctor miraculously discovered the heart condition in our daughter. Again, you could call it bad luck ā poor thing, having a rare heart condition. Or you could call it good luck. Hey, you found out about a potentially fatal heart condition and were able to take steps to avoid a tragedy. You were lucky.
Each year, around the same time of year, another bigā¦ issue. A tragedy; a near-tragedy. Good luck or bad luck, depending on how you want to force the equationā¦
By the time I had told him all three stories, more than two hours had passed. I rambled on; Tyree quietly sipped his giant plastic mug of coffee.
āWhy canāt it be both?ā Tyree interrupted.
āWhat?ā I said. āWhy canāt what be both?ā
āThese things that keep happening to you, to your family,ā Tyree said. āWhy does it have to be decisively good luck or bad luck? Why canāt it be both?ā
I didnāt know how to answer.
He went on. āLook, what does a situation look like when something good and bad are happening, or when something good and bad happen at the same time?ā
He let that sit in the air for a moment before he added, āI think it looks a lot like what youāre describing.ā
āIām not sure I follow,ā I said, ābut letās say youāre right. What does that mean to me?ā
āOh, I donāt know.ā He took another long gulp of coffee.
I glared at him. āWell, thatās helpful.ā
āNo, noā¦ I understand. Itās not,ā He admitted. āNot yet anyway. But itās a step.ā
He brightened. āLetās file that way for a moment. Weāll come back to it. Letās talk about something else; give your mind a chance to rest from all this tragedy stuff for a moment.ā
He stood up. āIām getting more coffee. You need anything?ā
I shook my head.
His massive mug was empty, so he went for more. I thought about updating Michele. So far, I didnāt have anything to really tell her. Hey, honey, I almost got beat up in a dark parking lot. Iām now sitting in a donut shop telling a stranger our crazy storiesā¦ If she were asleep, she wouldnāt want to wake up for that, and if she were awake, it would only upset her.
I texted. āEverything okay w me. Still talking to Tyree. Will be home soon.ā
I sent it and watched Tyree walk back to the table with his refill.
āYou probably have some questions for me,ā he said, sitting down. āWhat are they?ā
That caught me off guard. He was a straight shooter, though, so he would probably be prepared for whatever I asked. I thought for a moment.
āAre you a priest?ā I asked.
āNope,ā he replied flatly. āI studied Divinity, though. I was looking into becoming a priest.ā
āWhat happened?ā
āI kind of had a problem with the whole celibacy thing,ā he said, smiling.
āHah. Okay. Tell me about Help For The Hopeful,ā I said. āHow did that get started?ā It was starting to sound like a group run by a former priest who isnāt a former anything; heās just operating outside the strict rules of the Church. That might be okay, reallyā¦
āDonāt ask questions that you donāt really want the answers to,ā Tyree cautioned.
āDonāt talk in platitudes,ā I replied.
He gave me a curious smile. āWhy not? You do.ā
āHow would you know that?ā I asked.
āYouāre a dad, arenāt you?ā
Fair enough.
āI was gonna have Help For The Hopeful put on my license plate.ā He blew on his coffee to cool it. āYou know, āHFTHā. People thought it meant āhave faith,ā and that was nice, too.ā
āWhat about a vow of poverty?ā I asked. āIs there any money in doing what you do?ā
āCan be,ā he said coyly, taking another sip.
āHow does it work? You said you wouldnāt ask for money. Seems like it could take a lot of money to run ads and meet with crazy people, maintain phones and an officeā¦ā
āI said I wouldnāt ask you for any money,ā Tyree corrected. āWe have had a few grateful benefactors who were happy with our services. They have given us some gifts, from time to time.ā
He could see I wasnāt grasping it.
āYou do a big favor for a wealthy industrialist, you get to call in little favors for a long time. And they are happy to help because they benefitted.ā
āDoes the Church know about all this?ā I asked.
āWell, kind of,ā he said. Then he smiled. āCāmon, itās off track betting, a white lie.ā
āItās a little different from a white lie,ā I said.
āThatās right. It is,ā he admitted. āItās a gray lie, maybe even something with a little more color that that. So be it. I know that what I do is worthwhile. People benefit, and I get help from people whoā¦ know people. It all works out. Besides, I have a bit of an inside track with The Almighty; a friend does my confessions at a half priceā
āHeād have to,ā I said, shaking my head. āYou sound like a volume customer.ā
He smiled. He could see I was relaxing, and thatās what was needed. A tense mind doesnāt operate well.
āSo the Church knows about you?ā
āNot directly, usually. In places that are uncomfortable, or places where the Church feels folks are less hospitable, they outsource. Subcontractors, so to speak, so they can keep their hands clean.ā
He paused.
āSo youāre like the Churchās CIA?ā I asked.
āHey, be careful. They have that.ā
We both laughed.
āYouāre quite the radical, Tyree.ā
āYeah, that radical stuff was all the rage in the 1970ās. Then it kinda went out of style; everybody got into making money. Even us. Damned shame. You got a cigarette?ā
I shook my head. āNo? Of course you donāt. Figures.ā Then he added, āI quit anyway.ā
That sounded odd. āWhen did you quit?ā
āThis time? This morning,ā he said. āWhen I was talking to miss Margarita at the bar where I misplaced my keys. She said she couldnāt kiss a man who tasted like an ashtray.ā
āMargarita? Was that her name or a drink she was trying to sell you?ā
āAh, wellā¦ Now that you mention it, thatās a good question.ā Then he changed gears abruptly. āHow do you think your three stories connect?ā
āI donāt know that they do,ā I said. āI just have a feeling. My wife and I just stumbled into it during a conversation. An accident.ā
An accident. Interesting choice of words to describe whatās happened.
āMy wifeās friend originally said it, about six months ago,ā I went on. āThey were talking about vacation plans for our anniversary, and Michele mentioned the trip through wine country. It was between that and a cruise. Her friend said to drive through wine country because bad stuff had happened the last few years during our anniversary trips. She said she wouldnāt take a cruise because the ship would sink or something.ā
āNice friend.ā
āShe did point out though, that she couldnāt tell if we were lucky or unlucky.ā
āHowās that?ā Tyree asked.
āWell, you can say weāre unlucky because these things keep happening, or you can say that weāre lucky because we arenāt ever hurt. The bad stuff happens around us, not to us.ā
āNot yet, anyway.ā
I glared at him. āThanks for that. Anyway, she said she didnāt want to catch the next disaster when it missed us. Or near-missed us.ā
āThe bullet would miss you guys and hit her, that sort of thing?ā
āRight.ā
āI think she may be closer than you think.ā
āHowās that?ā I asked.
āWell, how do you feel about it? Lucky?ā
āNot lucky,ā I said, āthatās for sure.ā
āDo you feelā¦ unlucky?ā
I thought about that. āItās hard to feel unlucky when we have never been hurt. Weāve just been close by when things happened and other people got hurt.ā
āThatās your training talking,ā Tyree said. āYears of social upbringing and societal norm. You have to move past that. This stuff always around the same time of year?ā
āSeems like it,ā I said.
āThen I think maybe you donāt want to see whatās in front of you. Thatās understandable. Who would want to see a threat if they didnāt have to?ā
He had tricked me, knowing Iād have to answer. Who would want to see a threat if they didnāt have to. Anybody. Anybody with something to protect.
āWhat do you protect?ā he asked.
āWell, my wife, my daughterā¦ myā¦ my house, job, dogā¦ā
āDid you always have these problems? I mean, the whole time you were married?ā
Donāt go down that alley.
āNoā¦ā
āWhen did this all start? As far as you and your wife have ever thought about it?ā
āI donātā¦ That canāt be the answer.ā
Who would want to see a threat if they didnāt have to.
āIt canāt beā¦ā
āWhy not? Why are you afraid to see what is in front of you?ā Tyree asked.
āWhat are you trying to say?āI demanded. āIt canāt be her! She canāt be the cause of all this!ā
She canāt be!
āWhen did it all start?ā He asked again. He just wanted me to say it out loud.
I felt things falling into place in ways I didnāt want them to. āIt started when my daughter was born,ā I whispered. I was dazed at how it sounded.
āI think thatās significant, donāt you?ā he said.
She canāt be the cause of all this! She canāt be!
āSheās just a little kid!ā I said, nearing my limit. āShe can NOT be why this is happening.ā
Tyree just stared at me. After a long moment, he asked, āWhy not?ā
The words just hung in the air, echoing around in my head without an answer.
Why not?
ANALYSIS
We cut a few filters here, and there were a lot of filters we trimmed in prior chapters, but one lesson at a time. We also corrected some dialogue issues (the speeches went on too long) and added a tad of tension (some emotional stuff for Doug at the end).
Here’s a list of filtery stuff:
- I watched
- I saw
- I decided (these can be he saw, he decided, too.)
- I heard
- I looked
- etc
The trick is to replace them with better phrases when needed, which is a lot of the time but not always. So
I watched as themoon rose over the mountains
becomes
The moon rose over the mountains.
And
I heard my wife crying.
becomes
Through the door, the sound of sobbing came to me.
See?
We cut dialogue tags and added beats, added descriptions, added depth and inner monologues in this chapter, too. That stuff, you learned in a different chapter/lesson.
But I have a lot of filter words in some of these chapters. Yeah. Sometimes you want to portray some distance, for effect, or folksiness. But use with caution. I’ll be removing a fair number of them.
We’ve been doing a lot of stuff in every chapter we fix, and sometimes it makes for a loooooong editing process. But doing it makes you oh so aware every time you start to write I saw or a crutch word, or was (this story’s full of was’s. Oh, well.)
If you had back the time you spent editing out that horrible stuff out, you could write another book.
And it’d be just as bad. So take the lesson and learn the rule.
Now:
Let me have your comments. The next chapter will post tomorrow but they will ALL come down shortly after February 15, so donāt dawdle!
You are readers, too. Your input will shape the final product. Be honest.
Share and reblog these! Your friends need to know this stuff, too.
Dan Alatorre is the author of several bestsellers and the amazingly great sci fi action thriller āThe Navigators.ā Click HERE to get your copy of The Navigators ā FREE on Kindle Unlimited!
11 replies on “I Watched As Filters Messed Up My Story”
It makes sense.. the moon rising and the sobbing heard are what the character is experiencing… We would take that for granted so to add the fillers would be redundant. Oh, now I am so needing to turn the page to find out if Tyree and Doug are truly going to hang this all on Sophie… think I’ll go make coffee
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Reblogged this on Don Massenzio's Blog and commented:
Here is another great post from Dan Alatorre on the use of filters in your writing
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Excellent!
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Thank you!
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Thanks!
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Definitely, agree with you on the subject of filters. I try to edit them out but even then miss some. Great post, Dan, thank you. I love how you did the interaction between them and how Tyree led Doug into his way of thinking. Great stuff.
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Thanks! I love hearing feedback, positive and negative, but positive obviously rocks. We all like to know when our stuff works.
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I really try to watch filters (never had a name for them) *as* I write now — but that comes from practice. I still find some occasionally and make a point of looking for them specifically when editing. Very, very occasionally, I choose to keep one for a certain reason, but it’s a conscious, thought-out choice. Filters also fall under the collective umbrella of wordiness, lack of tightness (kind of the same thing but slightly different), redundancy, and lack of contribution to plot advancement or character development — the fitness test I put my text through during editing.
I really enjoy these articles and seeing the examples of before and after. The examples really make your point stand out.
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I didn’t know their name either. And sometimes it’s hard to say what you’re trying to say without using them!
But with each new story we tell, we learn more and more how to not get ourselves into the predicament to where a filter is the only thing that will work.
Great points.
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So true.
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Reblogged this on Beyond the Precipice and commented:
Want your writing to have impact and look polished? Here is some great advice from Dan Alatorre.
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