Tag: Writing

Writers have conflicting advice when it comes to the use of the speech tag “said.” A number of folks, particularly on Instagram lately, have argued that writers should vary up their speech tags, in much the same way you’d vary your adjectives, verbs, and nouns.

The argument against “said” goes: Why use “said” over and over when you could be mixing things up and using “declared,” “replied,” “announced,” or other verbs?

That said, most of the books on novel writing I’ve read have been pro-“said.” The one that immediately comes to mind is Good Writing by Neal Allen and Anne Lamott. It shares 36 ways to improve sentences and rule #4 is “Stick with ‘Said.’” While not technically a ranked list, the earliest rules do seem more fundamental, so it being #4 is saying something.

Others have argued that “said” is so common and so expected that it’s functionally invisible—like an article or conjunction. In The Fantasy Fiction Formula, Deborah Chester goes a step further and likens “said” to punctuation. 

A journalistic influence

Like myself, Allen is a former journalist, so this rule makes a lot of sense to me. “Said” is neutral and unbiased, which is important in journalism. Embellish the speech tags on quotes and you’re editorializing.

That said, novels aren’t journalism. And as with most of Neal’s rules, Lamott delivers some counterpoints, arguing in favor of some “said” alternatives like “mumbled” and “whispered,” for example. I agree with Lamott that speech tags like those that tell how a statement was physically delivered are useful.

A crutch akin to an adverb

But here’s the part in Neal’s argument that really resonates with me. He says, “Why not let the reader interpret the character’s statement all on their own?”

That feels like the general rule about choosing strong verbs so you don’t have to use adverbs. For instance, if you have to say, “he quipped,” then perhaps it’s not a good quip. Similarly, if you’re dialogue is solid, there’s no reason to use the speech tags “agreed,” “promised,” or “conceded,” for example, as they’d just be redundant with the dialogue.

To bring in the adverb angle, that’s in the same vein as “he said snidely.” The character’s words, body language, and context should convey his snideness without you having to say so.

Keeping myself honest

So, where do I come down on this issue in practice? I did a quick search for speech tags in the manuscript for the first book in my dystopian sci-fi trilogy (Project: T.A.G.), which has been seen by a developmental editor and copy editor. Here’s a partial breakdown:

says: 657 instances
asks: 31
whispers: 20
replies: 16
announces: 8
barks: 7
declares: 6
mumbles: 4
coos: 2
responds: 1
agrees: 0
assures: 0
promises: 0
remarks: 0
reminds: 0
suggests: 0

You can see I’m solidly in the present tense of the “said” camp, but not an absolutist. “Asks” feels similarly invisible to me. “Whispers,” “announces,” “mumbles,” and “declares” bring a little color to the physical manner in which things were said. The “barks” are mainly associated with one character, and the “coos” with another, so those are part of characterization.

The next best thing to ‘said’

I also did a quick check of the very first draft of my manuscript and found that my latest version has 10% fewer speech tags overall. In most cases, I was able to replace speech tags with action beats that established which character is currently acting, rendering the speech tag unnecessary. While “said” is quite invisible, being able to eliminate a speech tag altogether is even better.

What do you think?

Do you prefer “said” or do you like to aggressively vary your speech tags or do you fall something in between?

Related posts:

Good Writing: An Evening with Anne Lamott & Neal Allen

‘Write what you know’ is too limiting

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Race was a major theme during the May 30th WBUR Festival interview with Celeste Ng, the author of Everything I Never Told You, Little Fires Everywhere, and Our Missing Hearts. 

Born in Pittsburgh to parents from Hong Kong, she recounted spending many of her school-age years in Shaker Heights, Ohio, where her school had one Jewish kid, one Black kid, and one Asian kid—her. Everyone else was White.

Little Fires Everywhere is set in Shaker Heights, Ohio, and the main family in that story is White, although it’s never stated, which raises a lot of questions for some people. Ng said that people tell her, “If you’re Asian, where are all the Asian people [in your stories]?”

For that novel, Ng said she didn’t feel comfortable writing the experience of a Black or Latino mother, but did feel comfortable writing about a poor White mother, as she’d spent lots of time around White mothers in Ohio.

“I have to understand [my characters] well enough so I can portray them fully, or fairly,” she said.

Writing ‘off the page’

To help facilitate that, she does a lot of writing “off the page.” These are character-building exercises that help writers flesh out a character’s background, behaviors, and quirks. Often these consist of authors interviewing their characters to get to know them better. While the vast, vast majority of this content never makes it into the story, it helps crystalize the character in the author’s mind.

Ng has previously said, “Writing is empathy.” And throughout the interview, you could really understand the care and consideration she brings to her writing, including blending her own experiences and feelings with characters who have different experiences than she does.

That resonated with me, as the cast of characters in my dystopian sci-fi trilogy, which is mostly set in Asia, is largely non-White. My novel wouldn’t make any sense if it was full of White characters like me, so I appreciate writers who refuse to be put in a box based on their own race.

Honestly, telling people they can only write about characters who are the same race as them seems kind of racist. That’s an overly narrow interpretation of the “Write what you know” advice. And, as Ng points out, it denies people the opportunity to be more empathetic by putting themselves in other people’s shoes. And the world sorely needs more empathy.

That said, race is a small part of my novel’s world, which is divided into two global superpowers and is much more stratified by social class. But when I do have racial elements, I try to do my homework and act from a position of curiosity.

Related posts:

‘Write what you know’ is too limiting

When world powers start aligning to match your novel’s dystopian vision

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I always imagined myself a plotter. I’m a planner by nature, and manage lots of projects and an extensive calendar in my day job. However, when I started working on book 1 of my dystopian sci-fi trilogy (Project: T.A.G.), a funny thing happened: Despite having a very extensive outline, I found that some of my characters were dictating the action.

I’d get to a point where I wasn’t 100% sure what would happen next or how the next thing would happen and I’d ask myself, What would this character do? It was never the major plot points. It was the stuff in between. And the things my characters decided to do always made my story better.

It was after this had happened numerous times that I read How to Write a Mystery and Robert Lopresti’s contribution about the Rising Island method. Here’s how he describes it:

After I read that, I was like, that’s me. That’s how I write. I plan out all the big tentpole events, but there’s some organic pantser action happening in between.

The Third Way

Perhaps it’s time to do away with the plotter-pantser binary and add a new in-between category: the plotser.

That rolls off the tongue more nicely than rising-islander. (Sorry, Robert.) 

Where are my fellow plotsers?

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Book review: ‘How to Write a Mystery’ by Mystery Writers of America

This vs. that: Novel-writing books

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