Stop Explaining the Obvious, Writers

Let me share something that bothers me as an editor.

I won’t say it bothers me as a reader, because I almost never see this in professionally edited books. Which tells you something right there.

What bothers me is when writers feel the need to state the obvious.

For example:

“This is disgusting,” she said to no one.

My eyes just rolled so far back into my head I briefly saw my brain.

“She said to no one.”

Well… yes. If the reader already knows she’s alone—and if you’re a good writer, they should know she’s alone based on the scene you’ve created—then we don’t need that little announcement. You’ve basically added a sentence that translates to: In case you forgot how scenes work…

Instead, try something that actually adds flavor:

• “This is disgusting,” she muttered.
• “What in the world is going on?” she mumbled into the darkness.
• “This is disgusting,” she whispered.

See? Same idea. Less eye twitching for your editor.

Another one I see a lot:

“What was that?” she said out loud.

Out loud.

Because… when people say things… they are typically… out loud.

Unless she’s telepathic. In which case we have a completely different book.

Writers, trust your readers. They’re smarter than you think. If the character is alone, we know she’s talking to herself. You don’t need to spell it out like we’re reading assembly instructions for a bookshelf.

And if you catch yourself writing she said to no one, just remember:

 

When A Thriller Loses Its Thrill

You may recall one of my recent blog posts (March 13^th) where I mentioned starting a thriller that gave me anxiety from the very first chapter. And honestly, to me, that’s usually a great sign. A good thriller should make you uneasy right away. It should hook you, pull you in, and make you think, Oh my gosh… what would I do if I were in this situation?

This one did exactly that in the beginning.

I’m a little over halfway through it now, and unfortunately, I’m pretty disappointed.

It started out strong—mysterious, tense, and full of that “what the heck is going on?” feeling that keeps you turning pages. But somewhere along the way, it lost momentum. I hate to say the word boring, but honestly… that’s the only word that fits.

The story shifts between multiple characters, which is fine. I love a good multi-perspective thriller. But the author spends far too much time focusing on one character who, frankly, isn’t the one we should be spending all that time with. Meanwhile, the two characters who are actually central to the mystery seem to get pushed aside.

And then comes the real problem.

At one point the husband’s point of view basically gives the whole thing away.

So now the tension is gone. The mystery is gone. And the rest of the book feels less like a thriller and more like waiting around to see if and how the husband and this other woman get caught—and what happens to the actual victim of the situation.

I’m still reading because, well… curiosity. And because once I start a book, I feel compelled to finish it.

But at this point?

It’s feeling like a whole lot of buildup that wandered off somewhere and forgot to come back.

Thrillers: Because Apparently My Anxiety Needs a Hobby

I recently started reading another thriller. It’s very good so far… but it has already made me a nervous wreck. As if I needed help in that department. My anxiety does a fine job all on its own, thank you very much.

The book opens with a woman going out for an evening jog. She and her husband recently moved to a small town a few months ago. As she runs, she reflects on memories and thinks about the art exhibit she’s attending later that night at the town gallery.

So far, normal.

But here’s where my editor brain and general common sense start twitching. She goes jogging with no phone, no ID… just her house keys. Who does this?

Anyway, she returns home after the run, a little winded, probably feeling accomplished, ready to shower and get ready for the exhibit. She goes to unlock the door… and the key doesn’t work.

Odd.

She knocks, assuming her husband will answer.

He doesn’t.

Instead, another woman opens the door.

And here’s where things get delightfully insane. The woman looks like her. Sounds like her. And—just to make it extra creepy—is wearing the exact black velvet dress the jogger planned to wear that night.

Then the woman calmly says her name. The same name as our main character. Naturally, the husband appears at the door next… and doesn’t recognize the jogger at all. He believes the woman standing beside him is his wife.

Yikes.

This sounds crazy. And messy. And exactly the kind of thriller rabbit hole I’m about to dive into.

Stay tuned. I have a feeling this one is going to make my blood pressure spike.

A Tiny Paperback and a Reality Check

I recently went to my local library to return a book and—my favorite part—pick up two books that had come in that I’d placed on hold.

Naturally, I had to stop at the main display case when I walked in. You know the one. The “new arrivals” section. The one that whispers, You don’t have enough books yet.

Of course I grabbed one.

Anyway, I made my way to the desk and happily chatted with one of the librarians. They all know me there. Not only am I their local author, but I’m also in there constantly because… well… I love books.

So she checks out my books and slides the stack toward me.

And that’s when I notice it. One of the books I placed on hold is a paperback.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love paperbacks. But this wasn’t just any paperback. This was one of those tiny paperbacks.

You know the ones. The very small ones that used to be popular years ago—back before publishers started printing books in sizes humans could actually read without a microscope.

I’m pushing 50. My eyes, even with glasses, are not what they once were.

So now I’m staring at this tiny little book with what I can only assume is microscopic print.

Did I say anything? Of course not. I smiled politely, took my stack of books, and walked out like a normal person… while internally thinking, There is absolutely no way I’m going to be able to read this.

I guess I have two options now: Start requesting large print editions, or actually pay attention to the size of the books I place on hold.

Lesson learned.

Maybe.

What about you? Do you have a favorite book format or size? Hardcover? Trade paperback? Large print? Or are you one of those magical people who can still read tiny print without squinting?