M. B. Feeney - Author

The words “down” and “up” are often unnecessary and can be edited out of your writing. More often than not, their meaning is implied in the words they’re attached to.

Before:

I sat down on the couch.

After:

I sat on the couch.

Down is implied in the verb “sit,” so it’s unneeded. Same thing goes for “up” in many cases:

Before:

I stood up.

After:

I stood.

Unless you’re a soldier, you probably aren’t going to “stand down,” so you can safely omit the “up.”

Of course, there are times when the words “down” or “up” are necessary. A quick test to see if they’re needed is just to delete them. If the sentence still makes sense without them, you’re good to go. If not, put them back in.

Hope this helps!

//////////////

… keep writing. 

🐾🐾🐾

When you stumble upon a television show, or hear another writer blabber intensely about their WIP, or you read the back of a book at Your Local Bookstore…. and it seems uncomfortably familiar to your own Idea….

you keep writing your story. 

You hold onto your Idea. You nurture it. 

I still experience that gut-reaction of wanting to crumple up my WIP and toss it in the trash whenever I come across a similar idea as mine. 

🐻 But bear in mind….! 🐻

…that similar ideas are actually sought after by readers. 

Think about it, as a reader yourself:

You near the ending pages of a book that sucked you in. The last word is read, and you set the book to the side, sighing with inspiration and sorrow. You have now begun the descent into the book hole, the space between reading “those special books”. And what do you do whilst in the book hole but look for books of a similar nature? 

- okay, okay, I understand that sometimes after a book of one ilk, we now want a book of a completely other ilk - 

But generally speaking, I know that I look for books of similar ilk after having that transcendental experience with that one story. 

I want more.

Cue: Your Maybe-Not-as-Unique-As-You’d-Hoped-and-Thought Story. 

Don’t be discouraged. Don’t. 

🐾🐾🐾

Marathoning favorite shows/movies of their partner even though they don’t really like it

Watching their partner study for an exam

Seeing their partner sorting candy by color

Hearing the way their partner talks to kids

Looking into their eyes and really looking at their eye color

Noticing small details about them (physically)

When they remember details about their partner

Going on a road trip with their partner and having a good time singing and talking for hours with minimal awkwardness

Seeing how their partner treats another human being/animal

The way their partner looks when they fall asleep/wake up 

Seeing their partner make them a meal

Smelling their cologne/perfume in a crowd

Hearing their laugh

Having their partner reach for them without looking because they know they’re there.

Giving their partner a nickname/having their partner give them a nickname

Hearing a song that reminds them of their partner

Standing up for their partner/Protecting them

Catching their eye when they’re in a crowd

When they’re crying

When they pick them up/get picked up by them from work, school, etc.

You know, I’ve got a fourteen-year-old nephew who plays the violin.

He’s been playing it since fifth grade, and he’s going to be a freshman in high school next year. He’s at that age where boys are usually fucking assholes. Worse than that, he’s a nerdy boy, who’s into a whole slew of geeky things, which means he could so very easily fall prey to the Nice Guy attitude, but he doesn’t.

He’s a good kid. But because he’s so much like me, and has been influenced heavily by me his entire life, he’s a bit of a perfectionist.

On Monday, we went to an open house for parents for the high school he’s hoping to get into this coming year, and they had their orchestra playing. After their performance, as we were walking to the next section of the tour, he reiterated a point that I’ve heard him voice a few times before.

It’s hard for him to just sit there and listen to other people play the violin now. When he’s listening to the performance, all he can hear are the missed notes or if someone is scratchy or off-key or if they’re a beat ahead or a beat behind, etc. 

He isn’t some virtuoso by any means, he’s just a fourteen-year-old that plays the violin, yet because he studies it, he automatically mentally critiques the performance.

I think we, as writers, can all relate to that. No matter how well we write ourselves, by being in this arena, we are automatically more sensitive to the mistakes others make. In fact, you don’t even have to be a writer; those who read regularly are prone to the same thing.

The thing is, though, I didn’t have to tell my nephew not to mock the students who were performing at the open house. I didn’t have to tell him not to criticize them or make fun of them, I didn’t have to tell him to lower his voice so they wouldn’t hear, and I definitely didn’t have to stop him from going up to them to criticize their performances to their face. It was something that was automatically understood; those things are impolite, and should he engage in any of those behaviors, he’d get in trouble for them.

And here’s the really important bit. Are you ready? 

Not a single one of those amateur performers had to preface that performance by saying, “Please don’t.” 

It was just automatically understood that their audience wouldn’t, because it’s not a thing you do in polite society when you are given something for free by people who are not professionals. Especially when–this is also an important bit–you are also not a professional critic in any shape, form, or fashion.

My nephew waited until we’d walked away from the orchestra, where they weren’t in danger of hearing before he even began to discuss the very broad concept of how he critiques performances now because he’s in orchestra.

Somehow, without me having to drill it into his head countless times, this fourteen-year-old boy grasps the concept that you should not go up to someone, out of the blue, and criticize their performance just because you heard (or in the case of a writer: saw) their mistakes. He isn’t a professional, nor is he a teacher. He hasn’t been asked, he’s still learning himself, and they don’t know him from Adam. 

On a fundamental level, he seems to get how entirely unhelpful his critique would be, and how the only thing he’s succeeding in doing is hurting someone’s feelings for no good reason.