Plot Holes and Potholes
I love the written word – not simply because of books and everywhere one can travel or what one may learn within them – I genuinely love everything about it.
The pen is mightier than the sword. This is true.
A love letter recovered while going through boxes after years of being in storage can elicit emotions you have long forgotten.
A post-war missive with an embellished version of one’s truth can change the way history is taught. Or, more dangerously, erase the truth altogether.
Recently, I’ve been escaping into written worlds of fantasy. This time of year, with the holidays rapidly approaching, I need to escape reality.
However, my “manuscript reviewer” brain hasn’t gotten the memo that I’m reading for leisure.
I’m 100% aware that authors from across the pond use words and terms differently than those of us residing in The States, but I can’t seem to ignore the differences long enough to get sucked into the novels.
For example, we all know what a backsplash is, right? Yes, I’m referring to the shielded area of the wall at the back of a countertop.
It took an embarrassing amount of time for me to realise a “splash-back” was the same thing as a backsplash. For the words to simply be flipped should not have given me as much grief as it did, yet, it took me rereading the same sentence three times and about six different facial expressions to convince myself to let it go and move on.
It isn’t just terms that my brain seems to say ERROR with, either. It’s the missing commas.
I was taught, and have thrived on, a comma separating descriptive words referencing the same noun. It adds emphasis and provides desired drama. Commas are necessary, in my mind, to paint the picture with the appropriate colors.
Example: “Oozing crimson dots outlined my injury.”
Does that sentence read well to you? It didn’t to me. At all. It isn’t inherently wrong, per say. It just isn’t what I’d have written based on how I was taught and how I prefer to read. I had to mentally rewrite it to Oozing, crimson dots…”
The difference is subtle and probably not a big deal to most, but to me, it makes all the difference.
To give you a peek inside my brain, when I come across words and/or sentences such as these, let me take you back to the mid-2000’s.
Picture this: You’re driving on a county road, listening to your newest burnt CD labeled something that would make you physically cringe now, you’re singing at the top of your lungs and the windows are probably down. And then… you hit a pothole and the song pauses or skips a beat.
Your entire vibe instantly dies. There’s no way to truly gain it back because you were in the zone! Just like in Finding Nemo where Marlin and Dory come face-to-face with the angler fish and Marlin says “Good feeling’s gone.”
Yeah. That is what it’s like to be sucked right out of a novel because of a mental brush with velvet – a fabric I loathe to touch. (seriously, just got chills thinking about it)
I do love the written word, truly. I simply do not love how my brain dissects every single line. I am grateful for the ability to pinpoint these sorts of anomalies, because it helped me tremendously while writing my own novel. It is also the backbone of my manuscript reviewing process.
My sister, who helped edit Breathing Freely, told me she can’t read for errors and read for pleasure, and I can see that being true for her. I know my mind is keen for pattern recognition, rhythm, continuity, and word choice, whereas she has to flip a switch to turn certain skills on and off.
It is a blessing and a curse. I want to help authors bring their story to its full potential, but I also want to enjoy a book and not let the geography of the author’s upbringing try to influence how many stars I leave in my review.
I suppose there really are different strokes (of the pen) for different folks.
If you’re enjoying these entries, or they’ve resonated with some part of you, I’d love for you to leave a comment.
Thank you for being here,
Haleigh
