It has occurred to me that I have beat my head against the language in my stories, trying to say what I want to say in the crispest language possible. I've lopped out whole sections, rewritten again and again and come to a few conclusions. I'd like to share them here in the hopes they will save other hard-working writers some heartache. After all, rejection is difficult. Nothing quite beats down the day like an envelope that you yourself addressed, to yourself, flooding in with the next oblivious no — and perhaps a pamphlet or two about buying whatever magazine just turned you down. These rules may help get your fiction out of that endless cycle of nos and wasted postage.

1. If you have two sentences that could become one thought, especially if they repeat some of each other's language, think about the repetition. Is it necessary and deliberate? Could one sentence be eliminated by adding one descriptive word to the previous one? If so, combine them.

2. On a similar note, do you have a character performing two actions or making two explanations/descriptions when one would be stronger? If yes, lop out the extra one.

By the way, this should be done during revision, not creation, trying to chunk out the phrasings that were actually "road-runner" devices to get the thought out. (i.e. the wheels were spinning but somewhat ineffectively for your point, which you can fix when you know what the story you wrote is actually about.)

3. Adverbs — avoid them. Though it may seem like they sometimes help your dialogue in terms of expressing exactly how a character said something, they should be cut as often as possible. The dialogue itself is where the reader wants to hear characterization and personality. "Don't use adverbs to make weak dialogue do more," she said bemusedly.

Note: Cut bemusedly.

A character's telling actions are better than an "ly" helper. Use adverbs like chili pepper or curry — as needed, only when needed, a pinch is enough. Nothing screams amateur louder than a story chock full of speech verb modifiers.

4. On the subject of a character's telling actions, try to make those actions visual and specific. I once wrote a story where everyone was looking away or glaring or smiling — couldn't I do better? It's a battle, but try and make each thing a character does "story specific" — That's what I notice in the big hitter pubs like the New Yorker and Zoetrope All-Story.

You don't see blasé or cliché actions thrown in to give motion to talking heads. In my opinion, a character's actions should be conveyed nearly as efficiently as stage blocking for a play, the author getting the idea out without interrupting the flow of the actual story. For example, if the action is the most important in the story, fine, take a few sentences — but if a character is picking their nose for two paragraphs before the conflict even begins, and the boogers have nothing to do with what the story will discuss, make their presence short and sweet: Shirley picked her nose with a broken acrylic nail while contemplating how to kill Edgar. OR Shirley picked her nose. She contemplated how to kill Edgar.

5. A good story will read like a love letter to the reader, crafted for them with care, careful not to bore them, and satisfying when the paper goes down. Does your ending work? Does your opening work? Do these things interest you if you can step away from the story long enough? If I'm bored with the first two sentence of a story, I stop reading. Some editors at the pubs we send to probably think the same way — only there goes your rejection in the mail.

I don't think a story needs to be "scintillating" or "wowing" from the start, but the language must be sharper, crisper at the reader's start and finish than anywhere else. The reader is more forgiving in the middle of a story than they are at the beginning or end.

6. More on dialogue. As you draft a story, you probably flow into it and use dialogue to discover for yourself who these characters are. You have them repeat (i.e. echo) other characters' comments like:

"I'm tired of living here," she said.

"You're tired of living here — you're tired of living here? Then why don't you move in with trailer park Charles?"

I've heard it said that a main character should not echo. If you don't need the rep or reps, lop them out. Now, if this character responding to the woman had a low intellect or was expressing disgust, maybe he would keep one repetition. If he were cold and calculating, he'd simply say: "Then why don't you move in with trailer park Charles."

Many times, you'll think a repetition is necessary until you realize you a have a bunch of them that slow up the flow and add nothing to your story but the extra baggage of words already heard. Look for this as you tighten. Cut it out.

7. Look for pace and rhythm when you finish a piece. Are there sections that make your eyes want to shift to where the action starts again. Try to lop them in half. Express them in one sentence. Whatever. But if you're bored, so, probably, is your reader.

8. Flashbacks — if this is a weakness for you, i.e. if you find yourself doing this sequence quite a bit, take a story and copy and paste it into a new doc. Re-order and put everything in chronological order. See how you like it. Was it an easier read? Could you lop out the transition statements you needed so many of in the previous draft? Then do so. If you like the other version better after a week, keep it.

Some people use so many flashbacks their reader gets lost or bored. I know that when I see a huge flashback sequence in a novel, I am so tempted to skim for the important traumatic event therein and keep reading the "now."

Consider readers like this — we are born, age, and die (hopefully in that order) — people tend to like a real movement of time that they can follow. Just a thought.

9. Get to the conflict quickly. Make your exposition (the story set up) happen concurrently if you can, but whatever you do, make sure the conflict comes through as soon as possible. Don't spend three pages talking about a character before the main issue comes through. If this is your story and you think, "But I want the reader to see this person," consider this: From your bank teller, do you want the story of their lives, or do you want that which relates to your life — which is your money? Your reader wants their "money" from your story — and your characterization should come through the actual events of the story. Who cares if Betty likes fruitloops so much she carries them in her pocket unless she feeds those fruitloops to the bird who flies into the face of our stories antagonist or protagonist and this leads to, you guessed it, conflict.

10. Listen to the song a story is singing. Some stories are Sarah McLaughlin — soft, slow, melodic. Others are Nine Inch Nails — bam, bam, bam. Think of it like a melody beneath the sentence structures, a concerto. Does your story blend and flow? What sort of melody do you imagine behind it? Never listen to music that doesn't match the melody of the story while you are revising. By the same token, avoid editing a story to mirror the tone of another story you just edited before it. Take breaks when switching between stories you edit. Take a read through to get back into the frame of the one you look at next. It's important.

11. NEVER revise completely (meaning not just typos or glitches) while angry about an editor or friendly reviewer's comments. You might as well just cut holes in your underwear and send them to Victoria Secret for a refund.

Take an hour away. Take a day away. Only when you feel you can look at your story like you want to help it should you feel good about full revisions.

On a similar but related matter — never, never reply to a rejection or comment while you are still angry. Let yourself cool off. Trust me. Sometimes the suggestions that make us the angriest are the ones that will be most helpful to getting that story just right. And those people who sent the comment your way are brave, caring souls. If they did not care, they would have said nothing.

I know not everyone phrases things constructively, but consider this: Even if they spank your fanny pink with mean, hurtful comments, when you are calm you can still look at why they (a hostile reader) would reject your story — and you can be rational about their feedback and use what works for you.

Sure, rejection hurts. So does not getting "seen" by the editors where you send work, but I really think we authors must come to appreciate those people who criticize us when we see our stories shaping up. A lot.

Sometimes accepting your biggest injuries with grace is your greatest help to moving out from the "aspiring" bracket and into the "publishing" bracket. I've also heard it said that editor's have a long memory. Would you like to piss now in the punch that you're sure to sip later? Just a thought.

Keep writing! Keep revising! Publish well!

"There is no past present or future. Using tenses to divide time is like making chalk marks on water."

— Janet Frame