Beating myself up

[desperance]

matociquala was posting about beats a few days back (and if you didn't read that, go do); so here's a whole nother kind, the line-by-line stuff that I do instinctively, barely see I'm doing it.

Coming to the end of a paragraph, where a woman and her family are trying to keep ahead of soldiers caught in a killing frenzy (think the siege of Jerusalem, the rape of Nanking), she's hoping they'll just exhaust themselves before they reach the river, and this was the last line:

"perhaps by then they would let be, walk past doorways they would have kicked through before, not search in darkened warehouses, not care."

And then I thought, whoa, this is the East, they have their word for warehouses, which is godowns. Which makes the line:

"perhaps by then they would let be, walk past doorways they would have kicked through before, not search in darkened godowns, not care"

- and that's wrong, because there's a beat missing from that final cadence, it jars and you lose the dying fall. So you remake it:

"perhaps by then they would let be, walk past doorways they would have kicked through before, not search in darkened godowns, just not care."

And that's all it needs, that unstressed syllable either side of the comma, doesn't matter which: just a verbal hesitation between the last two stresses. That flows, where the other stumbles.

And yup, I do this every sentence, every clause. Sometimes I wonder if I worry too much. (But, with reference to another subject that crops up here, what words you can or can't use in a fantasy: I'm reading a book I'm enjoying enormously, but it's a second-world fantasy and the author used the word 'sophist' and I tripped over that because it is so explicitly linked in my head with a school of Greek philosophy, never mind what other meanings it may have acquired since; and anything that makes a reader trip needs smoothing over, so no, I don't worry too much. It's impossible to worry too much.)

Comments

[dedbutdrmng.livejournal.com]

I'm fascinated by reading about writing. And also repelled as it always brings with it a panicked sense of 'ohmygodImdoingitallwrong'. And as I'm writing comedy (or so I like to think) rhythm and getting the reader to hear what I hear is all important.

So now I'm going to go and stare at todays words until my eyes bleed and then worry (more than usual).*

Which leads me to the inescapable conclusion this post is partly vengeance for me asking about nets. Have you no pity?

(And congratulations on the shortlisting.)


Not to mention the feeling of utter foolishness that talking about writing to proper writers when you're not one yourself brings with it. I will be cringing after I press 'post comment'.