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Lois Winston Shane McKnight Lois Winston Shane McKnight

The Difference Between Passive Voice and Passive Verbs

Too many writers confuse passive verbs with passive voice—and avoid “was” like the plague because of bad advice. USA Today bestselling author Lois Winston sets the record straight with clarity, nuance, and real-world writing examples.


I began writing fiction nearly thirty years ago. Over the years, I’ve attended dozens of writing conferences, both in the romance genre and the mystery genre. Most of what I learned was invaluable toward advancing my writing career. However, occasionally I’d come across inaccurate information. Such is the case with passive voice and passive verbs.

Once upon a time, somewhere during some talk or on some panel, someone emphatically stated that authors should NEVER use any form of the verb “to be.” That misinformed person said using “was,” along with its brothers and sisters (is, am, are, were, been,) was passive voice and a surefire way to receive a rejection from agents and editors. Like a bad rumor, this piece of writing advice flew from writer to writer, taking on a life of its own, until it became gospel. 

I’d like to set the record straight. There’s a huge difference between passive verbs and passive voice.

Passive voice is when an action is acted upon the subject, rather than the subject acting. The car was driven by Anna is a passive sentence. Anna drove the car is an active sentence. However, Anna was happy to drive the car is not a passive sentence. Anna is expressing emotion. She is acting, rather than being acted upon. Of course, there are more interesting ways to write the sentence to show Anna’s emotions, but that’s a separate discussion.

One of the easiest ways to tell whether your sentence is active or passive is to analyze the position of the subject, verb, and direct object. In active voice, the subject (the one performing the action) will come before the verb (the action), and the verb will come before the direct object (that which is being acted upon.)

There are instances, though, when passive voice is necessary to the unfolding of a story or better suited to the realism of the dialogue. When we speak, we don’t first think whether our sentences are active or passive before uttering them. We just speak them. The same is true when writing dialogue. Manipulate a sentence to avoid passive voice in a conversation between characters, and you often transform snappy dialogue into stilted dialogue. 

For example: Billy ran into the house and cried, “Mom! Come quick. Snoopy was hit by a car!”  This passage accurately illustrates the way a child might respond to a car hitting his dog. Snoopy was hit by a car is a passive sentence because Snoopy is being acted upon by the car, but the child mentions Snoopy first because the dog’s welfare is uppermost in his mind. Also, by placing the last sentence in passive voice, the author is ratcheting up the tension. We don’t know until the very end exactly what hit Snoopy. A stray baseball? A nasty neighbor? A falling tree limb? Although A car hit Snoopy, is active voice, using it lessens the impact of the sentence.

Still squeamish about the use of “was”? After you finish your manuscript, do a search of the word. Check each sentence to see if you can rewrite it to avoid using “was.” If you can, and it doesn’t detract from the pacing, dialogue, or meaning of the passage, do so. If not, leave it. Some “was” are meant to be.

EXCEPT in the subjunctive.

The what, you ask? Subjunctive case or mood is one of the most misunderstood rules in the English language because it runs counter to subject/verb agreement. In other words, if a subject is singular, the verb must also be singular. But not in the subjunctive.

The subjunctive applies to cases of “wishfulness” or “what if” situations. In these cases, “was” becomes “were,” as in, I wish I were taller. “Were” is also used when a sentence or clause uses “if,” “as if,” or “as though,” but only in instances where the statement is contrary to fact. 

Examples include: 
If I were taller, I could see the stage better.
Her twelve-year-old son acts as if he were in kindergarten

The maid behaved as though she were queen

Because I cannot grow taller, the twelve-year-old is not in kindergarten, and the maid is not a queen, all the statements are contrary to fact, and “was” becomes “were” even though the subjects are all singular.

Keep in mind, though, that the key statement here is “contrary to fact.” “If” statements that are not contrary to fact retain the singular form of the verb. If I was at the store that day, I don’t remember is a correct sentence because the statement is not contrary to fact whether I can recall the event or not. 

So don’t be afraid to use “was” and “were” in your writing but be sure to use them correctly.


USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. Her most recent release is Sorry, Knot Sorry, the thirteenth book in her Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series. Learn more about Lois and her books at her website www.loiswinston.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter and follow her on various social media sites.

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Angela K. Durden Shane McKnight Angela K. Durden Shane McKnight

Punctuation Is Power - Part 4: Finding your style: Free your mind and readers will follow

Finding your writing style is less about following rules and more about practicing until your voice emerges. Learn how punctuation, revision, and rhythm can help shape a voice readers will follow.


Ernest Hemingway wrote a novel you may have heard of called The Old Man and the Sea. It is described as a brilliant short novel, but before editors got hold of it, it was neither brilliant nor short. In fact, it meandered here and there. What a mess. It took an editor to find the story and chop out the crap, after which Ernest could finish it to become the brilliant, short novel we all know and love. 

Part 3 of my series ended with the recommendation of getting an editor who was not in love with a particular style manual and forcing your story into a predetermined mold that may not fit. Hemingway was well served by just such editors. This column is about finding a style and training readers to it.

Many new writers, not having a technique or approach of their own, attempt to copy the writing style of an author they love. For writers endeavoring to learn the foundational elements of storytelling, pacing, power, scene setting, and so forth, there is nothing wrong with that. Like a musician practicing scales of chords and note patterns of famous works and then learning to vary those themes with his own flavor, a writer must can emulate the masters until that deeper understanding of interplay comes.  

Delve into your heart of hearts and answer this question: Why do you write?

For myself, that answer is: Because I can’t not. Words are my thing and have been since I began learning to talk. Semper fidelis—always in the service of words.

Still, the question can lead to a huge list of follow-ups we don’t have time to cover here. King Solomon said in Ecclesiastes 12:12: “To the making of many books there is no end, and much devotion to them is wearisome to the flesh.” And this is a business that demands attention and can weary a soul.

That being said, it is important to know your own reason. There are no right or wrong answers to the question. But if you find you are wanting to write in order to sell your work for a large, anonymous crowd of readers—that is, you want to sell it in the retail marketplace and be in the business of book sales you will want to bring the best version of your work to that arena and make it stand out from other books also vying for readers’ attentions. 

A book may feel like a baby, but it is a product. So, how can you find your own voice and train a reader to like it, understand it, want more of it?

Finding your own voice is a mysterious process. It cannot be taught, but it can happen. Training a reader is easy. Once you’ve found your voice, now you refine it on the page. Once you’ve got the story pretty close to finished, the hard work of checking the flow begins. 

Then and only then you will question the use of every punctuation mark you’ve put in. You may find a long, run-on sentence that is convoluted and meanders down paths no one can find, yet each part seems important. You must now decide if it needs to be broken up into fragments and whole sentences of varying lengths, or something else entirely. 

What I like to do is copy that one sentence (or graph) and paste it twice into a blank document. The first I will leave as my reference to the original. The second I then play with. Break here, here, and here? Comma there? Colon or semicolon? Then I paste the original sentence in for a third time and play again using both the original and the new edits as reference. Comparing how the meaning and pacing has changed, I change the order of the words, use a thesaurus, maybe work in some alliteration, and look for clichés and repetitions.

After about the third time of doing this, an Aha! moment may arise and you’ll see that maybe the original was perfectly fine, but that the problem was the graphs leading up to it. You rework those portions and bingo, bango, bungo, you got some words worth keeping. 

That’s just one method. However, at this time something seemingly magical will happen. You will begin to find your voice. Like the musician practicing his scales, chord progressions, and inversions, and thus seeing all the variety he can produce, you won’t be afraid of words any longer because the words will know you are treating them as equals and respecting the power they bring to your tale by punctuating with powerful effect and affect. 

Now, once you start punctuating to tell you story your way, make sure you follow that same style throughout the book, and guess what? By about the end of the second chapter, the reader will learn to follow along, simply and naturally enjoying the story.

Punctuation should never get in the way of a tale. Those marks are the workhorses that make the story look good, but they never take center stage away from the star, your story.


Author, editor, publisher, and more: learn about Angela K. Durden here and here and here.

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