
KN Magazine: Articles
Never Make Your Critique Partner Cry!
Giving feedback is an art, especially in critique partnerships. Learn how to offer constructive criticism that encourages, not discourages, while keeping your critique partner’s feelings in mind. It’s all about balance, communication, and a shared commitment to growth.
By Lois Winston
We writers are not the best judges of our own work. Neither are most of our family and friends. They’ll either love everything we write because they don’t know any better, or they don’t want to hurt our feelings. Conversely, some will sic the green-eyed monster on us, telling us not to quit our day job.
That’s why critique groups and/or partners are an invaluable tool in every author’s toolkit. They’re the writer friends we rely on when we’ve developed writer’s block or written ourselves into a corner. They brainstorm with us when the ideas don’t come, and they offer us honest criticism chapter after chapter, helping us hone our work until it’s ready for submission. Then, they either commiserate with us when the rejection letters arrive or whoop it up when we get that offer of representation or a book contract.
And because this is a partnership, we do the same for them.
However, none of us wants to hear that the 400-page baby we birthed through our fingertips onto the printed page is butt ugly. And neither do our critique partners. Just as we hope to find critiquers who will offer us constructive criticism, we also need to be able to give constructive criticism to others in return. The key is always to encourage, never discourage. Luckily, there are ways to do this.
Always remember to point out positives as well as negatives. It’s just as important for a writer to know what she’s doing well and correctly as what she’s doing poorly and incorrectly. As you read a work-in-progress, point out those parts you especially like, but don’t be afraid to point out areas that need work. Most importantly, in both cases, don’t forget to explain why.
Our critique partners often become good friends, and it’s hard to criticize friends for fear of hurting their feelings. But if we can’t be objective and honest with our critiques, we’re not helping each other. We all need to know where our manuscripts are not working as well as where they are working.
It’s important to find a group or partner who either writes in the same genre or has a good deal of knowledge about each other’s genre. However, interests change. Writers often decide to explore different genres. What happens if Helen Historical is suddenly bitten by the vampire bug? You curl your nose up. You shudder. Vampires give you the creeps. You want to be a good critique partner, but try as you might, you can’t read those chapters with an open mind. If that’s the case, it’s time to step aside—at least until Helen returns to her historicals or you fall in love with bloodsuckers.
Some writers have a hang-up about red ink. They feel like someone has taken a knife to their manuscript and slashed it to death. Bold type in all caps will make some writers feel as though they’re being yelled at. Be sensitive to how your partners feel about how you deliver comments. Avoid red type and all caps when making notes on digital pages. When working from printed pages, avoid red ink and thick black sharpies. Never write comments in script. Print them. We can all read our own handwriting, but others may struggle to decipher our scrawls.
If you’re one of those writers with a great handle on punctuation or grammar, your partners might ask you to do line edits. Rather than correcting their work, point out problem areas. This way, the writer will learn from the experience and not make the same mistake in future works.
Keep in mind that just because you would write a scene or a character differently, it doesn’t make the author’s way wrong. If your partner is having problems with a sentence or scene and asks for assistance, offer suggestions, but never rewrite her manuscript in your style.
Often, writers gravitate toward other writers of the same experience level. This usually makes for a group or partnership that can work together more comfortably. If the various members are at different levels in their writing journeys, the more novice writers may begin to depend too much on the more advanced writers, and the more advanced writers may begin to feel that they aren’t getting much out of the group. Since we all progress at a different pace, you may discover over time that you’ve outgrown your present group and need to move on to another.
Manuscripts should be free of typos and spelling errors, but we all occasionally suffer from a short circuit between our brains, fingers, and eyes. No matter how many times we read and reread something, we often miss a “there” for a “their” or a “that” for a “than.” If your partner is getting ready to send her work out to an editor or agent, offer to read through her work with an eye toward the technical, but keep in mind that punctuation and sentence structure is often a matter of style. Point out grammatical errors such as misplaced modifiers and subject-verb disagreements, but keep in mind that characters often dictate grammar. A street urchin in Victorian England won’t speak like the Earl of Sussex.
Pay attention to structure as you read a work-in-progress. Every scene should have a purpose. Make sure the pacing is appropriate for the scene/event taking place. In the middle of a chase scene, the heroine shouldn’t be noticing the intricately detailed pattern of the hero’s tie.
Sentences should be clear and understandable. Point out if the writer has gone off on a tangent about something superfluous to the scene, such as extraneous background information or too much detail. By the same token, note if the author doesn’t supply enough details and description for the characters and settings to come alive.
Highlight non-descript words such as “it” or “thing” or bland words such as “pretty” or “nice.” Suggest substituting more specific or descriptive words. If the author uses clichés, suggest she find another phrase. Clichés bore readers. Also note repetitive word usage and sentence structure.
Understand basic rules of writing before you offer to critique someone else. For many writers, passive voice is a difficult concept to grasp. Not every sentence using the various forms of the verb “to be” is passive. Passive voice is when the subject is acted upon. Active voice is when the subject is acting.
Point of view is another difficult concept. Make certain you understand it before you criticize others for misusing it. Check for bouncing points of view within a scene, but keep in mind, point of view can change from scene to scene. However, if you feel like you’re at a ping-pong match, make the author aware of that.
Finally, know your facts before criticizing someone else. If you suspect the writer’s information is inaccurate, ask if she’s done any research on the subject. If she tells you she saw a similar event on a television show or in a movie, suggest she check the library or ask an expert. The media is notorious for taking liberties with facts and events.
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 Mysteries, “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. A Crafty Collage of Crime, the twelfth book in her Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series, won the 2024 Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Best Comedy. Her most recent release, Sorry, Knot Sorry, is the thirteenth book in the series. Learn more about Lois and her books at www.loiswinston.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter and follow her on various social media sites.
The Art of Paragraphing
In this article, Melissa Koslin explores the importance of paragraphing in writing, demonstrating how it influences pace, tone, and the reader’s subconscious experience. With examples from her own writing, she offers practical tips on how to use paragraphing to enhance narrative flow and intensity.
I have read many, many books on writing craft, but I rarely see much about one of the most basic aspects of writing.
Paragraphing.
See what I did there? By making that one word its own paragraph, I called it out. Gave it more attention. Drew your eye to it.
As writers, our main job is to create a world in the reader’s mind, a world and people that seem real to us, so real that we will lose sleep to find out what happens to them. But there are other visual aspects to writing that are not in our imagination. Publishers put a lot of thought into the layout of the book—the font, how the beginning of a chapter is designed, the page headings, etc. And I think we all agree, these literal visual aspects are important. They make the book look and feel professional, and they stay out of the way—if they bring too much attention to themselves, they’ve been done wrong. Paragraphing is similar in that it’s not often noticed consciously by the reader. But it does have a subconscious affect.
Ever flip through a book, see huge blocks of text, and put it back on the shelf? Those books feel heavy, feel like they’ll be a slog to get through. Not exactly how writers want their fiction stories to be perceived.
Know why people are attracted to dialogue in books? Why it makes it feel like a faster pace? Part of that is due to paragraphing. Most conversation is a sentence or two, or even a single word, back and forth between two or more characters, and each time a different character talks, it’s a new paragraph. Of course, there are some books where it’s more of a soliloquy than a conversation—this is dialogue gone bad. No one wants to listen to a speech. Pretty much ever.
You can accomplish this feeling of a faster pace without dialogue, if done properly. This is especially true in action scenes. I’m a suspense writer, with a focus on fight scenes, so I write a lot of action. Here’s an excerpt from my upcoming book The Lost Library. Notice how short the paragraphs are and how it creates a sense of quickened pace and intensity.
“I don’t think so.” She backed away, keeping her gaze on him and peripherally watching everything else around her.
He lunged and grabbed her bag.
Cali glared. “Back off.”
He yanked at her bag, but she had it slung across her body—exactly for this type of circumstance. As he yanked, he pulled her off balance, but she took a step and strengthened her stance, all while continuing to glare at him.
He raised a hand to slap her, but she blocked. Then she used both hands to shove him away.
A curse slurred from his lips.
He shifted, and she thought he was going to leave, but he came at her.
She blocked a punch and threw a kick at his groin. But she didn’t quite connect the kick—his legs were too close together.
As she was pulling her leg back to the ground, he swung his fist again. This time, it connected with her cheek.
Rage filled her like boiling water. She attacked with an elbow across his chin. And then the other elbow, and a kick to the groin. This time, her foot connected.
He stumbled back and fell.
She ran.
She felt guilty for not calling the police and pressing charges, making sure he didn’t try mugging someone else. But she couldn’t take the risk. Invisibility was her best defense.
However, paragraphing needs to be appropriate for the scene. Let’s say the characters are having a deep conversation. In these circumstances, longer paragraphs are often called for. Though we can’t let them get too long, or it starts to feel like boring blathering. What I like to do is throw in an occasional one-word paragraph, or maybe a short phrase. This draws attention and intensifies that one word. Even more so than in fight scenes because that one word is juxtaposed by longer paragraphs. Of course, we can’t randomly do this, so we need to keep an eye out for opportunities that feel organic, that intensify the emotion.
As writers, we have many tools at our disposal to make the reader see what we want them to see and feel what we want them to feel, and the best tools are the ones of which the reader isn’t even aware.
Melissa Koslin is a fourth-degree black belt in and certified instructor of traditional Taekwondo. In her day job as a commercial property manager, she secretly notes personal quirks and funny situations, ready to tweak them into colorful additions for her books. She and Corey, her husband of twenty-five years, and their young daughter live in Yulee, Florida, where they do their best not to melt in the sun. Find more information on her books at MelissaKoslin.com.
Targeting Enemy Words
Targeting overused, vague, or passive words is essential to tightening your prose and engaging readers. Learn how to identify and replace common “enemy words” that weaken your writing.
By James Glass
Writers are notorious for their love of words. Because of this, we have a hard time targeting certain words as enemies. If you don’t take the time to dig deep in your manuscript, searching for enemy words, you risk weakening your story. This robs the reader of your full potential and they may decide to put your book down.
Watch out for empty words in your writing. The word ‘was’ is a sign of the dreaded passive voice, which places a distance between you and the reader. Sometimes ‘was’ is unavoidable, but use it often and the story becomes diluted and boring. Look for stronger verbs that impart real meaning.
Look for crutch words. These are the words writers fall back on when we can’t find a better way to express what’s going on. This often occurs when we dilute the force of what we’re trying to say, but the effect usually muddles the story.
Another commonly overused word is ‘very’, so watch out for it. To help you determine which words are your crutches, go back through the draft of the last thing you finished. Read through the pages with an eye for frequently used words, especially in the same paragraph. Make a list of the words you use often. Once you target them, these words will stand out. This doesn’t mean you can’t use them, but limit the amount of playing time they have in your story.
The most common enemy words are adverbs. Ninety percent of the time, they are unnecessary. The awful thing about most adverbs is you can cut them without changing the structure of your sentence.
Here’s one example. Jack nodded slightly. Talk about wishy-washy. Jack either nodded or he didn’t.
Here’s another. Cindy talked excitedly.
If you want us to see Cindy talk excitedly, add action, not adverbs. We tend to add adverbs thinking they will give extra impact, only to discover it’s weak writing. Comb your first drafts searching for adverbs to cut. Save the best ones for when you really need them, and they will have a bigger impact.
Here’s a list of 10 commonly overused words or phrases. Go back and see how you can delete them. If you can’t, figure a way to rewrite the sentence and make the story tighter.
1. In order to
This is one of the flabbiest phrases I see in writing. People use it, but not one sentence stops working if ‘in order to’ is deleted. Replace with ‘to’, which has the same meaning. This one minor change will make the statement clearer.
2. Really
If you’re saying someone is ‘really’ tall, you’re missing the mark. How tall are they? Readers want you to show them, not tell them. With that in mind, swap this vague term for a more accurate descriptor. If you can’t be more descriptive, delete the word.
3. A lot
‘A lot’ is similar to ‘really’ in terms of vagueness. Saying something is ‘a lot’ different than it used to be robs your readers of an experience. While they understand something has changed, they don’t know what. Provide more specific information so the reader can make good decisions and connect with you on a deeper level.
4. Just
The only time ‘just’ has a place in your content is when you’re talking about something being ‘fair.’ For example, ‘The trial was just.’ Uses of ‘just’ to imply something small or inefficient (e.g., ‘She just couldn’t take the heat anymore.’) doesn’t add anything. In most cases, you can remove this word without affecting the sentence’s meaning.
5. That
‘That’ may seem like an inoffensive word, but it’s usually not necessary. For example, “These are the best pair of shoes that I’ve ever worn” could be changed to, “These are the best pair of shoes I’ve ever worn.”
6. Then
‘Then’ makes your writing stammer, which is the opposite of what you want. To smooth your text, remove the word whenever the sentence makes sense without it. And don’t start sentences with ‘then’ because it makes them clunky and difficult to read.
7. So
‘So’ is another word that doesn’t do much. Despite this, many people use it, particularly as a transition or explanatory word. Delete the word and, in most cases, your readers will thank you.
8. Got
‘Got’ is a lazy word because it doesn’t tell people much about how or why someone got something. Instead, use words that add power, such as ‘obtained’ and ‘earned.’
9. Often
‘Often’ teases readers by telling them something happens frequently without being clear. Replace ‘often’ with specific descriptions, such as ‘five times a week’ or ‘every year.’
10. Very
Perhaps the laziest descriptive word of all, ‘very’ can be deleted without taking away the intended meaning of what you’re trying to convey. Go back and replace the combination with a single, stronger adjective. For example, instead of saying ‘very beautiful,’ use ‘gorgeous.’ Replace ‘very intelligent,’ with ‘brilliant.’
When editing, circle or highlight all the empty words in red. Try rewriting those sentences with stronger verbs. This forces you to restructure the sentence making it sound more active.
Circle or highlight all the adverbs you find in yellow. Check how the sentences sound without them. If the meaning isn’t changed, cut them. Be sure to read aloud. By reading out loud, you hear the flow instead of relying on your writer’s voice alone.
When you finish, you will end up with a cleaner, more efficient prose. Something your readers and editors will both enjoy.
Happy writing.
James Glass achieved the rank of Command Master Chief before retiring after 22 years in the United States Navy. After retiring from the Navy, he exchanged his rifle for a pen. He and his family moved back to Florida. James is also the president of the Panhandle Writers Group. He’s published five novels, one novella, and two (you solve the crime) chapter books.
A Killer Voice That Makes an Impact
A killer’s voice is more than just sound—it's a chilling signature that lingers with victims and readers alike. Learn how to craft memorable, terrifying voices that give your villains lasting impact.
When you think about a rampaging murderer out to destroy his victims, what comes to mind? Most of the time, it’s their iconic voice. Imagine Candyman without the breathy and slow speech of Tony Todd or Ghostface without Rodger L Jackson’s craggy mix of sadism and insanity. Who can forget the deep, dark, dulcet tones of the Master of Macabre, Vincent Price? That’s what you want to give readers when your character speaks—a taste of their depravity.
Finding that unique resonance can be challenging, but like any diligent author, you appreciate the value of research to carve out a brilliant inflection that will capture your delinquent’s soul. Breathy, croaky, cracking, soothing, alarming can all describe a voice. Vivid comparisons can also bring the essence of someone alive in a reader’s mind. Does her breathy narration sound like a gentle breeze moving through a tree plump with the leaves of spring? Does his laugh remind you of the bray of a donkey? How a death-dealing degenerate sounds can influence what your readers take away from a scene.
Sentence structure plays a vital role in intensifying a character’s emotions. A nervous woman convinced she’s being followed might require short, clipped phrases, imitating the twittering of a skittish bird. Or there are those long, flowery sentences that could represent the pompous police chief or dense detective who doesn’t believe the victim. Punctuation can also add impact. A frightened person’s dialogue can frequently trail off with ellipses, exemplifying their wavering train of thought. Or a brash thug might add terror to his loud, paranoid ramblings by ending everything in exclamation points.
A voice doesn’t have to be menacing to create a shudder. An ordinary, quiet man with a somber or even childlike tone who carries out ghastly deeds can elicit chills. Think Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs. A monotone, emotionless pitch can tell us more about the inner workings of a psychopath than a shrieking mother frustrated with her children. Remember the crazed computer Hal 9000 in 2001: A Space Odyssey?
Don’t forget about the intense horror of silence. The doomed want answers before they take their last breath. Not having the solace of another’s voice could be more hair-raising than a sinister hiss or last malicious chuckle. A memorable example is the unsettling nothingness of Michael Myers as he sliced through his victims in Halloween (1987).
You may want to design a manner of speaking that becomes your transgressor’s trademark. Police often ask survivors of violence about the voice of their attacker. Even if a victim doesn’t look at the perpetrator, they will never forget how they sounded. The way your slayer stays with those they have tormented can be as important as what they say or do. Inflections, the rise and fall of their tone, the deepness or high-pitched way they laugh, and even the pauses they give when speaking are all critical. The Grady twins from The Shining delivered their creepy invitation to Danny to come and play “forever… and ever… and ever,” scaring theatergoers.
Also, keep in mind dialects do matter. Whether it’s a southern drawl, Texas Twang, the guttural angst of New Yorkers, or the dropped Rs of Bostonians, give your killer some flare. But don’t overdo it. You want authenticity without coming across as stereotypical. Research how people speak naturally in the area you’re writing about. Go to restaurants, walk the streets, sit in coffee shops, and eavesdrop. Get a sense of rhythm and the way people talk. It will give your scoundrel depth and believability.
Don’t forget the backstory, especially when dealing with physical or emotional traumas. A brute with a history of throat damage, whether through strangling or a sliced larynx, can have a wispy way of speaking that sets one’s teeth on edge. Damage to the mouth, either through the loss of teeth or cut nerves, can provide relevant clues to why your murderer speaks as they do. A maniac who’s suffered immense sorrow or abuse might carry the past in their voice. Cold, unemotional, lifeless tones can tell you a lot about the pain behind someone’s words. Red’s rasp in the movie US becomes even more horrific when the audience discovers rats have gnawed through her vocal cords. A cringe-worthy backstory can ramp up the fear factor.
There’s nothing more insightful than a voice. It’s the true window to one’s emotions and personality. So when creating a killer character who will leave readers mesmerized and terrified, don’t forget their distinct, haunting vocal expression. Take the time to make it compelling, and your villain will live on long after your story’s climactic ending.
Alexandrea Weis, RN-CS, PhD, is an award-winning author, screenwriter, advanced practice registered nurse, and historian who was born and raised in the French Quarter of New Orleans. She has taught at major universities and worked as a nurse dealing with victims of sexual assault, abuse, and mental illness in a clinical setting at New Orleans area hospitals.
Having grown up in the motion picture industry as the daughter of a director, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story moving and memorable. The first person to give her writing advice was Tennessee Williams, a family friend.
Weis is a member of the International Thriller Writers (ITW) and Horror Writers Association (HWA). She lives with her husband outside of New Orleans where she is a permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife & Fisheries and rescues orphaned and injured animals.
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.

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