Passive Voice: An Evil Whisper

** Image snatched from MistRaven at DeviantArt.com **

When I set out to write this post about one of my personal vices -- passive voice -- I thought of it like an evil whisper.  This little voice in my head that calls to me, saying, "Your writing will be more lyrical if you say it like this -- passively."  So I went looking for a picture that would represent an evil whisper and I found this lovely work of art, appropriately titled: A Whisper is Heard.  

The freakin' title is passive voice.

For those of you saying, what is passive voice anyway?, there are two ways to identify it: 

(1)  a sentence is passive when it has no actor.  Take the title again: A Whisper is Heard.  Were you to see that sentence in a book (and without a picture), you'd have no idea who heard the whisper.  The sentence is missing an actor.

(2) according to some UNC professors, you can always spot passive voice if you look for: form of "to be" + past participle = passive voice

For example:

The metropolis has been scorched by the dragon's fiery breath.

When her house was invaded, Penelope had to think of ways to delay her remarriage.

But if you follow that up with, yeah so?, here's the reason passive voice will get you into trouble: it robs your writing of clarity.  Take the Penelope example above.  By changing the sentence to: After suitors invaded Penelope's house, she had to think of ways to fend them off., your reader now has no question about who did what.  

And here's another problem: passive voice is just... passive. We're in the business of telling stories. It's critical that our words convey the urgency of our tales in the most direct way possible.  By using active voice, you can up the tension and import of your words.  For example, The dragon's fiery breath scorched the metropolis. 

I'll leave you with this final thought from The Columbia Guide to Standard American English (1993):

Active voice makes subjects do something (to something); passive voice permits subjects to have something done to them (by someone or something). Some argue that active voice is more muscular, direct, and succinct, passive voice flabbier, more indirect, and wordier. If you want your words to seem impersonal, indirect, and noncommittal, passive is the choice, but otherwise, active voice is almost invariably likely to prove more effective.

Got it?  Do you find you struggle with passive voice in certain points of your writing more than others?

Blog Carnival: Using Your Senses

Sense of Taste

Oasis for YA is having a blog carnival today and each of the Oasis Ladies was assigned a particular sense.  I have taste. Maybe a little harder than the others, but oh so luscious.  Here are the rules of this particular carnival: You've just graduated from high school and your awesome parents have taken you and your boy/girl-friend on the trip of a lifetime to the Seychelles Islands off the coast of Africa.  This (picture above) is the view from your hotel window.  You have ONE paragraph to describe the setting, and you can use only ONE of your senses. Go.

Here's my paragraph on taste:

The tingle of Justin's toothpaste - a remnant from our stolen kiss - still lingered on my lips  as I took my first sip of strawberry-coconut juice.  Cool and creamy, the freshness burst alive on my tongue, and I immediately swore off plain orange juice forever. In fact, I'd thrown my whole diet out the open-air window when I looked over the room service menu. Thank God. I lifted a forkful of toasty pancakes, dripping in gooey-sweet cane syrup, and melted like the hand-churned butter drizzled over my meal. The spicy kick of Andoiulle sausage links perfectly balanced the sugary goodness of the pancakes, delighting all of my taste buds into dancing in the same fluttery little bursts as the sun reflecting off the ocean surface.

To join in the Carnival, write your own paragraph (using any sense you like) and post it on your blog.  Link back to your blog in the comments to the Oasis for YA carnival.  Also, check out the posts by fellow Oasis ladies Sheri (touch), A.E. (sight), J.A. (smell) and Nikki (sound).  And just like that, you can be a Carnie too. Happy Friday, everyone.

It's a Great Day!

Lots of great things have happened on August 4th throughout history.  For example, in on August 4, 1983, Yankees player Dave Winfield accidentally killed a seagull while warming up before the fifth inning.  Or on August 4, 1956, Elvis released "Hound Dog." I know... these are major events. Oh... and in 1961, Barak Obama was born.  That's right, today's the President's birthday.  Happy Birthday, Mr. President.

But none of those events are the reason today is a good day for me.  Today is awesome because it's my 9th wedding anniversary.  My husband, Holt, is my rock.  He's my best friend, my sounding board, my support  system.  He's an awesome father too.  I couldn't be any luckier to have him -- so I thought I'd tell the world!

"I am two fools, I know: for loving and for saying so." ~ John Dunne

Tuesday Tales: The Flag (Part III)

***Image from fanpop.com***

And now, the conclusion of "The Flag." If you missed parts I and II, you can find them here.


     “Breathe him in Lindsey. Now!” Brogan yelled. But could I do it before he ripped Brogan’s neck wide open? I had to free Brogan first.
     “I don’t know who you think you are, waltzing in here and using my name, making assumptions, but I won’t stand for it. It’s me you’ve come for. Let Brogan go.”
     The Carth put his head near Brogan’s and spoke in his ear. “You hear that, little Flag? She loves you enough to sacrifice herself so you can be free. Charming.”
     “Let him go, or so help me, I will end you.” My fists clenched at my sides as I worked to steady my breath; so it would be ready when I needed it.
     “How about a trade? Did your mother teach you about trading, little Lindsey?”
     I nodded, recalling my mother’s edict to never trade with a Carth.
     “You see, Lindsey, I had a child once. But she was stolen from me. Can you guess who that child was?”
My eyes snapped closed as the breath rushed out of my chest.
     “Oh, I’m sure she told you your father was a human, like the rest of the Catchers. But you’ve always known different, haven’t you? Deep down, you thirsted in ways other Catchers don’t. You’re not like the rest, Lindsey. You’re part Carpathian, part mine. You yearn to drink.”
     “I don’t believe you. Carths lie. You’re lying.”
     “Oh that I were, Lindsey. You see, your mother saved her own Flag once, much like this.” The vampire ran his fangs along Brogan’s neck. “She traded his life for a night in my bed, and you were the result. And then she stole you from me. I’ve been tracking you all these long years. Imagine my surprise to find you in bed with your Flag, as foolish as your mother.”
     Anger raged through me. He’d preyed on my mother’s love, forcing her to bend to his will and produce a child, only to plan to raise me among the darkest of our kind. I pushed the air out of my lungs until they were empty, preparing to breathe him in and end the mind game, when the vampire’s teeth sunk into Brogan’s flesh.
      “No!” I screamed.
     “Take me and you take him too,” the monster spoke around his prey. “Don’t even think of breathing too deeply.”
     Tears streamed down my face. “Anything. I’ll do anything. Just let him go. What do you want?”
     As his teeth eased out of Brogan’s neck, Brogan went limp in his arms. He easily pivoted Brogan out of my reach when I rushed forward.
     “I want you to come home with me. To be the daughter I should have had all along.” The Carth tossed Brogan’s ragdoll body to the bed and grabbed my shoulders. Eyes like pools of hate bore into mine. “No more Catching, Lindsey. No more saving the humans from darkness. You will be darkness. You and Brogan, together in the night. What do you say?”
     I looked around him to Brogan, still lying prone the bed.
     “He’s dying, Lindsey. The only way to save him is to change him. Would you let him become like us alone?”
     “Stop saying my name! Stop talking about us.” I wrested free of his grasp and ran to Brogan’s side. His heartbeat weakened with each pulse.
     “Time’s running out. Do you love him enough to save him?”
     Brogan’s words replayed in my head: Would you rather live saving the world, or die knowing you’d tasted love? Silent tears streamed down my face as I walked to my father and answered. “Yes. Yes, I’ll save him.” And then I breathed in, more deeply and fully than I had ever breathed in another soul. I drank his life for my mother, for me, for all the people he had harmed. And for Brogan –whose sweet, perfect love I had tasted while we lived.
     My father’s soul grasped and clawed its way down my throat; like raging fire it scorched my lungs as it passed. I collapsed on the floor, his spirit like poison in my belly, and I felt his life negating my own. As the darkness of eternal sleep wrapped around me, I knew I would do it all again, for gladly would I die to have tasted Brogan’s love.

I'd love to hear your thoughts. Just didn't feel like writing a happy ending for this one. Though it's sort of peaceful in an odd way.

SIREN book review

SIREN by Tricia Rayburn

I can tell you that I was VERY excited to not only receive my first ARC, but for it to be of this book.  (Granted, I got the ARC about the same time you could buy the book, but who's counting?)  The cover is so amazing, I knew I just had to read it.  (And yes, I buy wine that has an attractive label too.)  I wish I could say I was enchanted by the story as I was its cover.

 Here's the plot line:

Seventeen-year-old Vanessa Sands is afraid of everything--the dark, heights, the ocean--but her fearless older sister, Justine, has always been there to coach her through every challenge.  That is until Justine goes cliff diving one night near the family's vacation house in Winter Harbor, Maine, and her lifeless body washes up on shore the next day.

Vanessa's parents want to work through the tragedy by returning to their everyday lives back in Boston, but Vanessa can't help feeling that her sister's death was more than an accident.  After discovering that Justine never applied to colleges, and that she was secretly in a relationship with longtime family friend Caleb Carmichael, Vanessa returns to Winter Harbor to seek some answers.

But when Vanessa learns that Caleb has been missing since Justine's death, she and Caleb's older brother, Simon, join forces to try to find him, and in the process, their childhood friendship blossoms into something more. 
Soon it's not just Vanessa who is afraid.  All of Winter Harbor is abuzz with anxiety when another body washes ashore, and panic sets in when the small town becomes home to a string of fatal, water-related accidents . . . in which all the victims are found grinning from ear to ear. 

As Vanessa and Simon probe further into the connections between Justine's death and the sudden rash of creepy drownings, Vanessa uncovers a secret that threatens her new romance, and that will change her life forever. 

I found the story a little hard to get into; probably about three or four chapters in before it really picked up for me.  I must say though that once it got going, the story really moved along.  It definitely ended up being one of those up-all-night, page-turners.

And just when I thought I was falling in love despite the slow-ish start, there were some logical failings at the end that left me spinning.  ***SPOILER ALERT***  For example, Vanessa thinks she gets headaches because she's "connected" to Zara -- but she's connected to Paige and Raina and Betty the same way as she is to Zara.  Why does she only get headaches around Zara?  And how the heck did Vanessa (or anyone else for that matter) survive being frozen alive?  If you can explain these things to me, I'd appreciate it, because I really wanted to love this book.

Some of the high points were: the fast-moving plot, as I mentioned.  Really three-dimensional characters.  Vanessa and Justine were multi-layered and the reader got to peel away layers like an onion. I loved that.  The romance between Nessa and Simon. Who doesn't love a good romance?

Overall, I still give the book 3 out of 4 coins (a URA* rating) and am really only disappointed because I wanted to like to MORE than that.  I suspect that I'm becoming a very fussy reader.  And yes, Ms. Rayburn, I am waiting on the sequel already...