The value of feedback

As I mentioned yesterday, I sent out some chapters of the Slaying of the Bull (book 1 of the Tocharian Gospels series) to my launch squad and got some great feedback. When I say great, I don’t necessarily mean that it was accolades for my excellent writing. It was great in that it was honest and exactly what I needed to hear.

It’s hard not to get engrossed in your writing. You get energized by the story and look past things that can get in the way. Although this great friend enjoyed my tale and wanted to read more, the language was holding her back from entering the world completely. I set a deadline for myself to get the Slaying of the Bull out by early to mid-May, but I think this is rushing the book, and I may need to tap the brake a bit. I’m not taking the time to make sure things are up to snuff, and that is the great advantage of having a launch squad to offer feedback before I push that publish button and ruin my readership (small as it is).

When I write, my imagination focuses on the scene, and I just let it flow. Writers call this listening to the muse. The story seems to come from the ether and is the real joy of writing. In paying attention to the muse, I tend to add too many adverbs, those pesky words ending in ly (in many cases). This is likely me capturing every detail I see in my mind’s eye. You can replace most adverbs with a strong verb or erase them altogether. In written language, adverbs don’t offer much new information, and if they do, that is when you keep them. Eliminating adverbs tightens the prose and keeps the pace fast. It also prevents you from telling the reader the story rather than showing them. For example, “walked quietly” can change to “crept” or “he turned his head slowly” can be “turned his head” unless the slowness of the turn is essential. Usually, a writer can imply the need for a slow turn of the head through the scene, and the reader can infer that the turn of the head would be slow.

Now back to the reason I need to put on the brake. The golden rule of a writer is to show not tell, and I broke this rule through my haste to get feedback. Typically, after I finish a book, I use Word’s find feature to find all the words that end in -ly and either replace or eliminate them. I forgot to do this before sending out the chapters, and this probably made the read not that enjoyable. With all the adverbs, the language is flowery and steals some of the magic of reading. Instead of inferring the scene through gentle suggestions, it is like the author is standing over your shoulder and dictating to you what you are seeing. That sucks, and I get that. Luckily I have a patient friend guiding me on this journey and brave enough to douse my excitement for a moment so that it doesn’t blind me. For that, I can’t thank her enough!

The Slaying of the Bull may take just a little bit longer to get out there, but it will be that much better (and it still might happen in May). It is close, but I need to be patient. It will come when it is ready.

Cheers!


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Published by scottatirrell

Scott Austin Tirrell loves dark speculative fiction, conjuring isolated worlds where ancient mysteries, the raw power of nature, and the paranormal entwine. His work is steeped in the arcane, drawing from the forgotten corners of history and the unsettling grasp of the supernatural. With a style shaped by Clive Barker, Frank Herbert, and Joe Abercrombie, he crafts narratives that pull ordinary, flawed souls into the extraordinary, where reality frays, shadows lengthen, and the unknown whispers from the void. He has self-published eight books, with Koen set to come out in 2025 under Grendel Press. Residing in Boston with his wife, he draws inspiration from the region’s haunted past and spectral folklore. Scott invites readers to step beyond the veil and into his worlds, where every tale descends into the deeper, darker truths of the human condition.

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