What a difference ten novels make. I recently got the manuscript for Prophet of the Badlands back from Curiosity Quills’ proofreader. For some reason, it took an abnormal amount of time to make its way through the process – but I can’t say it was a bad thing. In fact, I am confident it will result in a stronger work. Prophet was the third full-length novel I wrote, following Virtual Immortality and Division Zero 1. After I had finished Virtual Immortality (around self edit 2) I had a bit of a conundrum as to which to do next, Division Zero or Prophet. I wound up writing Division Zero first, but always with the feeling that Althea (the protagonist of Prophet) was standing behind me, tapping her foot and impatiently waiting her turn.

Almost two years, and ten novels later, I am looking at Prophet with new eyes. It’s frightening and amazing at the same time to peek into the (albeit not-too-distant) past, at the style and manner in which I wrote at the time. Minor mechanical flaws that either escaped notice or knowledge back then now stand out to me as plain as if I’d left a light on during a blackout. The opportunity to remove myself from it for over a year while focusing on other stories, as well as working with a myriad of editors, has been a boon.

There are a handful of quotes floating around regarding writers and a million words. If you count a 400,000 word monstrosity that I attempted a long time ago, and buried deep somewhere, I’m probably getting close to two at this point. Given the the contrast with which I can now view something I wrote almost two years ago, I agree there is something to be said for the idea that a writer must write. While I may be an unusual example of focus (if I am not at the day job or sleeping, I’m writing or editing), the end result of this process is indeed something tangible.

I suppose the message in all of this to other writers is not to dwell on where you are at the moment. Someone once commented to me something along the lines of: “A poor writer writes crap and thinks it’s good, while a skilled writer writes something good they think is crap.” Write for the sake of writing. Tell a story, and worry later on about making sure none of the mortar is showing through your bricks. Two, three, or six books from now, you’ll see the difference.

I know I have.

Filtering ― or, how to keep your reader at arm’s length.

I’ve been doing a fair amount of proofreading / light editing and have found myself talking about filtering a lot as of late. Since I’ve been looking for stuff to put here, it seemed like I could burn some pixels in rambling on about it. Readers may not notice filtering in the same sense it jumps out to a writer/editor, however, they will notice the effect it has on their immersion. A story that has a lot of filtering makes the reader feel as though they are watching from a distance. However, like many “best practices” in writing, it is not an absolute case of good and bad.

What Is Filtering?

The simplest explanation is when a writer “filters” their world through the presence of their character rather than just presents the setting to the reader. The writer inserts the character between the reader and the action with certain phrases: he saw, he felt, he heard, he knew. (There are quite a few other ones, but you get the point.)

What is happening here is the writer is describing their character experiencing something. They are not allowing the reader into that experience, instead keeping them at a safe distance and pointing. See that? Caleb just heard scratching noises and then saw a pack of rats swarm out of that trash right at him. (It feels like the reader is standing at the far end of the street watching Caleb, safe from the rats.)

Why is it bad?

By inserting that extra layer (the character) between the reader and what is happening, it lessens the immersion of a scene. The reader is observing someone rather than sharing the experience with the character. While filtering is not “bad” in the same way that typos or grammatical errors are, it (much like adverbs) weakens the writing.

Here is an excerpt from my short story “A Ghost Among Fireflies” as originally written:

     The strange feeling of having been here before beckoned her. As if by memory, she navigated a minefield of old toys, broken computer equipment, and the shattered remnants of once-furniture, now thick with mold. She glanced at a desk to her left, her eyes at the level of its surface. An old, broken holo-terminal there glimmered in the weak light from the window, reflected curtains the only image on the screen.

Here is the same excerpt modified to use filtering. Does it feel different to read?

     She felt strange, as if she had been here before. She remembered the room, navigating a minefield of old toys, broken computer equipment, and the shattered remnants of once-furniture. She could smell the thick mold on everything, even a desk to her left as tall as she was. Atop the desk, she saw an old, broken holo-terminal, its dark screen reflecting from the weak light in the window.

Aside from ‘she saw’ getting repetitious, the second passage doesn’t put the reader into the room with the character as much as lifts them far enough away to observe the character experiencing the scene.

Is it always bad?

Sometimes, it is more important to point out that the character became aware of something. Your protagonist can approach a room containing something dangerous (let’s use a rattlesnake) and notice it before he walks in. Jake paused by the door when he saw a rattlesnake lurking under the bed.

When calling attention to the character’s perception of something is more important than just setting a scene, filtering is not a bad thing. Here, the intent is to indicate the character has sensed something―when whether or not they do is the focal point of the moment.

Sometimes, words often considered signs of filtering are the most direct way to convey something, or to preserve meaning. “He had heard that before, many times” would not carry the same connotation as “They said that before, many times.” The first way makes the character seem as though they are tired of hearing it, linking a sentiment to the idea. The second example is a statement of fact, lacking the characterization.

The Bottom Line

In a scene where it is not important to point out the character is aware of something, (the reader will expect a character is aware of their surroundings unless told otherwise) avoiding filtering lets your reader immerse themselves in your story and experience it alongside the character. They are no longer “reading a book” but existing in the world you have created.

It also prevents them from getting fatigued from seeing the phrase “she heard” or “she saw” repeated.

There is no clear-cut “this is wrong” or “this is right” regarding filtering. Anything works, sparingly. (Even adverbs, which I loathe.) Overuse of filtering will lift your reader right out of your narrative and leave them watching with binoculars from the sidelines.