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Writing That Turns Heads and Opens Wallets
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Hello, fellow fiction writers—sometimes we writers get a little carried away. We love words. We love rhythm. We love it when sentences sing. But sometimes that lyrical magic we think we're creating just ends up a bit much.
Today, we're diving into redundancy in fiction writing, especially when it comes to alliteration, sibilance, and the good ol' repetitive alphabet trap. These sound-based flourishes can work beautifully when used with intention—but they can also bog down your prose, pull readers out of the moment, or worse, make your writing feel like a tongue-twister gone rogue. So, how do you spot these issues? And more importantly, how do you fix them? Let's break it down—with examples, a few personal oops moments, and a healthy dose of "you're not alone." 🎯 What Is Redundancy in Fiction Writing? Redundancy happens when your writing says the same thing twice—or more—without adding anything new. In terms of sound, it can show up in subtle ways:
✏️ Alliteration: The Over-Eager Attention Seeker Alliteration is when you repeat the same starting consonant across several words. Done right, it creates rhythm and emphasis. Done wrong, it sounds like you're writing ad copy for a toothpaste brand. Example (bad): Peter proudly placed the porcelain platter on the polished pine table. That's a mouthful, isn't it? The point of the sentence (that Peter put a plate on the table) gets buried under all those Ps. Fix: Peter set the porcelain dish on the table, careful not to scratch the wood. Much smoother. Still clear. And hey, we didn't lose the image—we just dialled it back a notch. 🐍 Sibilance: Slippery Slope or Stylish Sound? Sibilance is the repetition of soft consonant sounds like s, sh, and z. It can sound lyrical—or like a snake convention. Example (bad): She silently slid the sash shut, shivering as a soft sigh slipped past her lips. It's dramatic, sure. But it's also exhausting to read. Try reading it out loud—you'll hear the hiss. Fix: She closed the sash and pulled her coat tighter, her breath fogging in the cold. Now we've got the same vibe without sounding like a cartoon villain. 🔁 Repetitious Alphabet: When the Same Sounds Get Old This one's sneakier. You're not exactly alliterating or creating sibilance—you're just overusing a particular letter or sound, usually unintentionally. Example: Benny bought a bundle of balloons before breakfast. Feels like a nursery rhyme, doesn't it? That's not great if you're trying to build tension in a thriller. Better: Benny picked up a few balloons before breakfast. Still simple, but it doesn't read like a tongue-twister. 💡 So, When Can You Use These Techniques? Here's the good news: alliteration, sibilance, and repetitive sounds aren't evil. In fact, they're tools—just like metaphor, dialogue, and pacing. The trick is intention. Use them when:
👣 Personal Anecdote Time I once submitted a short story that opened with this line: "The storm screamed, slashed, and surged through the shattered streets." I thought it was brilliant. The editor gently (but firmly) wrote back: "I think your storm might need to take a breath." Oof. But she was right. The drama was undercut by the overuse of alliteration. I trimmed it down. The storm still raged—it just did it with less flair and more impact. ✨ Final Tips for Fiction Writers
💬 Over to You! Have you ever caught yourself writing "clever" alliteration that didn't quite land? Got a favourite example of sibilance used well (or terribly)? Drop a comment and share—it's a common experience, and we're all still learning. I answer each message personally.
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When I first set out to retell Edgar Allan Poe’s stories in plain English, I thought it would be a reasonably straightforward job. Take a sentence, simplify it, and move on. Turns out, modernising a dead genius is like trying to fix a Victorian grandfather clock with a butter knife. You want to preserve the beauty, but half the time, you’re trying not to get stabbed by your own edits. Poe’s stories are brilliant. No question. But his language hasn’t aged all that well. Nineteenth-century readers loved a long, curling sentence full of philosophical tangents and words like “whereupon” and “betwixt.” Today’s readers… not so much. My goal was to keep the bones and trim the lace. I wanted each story to feel like Poe was sitting across the room, telling it to you by candlelight — but using modern words you didn’t have to decipher. With a bit of help from AI (and a lot of human fiddling), I worked line by line to make sure each tale still dripped with dread, madness, and shadow — but flowed like a good spooky yarn should. Here’s a tiny example from The Tell-Tale Heart: Original: “True!—nervous—very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?” Modernised: Yes, I’ve always been nervous—jumpy, in fact—but why does that make me mad? Simple, right? But try doing that for fourteen stories, and you’ll quickly learn how Poe loved commas more than life itself. The hardest part? Knowing what to leave out. There are long-winded philosophical detours that kill the pacing, even when the ideas are interesting. I had to be ruthless while still being respectful, like pruning roses with a meat cleaver (don’t try that at home). What surprised me most was how funny Poe can be. Darkly humorous, but amusing all the same. His narrators are often mad as a box of frogs and utterly unaware of it, which makes them both terrifying and oddly endearing. Anyway, it’s been a wild ride. And now that the book’s nearly out in the world, I hope readers who’ve never been able to finish a Poe story before will finally get to enjoy the genius behind the gloom. If you’re curious, you can pre-order Dead Easy: Edgar Allan Poe Retold on Amazon now, or read The Tell-Tale Heart free here: [StoryOrigin/freebie]. Let me know what you think — I’m always up for a chat about madness, murder, and misplaced commas.  Hello, fiction writers.
We love a good villain. But you know what sticks with us even more? A flawed, messy, deeply human character who falls, fails, flounders—and still finds a way to claw their way back into the light. That's the magic of a redemptive character arc, and if you're a fiction writer looking to hook readers emotionally (and keep 'em thinking long after the final page), then listen up: you need at least one character with a shot at redemption. 💡 What's a Redemptive Character, Anyway? A redemptive character is someone who messes up—sometimes big time—but grows, learns, and works to make things right. They don't just say "sorry" and move on; their journey is full of struggle, inner conflict, and ultimately, a transformation that feels earned. Redemption isn't always tidy. It's not about wiping the slate clean—it's about choosing change despite the mess. 🧠 Why Redemption Arcs Matter in Fiction Redemption hits us on a gut level. Why? Because we've all messed up. We've all wished we could go back, say something different, do something better. Seeing a character fight for a second chance taps into that universal longing for a fresh start. Additionally, watching someone strive to improve themselves is often more engaging than watching someone who is perfect right from the start. Here's what a redemptive arc can do:
Let's go over a few tips (and pet peeves) to keep your redemption arc believable and engaging. ✅ 1. Make the Fall Real We don't want redemption for someone who just accidentally bumped into trouble. Let your character fall hard. Let them make decisions that have consequences. Example: In A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman, Ove isn't a criminal, but he's grumpy, isolated, and has given up on life. Watching him reconnect with his community makes his journey heartwarming and earned. ✅ 2. Redemption Should Cost Something No one should get redeemed just because they cried once and promised to be better. Whether it's emotional, physical, or social, there has to be genuine effort—and real risk. Example: Think Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender. He doesn't just switch sides overnight. He wrestles with guilt, shame, and identity before earning trust again. ✅ 3. Don't Make It Instant Redemption is a process. You don't microwave a character arc. Let them stumble. Let others doubt them. Let readers doubt them. Example: In Les Misérables, Jean Valjean goes from convict to saint—but it takes a lifetime of choices, a handful of lies, and multiple reinventions. No quick fixes here. 🪄 Bonus: Minor Characters Can Redeem Too You don't have to save the big redemptive arc for your lead. Sometimes, a side character's quiet act of courage, apology, or honesty packs a powerful emotional punch. Example: In Harry Potter, we all know about Snape. Love him or hate him, that twisty redemption arc had people talking (and sobbing) for years. 🛠️ Quick Writing Prompts to Try Want to play with redemption arcs? Here are a few ideas to spark your muse:
Redemptive characters make your story richer. They show us that change is hard but possible, and that broken things can still be beautiful. So, don't be afraid to let your characters make mistakes. Let them fall on their faces. And when they fight to get back up? That's where the real magic happens. 🧠 Over to You: Have you written a redemptive character? Who's your favourite redemption arc from books, movies, or TV? Drop a comment—I'd love to hear your thoughts and I answer each in person!  I've got a confession.
I've always wanted to read Edgar Allan Poe. Always. Ever since I was a lad, way back before the internet, eBooks, or fancy AI narrators, his name had this dark, delicious mystique about it. People would whisper about him — not literally (we weren't that dramatic) — but there was a buzz. Poe was the king of creepy. The master of the macabre. The man who made ravens famous long before social media. Naturally, I was curious. I wanted to dive into these twisted tales of madness, murder, and things that go bump in the night. So, I got hold of a book — probably second-hand, battered, and smelling faintly of pipe smoke and old paper. Opened it. Started reading. And promptly gave up. Poe's prose, while beautiful, was also dense and complex. Long sentences, archaic language, and phrasing that felt like wading through treacle in a fog. I was gutted. The stories sounded so good — I just couldn't get through them, not without a shovel and a dictionary. Fast forward to now, and here's the twist. I've taken those same stories and translated them into modern, clear, vivid language. I didn't dumb them down — I simply cleared away the linguistic cobwebs, trimmed the gothic frills just enough, and let the actual brilliance of Poe's ideas shine through. And let me tell you — they hold up. These stories are creepy. Clever. Darkly funny in places. Deeply human. And shockingly brutal. They don't need polishing — just a bit of translation for today's reader. So that's what I've done. I've called the book Dead Easy: Edgar Allan Poe Retold — because that's the idea. Making Poe easy to read, without losing the edge. It's for anyone who loves horror, gothic tales, or just a good ghost story that leaves a chill crawling down your spine. If you've ever bounced off Poe's original prose, this version is your way in. And if you've never read him at all? Well, buckle up. You're in for a treat. If Dead Easy: Edgar Allan Poe Retold sounds like your kind of thing, you can order a pre-copy here: 👉 Get the book on Amazon It's available as an eBook (and in Kindle Unlimited if you're a subscriber). A paperback version is also on the way — and yes, there'll be an audiobook too (eventually, once I stop fiddling with the narration). Thanks for reading — and if you do pick it up, I'd love to hear what you think. Reviews, messages, raven post — it's all welcome. Spoiler: You don't need to yell to make your point.
There's a punctuation mark that's loved by enthusiastic texters, overexcited emailers, and anyone who's just discovered caffeine for the first time: the exclamation point. In fiction writing, though? It's a whole different story. Let's get into why the humble exclamation mark can trip up your prose, how to use it wisely (if ever), and when to leave it well enough alone. What's the Deal with Exclamation Points? Exclamation points are meant to express strong emotion—joy, fear, shock, excitement, you name it. In theory, they pack a punch. In practice? They often come off as… well, a bit much. Example: "I love you!" she screamed. "He's got a knife!" someone shouted. "Watch out for the banana peel!" he warned. Now, these aren't wrong, exactly. But if your characters are constantly yelling, it starts to feel like you're writing a comic book—or worse, a never-ending fire drill. Why You Should Use Exclamation Points Sparingly in Fiction 1. They Tell Instead of Show If you need punctuation to do the emotional heavy lifting, there's probably something missing in the writing itself. Better: "I love you," she whispered, her voice cracking like an old record. No exclamation mark needed—we feel the intensity through the context and the delivery. 2. They Lose Power When Overused The more you use them, the less they mean. It's like the boy who cried wolf... but with punctuation. Example: "Come here!" she said. "Look at this!" He jumped. "Unbelievable!" she added. See what I mean? It's exhausting to read. If everything's exciting, nothing is. 3. They Make Dialogue Feel Forced Most people don't speak in exclamation points. (Unless they're in a musical or trying to win an argument on Twitter.) Overusing them in dialogue can make your characters sound unnatural or overly dramatic. So… Can You Ever Use Them? Of course! We're not banning them—we're just asking you to use them with care. Here's when they work:
A Personal Exclamation Point Horror Story In my first-ever draft of a YA novel, I used 347 exclamation points. Yes, I counted. I was writing emotional, high-stakes dialogue. What I really created was a caffeine-fueled scream-fest that made even my protagonist seem unhinged. One editor's note just said: "Is everyone in this book yelling all the time?" Ouch. Point taken. Alternatives to the Exclamation Point If you want your writing to feel intense or expressive, try these tricks instead:
The exclamation point is like a trumpet in an orchestra. Use it too often, and it drowns out everything else. But used sparingly—strategically, it can hit just the right note. So go ahead, use it... just not after every sentence. Your readers (and your editor) will thank you. What About You? Are you an exclamation mark minimalist or maximalist? Have you ever gone back through a manuscript and deleted a hundred of them? (I have. No shame.) Drop your thoughts in the comments—I'd love to hear your punctuation confessions! I reply personally to all. Hello, fellow fiction writers. Let's talk about the most misunderstood punctuation mark in the English language: the semicolon.
Some writers love it. Some fear it. Some use it like they're sprinkling Parmesan over pasta—way too generously. But when used well, the semicolon is a beautiful, subtle, mature little squiggle that can smooth out your fiction like a well-placed sigh. So, if you're writing a novel and wondering how (or if) to use semicolons, this one's for you. Wait, What Even Is a Semicolon?It's that punctuation mark that looks like a period sitting on top of a comma: ; Think of it as a supercomma or a soft full stop. It connects two related thoughts more tightly than a period, but with more pause than a comma. It says: "These two ideas belong together." 3 Times You Can (and Should) Use a Semicolon in Fiction 1. Link Two Related Independent Clauses Without a ConjunctionThis is the classic use. You've got two complete sentences that belong together, but you don't want the abruptness of a full stop. So you semicolon them. Example: She wanted to scream; instead, she smiled and poured the tea. See how the semicolon holds that emotional tension together? A period would feel too cold. A comma would be grammatically wrong. The semicolon walks that fine line. 2. In Complex Lists That Already Contain CommasWhen your list items are complicated and include commas themselves, semicolons step in to save the day. They're the traffic cops of clarity. Example: He'd lived in Rome, Italy; Kyoto, Japan; and Reykjavik, Iceland—all in less than five years. If you'd used commas only, the sentence would read like a travel brochure from chaos. 3. For Rhythm and Style—Used SparinglySemicolons have a certain literary feel. Used well, they add rhythm, gravitas, and flow to your sentences, especially in longer passages of internal thought or complex emotional states. Example: He wasn't a good man; he'd never claimed to be; but in that moment, he wished he'd tried harder. That would be clunky with commas and too choppy with periods. The semicolon keeps the emotion rolling without tripping over itself. When Not to Use a Semicolon Here's where things go sideways:
A Personal Writing Oops (Or: The Great Semicolon Era of Doom) I once went through what I now call my "Semicolon Renaissance." Every paragraph had at least two; I thought I was being deep. My critique partner—who is both wise and ruthless—highlighted every one in neon yellow and wrote, "Why are all your sentences slow, sad, and full of soup?" Lesson learned. These days, I use semicolons like I use truffle oil--just enough to elevate, never enough to overwhelm. Final Thoughts: Should You Use Semicolons in Fiction? Absolutely—if they fit the tone, the rhythm, and the pacing of your story. Semicolons are excellent for complex thoughts, emotional nuance, and elegant transitions. Just remember: less is more, and clarity always wins over cleverness. Over to You! Do you use semicolons in your fiction? Are you a proud semicolon minimalist or a recovering addict like I was? Let me know in the comments—I'd love to hear your take! |
James Field
Talvik, Norway You can also Find me on 
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