Blog for Bristol Services Intl.

Gerunds are tricky little passive verb forms in disguise. A gerund is a word with an “-ing” attached to it, like running and swimming. What’s so tricky about it?

Well, if you recall, I mentioned in a previous blog that passive verbs are weak in stories. A passive is any verb whose action can’t be seen or experienced in some sensory way. “Was” is the greatest example. It doesn’t show anything; it just tells readers a state of being. Useful at times, yes, but not active, not enticing.

A gerund verb form combines a passive “to be” verb with a gerund, like was racing, and is almost (not quite) as weak as a passive verb. It looks like an active verb (the author sees racing, and cheers that he found a visual verb), yet the gerund doesn’t offer a strong or active tone to readers. The examples below will help show what I mean.

Passive verbs: He was on the way to the store and tried to get away from a pesky fly and wished it would get lost.

Passive gerund form verbs:  He was walking to the store and was waving his hand at a pesky fly, shouting for it to get lost.

Active: As he walked to the store, he waved his hand at a pesky fly and shouted for it to get lost.

The changes may seem minor. But in the gerund example he isn’t doing anything right now, he “was” doing it at some point prior to this actual fly-shooing situation and you, the author, are explaining it to your readers after the fact. In the last example, he does it, right before your reader’s eyes! Ah, we can see it!

So if you see a was or were preceding a verb with an “-ing” attached, be aware this is really passive type of action. The solution? Simple! Just use the same verb root and activate it.

Most writers tend to use too many passive verbs in their stories. Passive verbs “tell” readers what you, the author, think is the situation. They don’t allow readers to see, feel or experience the scenes for themselves. So they don’t pull readers into a story in an active, immediate or personal way. Passive verbs explain what happened to the character, as if the character was acted upon instead of being a character who took action.  These can include was, were, had, seemed, thought, etc.  Basically any verb whose action a reader can’t visualize is probably too passive to hold much impact. Another form of passive verb phrases are gerund phrases, which takes a normally active verb and adds an “-ing” to the end and precedes it with a “was” type verb, like “was running.” Yes, “run” is an active verb, but saddled with the “was” and “-ing” weakens it.

Certainly sometimes passives are just fine. They serve a real purpose—at times. But most times an active verb will enliven a sentence. And they are particularly essential in active, hot, tense scenes. For instance, in a scene where Sally is being pursued by bad guys and her car suddenly dies:

The motor went dead. Sally was scared and her hands were shaking more than ever as she took her hands off the steering wheel. Her mind was racing at a dizzying speed so that all she felt was numb.

This should be a tense scene, but we have 5 passives with only “took” a possibly visual act—but not too exciting at that. By activating the verbs you create the tension we need:

The motor died. Sally’s hands shook as she snatched them off the wheel in fear. Her mind raced at a dizzying speed as a cold numbness threatened to steal her breath.

See how much more intense this feels. We can see every action listed. The reader feels dizzy right along with Sally. We have verbs of actions we can see or feel in some way. Readers are suddenly in the story instead of being told about it.

Verb activation is probably the most important aspect of writing in general to create strong scenes. It falls under the “Show, Don’t Tell” adage presented to most writers early in their writing. Yet most—even though they nod wisely in agreement, fully understanding the importance in this simple method of activating verbs to activate their story—still slip back into the “was”s as they write. So be ruthless! Look with skepticism at every “was” and “were,” non-visual and “-ing” word. Replace them with active verbs and you’ll have a stronger scene!

A client wrote this week and asked how to handle a not-so-thrilling opening few chapters. She established lots of great background and setting, yes, but she knew the story (action, conflict, etc.) really didn’t start until chapter 4. She asked, “Do you think that I need to rewrite the entire first few chapters? And, if I do, where do I start?”

When a writer is faced with this dilemma, first review a list of potential tensions you might plop into the book’s opening (lose her job or boyfriend, get arrested, fail at the project, whatever fits your plot). Then set this list aside.

Second, usually there are bits and pieces of what you’d had in the too-slow opening chapters that are essential, but often even they could be tightened up. Take out just those really strong bits and put them in a separate file.

Third, close your eyes and let yourself envision a highly charged emotional scene for your main character. A point where situations or decisions are tense, confusing, and immediate in some way. Play out the scene in your brain. Mentally play out other scenes that might occur before and after that one.

Find one of them that pulls in her character traits (not just her looks), her conflicts (internal and external), and implies there is more to all this (suspense). And then consider starting the story at that point and then weave in the strong bits of info that you’ve saved. It doesn’t matter how you revise–just that you find a way to insert deeper characterization, more conflict and a distinct hint or promise that there is more to this story.

Do all published books start this way? No. But new writers must find the tightest, strongest, most intriguing opening if they hope to attract a publisher’s eye. So give yourself a step up on the competition and find that “gotta read more” opening scene for your readers.