Geri Schear's Blog

January 27, 2026

How to Commit Murder: The Idea

Mystery stories have been popular ever since Poe created Dupin (The Murders in the Rue Morgue) and it looks like they are here for at least another hundred years.

Unlike other stories, the mystery requires the writer to take a two-fold approach to the planning. As with other stories, you need to figure out how to structure the tale, the high and low points, and so forth. But you also need to plan the crime. Neither of these things is easy, and coordinating the two can be tricky. Very tricky.

Let’s start with the planning, both of the story and of the crime. What comes first?

The Idea.

There’s no point in trying to write anything if you have no idea where you are going. If you have an idea, you may be able to develop it into a wonderful tale. But first, you need to test it. How, you say. Well, like everyone else who gives advice about writing, I’m going to start with this staple: read. You absolutely have to read if you want to write. This is particularly true of writing mysteries.

The first test is: has it been done before? More to the point, has it been done a lot? If the answer is yes to both questions, you might need to either find another crime, or a twist on the premise. For example, a fairly common storyline is Sherlock Holmes investigating Jack the Ripper. It has, forgive the pun, been done to death. One writer decided to make his version different by making Sherlock’s brother, Mycroft Holmes, the notorious killer. I confess, I groaned when I read it.

Agatha Christie made a career of the most unlikely person being the criminal. She also introduced us to the unexpected detective in the forms of Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot. Others have offered unusual sites where the crime occurs: the quiet village, the airplane, the train. And, yes, Mrs Christie employed all of those too.

Since then, we have found detectives who are historical characters, neuro-diverse, and people with criminal records.

If it seems as if it’s very hard to come up with a new take, you’re right, but that doesn’t make it impossible. Try to find some aspect of your own life to tweak the tale. Give your detective or your crook your own profession, or some disability or unusual talent you have. Set the crime in your home town or a place you know well. Base the victim on someone who irks you, the bully at work, or a school teacher you had problems with. Obviously, you will need to disguise the horrible person, but you will know the truth.

You also need to decide if the story should be set in the present day or some time in the past. The Brother Cadfael stories of Ellis Peters are a great example of medieval mysteries, as are the Edward Shardlake novels of CJ Sansom. There are dozens of others. My own novels are set in the late Victorian / early Edwardian period.

If you opt to set your story in the modern world, you need to decide if it should be a police procedural, or a ‘cosy’ mystery investigated by an amateur.

This brings us to research. If you are already an expert in a certain period or place, it gives you a real advantage because you can write knowledgeably about your area of interest. Remember, if the story is real to you, it will be real to your readers.

Before we go any further, I should point out that while most mystery stories focus on a murder or murders, you don’t have to go that route. You can go with theft, blackmail, kidnapping, or any other form of skullduggery. DL Sayers’ novel Gaudy Night focuses on a poison pen letter writer. Not a corpse in sight and it’s one of my favourite mystery novels.

Writing a mystery story is fun, but it isn’t easy. Over the next few weeks we will look at the various elements of constructing a story starting next week with the crime.

If you have questions or ideas to share, please comment. I’d love to hear from you.

View more on Geri Schear's website »

Like • 0 comments • flag

Published on January 27, 2026 22:30

January 20, 2026

Setting and Character

How important is the setting to your character? Somewhat? Very?

Before you answer that, think about this. Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff in today’s Manhattan rather than the 19th century Yorkshire Moors. Or The Great Gatsby fighting in Vietnam. Makes your brain boggle, doesn’t it?

Character and setting are intrinsicly bound together. Yes, there are characters like James Bond who seem to adapt to multiple environments: North Pole, a Trinidadian beach, swinging London. But that cosmopolitan atmosphere is part of his makeup. He remains always a product of an upperclass childhood, Eton and Oxbridge, and the military.

Some years ago, I saw a photograph of Mahatma Gandhi in London. He was wearing his usual simple dhoti and a shawl. London was grey, wet, and bleak, but that didn’t seem to bother the iconic leader. In fact, he would have looked thoroughly out of place in a business suit. The image reminded me of something a friend said to me many years ago. We were talking about a particularly unhappy colleague who, after years of complaining, had finally tendered her resignation. I commented that I hoped she’d be happier in her new job. “She won’t,” my friend replied, “Because she’s bringing herself with her.”

That’s a profound statement. No matter what we wear or where we go, we will be ourselves, and we bring our past with us. We will never wipe our first home’s dirt from our feet. Our speech will retain the same cadences of our childhood. Yes, we can take lessons and try to sound neutral or, heaven help us, posh, but in duress our origins will reveal themselves.

Even in our current age of travel and — at least in Europe — relaxed borders, people remain tied to the place they came from. You’ve probably heard the expression, “You can take the man out of (place name), but you can’t take the (place name) out of the man.”

Which brings me to settings in fiction. Some settings are so powerful, so unforgetable, that when we think of the story, that’s one of the first things that comes to mind. Think of Gone with the Wind and Tara, or The Lord of the Rings and the Shire. One thing both have in common is the passionate regard the protagonists of these books have for their homes. It isn’t really the places themselves that make them memorable, it’s the fierce loyalty of Scarlett and Frodo.

That said, the authors embued those places with a sense of safety, happiness, and peace. When we read these books, we share that same sense of security the characters feel. Everything will be fine when they get back to the Shie / Tara. Of course, by the time the characters do return home, they find it radically changed, blighted by war and irrevocably changed times.* There is, as Dorothy says, “No place like home,” not even home itself, it seems. It remains an ideal, not only for the characters but for the reader. Who wouldn’t want to live in the Shire, protected by the silent and fierce rangers?

Of course, some places have an entirely different image. Think of the Second World War and the US base in Italy that so disturbs the characters in Catch-22. Here, we are given no alternative to this seemingly unending nightmare that is armed conflict and, possibly worse, the insanity of the leaders — as evidenced by the rule, ‘Catch-22’ which says that pilots could avoid flying if they were insane, but if they asked to be grounded it proved they were sane, therefore, they were fit for duty. Sneaky, huh?

The setting of a story isn’t limited to the location. It’s the ambience, the people, the energy, and the rules. Think of the sinister settings of any Kafka novel, of 1984, or Brave New World.

How then is the writer to bring these settings to life?

If you already have a strong sense of the character, think of the setting that would have formed him or her. Was it loving and stable, or violent and full of fear? Is it bright, warm and cheerful? Or dank and depressing? How does it smell? Yes, smell. That’s one of the senses and it’s just as important as any other. Make the place as unique as possible. Base it on a real place if you can. Describe the peeling wallpaper, the dog-stains on the carpet, the smell of stale tobacco. Show us the sepia toned photographs on the wall, or the trophies on the mantle. For good or ill, it probably effected your characters.

The environment’s impact can be surprising. Think about Citizen Kane. For all the character has achieved in his life, in his last breath he says, ‘Rosebud’. No, not a girlfriend or a boat, a sled that he played on when he was a child. What has had the biggest impact on your character? He might not even realise its importance; perhaps it has been lost to conscious memory, but the heart remembers.

Imagine your character grew up in a religious environment. There is a picture of the pope on the wall. But the child grows with abuse and poverty. In his child’s mind, he sees the pope as responsible for all his ills, and now hates all religion.

When I was a child, I used to build a fort out of books and I would hide inside it. Books became my refuge. It’s hardly surprising that I became a writer.

More than anything else, the setting is about feeling. You don’t have to lay out for us what the character feels. If a dent in the wall reminds her of the time her father violently pushed her, we can deduce her emotions for ourselves. If it’s a swimming medal she won in 3rd grade proudly displayed, then her reaction will be something else entirely. As Chekhov once said, “Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”

View more on Geri Schear's website »

Like • 0 comments • flag

Published on January 20, 2026 22:30

January 13, 2026

Can You Trust Writing Advice?

Even if you’ve only been thinking about writing as a career, you must have already realised that not all writing advice is created equal. So much of it contradicts all the other ‘great’ advice, no wonder newbies are confused.

So, how do you know whom to trust? Is there a way of figuring out what words of wisdom are worthwhile, and which are a waste of time?

When you are new to writing, and even after you have done it for quite a while, it’s not unusual to trip up over some self-proclaimed guru’s pithy wisdom. You’re apt to stop in your tracks and wonder, “Wait, am I supposed to be chanting or fixing my chakra before I begin work?” So, here are my magnificent seven tips for not getting dupped by some self-styled expert.

First. Know the advice-giver. If it’s someone with lots of suggestions but no published work themselves, proceed with caution. If they have only been self-published, still take care. They may have a lot of wisdom to share, but read their reviews. You wouldn’t expect someone with a black thumb to give advice on gardening, so why would you accept guidance on writing from someone who has no proven track record? That’s not to diss on people with a small record of published works. Many writers have never managed more than one book, but if that book was a masterpiece, then they obviously know what they are talking about. Also, apply the same research before you attend classes, listen to podcasts, or buy books on writing. Where writing is concerned, ‘Those who can’t do, teach,’ is a word of caution.

Second. Shop around. The truth is that some authors are great at creating characters, but not so good on writing settings. Or they can fashion the most exciting plots known since Homer told us about the Trojan War, but they can’t write without a wooden-horse load of cliches. So, figure out what your would-be guides do well, and accept their guidance on that, but not on the stuff they do not so well.

Third. If in doubt, try it out. By that, I mean, if the advice sounds reasonable, regardless of where it comes from, give it a try. Don’t be glum if it’s not for you. That’s the thing with writing advice: it’s not one-size fits all.

Fourth. If it sounds like rubbish it probably is. Just because a particular approach works for Stephen King or Margaret Atwood it doesn’t mean that it will work for you. I once heard a probably apocryphal tale about an author who wrote each draft on a different coloured paper. That way, she could tell at a glance which draft she was on. Sounds like pretentious nonsense to me, or something quirky that she made up to amuse an interviewer.

Fifth. Make adjustments that suit you. It the wisdom suggests that you should write 1000 words a day, but you can’t manage more than 250, don’t beat yourself up. If you can’t write every day, write every day that you can. Also, don’t be afraid to revise the rules as your circumstances change.

Sixth. Read the books about writing as much as you can. In addition, read the fiction books by those same authors so you can see if they follow their own advice. If you don’t like their style, perhaps their rules are not for you.

Seventh. Make your own rules. Once you’ve worked out the things that match your temperament and your situation, write them down and resolve to keep them. Don’t assume you’ll remember them or, worse, decide that the rules don’t matter.

View more on Geri Schear's website »

Like • 0 comments • flag

Published on January 13, 2026 22:30

January 6, 2026

Make ’em Laugh

Hello again, and happy new year to all of you. I hope you had a wonderful festive season and any gained pounds will soon melt away.

Over the holidays, two things came to my attention in close juxtaposition. The first was I read a book. Oh, hush, I know, I read lots of books, but something about this one was particularly… disappointing.

Based on the information I gleaned from the blurb, I thought this was a mystery story, albeit one written in a literary style. The book started off well enough. An elderly Jewish man in Brooklyn is murdered. The timeline goes back and forth. The police are trying it identify the killer using CCTV. Then the murder is described. I turned the page, waiting to see if the suspect was ID’d and arrested but… no. That was it. End of the story.

I am not the type to fling books at the wall, but I admit I was sorely tempted. To be fair, if I had taken the time to read the blurb thoroughly, I’d have realised that what I thought was a novel was, in fact, a novella. Two more brief stories followed in the same book. The second ended in just as unsatisfying a manner as the first, and I can’t even remember what the third was about.

Now, to be fair, if I’d realised the story was a novella and expected it to end far later than it did, I might not have been so disgruntled. That’s on me. But I’m still baffled by the story.

And — bear with me here — that brings me to a second, seemingly unrelated event: a podcast in which the speaker said that writers who make him laugh always seem superior to those who do not.

That’s when I realised that many literary writers are a dour lot. They lack wit and gaiety. They are, after all, serious writers.

I am not a serious writer. I like to make my readers laugh, or at least produce a wry smile. I’ll be content with a groan if that’s the best they — and I — can do.

Not everyone can be funny, I know, but here’s a way to start: think about the things that make you laugh. Is it slapstick? Puns? Something else? What comedians do you like? If you say you don’t care for comedy you have far bigger problems than writing potentially dull stories. Humour is an essential component of life. It is the sauce that makes the sometimes stressful moments more palatable. (That last sentence was funny. Not laugh out loud perhaps, but you should at least smirk.)

Once you’ve identified the thing that makes you chuckle, try to hone it in yourself. You don’t have to make jokes to be funny. A wry observation can be hilarious if it comes at the right moment.

If you really are humour-deprived, write down the things that you find funny. Try to use that style in conversation and see how people react. It’s much harder to evaluate how your readers respond to your witticisms.

Many years ago I read a humourous article. The writer talked about being on a train and seeing a woman sitting opposite him reading one of his newspaper columns. He watched in trepidation as she made her way through the piece. “Why isn’t she laughing?” he asked himself. “Not even a smirk! What’s the matter with the woman? That’s one of my funniest pieces!” A few minutes later, the woman started to howl with glee. The writer was delighted. Suddenly, the woman was no longer a hopeless case and had become a genius, appreciating the best of humour.

Ah, how I sympathise with the author.

Unless you are completely humourless, try to slip a little funny into your writing. It doesn’t have to be much. It doesn’t have to be Robin Williams level of hilarity. A little mirth, my friends.

It isn’t sugar that makes the medicine go down, it’s wit. As the great Cole Porter once said,

Why be a great composer with your rents and arrears
Why be a major poet if you’ll owe it for years
When cars will come to wiggle if you wiggle your ears

Be a clown, be a clown, be a clown

View more on Geri Schear's website »

Like • 0 comments • flag

Published on January 06, 2026 22:00

December 16, 2025

The End of the Year Reckoning

At the end of the year it is customary for us to ponder the previous twelve months, our successes and our failures. Even more, it is time for us to consider our hopes and aspirations for the year to come. This is even more so the case for writers.

So, how was 2025 for you? Did you write (almost) ever day? Keep up with the tasks you set yourself? Did you finish any of the projects that you had started? What wishes came true, and what still needs some work?

Taking a reckoning of your successes, your failures, and your lessons learned are important, but what matters more is planning for the year ahead. After all, you can’t change the past, but you can prepare for the future.

You may, of course, be justifiably proud of everything you accomplished in the year gone by. You deserve a pat on the back. But even if you didn’t accomplish everything you had planned, you still get points for making the effort.

How can you improve your writing both in quality and in productivity in 2026? Well, here are some suggestions:

Give yourself some goals. Not too many — three should do — and make sure they are all achievable. Nice though it might be to think of making £1m with your first novel, that’s beyond your control, and it’s also fairly unlikely. But you can control how many words you will write in a day or a week. For instance, you can make it your goal to write, say, 5000 words a week. I’ve always been a proponent of the 1000 words / day aspiration, but I have learned that there are some days when real life intrudes. By making your goal weekly rather than daily, you can still stay on track by writing extra words on Monday and Tuesday if you know you’ll be unavailable on Friday.

If you are trying to succeed as a short story writer or in nonfiction articles, then one goal might be to create a list of journals where you want your work to appear. Again, you cannot guarantee success, but perhaps your goal might be to create a top-20 list and submit one article or story to each over the course of the year. These are suggestions, obviously. Your goals may focus on something very different.

If you are a very new writer, perhaps you could plan on attending a few writing classes over the year, or perhaps buying a few books on writing. While you’re at it, you may find a blog or podcast or two that gives helpful advice as well as encouragement. (Ahem.)

Another possible goal might be to join a writing group or connecting with other writers. Yes, it can be intimidating the first time you do it, but you shouldn’t underestimate how important it is to have good friends with similar goals. They can enrich your life beyond measure.

In addition to goals, think about the steps you need to take to meet them. Start with the right tools. Pen and paper, computer, journal — it’s up to you.

What else do you need? Time? A place to work? A new schedule? The better prepared you are, the more likely you are to meet your goals. Don’t rush it. You still have time to decide what’s important — and to add important tools to your gift wish list.

I’m giving myself the gift of a short break, at least from the blog. Don’t worry, I shall be back on January 7th to share more hopes and wishes with you. In the meantime, have a wonderful holiday period and a Happy New Year.

View more on Geri Schear's website »

Like • 0 comments • flag

Published on December 16, 2025 22:31

December 9, 2025

Give Your Hero a Bad Day

I’m not claiming to be anyone’s hero, but I did have a bad day on Sunday. I dropped my blood pressure pill and couldn’t find it. Since I don’t have a replacement, I had to do without and consequently had a headache all day long. Then I struggled to figure out my new inhaler. (I’m not convinced it isn’t a hoax perpetrated by the pharmaceutical companies). The headache lasted all day, but the capper came at bedtime. I don’t like leaving my laptop downstairs, so I always bring it up with me. Only this time, I fell on the staircase and dropped the ruddy thing.

Currently, I’m bruised, sore, and irked, but I’ll mend. What’s worse is that the laptop charger broke and part of it is stuck in the power port. The laptop itself is OK, but it could almost qualify for an item on the Antiques Road Show, so I was planning to get a new one in January anyway. In the meantime, my daughter and her partner performed some emergency surgery with tape and whatever voodoo they do.

None of this is particularly nasty. Certainly, there are far worse things in the world. Like the time a tree in my front garden got struck by lightning and crashed into the roof. Or when the basement filled up with raw sewage (both events were within six months of each other). And there are things like infidelity, illness, and deaths that carry an even heavier weight.

What I’m leading to is this: in fiction, if you want your readers to stay engaged, give your hero a bad day. Or year. Or even life. Have him face real problems and compound those problems so they keep coming. Add to that some conflict — with other people, with nature, or with the government, for instance — and your readers will sooo identify with the poor schmuck.

Depending on the sort of story you’re writing, the problems facing the hero might be comparatively minor — he wants to go to college but can’t afford it. Of course, to the person involved, this isn’t a minor matter at all. But if your hero is, in fact, a superhero, then nothing less than the end of the world will count as anything but a minor detail. Likewise, the conflicts. A teacher who hates the heroic student, or a fascist dictator who wants to wipe out an entire country, it all depends on the story you’re writing.

Dealing with problems and conflicts reveals character. Your hero doesn’t have to be a military leader, maybe he’s just a country lawyer, like Atticus Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird). Maybe it’s a mother who doesn’t want the town to forget that her daughter was murdered (Three Billboards Outside Billings, Missouri). Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. A schoolchild who stands up for another kid who is being bullied is no less heroic than Superman when you think about it.

By the same token, the protagonist who avoids conflicts or who tries to shunt responsibility onto others can be just as interesting to the reader. How a coward acts to protect himself through lies, evasion, or passing the blame onto others may be despicable, but also makes for an entertaining read.

View more on Geri Schear's website »

Like • 0 comments • flag

Published on December 09, 2025 22:31

December 2, 2025

Danger: Writer at Large

I am told that some writers are gregarious, people-loving people. It may be true, but then there are outliers in all parts of society. Even when a successful writer is being genial, I have to wonder if that’s really them, or just a hat they wear at certain times.

Writers react in peculiar ways to ordinary events, so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that we must wear protective gear when we venture into the wild. What do I mean by peculiar? Let me tell you a story I heard about Tolstoy. I’ve no idea if it was true or not, but it wouldn’t really surprise me if it were. The story goes that Leo sat by his dying father’s bedside for several days and didn’t move until the old man was gone. The bit that raises eyebrows is that during this time Leo allegedly wrote about his father’s deterioration and his own reaction to it, just so he could use the information in a future novel.

Again, the story may be apocryphal, but it does suggest the way certain writers’ minds work. No matter what the circumstances, happy, sad, or terrifying, part of our brains are keeping note of the developments and our reactions. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism. Maybe we’re just weird. Oh, hush, you’re weird too, just in a different way.

The thing is, writers in the wild can be as predatory as any other hostile creature. We can play in a band like some other authors, or tell humorous stories to a crowd, but there’s a dark space inside from which we lurk and watch and record everything. Then, just when you have forgotten all about us, we subject you to all sorts of wickedness in our fiction.

Look on the bright side: at least when we’re making your life miserable or killing you off, it’s only in our stories. Besides, you’ll probably never recogise yourself. On top of being devious killers, we are also masters of disguise. Disguising our characters, that is.

Writers are, on whole, a solitary species. We’re really not fit for mingling with others, unless we put our sociable hat on. There is a famous writer who is known for his funny, socially aware stories. He keeps people in fits of laughter when you see him speaking at a literary event. He is particularly good at speaking to the needs of children. But I once met one of his neighbours and she had nothing good to say about him. I mentioned his public persona and everything he did for children. “That’s a load of guff,” she said. “He’s horrible to the local children. Shouts at them to stay away from his house. He doesn’t talk to anyone in the neighbourhood.”

I understand why the neighbours are upset, but I can see his point too. Mr Geniality may be beloved, but it’s Mr Grumpy who writes the books that put bread on the table.

When it comes down to it, I think most writers are a bit schizophrenic, forever torn between the public and the private person. To an extent, we all do this, but for the writer it is a survival mechanism. We don’t switch hats without good reason. Indeed, it’s probably a misnomer to call our public hat a hat. It’s more like a suit of armour through which we interact with a hostile world. Our suit may seem avuncular, genial, and non-threatening, but it hides a beast. The beast watches and takes note. Even while it smiles, it is planning how it can destroy you. But don’t be alarmed.

It’s just a story.

[image error]Pexels.com" data-medium-file="https://rycardus.wordpress.com/wp-con..." data-large-file="https://rycardus.wordpress.com/wp-con..." loading="lazy" width="867" height="1300" src="https://rycardus.wordpress.com/wp-con..." alt="" class="wp-image-18808" srcset="https://rycardus.wordpress.com/wp-con... 867w, https://rycardus.wordpress.com/wp-con... 100w, https://rycardus.wordpress.com/wp-con... 200w, https://rycardus.wordpress.com/wp-con... 768w" sizes="(max-width: 867px) 100vw, 867px" />Photo by Evgeni Adutskevich on Pexels.com

View more on Geri Schear's website »

Like • 0 comments • flag

Published on December 02, 2025 22:31

November 26, 2025

Waking your Writing Mode

The internet, that marvel of modern science, is full of opinions and suggestions regarding writing and the creative spirit. This morning, as I was scrolling through the platform formerly known as Twitter, I read that if you are in a creative slump you should:

Take a shower. It never fails, said the Twit. Alas, it doesn’t work for me. I’m more concerned with how to bend down — I’m a woman of certain years, you understand — to scrub my feet. Or how to keep the shampoo out of my eyes. Or staying warm in the frozen wasteland otherwise known as my bathroom. Still, it may work for you, so I pass it on in hopes that you may find it useful.

Play your main character’s theme music. I like the idea of this. Then I spent several weeks listening to various tunes trying to select the right piece of music. I gave up in the end. Still, you may have better luck.

This one, from a well-known author, suggests that plot is overrated and we should focus exclusively on character. So if you want to write a story about half-a-dozen interesting people stuck in a lift (elevator) for several hours, you have a future bestseller on your hands. But as I learned from Reginald Rose, author of 12 Angry Men, a good story still needs conflict and drama of some sort.

Turn criticism into creativity. Hmm. I have to admit, I like the idea of this one. However, like most people, I suspect, criticism tends to freeze me. If it does get me moving, I’m apt to swing too far in the opposite direction. Tell me a character is too nice and I’ll be sure to turn her into a serial killer. Or that the novel is too long, it will probably end up as a short story. I’m exaggerating, but only slightly.

Success is the best revenge. This is true, but there is an obvious caveat: you have to, you know, actually succeed in order to reap that revenge. I know, I know, the idea is to motivate yourself towards success so that you can avenge yourself on your enemies, real or imagined. That said, if it keeps your bum on your seat and your fingers on the keys, have at it!

Tickle your olfactory. Some writers swear by keeping some familiar scent that tells their subconscious that it’s time to write. I’m allergic to scented candles generally, and I’m not fond of the idea of a drawer full of wrinkled old apples, but if you can find the right odour and it works for you, well, who am I to sniff at it.

And my favourite. Create a space for writing. A desk and a chair, ideally, but some writers wrote standing up, or in bed, or even in the bathtub (how did they keep the paper dry?). Make it relaxing and inviting and as quiet as possible. Make it a place where you are not allowed to play games or chat with friends. Just write. If you do this consistently, the idea is it will have the same impact on your creative receptors as the word, ‘Walkies!’ has on your spaniel.

View more on Geri Schear's website »

Like • 0 comments • flag

Published on November 26, 2025 10:31

November 18, 2025

Rhythm in Writing

Last week, my post came to an abrupt halt thanks to my intermittent internet. We seem all right today, so I mean to continue on as originally planned.

As you may recall, last week I wrote about rhythm of writing or, more accurately, the rhythms of a writer’s life. This week, I want to focus on how writing, good writing, has rhythms of its own. If you’ve never noticed this or thought about it, that’s all right. Most people don’t unless they are struggling to write themselves and cannot figure out why their writing seems flat.

While novels are not poetry or music, they should still have a rhythm. To see what I mean, try this exercise: write a piece of about 8-10 sentences. Each sentence should run about the same length and take the same form. For instance, “I woke up. I got dressed. I went to work…” You can imagine how a whole paragraph like this would make your brain go numb and your eyes feel like they are bleeding.

An even better example is the character Uncle Colm (played by Kevin McAleer) in Derry Girls. You will find clips on YouTube, if you haven’t already encountered this show. Uncle Colm is the most boring man who ever lived. Listen to him speak. His delivery is a monotone. The stories he relates are meandering inanities. In the hands of the actor, however, the monotony becomes hilarious.

Of course, if you were to read such ramblings on the page, you would either fall asleep or toss the book into the bin. There is no rhythm in a straight line.

Rhythm is about making your sentences rise and fall, like the undulating Irish countryside. Understand, I’m talking about the structure of the sentences and the paragraphs, not the content. The rhythm of a narrative should contain sentences of different length, and these sentences should vary in how they are structured. The same is true of paragraphs. It’s fine to follow a longish paragraph with a short one.

Like this.

Or to use repetition.

Like this.

Not only should the rhythm flow through the sentences, but the sentences should create a visual pattern. No one willingly reads an entire page of prose that is essentially one l-o-n-g paragraph. As an example, look at this blog post through narrowed eyes after you have finished reading it. Look at the way the text is jagged with very brief passages and longer ones. See what I mean?

As an example of true musicality, here is a passage from one of my favourite books, To Kill a Mockingbird. (If you haven’t read it — and why not? — this is something of a spoiler.)

Neighbors bring food with death and flowers with sickness and little things in between. Boo was our neighbor. He gave us two soap dolls, a broken watch and chain, a pair of good-luck pennies, and our lives. But neighbors give in return. We never put back into the tree what we took out of it: we had given him nothing, and it made me sad.
– Harper Lee
To Kill a Mockingbird

Look at that long first sentence, it contains 13 words. The second sentence, in contrast, contains just 4 words. This is followed by another long, then another short sentence. You can see the rhythm as clearly as if it were being played on a drum by Phil Collins.

To understand rhythm, read how it is handled by wonderful writers. Look at your own favourite books and see where the rhythm is.

Here’s another of my favourite writers, Aharon Appelfeld, in his magnum opus about the Holocaust, Badenheim 1939:

“An engine, an engine coupled to four filthy freight cars, emerged from the hills and stopped at the station… ‘Get in!’ yelled invisible voices. And the people were sucked in”.

See how, here, Appelfeld find rhythm inside the sentences. The repetition of the word ‘engine’. Then the ‘get in’ is followed by ‘sucked in’. The sentences seem to rumble, like a train engine on a discouraging track. Look where the verbs are and how the content combined with the rhythm creates a sense of foreboding.

Another element that creates rhythm is the pause, or caesura. Generally speaking, it’s most commonly used in poetry, but you can find it in music too. A great example is the song, I’ve Got You Under My Skin by the fabulous Cole Porter (that man could write!). Can you guess where the caesura comes in this verse? It’s pretty obvious:

“Don’t you know little fool, you never can win?
Use your mentality, wake up to reality”
But each time that I do, just the thought of you
Makes me stop before I begin
‘Cause I’ve got you under my skin”

Did you figure it out? Yes, it’s right after the ‘stop’.

This is also used in the song, Love will Keep us Together in the line, ‘Stop! Cause I really love you. Stop!’ If you’ve ever seen the film ‘Get Over It’, the opening credits use this song to great affect, with star Ben Foster pausing every time the word ‘STOP!’ is said. Uh, sung.

In the Harper Lee quote above, it would come right after, ‘and our lives.’

In prose it can be harder to detect, but if you try reading passages out loud, your voice will pause automatically when you reach those moments. Alternatively, listen to some audio books. Hearing a great actor finding the music in prose is a joy to behold.

The caesura will add to the rhythm of your writing, but it also allows the reader to some strong statement you just made. Think of the famous Hamlet speech, To Be or Not To Be. The pause comes right after, ‘that is the question.’ It allows Hamlet and the audience to consider what he has just said, if only for a moment.

Get used to reading your work out loud. Pay attention to the way it sounds. While all the elements of fiction remain important: characterisation, plot, and so on, it’s easy to focus on the twists and turns of the story, but don’t forget the hills and valleys of your narrative.

View more on Geri Schear's website »

Like • 0 comments • flag

Published on November 18, 2025 22:31

November 11, 2025

The Rhythms of Writing

When I was a teenager, the big thing was ‘biorhythms’. If you were having a bad day, it was put down to your biorhythms. If you couldn’t get your hair to look right, biorhythms. Or if you failed an exam or your driving test — you guessed it. Biorhythms.

You don’t hear about them anymore. They’ve been replaced by other more hip terms, no doubt just as authentic.

As you probably figured out, I’m not a believer in this sort of psycho-mumbo-jumbo. Even that bastion of reliability, Wikipedia, (NOT) calls it pseudo-science. However, I have noticed that there are definite peaks and troughs throughout the writer’s life. These can be from year to year, but they can also be hour by hour.

There are days when the words don’t come. I can sit and stare at the notepad or the computer screen, and… nothing. An hour later, or the next day and whoosh! Your fingers can’t move fast enough to get the story down.

I bet I know what some of you are thinking: if the words don’t flow, then there’s no point in trying. I should take the day off and hope tomorrow will be better. Right?

No!

If you were a lawyer, would you tell the judge and your client that you just weren’t feeling it that day, and they would have to defer the case for a day or two? You can imagine how that would work, can’t you? Or if you were a doctor, would you cancel a surgery because you were having a bad day? Of course not.

“But,” some of you say, “That’s different. I’m creative! Rules don’t apply to people like me.”

So, does that mean you don’t have to pay rent or a mortgage, like a normal person? Or buy groceries? Or make dinner.

Buckle up, Buttercup, the real world doesn’t give a toss for your ‘creative’ muse.

Writing is a job, and if you hope to succeed, you need to treat it that way.

Well, friends, I had intended this piece to be rather longer & to cover other aspects of rhythm in the writing world. However, my internet is being temperamental, so I shall have to leave things there.

Let’s hope that normal services will resume by next week.

View more on Geri Schear's website »

Like • 0 comments • flag

Published on November 11, 2025 22:31

← Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 … 62 63 Next →

Geri Schear's Blog

Geri Schear's profile
52 followers