Posted on by A. A. Rubin

Rules, What Rules: The Passive Voice (Should not be Written In)

In the first post I published on this blog, I bemoaned the reductive nature of writing advice. “If you write like everyone else,” I wrote, “your writing will read like everyone else’s.” While I have gotten away from that theme from time-to-time, I try to return to it every now and then as part of my series: Rules: What Rules? which consists of a series of blogs that deal with common pieces of writing advice, and then present a famous work–by a successful author–which breaks those rules. My aim is not to criticize these authors—I enjoy all of them, that is the point. Rather, I present their works as examples of successfully writing, which might cause you to reexamine the writing “rule” critically. I am not advising you to ignore these rules, rather to take control of your own craft, and consider your choices actively. As always, I believe there is more than one path to success, more than one formula for great writing. Consider these posts synecdochally. The specific rule is not the point; it speaks to a general attitude which is prevalent within the contemporary writing community.

In each blog post in this series, I will give a brief summary of the rule, followed by a case study of a successful author, work, or series that breaks that rule. Finally, I will provide some analysis of the rule and the alternative techniques the featured author makes. Since the posts in this series will not necessarily be consecutive blog entries, I will link each piece to previous entries.

Previously in this series:

Dialogue Tags

Eliminating Adverbs

Avoid Alliteration

The Three Act Structure

Independent Superhero Comics

The Rule: Don’t Write in the Passive Voice

“The passive voice is weak.” “Always use the active voice.” “Eliminate ‘was’ from your vocabulary.” If you have taken a creative writing class, read any books or blogs about writing, or attended any writing workshops, you’ve probably heard some version of this advice. The active voice, which gives the subject and the action primacy in the sentence, is clearer, more concise, and according the Strunk and White, who list it as #14 in their elements of composition, “makes for more forcible writing” that is “vigorous” and “bold” in opposition to the passive voice, which is “less direct, less bold, and less concise.” Their views on active and passive voice, like much of their manual, has become gospel in the pedagogy of writing.

And yet…

One of Mark Twain’s most famous quotes: “The report of my death has been grossly exaggerated.” (Often misquoted as “rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated) was written–or more accurately, said–in passive voice.

The acclaimed science fiction novelist Douglas Adams, one of the most beloved and successful writers of all time, begins The Restaurant at the End of Universe like this:

The story so far:
In the beginning, the universe was created.
This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

That’s two consecutive passive voice sentences (and an “very” to boot).

Franklin Delano Roosevelt began his Pearl Harbor speech by saying:

Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.

Like Twain and Adams, FDR used the passive voice.

I think it is safe to say that Mark Twain, Douglas Adams, and FDR are all excellent writers, and that the choices they made in the above examples are highly effective. So, how did they manage to break this so-called writing rule in pieces which have stood the test of time? Read on to find out.

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Analysis

There are a few reasons why a writer would choose to use the passive voice. Two of the more common reasons are to emphasize the object of the sentence, and to create rhythm in their writing.

Let’s take Twain’s example first. Twain uses the passive voice to highlight the irony of statement. He simultaneously de-emphasizes the subject by leaving it out of the sentence, and highlights the object of the sentence both in contrast to the lack of subject and by placing it at the start of the sentence.

By placing the object in the front, “the report of my death” is the first phrase the reader hears. The irony is established at the outset by the contradiction between the phrase “my death” and the fact that the speaker talking about the reports of his own death is very much alive, and is the one who is speaking about it. With this contradiction fresh in the readers’ mind, the end of the phrase just serves to emphasize the irony, to grossly exaggerate it, if you will. If Twain has used the active voice, “the newspapers have grossly exaggerated the report of my death,” the focus would be on the newspapers rather than on the ironic phrase. Thus, Twain’s use of the passive voice, is a deliberate choice meant to highlight the irony of the situation.

Like Twain, FDR chooses to highlight the object over the subject in his famous speech. By using the passive voice, he places the emphasis on America rather than on Japan. Facing resistance to entering WWII, he highlights the fact that America was attacked rather than the fact that Japan was the country that attacked it. This serves two main purposes rhetorically. First it emphasizes that the isolationists who were against America joining the war were wrong. America is not safer not entering the war. America was attacked anyway. Lives were still lost. It would be better to (ironically) take the active position and enter the war. Secondly, it allows FDR to go after the Nazis as well as the Germans in his response. Yes, America was attacked by the Japanese, but who attacked them first is only part of the problem. The Germans would do the same thing, if given the chance. America was attacked. America needs to enter the war. To do this effectively, America needs to enter the war on both fronts. The passive voice, by emphasizing the object and deemphasizing the subject , makes the phrase more effective rhetorically.

Douglas Adams’ use the passive voice is a little different because it is the start of a novel. Fiction stories often start with sentences featuring delayed subjects. The traditional “once upon a time, there lived a ___” is probably the most famous example, but there are others as well. Tolkien’s “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,” is another example. Neither Tolkien’s nor the traditional fairy tale are technically passive voice, but they do delay the subject to the end of the clause, which makes them syntactically similar to passive construction. In these cases–whether they are written in passive voice or not–the delayed subject draws the reader into the story. The familiar “once upon a time” is a portal into a the fantasy ream. It tells the reader what kind of story to expect, and similar phrases exist across cultures in folk and fairy stories because the technique is effective. Tolkien’s opening also establishes a poetic rhythm. The phrases which delay the subject scan (in a HOLE in the GROUND) which helps establish a rhythm to the prose as well.

The passive voice can be used to affect either of these purposes as well. It is the most common way to delay a subject, and sprinkling in a few passive voice sentences can slow down the rhythm of a story, vary the syntax, and make the writing more interesting.

It is certainly possible that Adams had this in mind when writing the opening to The Restaurant at the End of Universe. There is, however, a thematic reason Adams would use the passive voice here as well. The first of the consecutive passive sentences, “In the beginning, the universe was created,” alludes to the biblical creation story. The first line of the bible reads: In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth.” Adams expects his reader to associate the phrase “In the beginning” with the biblical verse. This allusion naturally sparks a comparison between the two lines. What is the difference? The notable absence of God. Whereas, the biblical universe is the creation of order out of chaos, as spoken into existence by the divine voice, Adams universe is one of randomness and absurdity. There is no order. There is no one in charge. Throughout the series, the reader meets authority figures, including the creator, but each is absent the power and the will to order the nascent chaos on the universe. Thus, by eliminating God from the traditional creation story, Adams establishes the theme right from the outset of the story.

In this case, the passive construction is the most effective way Adams could make this particular point. The passive construction here, much like in the Twain example, allows for the elimination of the subject entirely. In the beginning, the universe was created. By whom? We don’t know. To paraphrase one of Adams’ more famous passages, God disappears in a puff of grammar.

While the passive voice is not something that should be used exclusively, or even for the majority of your sentences, the examples above show how it can be an effective tool in your writing which should not be discarded out of hand. It can be used to highlight the object of a sentence or eliminate the subject entirely when rhetorically appropriate, to delay the subject for effect, or to establish a poet and comforting rhythm which might be appropriate to the story you are trying to tell. The reports of its death have, indeed, been grossly exaggerated.

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Posted on by A. A. Rubin

July Newsletter

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Welcome to my very first email newsletter…

With the fourth of July over, it’s time to jump into summer. The change of seasons is a natural time for transitions, and, thus, I’ve decided to take the plunge and start this email newsletter. Thank you for coming along with me on the next step of my creative journey!

The Lede:

  • My poem “Night Walkers” was named the first place winner of the Poe It Like Poe poetry contest. You can read my winning poem, along with those of the other winners here. 
  • I will have a short comics story in Ahoy! Comics’ Project Cryptid, scheduled to come out this fall. You can read all about the new anthology project at Ahoy’s website. Take a look at the names of the other creators alongside whom my story will appear–writers and artists associated with Sandman, Doctor Who, and Superman, among others– and you’ll understand why I am so excited about this project. I’m not sure about which issue will include my story, but be sure to subscribe to the book at your local comics shop. 
  • I will be appearing at Eternal Con, in Long Island, New York, this weekend as part of the Comic Book School team. I will be selling books at the CBS table and appear on some of their panels. There is still time to get your ticket, so if you’re in the area, be sure to stop by and say hi.
  • I am now a full member of the Science Fiction Writers Association on the strength of the sales I’ve made in genres of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror.

A Note on Summer:

Summer can mark a period of transition. Not only does the weather change, but many of our life situations can shift as well. The kids may be home from school; fewer people might be at work as many people take vacations in July and August; and, if we are lucky, we might even be able to travel ourselves. In any case, change is neither good nor bad in and of itself, but it always requires adjustment. 

During the past year, I got used to writing during the hours the kids were at school, but now that summer has arrived, my days will be filled with what my kids affectionately call “daddy camp.” I will have to adjust my schedule and become a late-night writer once again. While I may have less time to write, I always find the time with the kids feeds my creativity. There is nothing like creative play to spark my creative work, and I often find inspiration in the art we see at the many museums we visit over the course of the summer. Here’s hoping you deal with the transition well and have a great summer.

Free Fiction:

Each month, I will link to some of my writing which you can read for free around the internet.

Craft Corner:

In this section, I will share writing exercises, articles on craft, and blog posts about living the creative life. If you’re a writer (or a creator of any stripe) this section’s for you.

Upcoming Appearances:

Posted on by A. A. Rubin

The Three Capitalist Pigs (Excerpt)

My story, The Three Capitalist Pigs was recently published is Once Upon Another Time: Fresh Tales From The Far Side of Fantasy. I’ve included the beginning of the story below. You can download the rest–for free–by clicking on any of the hyperlinks in this post. Enjoy.

The wayward wolf wandered the enchanted forest. As the runt of the litter—abandoned by the pack—he had learned to live on his wits. He couldn’t hunt deer, that required a team, and the trolls and ogres were stiff competition for the other carnivorous forest-dwellers like himself. Though he wasn’t proud of it, the wolf sometimes scavenged amongst the humans. He had, on occasion, poached sheep from their farms, and for this, those uppity apes had labeled him “Big” and “Bad.” They made up stories to scare their young into obedience—stories that made the wolf shudder. Over time, people came to believe those tales, and he gained a reputation as a nefarious villain. Truthfully, it was the humans—those hypocritical alpha predators—who ate other species’ young. They even, ironically, made a hunter his nemesis in many of their fables.

Still, humanity wasn’t the enemy on the wolf’s mind that evening. No, the real villains were the capitalist pigs who set up shop at the edge of the forest. Those three brothers bought up land at an alarming rate, especially woodland, which contained an abundance of natural resources. Now, deforestation was becoming the most pressing issue for the residents of that enchanted woods.

The wolf, who had always had a way with words, started a petition amongst the forest’s residents. He collected signatures and filed the complaints with the proper authorities, but, alas, his pleas were ignored by the powers that be. It was almost as if the castle was still under the enchantment of the hundred-year-sleep. Truth be told, the bacon had greased the royalty by funding all their charming balls. 

To read the rest of the story, download the FREE ebook.

Posted on by A. A. Rubin

The Captivity of Lord Hephaestus

At night, Lord Hephaestus dreamed of flying. In his mind’s eye, he burst forth from his lair like an undead spirit rising from its cerements. His soul soared as he rose, circling with the currents high above the cliffs and mountains of his home, creating his own thermals by breathing forth fire to heat the night sky. Onward and ever upward he flew, his wide wings beating tempests that would knock even the hawks and eagles from the sky. He was lord of the heavens, of the lightning and of the fire, which he rained down on a world that, rightly, feared him, leaving a path of charred devastation in his wake. He imagined himself as the villagers must have seen him, his form silhouetted, diving, as if straight out of the moon, the embodiment of death and terror, the smoldering evil of the Weather-Maker mountain range.

He would play all night, swooping and soaring, and then, with the first rays of the new dawn, he’d awaken and realize he was still trapped in this same cage.

A dragon with clipped wings, earthbound, like a common house pet. Cruelly, they called him Lord Hephaestus: a lamed fire god, like a dragon whose wings had been cut to prevent him from flying away—a small joke created by small minds. It was patently absurd, but then again, it made about as much sense as the rest of his life in captivity among the humans.

If he had been bested by a brave hero in combat, he could have lived with that. There was a long history of such noble encounters, and though the balance of outcomes was strongly in favor of his species, there was enough of a precedent that he hardly would have been the first werm vanquished by a valorous knight. If that hero had proven worthy, and if he had been merciful enough to let his adversary live, Lord Hephaestus might have even let himself be saddled and ridden as, together, they could have accomplished great deeds and long be remembered in ballads. And, if he had not been merciful, at least the dread dragon would have been a dead dragon, free from the humiliation of his defeat and its consequences.

But that was not his fate. He had been captured by the humans’ cunning artifices, ensnared by machines that were just as soulless as their creators. There was no banter, no battle, no romance, just an underhanded nerve agent and an invisible net. His doom, it seemed, would not be sung by bards. No, his lot was to be taunted as he lived out his life in this cage, or, “artificial habitat,” as his captors called it. They spoke in euphemisms to cover their cruelty.

Still, he was a dragon lord, and, even in this situation, he was honor-bound to comport himself with dignity. He therefore indulged them in their pretenses of kindness. He did not complain when the barbecued goats they fed him where not charred enough, and he pretended to struggle to defeat their chess masters (though he would never go so far as to lose, even when facing the best thirty in the kingdom at the same time). He obliged them with a spectacular show of fire at the appointed times, and cooled his overheated belly on the bed of blue ice packs that substituted for his mound of treasure.

Over time, his indignation cooled like the fire in his belly after a satisfying hunt. His anger blunted as so many swords had against his scales. It had started when the human caretakers (when did he stop thinking about them as captors?) brought in a sphinx to live in the adjacent “habitat”. He commiserated with her about her given name—they called her Cleopatra, how unoriginal—and joked about the quality of the cuisine. With the natural pride indigenous to all dragons, he made light of his situation so as not to seem weak or unchivalrous in front of her. His efforts to buoy her spirits ended up raising his own, and in time, Lord Hephaestus and Queen Cleopatra became friends. Here, finally, was a mind to match his own, a worthy foil in debate and a delightful companion in conversation with whom he shared many common experiences.

Each night, they would challenge each other with riddles. They would wager portions of the treasures the humans had confiscated, knowing full well they would likely never get a chance to pay their debts, and then compare notes on the day’s indignities, comforting each other to sleep with soft words and gentle praise.

Often, after the sphinx had fallen asleep, Lord Hephaestus would lie awake on that mound of cold blue ice and compare his plight to that of his lady friend. If he was being honest, she had it much, much worse. There were many stories of dragons, and his crowds usually greeted him with awe (especially after a well-timed display of fire against the tempered glass of his enclosure). The children carried around stuffies and figures resembling his likeness, and though it hardly lived up to the fading memories of the piercing cries of terrified villagers or the look of ultimate resignation in a dwarf king’s eyes forced to relinquish his treasure, that tribute was, at least, something. In the world of the magical menagerie he was the star, just as he had been in the realms of myth and legend. The sphinx, on the other hand, didn’t draw large crowds, her merchandise wasn’t as popular among the young ones, and, though she possessed a regal bearing when still and blinding speed when she chose to move, her act just didn’t have the flash or sizzle of his best pyrotechnic display. Worse, she was forced to endure taunts of, “The answer is man!” hundreds of times each day, as the humans had few legends in which she featured prominently.

Seen in this light, his captivity didn’t seem that bad. He began to appreciate what he had. He took pride when one of the grandmasters told him that the royal chess team’s record had improved exponentially since its members started regularly training with the dragon; he roared back good-naturedly when children growled at him with their toy dragons; and he learned how to blow whimsical shapes in the smoke rings he expelled from his great nostrils to further entertain the masses.

In truth, it was harder than he had worked in years. Even in his youth, he would spend most of his day lounging on his treasure, and now, after years of captivity, he was beginning to grow fat and old. There was comfort here. While the blue ice packs were not very romantic, and while they certainly weren’t as pretty to look at as a mound of golden treasure, they were, in point of fact, much colder than precious metal and therefore more efficient at cooling the smoldering in his belly.

There was also friendship. Dragons were usually solitary creatures, which now that he thought of it probably contributed to their ill-tempered surliness. Had he lived out his days under The Weather Makers, he would have lived and died alone, with no one to talk to except the voices in his own ever-working brain. Here at least he had Cleopatra. She would keep him from growing bitter in his dotage. Gone were the fires of Svarog and Pele, gods whose names he would have been proud to bear in his youth, and only the maimed Hephaestus remained.

All things considered, it was almost enough to embrace these conditions for autumnal years—almost enough to not only bear it, but perhaps to enjoy it. It was almost enough to allow him to forget the affront of his captivity.

But only almost. When he fell asleep each night, Lord Hephaestus couldn’t escape the memory of flying. He couldn’t escape the dream of drafting vectors into the vortex. And when he awoke each morning, he couldn’t escape that echo of the pain he had felt when they clipped his wings. He could not escape the shame of knowing he was no longer—and would never again be—a great green wyrm wending up into the welkin.

–by A. A. Rubin

This story first appeared in the March/April Issue of The Kyanite Press.

Posted on by A. A. Rubin

On the Flash Fiction Selections in the Comic Book School Presents: Creator Connection, Panel 1 Anthology

Comic Book School Presents: Creator Connection, Panel 1 was recently released on the Comic Book School website for free download. Not only do I have two pieces in the anthology, a comics story illustrated by Arielle Lupkin and a flash fiction story, illustrated by Mike Ponce, but I also served as the prose editor for the book. As such, I wrote an introduction for the flash fiction section, which I have posted in its entirety below.

You can download the anthology here.

Flash Fiction Editor’s Introduction: Why Are There Flash Fiction Pieces in a Comic Book Anthology?

Words and pictures have been intimately connected since human beings began telling stories. As many comics pros have been quick to point out, some of the earliest recorded stories—painted on the caves of France and Indonesia approximately 44,000 years ago, were, essentially, sequential storytelling art. To use a more modern word, comics.

But the history of words and pictures complementing each other is not exclusive to comics or sequential art. From the illuminated manuscripts of the middle ages, to the literati paintings of the Ming and Qing dynasties, to Gustave Dore’s unforgettable woodcuts for Dante’s Inferno and Coleridge’s Rime of The Ancient Mariner, images and text enhanced and illuminated each other even in the most serious literature. Some of the world’s greatest artists, such as Edouard Manet (Poe’s The Raven) and Eugene Delacroix (Goethe’s Faust) illustrated editions of some of the great literature of the 19th Century. Charles Dickens, arguably the greatest novelist ever, worked closely with illustrators on all but two of his novels.

It is only during the 20th Century that illustrated writing—at least for adults—was banished to the funny books and science fiction pulps. Why did this happen? The most common answer is that readers’ tastes, led by literary critics who felt that illustrations placed a barrier between the reader and their experience of the text, changed. A more cynical analysis suggests that as books became widely available, they were produced cheaply for the mass market. Art costs money, and pocket-sized, inexpensively-printed, paperbacks are not the best format for presenting illustrations anyway. Either way, by the second half of the 20th Century illustrated prose, with a few notable exceptions like Hunter S. Thompson’s creative non-fiction, was exceptionally rare.

These days, however, things are changing. We live in a world where illustrated literature is respectable once again. Watchmen appeared on many “Best Novels of the Last 100 Years” lists, and many younger readers are more likely to remember reading a graphic novel for class than one of their teachers confiscating a comic book which they read, surreptitiously, inside the book that they were supposed to be reading. Hollywood has mined the pages of graphic literature to create some of the most popular movies and television programs of our time, bringing the genre out of the counterculture and into the mainstream.  At the same time, ebooks (like this one) are now the least expensive form of publication, and have eliminated the cost-related concerns associated with printing illustrations. Still, with the exception of young adult literature, pictures in prose books are still not as popular as they used to be.

They are, however, making a comeback. Many literary journals print art to accompany their selections. Interest in books as art objects, which often contain fancy, illustrated book plates, have become more popular, as well.

It is into this changing landscape that Comic Book School presents the creators who completed the Flash Fiction Challenge. Inspired equally by the classics mentioned above, the old pulp magazines, and early Ray Bradbury short story collections that drew on both traditions, writers and artists from our online community were challenged to create stories that married one page of prose with a single, full-page illustration.

The results speak for themselves. From D. Alley, who like William Blake, wrote and illustrated her piece, The Rescue; to George Dawkins II and Philip Burnette, whose powerful prose and black and white illustrations for The Black Knight are reminiscent of the great 19th Century engraved bookplates; to Mike Ponce, the master of backgrounds, who, like Paul Kibdy did with Terry Pratchett’s Discworld, somehow pulled together the surreal genre mash-up with which I presented him in The Duel. 

In each of these stories, the marriage of art and writing enhances the reader’s experience beyond what either could do on its own. We invite you to join us on the vanguard of this revival.

Please download the anthology (for free),  and to follow me on twitter, instagram, and facebook.

Posted on by A. A. Rubin · 5 Comments

Some Publishing News, And Happy Birthday To Me

Today is my birthday. For one year at least, I have become the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything. What’s the best present you can give an author on his birthday? Read his work. Luckily, I have some new publishing news to report. I have work in two anthologies you can buy, and a free poem online as well.

My story “The Forgotten” is included in the Remnants shared world anthology from Kyanite Press. Remnants presents a post-apocalyptic world overrun by two different types of monsters. Each of the stories, written by a different author, takes place in the same universe. It’s a really interesting collection, and there is such diversity in the stories that, if you’re a fan of sci-fi, horror, or post-apocalyptic fiction on any stripe, there’s something in there for you.

My story, “The Forgotten” deals with a group of orphans who have banded together to fight the monsters. It’s a dark psychological tale that celebrates the power of childlike imagination even in the darkest times. Here is the opening paragraph to whet your appetite.

For the third year in a row, I have flash fiction in the Serious Flash Fiction anthology. This anthology, is one of my favorites. Each year on twitter, The editor, runs a contest to find the best tweet-length stories. Once again, my work was selected among the winners. This is one of my favorite anthologies each year, and I have discovered some of my favorite writers through this competition as well. The anthology also collects the previous years’ winning entries, so, if you buy the book, you’ll get my microflash from previous years as well.

The Serious Flash Fiction Anthology

While the previous two publications are for purchase, I also have a present for you on my birthday. My high fantasy ballad, Forthwith Flies The Mage, a long narrative, poem about a mage and his dragon battling the forces of darkness is now available for free as part of the “Healing Worlds” project from Kyanite Press. It is one my favorite pieces, and if you enjoy fantasy in the mode of JRR Tolkien or Ursula Le Guin, I know you’ll enjoy it.

Be sure to connect on facebook, twitter, and instagram, and let me know what you think in the comments.

Posted on by A. A. Rubin · 1 Comment

Free Stories You Can Read While Socially Distancing

With everyone home on quarantine or practicing “social distancing,” now is a great time to get some reading done. As such, I decided to share some of my stories that are available for free at online. I’ve written a short description with the each link to help you pick which you’d like to read. Enjoy, and please stay safe out–or in–there:

Here is the story I shared in my last week’s blog. It is in the mode of Terry Pratchett or Douglas Adams. If you haven’t read it yet, please check it out: Darkness My Old Friend.

I have a short flash piece in the current issue of Mythic Picnic Tweet Story. It features the unlikely combination of Lovecraftian monsters and humor: The Kale of Cthulhu.

You can read an older comedic fantasy style story of mine, featuring a sphinx complaining about dragons in Pif magazine: The Sphinx’s Lament.

If you are in the mood for something more traditionally literary, more touching and emotional, check out this piece I wrote for The Hopper Review: In Good Hands.

If poetry is more your speed, Local Gems Press has made eight Ebooks free to read during this period of quarantine. One of them, Rhyme and PUNishment, features my poem, “In Good Hands.” My poem is on page 50.

Last year, I had 6 micro-flash pieces in issue 4 of Drabblez magazine. “The Kale of Cthulhu” was first published there, but check out the other 5 pieces as well. My stories start on page 30.

If you are missing sports, here is a story I wrote about a playground basketball player in New York City. I originally wrote it in college for an assignment to write in the voice of a character who is very different from you (a great writing exercise, which I will cover in a future blog). The story was published in Scriveners Pen, which no longer exists, but I’ve posted it on my deviant art page. While your there, check out the comics samples I’ve posted there and some other short stories as well: Sweetness.

I hope you enjoy these stories. I hope you enjoy them. Depending on how long this situation lasts, I may post more in the coming weeks.

Stay safe.

Be sure to check out the links page to read some of my published writing, and to follow me on twitter and facebook.