Passive Or Active Writing
Posted by ivanckw at September 15th, 2006
It’s drummed into you, over and over. It’s such an accepted wisdom amongst writers that the truth of it is never questioned. So why do best selling writers continually ignore this one cardinal rule?
Good fiction is immediate. You must drag your reader into the story and don’t give them a chance to let go – or break the fictive dream.
Using a “passive voice” is often seen as somehow less immediate. Compare the following two scenes:
“Peter was riding his bike down the steep hill road. The chain got caught in his trousers and he fell off, hurting himself.”
Hmm, perhaps a little bland – how about:
“Down the steep hill road, Peter rode his bike. Without warning, the chain caught in his trousers. His right leg slammed hard against the back wheel. The bike careened sideways for a split second and quickly overturned. Peter hit the ground, slid against the tarmac, grazing the skin from his hands and face…”
Obviously, the second is more graphic. The technique of removing qualifiers like “was” and “got” forces the reader (and the writer!) to see the scene in a different way. Generalities become specifics. Passive becomes active. This is good when you want to create exciting and engaging prose.
But what if that’s not your intention?
What if you have two ‘action’ scenes you want to get across, one in the past, one in the present? Is it still appropriate to use an active voice – for both?
Take a look at this:
“Bob sneered at the big man with the knife. His mind considered the possibilities. Attack. Back away. Turn and run. No, never. Bob would not be broken.
Since the accident, he was too strong for that.
Metal screeched as Bob forced the cutter into the car door. Orange sparks filled the night air. “Not long now,” he muttered as he caught sight of Annabel’s frightened face behind the windscreen.
The worst happened. Bob’s grip slipped and the cutter’s blade bounced off the glass, shattering it. Annabel howled as slivers and shards blew into the car. The baby in her arms wailed. His baby.
Bob lurched forward. With both hands, he caught the big man’s wrist, whose eyes enlarged with surprise. Bob twisted and the big man yelped. He dropped the knife and Bob kicked it away before he let the big man go and jumped back.”
Confusing, isn’t it? You have two equally immediate pieces of action, both vying for your attention. In this case it might be better to put some distance on the prior event so that it’s still THERE, in Bob’s consciousness, but not actually being played out.
In many novels, good authors spend time giving the reader “back-story”. This is information that’s used to set the scene before the action starts. It’s not a sin to do this. Sometimes it’s important for pace.
For example:
“Father Duncan was a bad man. It was common knowledge amongst his parishioners. His drinking was legendary, as was his foul tongue. Dirk stood at the bar and watched him, wondering whether the other stories were true – the ones whispered by the adults, behind his back.
“What you looking at?” the priest growled and Dirk’s gaze hardened. “Never seen a priest take a drink before?”
The first paragraph appears to break the rules – it’s all telling. But this is a totally acceptable technique in this context. It’s a kind of shorthand – it would take several pages to get the same information across if you stopped the action to show it in real time.
So don’t always believe those purists and writing teachers that say, “Show don’t tell.”
Too MUCH showing and you can lose depth and originality – and end up with the equivalent of TV melodrama. Good literary fiction has always had a liberal dash of telling, even in a ‘passive’ voice.