Friday 2 November 2012

The Beauty of Independent Body Parts


His hands reached out, eager to caress and stroke, searching for the tempting warmth and the silk of his lover’s smooth skin.

Sounds good, huh? Yeah, well, we’ll see about that. We all know what this lucky guy feels as his hands reach out to do their thing. Anticipation and longing. Lust, possibly. We experience his thoughts transmitted by the action of his hands and we all understand what it means. And yet, what they’re doing is wrong—so, so wrong.

If you read this, chances are that you’re either a passionate reader, maybe an author or—uh-oh—an editor (Hey, if you’re an editor I’ve worked with: My tongue is firmly in my cheek during this post).

Anyway, you probably already know that in publishing circles, hands that reach out on their own, eyes that make contact across the room, and even eager cocks that yearn for release, or in short, body parts that act independently, are frowned upon, to say the least. Often they’re downright forbidden.

But why? Seriously, why?

I’ve been through enough edits with capable editors to have had the use of independent body parts (almost) drilled out of me. It’s rare these days that my addled writer’s brain absently lapses back and tells my fingers to type such a sentence in a WIP (needless to say that such fatal errors are removed as soon as my eyes pick them up). When I come across such a phrase in one of my book that’s already published, my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Naturally, the way I read other author’s books since I’ve delved into the colourful world of editorial comment boxes has changed. Often I inadvertently find myself reading copy, which kinda spoils the experience, but that’s a topic for another day. I started reading this book. It came highly recommended on Goodreads. Hmm. Readers seem to love it but for me it wasn’t exactly love at first sight, which had mostly to do with the story line. That aside, I soon realised that there appears to be something odd with the editing and yes, I started reading copy, so I put the book away for a couple of days and didn’t pick it up again until today, when I was desperate for just something to read—and boy, I was in for a surprise.

...His shoulders dropped for a second and then tensed...My nails dug in my thigh…I laughed as his brows curled in confusion…he drawled, blank eyes casually checking me out...

These are just a few examples from the couple of pages I managed to read before my break was over. Those are phrases that I very well could have written not so long ago, but that probably wouldn’t have made it past the grammar police. And rightly so, I would have said until not so long ago, because I tended to agree that body parts shouldn’t be allowed to do things independently. Imagine what could happen if they did:

I’m sorry, officer, but you can’t blame me for speeding because, you see, it was actually my foot that pressed the pedal down.

Oh, no, I didn’t slap that cheating bastard of a husband. That was just my hand.

 But I didn’t kiss that other woman, darling. It was my mouth that couldn’t resist to taste her lips.

 
Also, quite frequently, if read literally, independent body parts can make for somewhat, uh, unsavoury images.

His eyes crossed the room.

Eyes are one of my own favourites, as my lovely editors can confirm, lol, so here’s another:

He dropped his eyes to the floor. (No, really - eouw!)

Another good one is His voice said. Yes, I used that. The comment it earned me was: “His voice doesn’t say anything, he does.” Yes, I know. But it sounded good at the moment I wrote it, and as every writer knows, eventually you reach a point where you’re so desperate for some variation of this and that, he said or he sounded whatever that you’re willing to make voices say some stuff, too. Just like you become tired of he reached out to whatever, He put his hand on her thigh, They pressed their lips together, He breached the tightly sealed muscle with his finger and consider just letting his darned hand reach out or rest on her thigh, let their lips press together or even allow his finger to breach that unwilling muscle.

And why not? Our bodies do stuff on their own all the time, don’t they? Or when was the last time you had to tell your lungs to snatch a breath? Or your heart to keep pumping blood through your veins? Can’t remember, can you?

So why do our heroes (and heroines, for those who write female characters) have to always be in full control of every single one of their body parts? Why can’t they ever simply lean back and enjoy the ride their own lustful bodies take them for?

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying independent body parts should be used liberally, and you should always keep an eye on what the sentence means if read literally, but come on – those phrases make for a nice change and most readers (myself included) won’t even notice this when they’re absorbed in a story. It’s only when the story itself is crap that our minds drift off to analyse the writing.

Having said that, here’s one I’d veto: Retrieving my wallet from my discarded khakis, my eyes widened. Yeah, careful with that, because when eyes are taking wallets from khakis they’re really going a bit too far. Next they'll snatch your credit card and go shopping for mascara and eye shadow.

Books can teach us lessons, and the lesson I have learned from this book, is that even if understood literally, or technically incorrect, independent body parts can make for an entertaining, vivid read if you allow yourself to switch off your brain, sit back and enjoy the ride an author takes you for. I’m certainly grateful for the lesson this book and its author have taught me and look forward to reading the next 300 or so pages of it.

And, if you think about it, how do we perceive other people’s actions? Do we see them reach out their hand or do we see their hand reach out?

 

22 comments:

  1. Excellent post!
    I'm a new author myself, and when I saw IBP in my editors notes I had no idea what she was asking of me. I was surprised after she explained it to me. Independent Body Parts had never occurred to me before - I had never looked at it so literally in my writing or reading. One of my biggest one's I liked to use was "His hands clenched at his sides." It never occurred to me that I had to specify that my character did it - not his hands of their own accord.
    Kickin' the IBP habit has taken some getting used to, but I'm getting there ;)

    ~Jen

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    1. Hi Jen, I didn't realise I was using them either until it was pointed out to me and these days I'm pretty paranoid about the use of IBPs. I avoid them wherever possible, so whenever I dust off one of my standby-projects and see what I've written about a year ago *shudder*

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  2. Just on a personal level, IBP don't bother me a bit. I write quite a bit of horror. When the parts are severed from someone, I'll let you know.

    Otherwise, I'm pretty sure that readers understand that those parts are attached to a body and that body is mostly commanded by a brain and free will.

    I'll change it if my editor requests it, but I don't really understand why.

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    1. lol, that bit about the parts being severed cracked me up!

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    2. Hey, Sage, sorry for the delay, I was traveling this weekend. As far as a book I'd like, is Sub-Mission on the table? I've had that in my bookmarks for a while.

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  3. Hello, Sage,

    Honestly, I think some authors, and editors, go overboard in enforcing these so-called rules. Yes, IBP can be (and often are) overdone. However, there is nothing apriori wrong with this type of sentence structure, if it is used judiciously. Having "his hands" or "her lips" as the subject of the sentence allows some variety. When every sentence begins with a pronoun, the prose quickly becomes boring.

    Your "Retrieving my wallet" example has nothing to do with IBP. It is just plain ungrammatical. When you have a gerundal modifier like "Retrieving my wallet", the noun in the main clause must be the subject of the verb from which the gerund is constructed. It's out-and-out wrong to use anything other than "I" as the subject in this case.

    On the other hand, you could say: "Reaching into the pocket of my khakis, my hand encountered the earring she'd dropped in her flight from my room." (I think a hand could "reach", but not "retrieve", which implies intention.) Though "I" would still be better in this case, I believe.

    In short - each sentence requires an independent judgement, and the ban on IBP is merely a guideline, a reaction to their overuse by some authors, not any sort of hard and fast rule.

    Very funny post, by the way!

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    1. Hi Lisabet,
      I hadn't even looked at it from a grammatical / structural point of view, I just thought it sounded hilariously off - so thanks for pointing out WHY it's wrong ;)
      I agree, it's plain awful when every (or almost every) sentence begins with "He did/said/went.." and yes, it is different with every sentence, I just think authors need to keep an eye out for when they're allowing their body parts to roam quite too freely.

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  4. I will admit I'm still training myself out of this one, although I sometimes think it's over-policed when it's not the POV character doing the movement. "She felt his hands rest on her hips" - well, that's exactly what she felt. His hands. When she's resting her hands on his hips, though, I see more need for it.

    The other occasion I don't mind it is when something happens without the person thinking about it. I had a scene in which my heroine is punched in the back and screams. I had "Her mouth dropped open" - the change was "She dropped her mouth open". I don't think that really covers it. She didn't deliberately drop her mouth open - it happened before she had time to think.

    Great post :-)

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    1. I have to agree with Tanith. When it's not the POV character doing the movement it adds more color to the scene. After all we are looking through the POV's vision, so why can't she see the movement of his hand?

      I've yet to see an example of this rule not in the POV's action.



      Can't win.

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    2. I totally agree with the two of you, Tanith and H.C.
      In your sentence, Tanith, the change really doesn't make much sense (sorry).

      Thanks for stepping by!

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  5. I loved this post, Sage! I am guilty of this. My favourite example, my editor asked if my hero's distended body part had a brain. I don't know about the rest of you, but I believe when the blood rushes from my man's brain to this other parts, it does have a mind of its own. (haha)

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    1. Well, HK, it has a HEAD of its own, so...

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  6. Great post Sage! Remember the good old days when you could write a first draft without "IBP" and "REP" flashing in your mind? xoxo ~Gabrielle

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    1. Oh, yeah... Writing was really so much easier back then :)

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  7. Absolutely agree that it's over policed though I really don't like eyes doing their own thing! I think we're in danger of following this 'rule' too far. If it sounds okay - then it probably is. I suspect editors have a search for hands, fingers, eyes etc and just flag them up regardless. I honestly don't think readers give a hoot. Overdoing it is definitely wrong but it makes for a lot of sentences starting with pronouns - unless you rewrite the whole scene.
    bjel at btinternet dot com

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    1. Ah, the eyes... I just read another good example for those: "His eyes flew across the room." Ouch. But yes, most readers probably won't even notice the less extreme examples and it's just us authors being oversensitised ;)

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  8. Excellent post (would have been a good one for Halloween, too, what with the severed part images). Reminds me of a bad example Susie Bright cited in HOW TO WRITE A DIRTY STORY, something along the lines of "Her left hand wrapped around Doug's waist while her right hand worked on his belt buckle." It sounds like three partners are seducing Doug...

    vitajex(at)aol(dot)com

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    1. Hehe, yes, I actually said to a friend that this should have been a Halloween post but it was too late when I thought of it. Your example is really a good one for a bad one ;)

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  9. Just caught up with this post and had hysterics. I'd just emailed my editor with a threat to write a complete story about a very independent body part just to keep her amused. I won't specify which body part I have in mind...

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    1. Hmm, I think I can just about imagine. I'd love to read that story if it ever gets written, so please tell me if it does :)

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  10. Chiming in late on this - but wanted to say that I loved this post, too, and am learning to avoid the evils of IBPs. It's hard, though, because as others have noted, it's nice to break up the subjects of sentences. But, yeah, it's pretty gross when "His eyes slid over her curvaceous figure." LOL

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    1. Hey Bebe, thanks for stepping by. Your comment just made me think about another instance where those body parts act independently - they're stalking us authors while we're trying to avoid them ;)

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