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As a line editor, part of my job when combing through a manuscript is to identify places where language can be strengthened and elevated to enhance a scene. This means focusing on word choice, rhythm, sentence and paragraph structure, and more to bring your writing to life. The edits I make or suggest are often subtle, but aim to make the most out of every word on the page. 

Atmosphere is created bit by bit, with small details and a keen awareness of what every word choice brings to a scene. While editing, I look for any detail that goes against the atmosphere you’re trying to craft and seems out of place. As with every other element of your novel, how you craft atmosphere is up to you. I’m not here to tell you how a scene should feel or how you should execute that feeling, but I am here to flag the areas where the atmosphere you’re trying to create falls flat and can be improved with different language or other subtle edits.

Creating atmosphere is difficult. I wrote this article for my literary site, House of Cadmus, some time ago with the intention of peeling back the layers of mystery that seem to shroud the process of creating atmosphere by identifying the many ways writers can create atmosphere within their stories. I hope it’s useful to you, too. 

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For writers, creating atmosphere can be both an exciting challenge and a source of frustration, but it is always necessary. When we hear the word “atmosphere,” many of us think of the creepy, dreadful, overtly horrific or magical, but there are countless ways to write atmosphere. Whether you’re creating a sense of coziness, mystery, suspicion, unease, anticipation, excitement, joy, or peace, all stories need to deliver some form of atmosphere for readers to truly be immersed in the story.

The word “atmosphere” calls to mind a richness of setting, but a fantastic sense of atmosphere is something that goes beyond the mere events or setting of the story. It’s something in the delivery of the words themselves that feels present in every moment and permeates the story’s very essence. 

Atmosphere is crucial.

But what exactly is atmosphere? Often used interchangeably with “tone” and “mood,” atmosphere is actually something separate, though all three elements play off of each other. 

Tone is very much an internal part of the narrative, the book’s attitude toward itself and how (the tone in which) all of its elements are presented by the author. It’s the author’s approach to the story. 

Mood and atmosphere are more closely related, with mood influenced by atmosphere, but mood belongs to the reader’s end of the experience. It’s the feelings a reader gets from a book, scene, etc. 

Atmosphere is the more general feeling or vibe of a story grounded in description of location and emotions. It’s an emotional aspect of the story—because you want an emotional reaction and acknowledgement from readers—built through technical means such as word choice, sentence structure variation and rhythm, and description.

How do you create atmosphere? 

Unsurprisingly, following the example of clichés such as, “It was a dark and stormy night” is not the way to go about this. As intimidating or difficult as creating the exact atmosphere we want to deliver to our readers may sound, there are techniques behind the magic to help us bring out the best in our writing. 

Setting, Imagery, And What to Focus On

Atmosphere is often a subtle creation. It takes more than choosing to write a scene that takes place in a cemetery at night to create a sense of dread, suspense, mystery, etc. A great setting and plot—that nighttime cemetery when a killer is on the loose, for example—has incredible potential, but it’s only the foundation. If you don’t build upon that setting in ways that reaches the readers’ emotions and wraps them up in the moment, your scene can and will fall flat. And if you’re relying on tropey, familiar, and very on-the-nose settings and events (such as the nighttime cemetery) to do all the work in conveying atmosphere for you, your scene will do more than fall flat. It will be banal, forgettable, lacking impact, and—most importantly—a missed opportunity.

Whether or not a scene’s setting is obviously conducive and evocative in respect to the atmosphere you’re aiming for doesn’t matter as much as you may think. The same atmosphere can be built for a scene that takes place in a cemetery or a kitchen; what matters is where you pull the reader’s attention and what details you make them focus on. 

Description is key to atmosphere but selective specificity is key to description. 

Listing everything you can think of in order to really fill out a scene and make the atmosphere you’re aiming for as rich as possible for readers can often have the wrong impact. It’s overkill—readers doesn’t want to read that much description. Instead, bring their attention to a handful of small details that speak volumes and let them fill in the rest of the scene in their own mind—a broken teacup, creaking branches, the warmth of the sun on a character’s face. What your character notices is important. In addition to contributing to atmosphere, what a character notices speaks to their emotional state and helps convey those emotions—the underlying, often unannounced emotions—to readers. Do they notice that the flowers are chrysanthemums or that they’re wilted? That small detail tells us something about the atmosphere, certainly, but it also gives us those important emotional cues. 

When thinking of description, be sure to tap into all five senses. Sight and sound are often the defaults, but exploring the other three senses—taste, touch, smell—through a character’s eyes creates a richer experience for readers. 

If a person awakes alone in an unfamiliar cabin after being lost in the woods, is it to the sound of a fire popping across the room, the firelight dancing on the worn wood-paneled walls, the warm weight of blankets atop them, and the smell of something sweet and fruity coming from the bubbling pot on the fire? Or do they awake to the suffocating press of blankets on them, the wool itchy against their skin as shadows lurch across the scratched, peeling wood-paneled walls, the smell of something rancid and burnt coming from the pot spitting from atop the hissing coals of the fire?

Though I’m describing the same situation—and intentionally going overboard with both—one is obviously more comforting than the other, but both create a full, rich picture for the reader. You don’t have to hit every sense in a single description—and you really shouldn’t try to—but think about hitting all of them throughout the narrative, especially in scenes you want to come alive. Immerse yourself in the scene as you see it in your head and pull out those evocative bits that create a full, well-rounded setting for readers. Imagery is crucial. Give readers the full experience.

Tip: Make playlists for your novel specific to characters or scenes to help you create an inspiring mood while you’re writing. Writing something creepy and suspenseful? Try listening to dark, dramatic classical music. Let some of the story seep out of your mind and into the real world to help you get it down on the page. 

Details of Description—Word Choice Matters

The success of your atmospheric writing is whether it lands with readers. Though tone, mood, and atmosphere have their differences, they work together and impact each other. All of them need to combine to reach the emotions of readers. You want readers to care, to be invested, to feel on edge during that especially tense scene you wrote. For that reason, word choice is imperative.

Be intentional with word choice. Skip the boring words that weigh descriptions down in favor of powerful words that bring your writing to life. By “powerful,” I mean evocative, expressive words. Get specific. Why say moss hung from the trees when you could say the Spanish moss dripped from the twisted branches overhead? It may seem like a small change, but it makes all the difference.

Don’t just think of this tip in terms of description–apply it to action words as well. Why say a character walked when they could’ve skulked, stomped, or bounded? You want to create the strongest version of the image and emotion you’re trying to convey to readers and you only have so much time to do it within a scene. Don’t waste a word. 

Writers need to think of the connotations of words as well. Take the sunlight example I used above. The words “gleam” and “glinting” tend to be interpreted with a positive connotation and, therefore, are inappropriate if you’re trying to convey irritation or other negative emotions. Look at the cabin example again, too. Notice how vastly different the descriptions of the same scene are all because I used different words. I hit on all the same points in both—the sound of the fire, the weight of the blankets, the smell and sound of food cooking in a pot, the walls, the firelight—but changed the entire atmosphere of the scene by using evocative words with appropriate connotations. I pointed out shadows instead of firelight for the more unsettling version and used words like “lurch” and “hissing” instead of “dancing” and “bubbling.” It adds up to create very different atmospheres. Keep your language in line with the emotion. 

Characters

Keep your characters in line with the emotion, too. Unless you’re trying to make a point of the stark difference between a character’s attitude and the general atmosphere, you want them to work together. As I said above, what your character notices and how they characterize it matters. It also matters how they react to it. While you know where you’re trying to take the scene and what your characters are going to do, make sure their small expressions match the atmosphere. Does a character who is thrilled about something sigh and roll their eyes? Usually, no. Think of your characters as a whole. Appearance, body language, dialogue and tone, personality. How can you use their specific characteristics to enhance the atmosphere? This goes for dialogue as well. Be sure everything you’re including within a scene matches the atmosphere you want it to have.

And again, be aware of what your characters notice. These can reflect on a character—that emotional state again—and you want it to be consistent with the overall scene and atmosphere. If a character is exhausted and irritated, are they going to notice the gleam of the sun glinting off the lake water, or are they going to think the sunlight is harsh and glaring, making their head pound? Keep it consistent. 

Subtleties 

As much as atmosphere depends on overt elements like description and word choice, there are more subtle elements that also have an effect on the reader, whether they realize it or not. 

A way to contribute to atmosphere is thinking in terms of theme or motif. Is there an element of your story that is an underlying constant throughout it, something with symbolic or conceptual meaning? Consider using analogies and descriptions that tie back to it. 

An example of this that I personally enjoyed is Once Upon a River by Diane Setterfield. The river is a constant throughout the story; it ties the characters together and represents larger themes of life and death and storytelling. Setterfield keeps the river ever present in readers’ minds and ties the prose back to it by using water-related analogies and descriptions throughout the narrative. It’s subtle, not over the top or overt, but brilliant.

Color is a great way to use this technique. Consider the color palette of your story—think it up now if you’ve never considered this before. What emotions and themes are most prevalent within your story and what colors do you associate with them? What is the location of story and how does the weather or landscape play a role in the story? What colors do you associate with that? Now use your answers—subtly, of course—throughout your narrative. Bring them to mind through analogies, descriptions, or by bringing a scene to a new location to better match that emotion.

Another subtle element within your writing to consider is rhythm. Writing should have flow and rhythm within sentence variation. When writing to convey specific emotions, don’t underestimate the importance of manipulating this rhythm to effect the reader. We all know the classic tip of writing short, punchy sentences for action scenes, but you can also lull a reader by writing longer sentences. Consider using longer, winding sentences when describing something calm or beautiful, but also as a way to mirror what could be happening within a scene. If a character is lost in the woods and growing increasingly unsure of where they are, you could use longer sentences to mirror the sense of winding back and forth that the character feels. Perhaps as the character gets closer and closer to some climactic point, you could shorten some sentences up and bring more tension to the scene. Play around with syntax and unusual word choice to create confusion or unease. Don’t be afraid to experiment.

Mirror the Themes Within Plot

A more obvious—although sometimes subtle—way to create atmosphere within a story is to take a bigger, overall theme within the story and mirror it within sections of the book. This is bigger than a sentence-level detail, and it can do wonders. If isolation or feeling alone or abandoned is an overall theme within your book, consider mirroring that with setting but also by truly isolating a character for a period of time. When doable and appropriate within your plot, boiling down overall themes to their most obvious effects and putting your characters in that situation can be very effective. I recommend doing this with more subtle themes and emotions, like the isolation/loneliness example. It doesn’t work with everything, but it’s something to consider when thinking of creating atmosphere. 

Creating atmosphere requires being mindful of several different elements of your story and prose while you’re in the moment. It can be difficult. Though I think all of these techniques are helpful and a great way to create the atmosphere we want, it’s important to not overdo any one element. Try to find a balance that works for you and your story and I’m sure these writing techniques will be useful to you. 

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Good writing is a balance between effectiveness and style, engaging the reader with your unique voice while telling a gripping story that keeps them invested. Part of drafting—in trying to reach this balance—is getting absolutely everything down on the page, irrespective of any sort of perfection that may be reached in later drafts. It’s later—during revisions and editing phases—that the opportunity to refine your writing comes.

As you move through drafts, getting closer and closer to being completely satisfied with your story and your writing, you’ll become familiar with “killing your darlings,” or cutting the pieces you may love that aren’t necessary to the novel. During editing, writers also need to be on the lookout for words that aren’t necessary for understandability and don’t enhance style. These words aren’t your “darlings,” but they too need to be killed (i.e. cut). Catching and cutting these words and phrases to tighten up prose is a crucial element of the editing stage, often done by professional line editors.

There are different types of words and phrases that should be cut from your manuscript. Some are simply unnecessary, while others are more damaging to the reading experience, like filter words. Others, like glue words, can be an indicator of rambling, lesser-quality writing that has the opportunity to be tightened and improved.

Filler Words 

Filler words are words that slip into writing that aren’t necessary to the meaning of the sentence and don’t contribute to your style and voice. They’re empty words, the sort of words that we might use a lot when speaking but that don’t have a place in tight, crisp, effective prose.

A (non-exhaustive) list of filler words to cut: 

• Just 
• Really
• Very 
• That 
• Then 
• Seriously
• Even
• Seem
• So
• But
• Literally
• Suddenly
• Until
• Absolutely
• Only
• Quite
• Rather

While not every single use of these words needs to be cut from your novel, some of these words are worse than others and should almost always be cut. 

Two such words are “very” and “really.” They’re weak words that detract from the style and impact of a sentence. You’ve read it before, but it’s worth repeating: if you catch yourself describing something as “very/really (blank),” it’s an immediate sign that you need to replace that two-word phrase with a stronger descriptor. 

Instead of:

Very/really tired > Exhausted

Very/really happy > Elated

Very/really embarrassed > Mortified

Very/really hungry > Ravenous

You get the point. Don’t use weak, empty phrases when one impactful word can do the job better. Even cutting the really or very and leaving the original adjective alone—without replacing it with a stronger one—is better than including one of these words. 

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“Substitute damn every time you’re inclined to write very; your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.”

-Mark Twain

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Filter Words

Have you ever read a book and noticed lots of sentences like “She watched the car drive away” or “He thought the sky looked like rain,” and thought there was something awkward about it?

That’s because there’s something awkward about it.

Sentences like these—that rely on phrases like she watched, he thought, and words like felt/realize/etc.—are filtering the narration through the characters and are, hence, called filter words/phrases. Filter words and phrases describe characters thinking or perceiving something when it’s not necessary. They weigh narration down, filling it with unnecessary words and creating distance between readers and what’s unfolding on the page. These words and phrases can also be a sign that you’re telling instead of showing—stating what a character feels instead of showing readers them actually experiencing it. More than just filling up the story with unnecessary words, filter words and phrases detract from the reading experience and make writing sound amateurish. 

Instead of simply cutting words here, these instances present opportunities to rewrite and strengthen your storytelling. 

Layla realized the sun was rising and decided she’d need to start heading home soon. 

or

Layla squinted at the orange and pinkish early morning sunlight beginning to peek over the fields. She needed to start heading home soon.

The second one is much more effective—it conjures an image, bringing the moment to life for readers. Readers don’t need to be told Layla decided to head home; we see her make the decision. 

Another example:

I wondered if the killer could be someone we knew, someone we all trusted.

Could the killer be someone we knew? Someone we trusted?

Isn’t the second version so much more direct and powerful?

Glue Words

As the words that connect the “working” words (those that carry the meaning within a sentence), glue words are an essential element of writing. However, too many glue words can make a sentence sticky, detracting from the reading experience and bogging readers down. 

Glue words include, but are not limited to: the, of, in, by, there, from, was, for, some, much, but, go, on, just.

A sticky sentence:

Just after Mary saw the sale in that week’s paper, she planned a trip to go to the store.

Revised:

Mary saw the sale in the weekly paper and planned a trip to the store. 

The point is still the same, but the second sentence gets there quicker and more directly—two key features of effective writing. 

Redundant Language

Lots of common phrases are redundant and make their way into writing. 

Two common examples are stood up and sat down. Up and down aren’t necessary to understanding the meaning of stood or sat. Cut them. 

Other redundant phrases include:

Actual facts

Advance warning

Exact same

Fall down

There are a lot of examples of redundant phrases that are used often in writing, far too many to include here. Keep a close eye out for these when editing, they can slip under your radar easily but need to be caught and cut.

One last thing…

Be mindful of your use of dialogue tags. After the first few within a conversation, they’re not always needed unless to remind readers who is speaking during a moment where it could be confusing. The need a writer may feel for dialogue tags in every line of dialogue can also drive them to reach for words other than said, creating awkward phrasing that stands out negatively.

Overusing dialogue tags—said or otherwise—creates a bad reading experience; it’s choppy and weighs the language down. It’s absolutely something readers will notice and dislike. Cut as many as you can. 

“Are you sure about this?” Miles asked. 

“Of course I’m sure,” Anthony said. “I told you I know what I’m doing.” 

Rolling his eyes, Miles said, “Sure, sure. Who am I to question the Chosen One?”

Anthony ignored the sarcasm and said, “Just do what I told you.”

Alice cleared her throat and said, “I’m still here. Does anyone care about my opinion?” 

“No,” Miles said. 

Alice scoffed. “Rude,” she said. 

With three people talking, readers need cues to tell us who is speaking more than if there were only two characters talking. That doesn’t mean we need all of those dialogue tags, though. Take a look:

“Are you sure about this?” Miles asked.

“Of course I”m sure,” Anthony said. “I told you I know what I’m doing.” 

Miles rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. Who am I to question the Chosen One?”

Anthony ignored the sarcasm. “Just do what I told you.” 

Alice cleared her throat. “I’m still here. Does anyone care about my opinion?”

“No,” Miles said. 

Alice scoffed. “Rude.”

It’s not just about lowering the word count; cutting dialogue tags improves the flow and feels more natural. Don’t you agree?

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Cutting words to tighten up prose is an unavoidable aspect of editing and preparing your manuscript for agents, publishers, and readers. It requires going through your manuscript with a fine-tooth comb, but it is necessary and so, so worth it. Your story—and your readers—will thank you. 

Quick Editing Tip: Read Your Novel Aloud

This isn’t a groundbreaking tip and you’ve likely heard it elsewhere, but there’s a good reason for that. It works. Reading aloud forces us to pay attention in a way we can’t when silently scanning over the words. If anything sounds awkward, choppy, or unclear, reading aloud with help you identify it. 

As an introduction to the type of language writers need to be aware of when editing, this article is far from exhaustive in terms of all the examples of words and phrases that can be cut. You’ll also notice that there’s some crossover in what words and phrases are considered filler words, filter words, glue words, etc. While the label for the type of word doesn’t matter so much, it’s important to learn to recognize why certain words can harm our writing and when to cut them. I encourage you to look around for more comprehensive lists of words and phrases to cut if you find yourself wanting to commit more to memory.

Arming yourself with this information can help you keep your prose crisp as you write, but don’t overthink it while drafting. Let the words flow. Even as you’re editing, prioritize your style and flow even if it means letting some of these words or phrases remain in your manuscript (but for good reason, I hope).

Trust your instincts as a writer. And get a good editor.

 

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Writers hear about active voice and passive voice all the time, often in the form of a warning: do not use passive voice.

But what do these voices actually refer to? What are they? How do we identify active and passive voice and know when to use each correctly?

The Basics 

Active and passive voice are the two grammatical voices in English.

If you remember elementary school writing lessons, perhaps you remember teachers saying that passive voice is weak and bad and insisting you should always use active voice because it’s stronger and more impactful. 

With those lingering lessons in mind, perhaps the first thing to know about active and passive voice is that there is a time and place for both in writing. Neither one is inherently bad in every situation, neither one is always preferable. The trick is to learn the difference and how to use both in your writing effectively. 

That said, active voice is often more appropriate and impactful, especially in fiction. Unless you are intentionally using passive voice for specific stylistic impact, active voice is generally preferred and should be your default.

Why?

Although there are exceptions where it is the most appropriate choice, passive voice delivers the point of your sentence in a more roundabout, vague way. It can feel loaded down by unnecessary wordiness and awkward phrasing that places readers a little less firmly within the moment, whereas active voice is more concise, direct, and engaging.

It is incredibly important, especially for fiction writers, to recognize and utilize the differences between active voice and passive voice. It’s not just that active voice is more direct and concise, it also keeps readers closer to the story with gripping, immersive language. Passive voice puts some distance between unfolding story and readers, allowing them to only get so close. It can make for an unpleasant reading experience when not used sparingly to intentionally draw reader attention to a certain element. 

The Nitty Gritty

Let’s dive into a little grammar lesson discussing the mechanics of active and passive voice. Bear with me. It’s not fun, but it’s definitely necessary to understand in order to get the most impact out of your writing.

As I said above, there are two grammatical voices in English–active and passive.

Active voice refers to when the subject of the sentence performs the action. 

Passive voice flips the sentence structure, making the thing that is acted upon, AKA the person, place, or thing that receives the action, the subject. 

The object of an active sentence becomes the subject in a passive sentence while the subject of an active sentence becomes the passive agent of the passive sentence. Technically, the subject of an active voice sentence is still the agent performing the action in a passive sentence, but it is not the subject of the passive sentence. Passive agency occurs when the agent of action is not the subject of the sentence.

Active: The girl (subject) rode (verb) the bike (object). 

Passive: The bike (new subject) was ridden (verb) by the girl (passive agent). 

Notice how the girl is still the thing that is performing the action of the sentence, but not in the grammatical subject’s position within the sentence? She is still the agent of the action, but her agency is passive because the bike (the subject) is the thing being acted upon by the verb within this sentence.

Active: The woman (subject) chased (verb) the soccer ball (object). 

Passive: The soccer ball (grammatical subject) was chased (verb) by the woman (not the subject despite being the person doing the action–the passive agent). 

A sentence in passive voice requires two verbs—an auxiliary form of “to be” and the past participle form of the main verb (that would exist within the active sentence, too).

Grammar basics reminder: An auxiliary verb is a verb used in forming the tenses, moods, and voices of other verbs. Auxiliary forms of “to be” include “is,” “are,” “was,” “were,” “being,” “been,” “will be.” In passive voice, the auxiliary verb comes before the past participle verb (which are past tense verbs that often end in -ed).

Active voice: The entire soccer team was looking forward to the tournament. 

Passive voice: The tournament was (auxiliary form of “to be”) eagerly anticipated (past participle of “anticipate”) by the entire soccer team.

There are two forms of passive voice—long and short.

Short passive is when the subject or performer of the action is unknown. The sentence is agent-less.

Example: The jewelry store was robbed last night.

Long passive is when the subject is known and becomes the passive agent of the sentence. 

Example: The jewelry store was robbed by a group of local teens.

Where You’ll Find Passive Voice

Passive voice redirects the focus of a sentence to the action’s target or the action itself instead of the performer of the action. It’s often used in formal writing, like scientific and academic writing, when those writing want to create a more objective or unbiased tone or put the focus on the action, not the doer.

Passive: The medication was approved for clinical trials. OR The medication was approved for clinical trials by the FDA.

Active: The FDA approved the medication for clinical trials.

Passive: Extensive research was conducted by scientists.

Active: Scientists conducted extensive research.

You’ll also recognize passive voice in news reports, where short passive is often used to report information without mention of who did the action:

A house was set on fire in a local neighborhood last night.

The car was stolen from a convenience store parking lot.

Passive Voice in Fiction

There is absolutely a place for passive in professional, formal writing and fiction. It’s all about using passive voice strategically, to draw reader attention to a certain element or to maintain a specific tone. The problem with passive voice in fiction is that, if it is not very intentionally done, executed well, and used sparingly, it makes for a rough reading experience. It slows down the story’s pace, bogging it down with vague and wordy language. 

In fiction, it’s important to remember that simpler, more direct writing is often better writing. The difference between active and passive voice greatly affects the tone of the writing and, while some writers may think the more detached, distant tone that passive writing brings a certain “writery” flare to their writing, it doesn’t. Too much passive voice feels flat and laborious to read. Find your unique style, but learn how to use elements like active and passive voice to enhance your writing. Generally, this will be active voice with sprinkles of passive voice to create the exact impact you’re aiming for.

Let’s look at a fiction example with the possibility for a bit more excitement:

Active voice: Wren launched himself over the short stone wall and swung his sword in a wide arc. He sliced the beast’s arm clean off. 

Passive voice: The short stone wall was leapt over by Wren. The sword was swung in a wide arc and the beast’s arm was sliced clean off. 

It’s awkward, right?

Notice how passive voice sucks all the action out of what should be an exciting moment and creates some distance between this pivotal moment and the reader—which we do not want. Good storytelling is engaging storytelling, writing that keeps readers’ attention. Readers should feel immersed in the moment, not like they’re watching it all from a distance, as passive voice conveys.

I think the ideal version of that scene is a combination of both active and passive voice:

Wren launched himself over the short stone wall and swung his sword in a wide arc (active). The beast’s arm was sliced clean off (passive).

Use of passive voice in the last sentence directs reader attention to the receiver and result of the action—the beast’s arm being sliced off—instead of the fact that it was Wren doing it. It may be a subtle difference, but remember: it’s your job to be aware of the subtle differences within writing and how they impact readers. Use them to your advantage. 

The real power of passive voice—especially within fiction—lies in its ability to draw reader attention to specific elements. Draw their eye to the exact detail you want them to focus on.

Tips for Identifying and Fixing Passive Voice

Writers shouldn’t be too concerned with passive voice when actually drafting their manuscripts. Let the words flow, then go back and comb through for where your novel could be improved by switching it to active voice. 

Remember: Not every use of passive voice needs to be made into active. Sometimes it is the best way to convey your idea, create the tone and atmosphere you want, and direct reader attention exactly where you want it. If that is the case, leave the passive voice alone. You’re using it perfectly. 

Try reading through your manuscript out loud. Not only will it help you detect clunky, awkward phrasing or stiff, unrealistic dialogue, it can also help you identify passive voice. 

“To be” verbs can be a good indicator of passive voice, but do not mistake every use of one as indicative of passive voice. 

Let’s revisit an example from above: 

The entire soccer team was looking forward to the tournament. 

Despite use of an auxiliary verb, “was,” this is still an active sentence. The subject (the soccer team) is still doing the action (looking forward to).

“By the” or “by [name]” phrases can also be an indicator of passive voice:

The window was closed by the teacher.

The peanut butter and jelly sandwich was made by Jane.

Instead of solely relying on searching for “to be” verbs or “by the” phrases as indictors, ensure that the sentence has both an auxiliary verb of “to be” and a past participle verb, that way you’ll be certain it’s grammatically passive. The subject should be receiving the action.

Auxiliary forms of “to be”:

am, is, are, was, were, being, been, will be

Any of these auxiliary verbs used with a past participle verb indicates passive voice.

Rework passive sentences so that the passive agent—the doer of the action—within the sentence is the subject of the sentence.

To Sum It Up

While some of the grammar details within this article may have been less than thrilling, the most basic detail you need to remember about how active and passive voice are formed and how they act is:

Active: Subject performs the action 

Passive: Subject receives the action

Active voice and passive voice both have a place in fiction writing. While you don’t want your novel to be bogged down by overusing passive voice, it absolutely has its uses. Both grammatical voices are all about the tone you want to create and where you want to draw reader attention with the subtleties of your phrasing. Use it to your advantage. 

It’s also worth mentioning that passive voice should not be confused with passive writing. “Passive writing” is a phrase often used to describe flat, uninspiring writing or telling instead of showing. This is not the same thing as passive voice. Yes, passive voice can create flat, passive writing and making your writing as immersive as possible will likely include snipping a few passive sentences out, but passive writing is an issue of style and passive voice is an issue of grammar. Use of passive voice may be a stylistic choice, but it is not the same as passive writing.

I hope you found this article helpful. If you’d like a professional’s help catching all the places in your manuscript where passive voice detracts from your story or could even benefit the story, don’t hesitate to reach out to me. Why wait any longer to take the next step in your writing journey? Let’s talk.

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