This week I am thrilled to have fellow horse-woman and writer Rhonda Lane as my guest. Rhonda mostly rides a desk chair these days where she works on her mystery novels and The Horsey Set , her horses-and-culture blog. She lives in the Hartford, CT, area on a hillside with her husband and their three cats who allow the humans to share their domicile.
What does this next sentence mean to you?
“A chestnut wearing green leg wraps stood in the cross ties.”
“A chestnut wearing green leg wraps stood in the cross ties.”
If you know little or nothing about horses, it’s gibberish. You don’t know a “cross tie” from a “bow tie.”
If you have some familiarity with horses, a picture formed in your mind, except you may have wondered as to what shade of chestnut? And others who know horses may be focused on the cross ties because your barn doesn’t use them or you don’t approve of them.
So, you may not realize that “chestnut” in the earlier sentence refers to the horse’s color, a shade of orangish-brown.
And, if those details are important to the action of the story – even beyond helping you or imagine the scene – then you’re lost. You may even give up on a book you might otherwise enjoy, if you stumble too often on unfamiliar words.
One of the issues with writing “insider” books is making jargon from the world of the story accessible for a wide audience.
How I revise for non-horsey readers
Remember the sentence in question. “A chestnut wearing green leg wraps stood in the cross ties.”
Let’s look at the sentence with the following questions in mind.
Who’s telling the story?
The story is told in first-person by a woman journalist with some knowledge of horses. She’s liable to use the wording of that sentence in question, but my goal is to make the scene vivid for any reader. I want a reader who’s new to anything about horses to see what the protagonist sees, but through the filter of the way my sleuth expresses herself.
Is the detail important?
That the horse is chestnut will be important later in the book. The cross ties? Some equestrian disciplines don’t use them, but this one does. That the leg wraps are green is part of an image system I’ve set up between two rival stables.
Does the detail slow down the plot?
A single short sentence? No. But I’m going to have to break it up into more sentences to help readers orient themselves. That in itself is risky. Unless …
Can I fold the detail into action?
My reporter protagonist is looking for people to interview after a horse show while people are preparing horses for travel. She comes upon a man wrapping the horse’s legs in protective bandages. The cross ties are important because this is a discipline that uses them and I want to show some of the culture and practices of this particular discipline.
What does the thing in question look like/sound like/feel like that everyone knows about?
I can serve two kinds of audiences by stating that the creature in question is “a chestnut horse the color of a caramel apple.” Equestrians now have a shade in mind, and those new to horses can imagine the golden festival treat. That people think happy thoughts when they think of caramel apples serves my purposes, too, because this is a “good guy” horse. (Oops. Spoiler)
Jargon can be good
From the film APOLLO 13 to TV’s ER and CSI shows, jargon usage conveys authority and an insider vibe. Yet, film and TV have the advantage of accompanying visuals to set the unfamiliar words into context.
Readers of novels don’t have visuals to help. Writers have to help readers imagine a scene and the action.
Have you ever had a book spoiled by too much jargon you didn’t understand? If you’re also a writer, how do you simplify your world’s jargon? Can you think of other ways to deal with jargon?