How do you like my new-look blog? Kudos to my clever son Scott over at ManeyActs.

I've decided to import some old posts from the WordPress blog that I no longer use, and as Blogger won't let me import the lot in date order, I shall copy and paste them one by one. Here's one I posted in March of this year:

On sites that offer writing advice one sometimes reads instruction that confuses “passive writing” with “passive voice”. We see this among critiquers in writing groups as well, and it’s a source not just of confusion but also of misinformation.

I think there are two sources for this confusion. We often read that a writer needs to develop his or her own “Voice”. (I’ll capitalise this hereafter, to distinguish it from the other meaning of the word, which I’ll deal with farther down.)

“Voice” in this context really refers to those distinctive elements of a writer’s style that remind us of who is writing. If we look at authors of bygone days, Voice is not hard to see. Charles Dickens, for instance, had a distinctive Voice. So did Rudyard Kipling and DH Lawrence. In fact, pick up a work by any well-known author active before about 1980 and if you’ve read a few of that author’s books you will probably recognise the Voice straight away, because it did not vary much from book to book within that author’s oeuvre.

Few authors today have that kind of truly distinctive Voice. This is, I think, because of the popularity of the so-called “deep third” (AKA tight third or close third) Point-of-View (POV). It is currently fashionable for authors to hide behind their characters, giving the reader a seamless experience in which the author almost “channels” the POV character. In speculative fiction, two authors who demonstrate remarkable mastery of the deep third are Joe Abercrombie and Margo Lanagan. It is easy to lose oneself in their characters; to feel the character’s sensations and emotions and even to feel as if one is thinking that character’s thoughts. The author’s Voice and the voice of the POV character become one.

Some other authors use the close third only for moments of high tension and drama, retaining their own voice for narrative passages. Guy Gavriel Kay’s work is largely written in this style.

That more obvious, capital-V voice found in authors of past decades is easily confused with another sense of voice – passive writing. If a writer employs a lot of unnecessary auxiliary verbs (forms of “to be” and “to have” as part of an action, such as “He was running”) and constantly uses weak verbs such as walk and go (or went) people say the writing is passive. It’s only a short step from here to thinking that the writer has a “passive” Voice, and here’s where the trouble really starts, because the expression “passive voice” has a clearly defined grammatical meaning.

The “passive voice” as opposed to the “active voice” means using a verb without close reference to the doer of the action, as in, for example, “The ball was thrown by John” instead of “John threw the ball”. The giveaway is that little word “by”. A verb in the passive voice is followed by a preposition, most commonly “by” or “to” (as in “The award was given to Jenny”).

Let's look at examples of the three matters under discussion here – authorial voice, passive writing and the passive voice:

1. An author’s voice (I'll stop capitalising it now you 've got the picture!)
Here is Dickens’s famous opening of A Tale of Two Cities:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

The opening gives us an excellent feel for Dickens’s very distinctive (authorial) voice.

2. Passive writing
Here’s a passage I’ve just made up:

I was walking along the road, having just been to the dentist, when I was hit from behind by a cricket ball that had been thrown by a schoolboy. I had been intending to go to visit my mother, but the blow to my head gave me such a migraine that I found myself thinking that perhaps I should be going straight home to lie down.

That is passive writing. We don’t get any feel for the action or for the character’s feelings and sensations because we are separated from them by wases and –ing words – and one example of the passive voice! Can you see where it is?

3. The passive voice
Yup, that’s right: “I was hit from behind by a cricket ball” is in the passive voice, grammatically speaking. The passive voice is best avoided in fiction writing because it is frequently found as an element of passive writing.

But don’t get the terms mixed up. Passive writing is not always in the passive voice. Passive writing, as I’ve said above, is characterised by too many auxiliary verbs, weak verbs and probably weak nouns as well. It may or may not include use of the passive voice.

And not all writing that uses auxiliary verbs is passive, either. For instance “The pretty girl was dancing when I first saw her” uses the auxiliary “was” to indicate the past continuous tense. Some critiquers might try to persuade you to replace it with the simple past – “The pretty girl danced when I first saw her”. They would be wrong, because the simple past tense in that case would be incorrect and somewhat ambiguous. It might suggest, for example, that the pretty girl started to dance because I saw her!

What I’m trying to get across here is don't confuse authorial voice with the passive voice and especially don't confuse passive writing with the passive voice. “The pretty girl was dancing when I first saw her”, and, for instance, “The pretty girl will be dancing next time I see her” are certainly not in the passive voice, and, used correctly, are not necessarily examples of passive writing, either. They are perfectly legitimate uses of continuous forms of the verb “to dance”.

We are fortunate in having so many ways to express things in English, and the continuous tenses have their place. The skill lies in knowing when you can get away without using them, rather than making blanket statements about "passive writing" or worse, confusing them with the passive voice.

This is the fourth winter running that I've been able to spend in Perth, rather than in the colder climate of Mount Gambier, where I've offically lived since late 2006. Not that Perth is actually tropical, especially in winter, but it's five or ten degrees warmer than Mount Gambier much of the time.

I manage to spend so much time here by house-sitting for friends and friends of friends. In previous years, I have enjoyed at least one long house-sitting engagement of two months or more, but this year all the gigs have been relatively short, some as short as a week or even less. Now, while variety may be the spice of life, moving house several times a month is disconcerting and confusing. I sometimes find myself waking up in the morning quite unable to remember where I am!

I've just moved into a three-week sit, my longest for this winter, in South Fremantle, only a stone's throw from the beach. This is a lovely house with lots of livestock - laying hens, a worm farm, a veritable lake (far too grand to be called a pond) full of lovely big fish - and the star of the show, a furry four-footed friend called Nila.

Nila is a most interesting kind of bitza. Her mum was a Labrador-Blue Heeler cross and her dad was a Mastiff. She's a just a bit bigger than a Lab or a Heeler, but her head and feet are as big as those of a Mastiff so look as if she's never quite grown into them. She loves to play ball and she likes to herd the chooks, which characteristic no doubt comes from her Blue Heeler grandparent.

For the next three weeks, Nila is my New Best Friend. As with most of my canine fosterlings, she will no doubt claim a special place in my heart and I shall miss her when I move on. But meantime we will have fun!

I came back to Perth especially to attend Swancon, and a friend has very kindly put me up for the nonce, since my first housesit doesn’t start until Thursday. I have house-sitting or other accommodation lined up for the next three months, so I shall avoid at least half of Mount Gambier’s beastly rotten horrible cold wet winter.

Are you wondering what “Swancon” is? It’s Perth’s annual Speculative Fiction convention. Easter every year is special for Perth fans. We descend on a hotel — for the last few years it’s been the All Seasons in Northbridge — to play RPGs, to listen to speakers, to socialize and to dress up for the masquerade that’s held on the Saturday night. There is always a Guest of Honour from overseas (this year it was American Scott Sigler) and an Aussie Guest of Honour (Ian Irvine from NSW filled that role for 2010). They are both interesting speakers who are keen to advise and assist less experienced writers. Scott Sigler had us all enthused about the benefits of self-publishing (he’s one of the rare birds who gained contracts with publishing houses via that route and has now become a bestselling author) while Ian Irvine offered useful tips on writing and publishing, as did other authors including Narrelle Harris, Richard Harland, Dave Luckett and Stephen Dedman. These are the panels I love best and I find it a great privilege to sit at the feet of writers who have made it to the revered status of professionally published author!

As last year, I was on a Romance panel, again with Juliet Marillier, one of my favourite authors, who won the Tin Duck, a prize awarded by popular vote to the WA author who has had material published in the last year. Juliet won the trophy for her novel “Heart’s Blood”. Three other friends — Laney Cairo, fellow Egobooer Sarah Parker and fan Samara Morgan — were on the panel with Juliet and me, and despite a certain amount of sometimes overwhelmingly enthusiastic participation from the audience I think we gave a pretty good account of ourselves:-)

There were book launches, too, notably Belong, an anthology about finding and acknowledging one’s true home, and Scary Kisses, a good fun blend of vampires and other shape-shifters with suspense, horror and humour. Both are published by Ticonderoga. Several friends and colleagues, including Annette Backshall, Astrid Cooper, Carol Ryles, Donna Maree Hanson, Felicity Dowker, Nicole Murphy, Patty Jansen, Simon Petrie and Sonia Helbig have works in one or other of these anthologies. Scary Kisses will be reviewed in the April issue of The Specusphere, which goes live this Sunday. We hope to have a review of Belong ready for the June issue.

Swancon’s all over until next Easter, but meantime I’m eagerly looking forward to the Katharine Susannah Prichard SF group’s mini-con on 2 May and the much-anticipated Worldcon in Melbourne in September.

Things are still pretty chaotic in my neck of the woods. No sooner had I finished rejoicing at the end of limited downloads and successful publication of the latest Specusphere than my eldest sister, who is nearly 85, had a "funny turn" - her third - and wound up in hospital. She is home now, but sadly, she is not only becoming physically feeble, but mentally so as well. She needs constant attention, so I'm now busier than ever.

I'm one of four sisters, and three of us live here in Mount Gambier. Although we're spread out in age, we are all getting old and we constantly laugh at our forgetfulness, our aches and pains and our poor eyesight and hearing. You have to laugh or you'd spend all your time moping.

The poor hearing alone gives us a lot of giggles. Last week I went with a book club run by my other sister, the one closest to me in age, to the new Mount Gambier library. It's stunning, BTW, and has been hailed by one overseas expert as "the best small library in the world". The picture at left is of the children's corner - a magical place full of caves and tunnels and frogs - even the automatic check-out is shaped ike a giant frog. The link above will take you to a page from which you can hop to the library's site and also to the town's tourist site to see pics of this unique and attractive little city.

The librarian who showed us around noted various areas of interest - the Les Hill local and family history room; the coffee shop, the magazine collection..."And here," she said with a wave at a trio of screens, "is where we keep the Weed."

"Good gracious me," thought I. "They are really determined to get the youth of the town interested in books if they are growing dope in the library". Common sense prevailed. "Pardon?"

"The Wii. You know, games and such."

Ah, yes, well. Ah hem...

Then at dinner, my sister read out a letter from a mutual friend. Said friend was talking about their home and its surrounds. "And Josh still likes to walk across the park in his undies to get to church", the missive concluded.

Again the mind boggled. The vision of an elderly man strolling across the park in his boxer shorts - or maybe long johns - and entering the church, thanking the sidesman for the prayer book and parish paper, making his way to his customary pew...

I was starting to get ideas for a story. Why was Josh half naked? Was this a particularly eccentric brand of Christianity, one with which, for all my degree was in Religious Studies, I remained entirely unacquainted? Or was Josh making some kind of protest, making a statement about the need for non-judgemental acceptance of each other's idiosyncracies? Alas, common sense again reared its head and I realised the phrase "in his undies" must really have been written as "on Sundays". Pity.

One of the funniest misunderstandings due to deafness actually involved my father, who was very deaf from quite early in his adult life. It was an occupational deafness - as a power station engineer, he spent a lot of time in noisy environments, and away from them he was as deaf as a post. For some reason, he took me to work with him one day when I was about four years old - I think Mother must've been in hospital or otherwise indisposed - and I was amazed to find that alongside a boiler his hearing was perfect. It actually frightened me a bit. This couldn't really be my father. My father was deaf, and was always asking me to speak up. Yet now I was the one who couldn't hear him until he bent down close to my face. "No need to shout, lass," he said. "I can hear you."

But back to the story - one morning my father was getting ready for work when a neighbour came to the door. "Fred's dead," she announced sadly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Dad. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Fred's dead!" repeated the woman, louder this time.

"Yes, I'm sorry to hear it. Can I do anything to help?"

This time, the neighbour shouted. "For heaven's sake, lend me a loaf!"

She had been telling Dad she was "out of bread".

Apologies for my long silence, friends! So far, 2010 has been all Go-Go-Go. I bought a new computer and loading it ate up all my download allowance. It would have to happen at Specusphere time with its attendant panic, wouldn't it? Then one of my sisters was hospitalised, which further complicated my life.

Things are settling down now - I'm back on line with a whole 2GB to play with, the February Specupshere is up, Erica is safely home and there's a nice mini-interview with me on A Writer Goes on a Journey.

More posts soon, all being well:-)