As the world witnesses more and more extreme weather patterns, it is becoming     1     (increasing) difficult to ignore the effects of climate change on our planet. It is now a common topic of discussion and has even found     2     (it) way into the books we read. As a result of this, a literary genre (体裁)     3     (refer) to as climate fiction, or cli-fi, has found new life.

The term “cli-fi”     4     (use) for the first time in 2007 by US climate activist and writer Dan Bloom. He intended to make “climate fiction” more appealing. According to Bloom, the term really gained     5     (popular) when Canadian writer Margaret Atwood used it on     6     Internet, introducing it to her half-a-million followers.

Just     7     the name suggests, climate fiction refers to stories with the central theme of climate change or global warming. These kinds of books can inspire the readers     8     (imagine) what the world might be like in the future because of major climate change events.

The genre is quite welcome among college students because it usually looks at topics that is relevant     9     what is really happening today. Cli-fi has also helped to motivate students to pursue science majors, with some universities even     10     (offer) courses specially focusing on climate fiction.

5 . During a judging period for a recent short story contest, I started thinking a lot about dialogue tags. Because in many submissions characters didn’t “say” a thing. They shouted, they inquired, they assumed. Some characters screamed while others murmured. But no one “said” anything. And I started wondering why.

Why do we tell beginner writers to avoid creative dialogue tags in the first place? Why do we insist that characters should stick to “said,” “asked,” and the occasional “sighed?” And, if the advice is so of-repeated, why are writers still unable to resist the siren call of weep, scream, snap, or laugh?

The more I thought about it, the more I understood the temptation. We’re always encouraged to use strong, actionable verbs in our prose. Why walk when you can skip or wander? Why cry when you can sob or weep? Why wouldn’t we reach for exciting verbs instead of mild-boring dull-blah said? Why couldn’t each verb be a tiny sparkling gem in its own right?

The problem, I think, is that every jewel needs a setting to become something more than the sum of its parts. Without something to provide structure, a collection of the world’s most glorious diamonds would still only amount to a heap of rocks.

And a dialogue tag should never, ever be the diamond in any given sentence.

Dialogue is your diamond, friends. When we read your work, your dialogue should be so bright, so sparkling, so lifelike, so wonderfully realistic that our brains “hear” each line instead of merely reading it. We don’t need to be told a character is shouting — we can sense it in the way they spit out words, clench fists, or storm from the room.

A dialogue tag is a mere signpost along the narrative journey, gently indicating who said what. It’s part of a story’s experience, but it’s not part of the story itself, nor should it be treated as such. Dialogue tags are similar to lighting in a Broadway play: without it, the audience would have no idea what was going on, but it usually strives to shine without calling too much attention to itself.

What’s more, readers may not initially imagine a particular line being “sobbed.” When we reach the end of a sentence and find out our leading lady has actually sobbed instead of whispered, it pulls us right out of the story. We pause. We reread the line. We adjust our understanding and begin again. But that wonderful momentum when we’re fully immersed in the scene, holding our breath to find out what our heroine says next, is lost.

Creating a successful work of fiction is about giving the reader all the materials they need to build your fictional world in their mind and not a scrap more. Readers need believable dialogue. They need voices so compelling that they pop right off the page and into our ears. And if you’ve created dynamic characters who speak words we can really hear, you will never need to tell us how something was said.

Senior Editor

8 . An Excerpt from Around the World in 80 Days — By Jules Verne

①“We set out for Dover and Calais in ten minutes,” Fogg announced.

②A puzzled grin (咧嘴笑) appeared in Passepartout’s round face. “Monsieur is going to leave home?”

③ “Yes,” replied Phileas Fogg. “We are going around the world.”

④ Passepartout’s eyes widened. He raised his eyebrows, held up his hands and seemed about to collapse. “Round the world!” he murmured.

⑥ “In eighty days,” responded Mr. Fogg.

⑥ “So we don’t have a moment to lose.”

⑦ “But the cases?” asked Passepartout.

⑧ “We won’t have any cases,” Fogg replied. “Only a bag with two shirts and three pairs of stockings for me in it, and the same for you. Bring down my raincoat and traveling cloak, and some strong shoes, although we will do little walking. Hurry up!”

⑨ Passepartout tried to reply, but he could not. He mechanically began to make the preparations for departure. Around the world in eighty days! Was his master a fool? No. Was this a joke, then? They were going to Dover. That was good! They were going to Calais. That was good again! After all, Passepartout, who had been away from France for five years, wouldn’t be sorry to set foot in his own country again. Perhaps they would go somewhere as far as Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see Paris once again.

⑩ By eight o’clock Passepartout had packed the bag. Then, he went down to see Mr. Fogg. Mr. Fogg was completely ready. Under his arm was a book containing timetables showing the arrival and departure of steam boats and trains. He checked his bag again and ensured everything he needed was in it.

⑪ “Take this bag,” Fogg said, handing it to Passepartout. “Take good care of it because there are twenty thousand pounds in it.” Passepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds had been in gold and almost weighed him down. They left the house and at the end of Saville Row they took a taxi and drove rapidly to Charing Cross.

9 . Good news for all Wes Anderson fans — the US director is back with the film The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar which hit Netflix, an online film provider, on Sept 27. It is a film adaptation of UK novelist Roald Dahl’s novel under the same name.

The film stars UK actor Benedict Cumberbatch. Adaptations are currently popular in the movie industry.     1     But what about book adaptations of films? Book adaptations of films aren’t that common, but it’s a medium that certainly takes skills to master.

The most well-known version of a film being adapted to books is via the novelization. Movie novelizations went through a boom period before the Internet era. Fans wanted to know more about the fictional worlds and experience the story again in a new way.     2     Thus, the novelization was a great solution.

Meanwhile, the screen to page process has also opened up the possibility of sequels (续篇). Perhaps there simply wasn’t financial investment to create a follow-up to a film. Maybe a sequel idea simply felt more appropriate for a novel.     3     In recent years, for example, the film Heat, released in 1995 has received its own novel. ET: The Book of the Green Planet continued the extra-terrestrial’s journey after the completion of the film’s narrative.

But what are the benefits of reading a novel instead of waiting for the big screen version? Well, a novel can take its reader deeper into the mind of the characters that the film had to represent in a more visual way.     4     Although a film might characterize a fantastic scene or a specific costume choice, it doesn’t always tell why those things are important. Novelizations and sequels can take that extra step and shine a light on some of those movie-making choices.

Book adaptations of films obviously won’t ever replace cinema, and there’s no need to choose one or the other.     5