Turning Things On Their Ears

I think one of my favorite things about reading and writing is the turn of a phrase. When we think of turning something on it's ear, we know what that means even if the item being turned doesn't actually have an ear.  But these kinds of images add richness to our language.

Years ago I began a writing a book.  I liked the opening, but when a friend read it she pointed out my trite phrases such as "sizzling bacon."  At the time I thought, "How else can you describe the sound of bacon cooking?"  Anything else, in my mind, sounded second rate.  Thankfully I've learned a little since then.

I enjoy the actual writing of stories, but it is a fun challenge to stop for a moment to consider one sentence, one action even and how it can be described in an unusual way.  For instance, we may think of autumn leaves falling gently down or we could say they waltz with the wind, being safely deposited on a soft seat of grass when the music stops.  Or we could describe that leaf as an animal of some kind, such as: the leaf, crouched like a waiting tiger, watches for the perfect moment to leap from its perch to the waiting grass prey below.  Or what if the leaf falls during a rainstorm?  Then it could become a soldier being pelted with rainy shrapnel, finally dying, face down in the mud.

The possibilities are endless, and so much fun to think of.  If you have a favorite leaf metaphor or image, please share.

A Scene Outside Your Window

If you're old enough to remember M*A*S*H, you might recall the episode where Radar decides to become a writer.  Wanting to improve his writing he signs up for a correspondence course.  The first assignment is to describe a scene outside his window.

I've thought about that.  Easily you could have five people describe the same scene and have five very different passages.  So, is there a "best" way to go about a descriptive passage?

When I had a short stint as a homeschooler, I remember some of the writing assignments from our chosen curriculum.  The directions indicated that you should describe a scene from right to left or left to right, or otherwise in a logical manner.  This type of assignment always made me uncomfortable.  Shouldn't a description be more free-flowing than that?

I think the balance should be somewhere in the middle.  I know when I read a description of an item or scene in a book it frustrates me when I can't create a picture in my head from what is written.  I also believe a technical description would be boring.  Take the following examples.

If I wanted to "define" the scene outside my window it might appear like this: Out of my four-foot-square window, a portion of my side yard is visible.  On the left is a row of bushes, still devoid of leaves.  Six feet to the right of this, along the far edge is a large oak tree.  It's trunk is gnarled and branches don't begin until twenty feet up.  Beside this is a pine tree ... (you get the idea).

If I try to find the middle ground, allowing you to create a picture in your mind, and giving you the impression that you actually cared enough to want to build that picture, if might be like this:  The morning sun paints the scene outside my window before leaking inside to warm my toes.  I can tell it's late morning since the early birds have already abandoned the bushes along the yard edge.  I scan towards the middle of my yard to the stately oak tree, reaching it's aging branches to the heavens.  Occasionally squirrels twists 'round it's gnarly trunk, but the limbs of the nearby pine tree periodically block my view of their upward progress, allowing them to play an unintentional game of hide-and-seek.  etc.

I imagine if you took a "crack" at the scene outside my window, your words would vary greatly from mine.  And that's okay, because it's what allows me to be a writer in the first place.  If we all wrote the same way, there wouldn't be over a quarter of a million books printed each year in the US alone.  Hopefully, this year, one of them will be mine.

It's a Conspiracy

Has a good book ever kept you up at night?  I've spent many a night reading "just one more chapter."  But there are also those books that keep you awake thinking about them.  Whether it be a scary passage or a thought provoking one, you might lay in bed not able to put your brain to rest.  

In that last few days, I've had to face the fact that I will not get a good night's rest until I've finished writing my book.  I go to bed, but then I lay there for an hour or so writing conversations in my head or planning twists, turns and revelations.  I have a pad of paper on my nightstand where I jot down ideas as they come.  But, lately I haven't used it, because the thoughts are just too long.  I am going with the hope that I will remember enough in the morning.

So, given the above trend, a few nights I have just decided to give into the urge and stay up late writing.  The house is quiet and I am alone, undisturbed.  It's a great time to write.

But either way this book is keeping me up nights.  My own book seems to have conspired against me - haunting me until it is finished, disturbing my sleep and taking over my life.  And it's not even a horror story!

We are stubborn creatures . . .

Thursday it was 80 degrees where I live.  In the morning, before school, my six-year-old and I went through his shorts from last year, looking for a pair that fit.  He wore those shorts with great joy and gusto throughout the day.  It was a beautiful day.  It was also fleeting.

Saturday morning I was doing some writing, seated near a window.  When I thought I heard rain I opened the curtains to be greeted by SNOW!  It snowed steadily for ten minutes or so.  I know this happens in Spring, but still, it felt like a low blow.

However, a short time later, I found myself on my way to Home Depot.  I was looking for a few gardening tools.  It seemed strange given the snow, but I knew the weather would change and I wanted to be ready when it did.

You would think that the snow would be a deterrent to most, but not so.  When I arrived at Home Depot I was greeted by a full parking lot.  Apparently we are stubborn creatures.  Snow will not stop us from making plans and working towards fulfilling those plans.

I think when we read novels we take the same approach.  As long as we have hope that a novel will    fulfill some kind of expectation, be that tying up lose ends or ending on a positive note, we are willing to slog through the times when a character disappoints us or deals with struggles.

And once we learn that we can trust an author, just as we have learned to trust the spring, we will give him or her a little more leeway.  I hope, in the future, that I can earn that trust.

Writer's Block - of sorts

We've all heard of writer's block - staring at a blank page, wondering what to put on it.  I'm dealing with a somewhat reverse writer's block.  My book is going so well that I have a hard time putting it down.  I got ready for bed last night, and instead of actually going to bed spent another hour writing.

Right now, I'm anxious to get going on my book again.  So, I sit staring at a blank blog.  What to blog about?  I don't know, because all I can think about is my book!  So, sorry, but this is it for my blog today.  (I'll make it up to you in my book.)

A Life of Its Own

It seems that I have just given birth to my first novel.  If you have followed me for a while, you will recall that I finished writing my first book late last year.  That was a loose memoir.  Since then I have turned my attention to fiction.  And it has been an enjoyable journey.

But in the last couple of weeks, my first novel actually came to life.  I've been writing on it a lot longer than that, but it just took off and has gained a life of its own.  I eat, drink and sleep the characters and their interactions.  I lay down at night and can't sleep because the thoughts and ideas won't stop.  I have paper and pencil on my night stand for my hastily scrawled notes of who needs to say what to whom, and why.

It is a living, breathing thing, larger than myself.  There is no way to stop it now.  It's like Godzilla in New York, only I don't think I could kill it if I tried.  But that's the beauty of it - I don't want to kill it.  I love it.  I'm excited by it.  It's not work anymore.  I'm not having to expend effort to figure out where I need to take the plot or how to introduce a clue.  Instead things are just popping into my head - constantly!  Is this what it feels like to be an author?  I sure hope so, otherwise "the voices" in my head might be hard to explain.

Tilting At Windmills

I seem to be tilting at windmills lately.  I have taken on as my special cause my TV and internet service provider.  I seem to be making a call in their direction every month as I take exception to their billing practices.  No, I haven't switched, because yes, they do fix the problem and then compensate me for my trouble.  So, if you don't figure in the cost of my time, I'm still coming out ahead.  And the actual TV and internet service are what we want.

But isn't it great that I can tell you I am tilting at windmills and you know what I'm talking about.  You can thank a writer for that.  This phrase comes from Cervantes in his classic Don Quixote.  I have a soft spot for this story, having performed in the musical version, Man of La Mancha, in my youth.  And somehow I have a soft spot for Don Quixote, trying so hard to do what he thought valiant even though in reality it was something else.

What power good writers have.  I would like to have that kind of impact upon a reader, even if new idioms aren't created because of my written word.  But alas, that's such stuff as dreams are made on. (With a thankful nod to Shakespeare.)