We’ve all experienced the moment when we curse in aggravation but before the last of four letters burst forth, we have an epiphany. We think we’ve made a horrendous mistake only to realize some unseen hand has slipped a genius-Mickey in our frustration cocktail. In other words, we’ve run smack dab into the happy accident. We write. We make a mistake. But, voilà, the mistake is BETTER than what we originally had in mind!
When I’m feeling a bit playful-or when I’m feeling stuck-I like to pull out my notebook and jot down a dozen or so nouns. These have to be “hard” nouns, not words that can work as nouns or verbs such as “paint,” “race,” “touch,” or “table.” (This in itself is an interesting exercise because it’s not quite as easy as it seems.) A sampling from a recent list included: pumpkin, cabinet, purple, and thesaurus.
Even though “that which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet,” it is difficult to deny a name can carry it’s own significance. You have an idea for a character. This character has certain traits, has his own resonance. If you give him a name that doesn’t fit that resonance, you will create dissonance. Of course, dissonance may be just what you’re after, and so the name is significant in the way it DOESN’T fit. If I may paint with broad, stereotypical, yet illustrative strokes for a moment, consider the salty sea captain who hates weakness in his crew. He probably wouldn’t be named Fauntleroy Fluffyton. A reader who is introduced to a character named Fauntleroy Fluffyton is going to expect a certain type of person. Chances are the salty-sea-captain-who-hates-his-sniveling-crew is not that type…unless vile cap’n Fauntleroy HATES his name and has worked to develop a persona that goes against type. An illustration of this kind of dissonance can be seen in Johnny Cash’s “A Boy Named Sue.”
Adverbs and adjectives intoxicate with their promise of description and clarity. But beware! Overuse leads to laziness and vague writing. A dependence on modifiers can leave you with a group of words that don’t say much at all. Would you rather have a character that “drinks quickly,” or one who “gulps”? Would you rather have a character that has ” splotchy, red skin” or one who is “ruddy”?
Think about the simple phrase, “that’s nice.” At first, these two words seem direct. They don’t appear to harbor any confusion at all. However, without context, this phrase has no definite meaning. It could be affectionate. It could be condescending or dismissive. It could be a sarcastic retort or a distracted non sequitur. Without context, a reader has no clue as to what the writer wants to communicate.
I enjoy considering clichés. Of course I understand the certain death they bring to a piece of writing. However, in and of themselves they can be quite interesting. Consider that at some point, a cliché was good writing. It was an original thought. As a matter of fact, it was SO good that it was used ad nauseam.
Sooner or later, writing columns trot out the old chestnut, “Show, don’t tell.” I figured we’d get it out of the way right now.
The ancient alchemists sought to change base metals into gold, explain life, and discover the secrets of immortality. Alchemists worked with one foot planted in science and the other in the quasi-religious.
You’ve narrowed it down. You are going to write about (drum roll, please) butterflies or, possibly, vampires. Thank goodness! Finally you have an idea with possibility… ideas that will (excuse the pun) – fly.
The oft-stated adage from experienced writers, and how-to books is to “write what you know.” In theory it’s not a bad idea because you bring authenticity to your writing. But, I believe if you can imagine and feel, and more importantly, make your reader imagine and feel, you can research what you don’t have intimate knowledge of.