On Writing – Earth and Midnight

I Swear

Earlier, I detailed why I’m not a huge fan of swear words [here]. In fairness, I do think there’s a time and place for vulgar language. Here are some situations where swearing seems appropriate:

-when you’re writing dialog for a character and you want to immediately convey a hardened, street-wise tough guy. A lexicon drenched with profanity will convey that stereotype.

-to exaggerate, for comedy. I think this technique is most effective when used sparingly. Decades ago, my brother’s friend made a prank phone call. It was about 11 o’clock on a weeknight in a small town. He dialed a random number, and a woman sleepily answered, “…hhullo?” “Jeanie!!!” the prankster yelled enthusiastically. “I just had to call and tell you! I wrote this new song and it f—ing RULES!!! It goes like this-” then he started singing in a death metal voice, but couldn’t help laughing, so he hung up. The key sentence (“I wrote this new song…”) without the swear word doesn’t have the same impact.

-when quoting someone. Wording can reveal a person’s attitude. I admit that swearing can add color and a je ne sais quoi to the story. While talking about a neighbor’s volunteer work, my dad set the scene with, “Let’s pretend she’s been doing this s— for ten years.”

-when people aren’t taking you seriously. In the previous post, I suggested that those who hear swearing all the time may become immune to it, but I might be wrong. I’ve been in situations where appeals to logic and sympathy went ignored, and I resorted to swearing. I honestly don’t remember if that got through or not, but it didn’t hurt to try.

Curse of the Vernacular

For a while, when I was a teenager, I incorporated a lot of swearing into my speech because that’s how people around me talked. I didn’t stick with it because, beyond the need to censor at work for professionalism, I didn’t love using swear words. Here’s why:

Language packed with swear words makes boring speech. Sentences become Mad Libs where every blank is filled in with the same word, or words repeated from a very limited list. “This f—in’ guy f—ed with my f—in’ s—.” [For the sake of fairness, I’ll add that any speech pattern that sticks to set phrases, terms, and reactions (“How are you?” “Good. How are you?” “Cool!” “That sucks.”) is also boring.] Choosing more specific terms adds variety and flair to sentences.

Since swear words can substitute for practically any other word, speech loaded with profanity lacks clarity. It can get to the point where the listener may not know what the speaker is saying, even if they think they understand. In the above example, “This f—in’ guy f—ed with my f—in’ s—,” was the speaker simply stating that an acquaintance had looked through his private belongings, or was it deeper than that, an admission that the violation left his psyche emotionally vulnerable? With so many generalities, it’s hard to know. Specific words are clearer in meaning. Likewise, if someone watches a movie and declares, “It sucked,” that doesn’t give much information. Specifics here would be helpful because people don’t all have the same taste.

Littering sentences with non-essential words creates clutter that your listener or reader has to sift through. It dilutes your message. Which sentence is immediately easier to grasp?
Sentence 1: It’s f—in’ time to feed the godda– dog.
Sentence 2: It’s time to feed the dog.
If you want people to understand your message, make it as easy for them as possible. [To be fair, there are plenty of “clean” words that create clutter, and I’m guilty of using them: like, just, sort of, sometimes, or whatever, I guess, almost, or something, kind of, really, very, maybe, and many more.]

Using family-friendly language can be more effective in emotional situations. Hot tempers seem to pair with crass language in movies and in real life. However, I’m skeptical of the effectiveness of that speech. Imagine a scene where a criminal is hiding and won’t come into the light. If their nemesis yelled out something like, “Come out, you f—ing son of a b—-!”, I have to wonder if that would even phase a tough guy who uses and hears that type of language every day. What if their nemesis yelled out, “YOOOOU COWAAAAARD!” I think the more specific term might hit a nerve.

Incessant cussing seems to accompany A Bad Attitude, a.k.a. pessimism, negativity. Which one is the chicken, and which is the egg? I don’t know, but I think pessimism is draining, which is why, if you’re in a foul mood, I think it’s worth a try to polish your language and see if your mood improves. It’s hard to stay angry when using terms like “horse feathers” and “fiddlesticks.”

Some people can’t handle hearing swear words. I know someone like this. If you throw the F-word into a sentence, it’s like their brain gets scrambled- Does Not Compute!, a shield goes up, and they don’t hear anything you say after that. I’ve seen firsthand how using swear words cuts off part of the audience. As a writer, if I want my work to reach the widest possible audience, it needs to be accessible. If swearing doesn’t seem necessary, I avoid it.

Telling Stories

Some characters in movies and books bore their relatives by repeating family stories to the point where other characters roll their eyes and finish the sentences themselves. Those annoyed relatives don’t know how lucky they are. When my brother and I were teenagers, we had to ask our parents how they met because they had never mentioned it. I have a feeling this is typical of the times. Hopefully the quarantine acted a catalyst to get families talking to each other more.

In my last post [here], I talked about looking through heirlooms and photos to find out more about your ancestors. But plenty of family stories have no keepsakes attached to them.

Lately, I’ve been interviewing family members and writing down some of their history, partly for posterity and partly just to know them better. I recently finished typing a collection of stories from my dad’s childhood, his college years, his time in the army, and anecdotes from his workplace. In retrospect, I probably should have recorded the stories on video or audio for a richer experience. But one benefit of writing is that, as story fragments are added to over time, I’m able to present fuller stories on paper.

I would recommend asking your relatives about their lives. Especially if you are in a younger generation, talk to people while you still have the opportunity. Ask them about themselves and about older generations, since they may be the last link to those who have passed on.

I also recommend talking about your life, especially if you are in an older generation. Talk even if no one asks, even if you think you have nothing worthwhile to say, even if you assume no one would care to hear about your time working as a cashier in a hardware store. It matters.

Another option is to write your story yourself. If you do this, I would share it with your families now. That way, you can answer questions and clear up any confusion. Also, knowing more of your history and more about you can promote understanding, empathy, and respect.

Pick a person. What can you find out about their family, friends, hobbies, jobs, vacations, and their favorite things (book genres, music, food, holidays, movies, sports, etc.)? What challenges did they face? What have they overcome in their lifetime? What lessons did they learn? What mistakes did they make? What do they wish they’d done differently? What goals did they have? Did their goals change over time? What did they accomplish?

I’m interested in not just what people did, but why. Why did they choose that job? Were they attracted to that line of work? Were they following in another relative’s footsteps? Was the job close to where they lived? Did it offer the best pay? Did they know the manager? Their reasoning can give insight into their personality. Even learning why someone likes to watch specific TV shows can be enlightening.

Find out what’s cool about your relatives! What makes them unique? What’s memorable about their behavior or character? The last three generations of women on my mother’s side have been a Charleston dance champion, a candidate for public office, and the first woman hired as an Engineering Technician by the Illinois Highway Department.

I think the best stories showcase a relative’s personality, and often have nothing to do with facts that can be verified by records. It’s a catchphrase or habit or attitude. If they work the line “Here’s the kicker” into every story, remember that. Write it down. That’s the kind of stuff you won’t want to forget.

An A for Effort

One student at the community college where I used to work had some issue where his legs didn’t work normally. He walked using crutches attached to his forearms, and even then, he limped down the hall, swaying and staggering, as if he were a marionette controlled by someone continually being stung by bees. Just seeing the amount of time and effort it took him to get to class put other students to shame. I’d see him studying in the hall, the tutoring center, the library, and the computer lab. This was while some other students skipped class and didn’t bother to do their homework.

He came to mind recently, and I used him as a measure of hard work and dedication. I had to take a look at my goals and ask myself if I showed up every day, if I was putting in as much time and effort as I could, if I kept going even when things weren’t easy, if I was living up to my potential. Not at all.

Some days, the most challenging part of working on a project is getting started, getting in the flow. My new trick is that I vow to put the same amount of effort into my project as I imagine it took for that student to get to his classroom. After that, it’s usually smooth sailing.

Better Living Through Haiku

When I notice I’m living in my head too much- for example, if I start getting emotional about imaginary situations- I find that writing haiku is a good remedy. It brings my attention back to my senses and into the present. What do I see in front of me? What do I hear? How does the air feel against my skin? What’s happening right now? Write about that. Haiku is a good medium for capturing the immediate. Working on a haiku makes me feel more real.

I start by writing down what I notice. All or most of these lines are dull. “lots of clover on the lawn,” “wet cement,” “white blooms.” But if I keep at it, a line or word might spring into my head that surprises me. A poetic phrase might appear. I might not even know what it means. Those are the rewards of creativity. Or work. The magic of thought. It’s what makes the sometimes excruciating writing process worthwhile. Poetry is the heat that transforms ordinary, mundane sand into stained glass.

Fine-Tuning

While the perfectionist in me cringes, I have to applaud myself for publishing stories that could be written in more captivating language, that don’t have an ending, that I’m not satisfied with, that could be better. The desire for perfection can lead to inertia and writing blocks. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, it can lead to constant tweaking, the story not seeming “ready” or “finished” or “good enough” to publish. I’m finally learning that an unpolished story is more valuable than no story. Wouldn’t you rather be told “I love you” by someone you care about than be told nothing because no words seemed special enough? A song tuned to the key of “fine” can be the most beautiful song somebody’s ever heard.

Making Magic

In moments when you feel hopeless or defeated, it helps to think of the power you do have in the world. Writing is creating something from nothing. It’s creating a story from a blank page. When you look at it like that, it seems almost magical. If you can do that, think of what else you can do!

It’s Your Decision

Several years ago, I wanted to write more poetry. Luckily, I had a job where I could usually eat lunch while I was working at my desk. Then, on my half hour lunch break, I’d sit at a picnic table by a pond or at a table in the library and work on poems. To try and help keep me motivated, I entered a few poetry contests online. The prizes for these contests were publication and sometimes money. One submission was to a well-known [to those familiar with the genre] haiku magazine.

It seems normal to not get any response to a submission. Well, I got an email from the haiku magazine, where one of the editors figuratively hacked apart all my poems, threw them on the floor, and suggested I read some of their issues to get a sense of what they’re looking for (which, of course, I had done before I sent anything in). Some people may have appreciated an editor taking the time to give them feedback, but I didn’t. (My thinking is, art is subjective. If you like it, then print it; if you don’t, then don’t. Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean the poem is bad or that I need to change it. I know- diva!)

I had been vaguely considering starting a blog for a while, although I hadn’t seriously looked into it. That incident became one of the stones in the bridge that eventually led me to create a blog. Why was I waiting for someone else to determine that my poetry was worth publishing? I would decide that it was worth publishing. That was (and is) an important lesson to take forward in life in general. If you want something, claim it and make it happen. [The poems that I submitted to magazines (plus more) have since been published on this blog.]

For anyone who has a fantasy of “being discovered” by someone with power or authority, just look in the mirror. Decide for yourself that you’re beautiful, talented, smart, strong, have a good idea that’s worth pursuing, have a skill that’s useful, or whatever else empowers you. And then live like you believe it.

I’ll Knock Your Block Off!

Here’s a trick I use once in a while when I have writer’s block. Pick a type of piece you’d like to write: a song, poem, story, scene in a play, etc. Let’s pretend you want to write a song. The first part of the assignment is to write The Worst Song in the World. [This part was inspired by Chapter 5 of Georgia Heard’s wonderful guidebook For the Good of the Earth and Sun: Teaching Poetry.] Don’t think you have to spend a lot of time on it. In fact, you’ll probably shoot closer to the goal if you don’t. I came up with an example for you:

When I see you at your locker
lookin’ so fine
You just don’t know
it makes me lose my mind

[Chorus:]
You make my head spin
You flip me inside out
You turn my world ’round
And then you do it again

When I talk to you at school
Baby, you’re so sweet
It makes me fantasize
that you could be with me

[Chorus]

I wish that you would give me a chance
’cause I would love you
more than anybody else can!

[Chorus]

When that’s over, the next part of the assignment is to take the ideas and topics you care about and write a song that’s Slightly Better Than the Worst Song in the World. That’s all you’re going for. I think this is significant because a.) your confidence may increase, knowing that you’re not going to write a song as awful as the one you just wrote, and b.) a blockage can occur if you feel pressure to write something phenomenal and profound and new, and this exercise consciously lowers your standards. When you’re free to write garbage, you’re also free to write extraordinary things. Just the act of writing again (if it’s been a while) can be enough to get you back on track, even if you don’t finish this exercise. Sometimes, in your attempt to write The Worst Piece Ever, you’ll find it hard to come up with something horrible- recognize that and be thankful for it!

I usually (out of habit?) critique The Worst Piece in History right after I’ve finished writing it. Because I can immediately identify examples of what makes the piece bad [in this case, there’s no story, no verse progression, cliches are up the ying yang, the specifics relating to school limit the age of listeners who can identify with the scenario, and the lines are too general to make an impact, to name a few], I think that gives me a sense of authority and expertise, a platform of credibility from which I can confidently start work on a piece that matters to me.

Try the exercise and see if it helps!

Writing Exercise: Let Them Go Their Separate Ways

I’ve got boxes, files, and notebooks filled with writing scraps. Some of these scraps consist of a couple lines that I liked the sound of together, only I couldn’t make them work in a larger piece. I’ve heard these gems referred to as ‘little darlings.’ You have a fondness for them and don’t have the heart to chuck them, but at some point, you acknowledge that their presence is ruining the rest of the piece, and, like a crying baby in a movie theatre, must be removed for the good of the whole.

What I’ve been doing lately with my little darlings in couplet form is separating the lines, and then incorporating each line into its own piece. It feels awkward at first, probably like twins going off to separate colleges. The new poems don’t seem to have the same charm of the original darling, but at least this way, the lines can live in the world, feel sunshine on their skin, hold the door open for strangers, hear the trill of the red-winged blackbird. Otherwise, they’d be banished to a cardboard box or file folder forever.

Hunting through some of my old poems to find an example to illustrate this exercise, I picked out a couple halves, but didn’t notice either of their twins. So, either I haven’t used their other halves yet, or the other halves were so integrated into their new lives that I didn’t recognize them anymore. That’s a good sign. The original lines don’t need to be attached in order to have purpose.

If you have unfinished chunks of writing, or old work that you’d never want people to see, try breaking it apart and using the shards separately. It feels good to set them free. Might as well let all of your work sashay through the world in some form or another.