The Slang Game

Well cut off my legs and call me shorty! That particular bit of slang came from the 1940s. Can you guess what decades the rest of these came from?

  1. Heave, meaning to vomit
  2. Bitch, meaning to gripe
  3. Having the hots for someone
  4. To finger someone
  5. To come clean
  6. Groovy
  7. Sore, meaning angry
  8. Babe, meaning an attractive female
  9. Broad, meaning a woman
  10. A scream, meaning something hilarious
  11. Teenager
  12. Dough, meaning money
  13. Beef, meaning complaint
  14. Baby, meaning one’s sweetheart
  15. Bull, meaning bull crap
  16. Joe, meaning coffee
  17. John, meaning bathroom
  18. Hip, meaning cool
  19. Double-cross
  20. Dick, meaning private detective
  21. “What’s eating you?”

Okey-doke. Don’t get in a lather. I’m a hep-cat and won’t take a powder before I give you the poop. 1-3 are from the 1940s. 4-11 all date back to the 1930s. 12-17 are from the 1920s. 18 dates back to 1915. and 19-21 were used as early as 1900.

Now I have to go see a man about a dog.

Posted in culture, life, writing. Tags: . 2 Comments »

An Image Fit Only for a Horror Movie

My writing tends to be a little too matter-of-fact considering the complicated plots I prefer. I start out using plenty of similes and metaphors, but when I analyze them, they all sound trite or forced so I edit them out.

“The next minute the children were rolling around on the ground and pummeling each other like . . .” Like what? “Puppies” was too obvious, so I used “bear cubs” until I decided it sounded just as trite. But what else rolls around on the ground and pommels? Mud wrestlers? Thinking that’s not a proper image to use with children, I left off the simile.

Another time I tried to describe a character as one who seemed like a mental lightweight but had hidden depths. I didn’t want to use the trite “like an iceberg,” so I used “like the proverbial iceberg.” All that said is that I know I’m using a cliché, (wink, wink) but since I know it, it’s okay. It’s not okay, so I left it out and was left with another unadorned sentence.

But at least I don’t make mistakes like this one I found in a book by an author who should have known better. “Her eyes swept across the room like a broom.” Her gaze might sweep like a broom, but her eyes? Only in a horror movie, but still . . .ick! That’s almost as hideous an image as “their eyes locked.” How exactly do eyes lock? Like braces sometimes do when teenagers kiss?

Nor did I make this mistake: “The room was so crowded it was literally filled to the rafters.” Literally filled? Does he mean the people were stacked one on top of the other? Or standing on each other’s shoulders? Again, an image fit only for a horror movie.

In the end, I guess I’d rather have a prosaic writing style than one that gives people unintentional nightmares.

The Power of Three

 Three is a powerful number that satisfies our need for symmetry. Think how many times it shows up in mythology, fairy tales, and popular culture. A few obvious threes:

Three wishes. Three bears. Three little pigs. Three fates. Three furies. Three graces. Three muses. Three outs. Best two out of three. Three Faces of Eve. Three Days of the Condor. Third time lucky. Love triangle.

So, to make your stories more powerful, harness the power of three.

1. When describing a character or scene, mention three attributes. Also, if a particular attribute needs to be fixed in the reader’s mind, mention it three times (and only three times) during the course of the book, and it will stick.

2. When devising a plot, follow the storyline of The Three Bears. The first time the hero tries to reach her goal, she fails but learns the risks. The second time she tries, she confirms that she’s doing things wrong, but she learns from her mistakes. The third time she tries, she gets it right.

3. Look for patterns in your story. If your character has made love under the stars and perhaps gone to a concert under the stars, mention stars once more to solidify the pattern.

I could give you more ways to make your stories more powerful, but since I’ve given you three suggestions, that should satisfy you.

Colorizing our Characters

Because colors have meaning, a character’s favorite color can tell us a lot about him or her. Red for an ambitious extrovert. Pink for an affectionate, compassionate person. Yellow for an optimistic artist. Green for a benevolent humanist. Blue for a cool, confident conservative. Purple for an intuitive, spiritually oriented person. Brown for a down-to-earth type.

I am looking for new ways to add color to my novels besides the obvious such as “She wore a low-cut red dress,” or “He loved the way the mud looked against the blue of his pickup.” I’d like to be able to give the feeling of a person by using color, perhaps by showing what he or she sees. This might be an interesting way of giving point-of-view characters their own voices. The extrovert would see the red tulips, the humanist would admire the grass, and the conservative would notice the sky.

Overdone, it would probably seem to be merely a listing of colors, but used with a gentle touch, perhaps the reader would feel more connected to the characters, seeing them in living color instead of indistinct black and white images.

I would like to think so anyway. I did the research on the meaning of colors for another novel, and the material is just sitting there waiting to be used.

Reading the Beats

I’ve mentioned before that I’m reading the entire oeuvre of a bestselling author, trying to figure out the reason for her popularity, and it just dawned on me why I am having such a hard time slogging through her words. It’s not simply that I find romance novels unappealing, it’s that she does not use beats. Beats, as you know, are interesting bits of action used as dialog tags:

“No!” Mary rushed to grab the paring knife from her two-year-old son.

Beats make the book; in many cases, they are the book. I first noticed this when I read an Iris Johansen thriller. I got bored with her series character and, for a change of pace, started reading only her beats. To my surprise, the entire story was there. The character’s fear, lessening of fear, relief, escalating fear, despair, desire, lust, all reaching to a crescendo of utter terror, and then finally peace and acceptance.

From that, I’ve learned to cultivate beats. When I’m looking at a movie that doesn’t capture my full attention, I watch the actors and try to put what I see into words. The other day I saw a character shoot a finger at a friend and smile as if he were agreeing with him, then the smile faded and he shook his head no. Not only did it have an element of humor (doing the opposite of what’s expected) it was a brilliant beat, perfectly timed.

Obviously, not using beats has not hurt the bestselling romance writer any, but for the rest of us, the beat goes on.

In Publishing, as in Life, Timing is Everything

 Performing artists like actors and comedians know that timing is everything. Without the right pause, the right word, the right gesture, the piece falls apart.

Life too is all about timing. Turn a corner and bump into a stranger who will become your mate. Run back into the house to answer the phone before you leave for work and later discover you missed being in an accident by those few minutes. Invest in a friend’s start-up business as a favor and end up being a millionaire.

Getting published is all about timing, too. You’ve written and rewritten your masterpiece, but you can find no takers. At best, you’re inundated with form rejection letters; at worst, you’re ignored. It’s entirely possible you are correct and your masterpiece is the bestseller-waiting-to-happen that you know it is. So how come you can’t get published?

Timing. As in the performing arts and the art of life, timing is everything, but unlike the performing arts, you cannot stand before a mirror and practice until you master your timing. All you can do is keep sending out your manuscript in the hopes that one day it will be on the right desk at the right time. Because one thing is certain, your desk is not the right one.

So how do you cope with all that rejection? Don’t think of it as rejection. Think of it as practicing your timing. Practice may not make perfect, but it does give you a chance.

After all, Gone with the Wind was published after being rejected thirty-two times.

Stories are our foundation, as necessary to us as love.

Ever since humans first noticed they were different from the other creatures, they (we) have been trying to figure out what specific quality sets us apart. Opposable thumbs? Awareness of self? Awareness of death? It can’t be; other creatures share, or at least seem to share those characteristics.

From the beginning, as humans huddled around the fire, they exchanged stories, and the best storytellers were revered. That is the one trait we humans alone have: the ability to tell and appreciate stories. Stories are our foundation, as necessary to us as love. Stories help us figure out who we are as individuals, and who we are as a people. Stories take us away from our problems, yet they also help us solve them.

We cry at the misfortunes of people we’ve never met, people who never were, people who seem more real to us at times than our own families. And we rejoice in the successes of those story people as if they were our own successes.

With all our sophistication and technology today, we haven’t come far from our primitive beginnings. Where once we huddled as a group around flickering fires, we now huddle singly before our flickering screens, but the need, the basic human need for stories is the same.

Although most of us may never get published, thanks to the Internet we can still reach others with our vision of the world, with our interpretation of it.

There is satisfaction in that, though, to be honest, getting paid would be even more satisfying.

Capturing the Attention of an Editor

 I started to write this blog as an investment in my future, sort of a pre-publicity platform in case I was ever so lucky as to get published and needed a forum.

At first I was satisfied with putting my thoughts into words, and recording what I have learned on my seemingly endless quest for publication, but now I want people to read what I have written. To that end, I am trying to write titles that grab, first lines that compel one to keep reading.

This is a good skill to have if a writer is trying to capture the attention of an agent or editor. We all have this image in our heads of editors and editorial assistants eagerly pawing through the slush pile in search of our literary gems. In truth, all they are looking for is a reason to dismiss our manuscripts. If our first words don’t grab them, too bad. That’s all the time they are going to give us.

And if by chance our first words do entice them to read further? They are going to be looking for any excuse to stop.

So, while I am trying to figure out how to get you to look at my post, I am still investing in my future. Perhaps one day I will write first one compelling sentence, then a second and a third until I have written the literary gem that, all unknowingly, those editors and editorial assistants really are searching for.

Until then? Well, writing a blog is a lot more fun and interesting than playing stupid computer games.

Writing Your First Book Second

I mentioned before that I’m reading the novels of a bestselling author, trying to figure out why she is so popular. Yikes, what a chore! If she’s anything to go by, being a bestselling author has nothing to do with being a good writer. I’ve seen much better writing posted on the Internet by unpublished authors. Apparently, however, once an author has established herself on the bestseller list, she no longer needs to concern herself with the tenets of good writing.

The story I am currently struggling to read is about identical twins. I am on page 250, but if I were to edit the book and take out every single explanation of how the twins looked alike, how no one could tell them apart, how no one could tell which twin was which, how it was like looking at the same person, how it was like looking in the mirror, how they were the same age, how there was no difference between them, those 250 pages would be whittled down to about 100.

So, this is what I’ve learned: you, me, and everyone else who have written a book and tried to get it published have written our second book, the one that will be accepted for publishing after the first one sells. I’ve written three novels (to see the first chapters, click on “My First Chapters” under “links”) but they are all second books. Which isn’t a bad thing. Only by writing can a person learn how to write. I hope to get good enough so that one day I can write my first book, a novel with such a flash of brilliance that it will capture the minds and money of publishers and agents.

Like Andrew Vasch and his series character Burke. In the first novel, Burke was a total loner who lived off the grid. I’m not sure if the book was brilliant, but that character certainly captured my imagination. So I looked forward to the second book, and ho-hum. B-o-o-oring. Burke became like every other series character, only we were supposed to pretend that he was different. Suddenly he had friends galore, everyone knew him, and almost everyone knew where to find him.

See what I mean? Once you’ve established yourself, you can make your own rules. You don’t even have to write well. Your name becomes a brand, and that’s all that counts.

So how do you become a brand? How do you write that first, brilliant novel? Don’t ask me. If I knew, I’d be writing bestselling novels. I certainly wouldn’t be writing this blog.

Scarlett by any other name would have been sweet.

Scarlett O’Hara was originally called Pansy. If Margaret Mitchell had kept that name, would her epic novel ever have become so popular? I doubt it. A Pansy would be sweet and biddable with rare moments of stubbornness, but she could never be as strong-willed as Scarlett, and she would never have caught and kept the attention of such a worldly man as Rhett.

Unlike women characters, men tend not to have exotic names. They usually have common, clipped names, which work well enough in most cases, but what if Rhett had been called Jack or Clint or even Brad? Millions of women would probably still have fallen in love with him, but they certainly would not have found him so intriguing.

Clothes may make the man and woman, but their names (in fiction, anyway) define them.

Though Scarlett fits the name of the character in Gone With the Wind, it could not be the name of a medieval heroine. In those days, almost all girls were named Mary, with Elizabeth coming in a distant second.

I suppose if Gone With the Wind were written in the 1980s, Scarlett’s name would have been Heather. Odd to think that in another forty years, youth will scorn that name as being old-fashioned, fit only for elderly women, much like Effie is today. (I shudder to think how many babies being born right now are being named Britney, Lindsay, or Paris.)

But I digress. The point I’m trying to make is that names matter and should be chosen wisely. A book may not be rejected because of a character’s name, but why take the chance?