Thursday, February 25, 2010

Who Are The Manufacturers Kidding?

Today I fed a friend's baby some babyfood. Having eaten mushed pears and raspberries earlier, she was an unsuspecting victim when I gave her the first bite of Herbed Chicken and Pasta. Her expression and subsequent wails as we continued the meal clearly said, "Why are you trying to force me to eat Weirdly Flavored Chicken Gunk and Pasta Globs?"

It was not fun for either of us.

Personally, I'd eat chocolate cake for every meal if I could get away with it. Alas, that's not possible. I remember my college meals of popsicles and cold cereal. Cooking was not a skill I had acquired at that point in my life, plus my roommates never cleaned up after themselves in the kitchen. After helping them get organized once, I wasn't interested in staying on as their housemaid. Thus the strange uncooked meals.

But I do feel a little bit for those under the age of 18 months who have to eat baby food. You don't even know how to say the word "yuck," and you are totally at the mercy of the adult with the spoon. In my case, I can't quite bring myself to try out Weirdly Flavored Chicken Gunk with Pasta Globs. But I guess in the baby's case, it's a good thing that people don't remember much of what happens to them before the age of three.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Writing Vaccination: Purple Prose (This Won't Hurt a Bit)

Ever heard of purple prose? For a writer, it is a fatal disease, the true way to kill a sale.

Purple prose happens when a writer tries to make his writing sound more writerly by using fancy words. The result is that the reader hits a speed bump in the reading road and is yanked up short because the words draw attention to themselves rather than telling the story.

It ain't pretty.

Words should never get in the way of the story we're trying to tell. This little poem has been attributed to either anonymous or Madelaine L'Engle. (Either she wrote it or quoted it from an anonymous source.) It doesn't really matter who said it first; it's the best medicine for the purple prose bug:

The written word
Should be clean as a bone,
Clear as light,
Firm as stone.
Two words are not
So good as one.

The problem with purple prose is that it is not any of these things. When a writer thinks that he's going to juice up the fancy end of his writing a bit so the can impress a publisher or agent, he's probably got the heinous sin of purple prose in mind. Don't try to sound like a writer. Just tell the story in as clear a way as you can, using your own words, simple may they be.

There's a line I like from the movie, The Rocketeer, that can be applied: "Acting is acting like you're not acting. So act!" That's also true about writing. Writing isn't supposed to sound like you're writing. If the reader feels written to, something is wrong, and it's quite possible your purple prose showing.

The right words are important. As Samuel Clemens said, it's either the lightning or the lightning bug. Take your pick. Purple prose is the lightning bug that needs to be squashed.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

What's New?

And now, time for another gripping episode of What's New?

Still waiting for word from Magination Press, but not expecting any for a couple of weeks or so. It would be great if they take the book, but it won't be the end of the world if they don't. (Please note: the earthquake we felt recently in Illinois didn't happen because I'd gotten word that they didn't take the manuscript, although at 4 a.m. in the morning, you might have been so shaken you would have believed it.)

Been thinking about pirates a lot lately. Not sure why. Just finished reading and taking notes on James Scott Bell's Plot and Structure, and I'm considering how I can use some of his methods to create a better foundation for a story with said pirates. Trying a new method doesn't feel natural yet, but I believe it would produce good results in the long run, so I'm up for trying it out.

My driver's license is about to expire, but they're letting me renew by mail. This is good news, since I tend to be reclusive in some respects. (But yes, Christine, I am going to try to force myself to go to the mall and shop with you very soon. The girls can't wait.)

I need to go to the dentist. This is not earth shattering to anyone but myself. I'm planning on making the fateful call tomorrow. Now that I've told you all, you can hold me accountable. I feel a lot better now that that's off my chest.

Aren't you glad you tuned in?

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Captain's Blog: Tofurkey and Beyond

Stardate: Dinnertime

The Admiral has decreed that we condemn no food without trying it out first, so tonight we're trying tofurkey. As I see by the underlying dotted red line, not even spell check believes it's a real food. Yes, it has come to this. I find myself wondering, did the tofu want to masquerade as a turkey? Did anyone ask the tofu's opinion before dressing it up in giblets and gravy? (Perhaps toblets would be a more appropriate choice.)

Certainly not.

I believe this is a gross violation of the tofu's right to be tofu. In fact, because of the magnitude of such a crime, it's only a matter of time before the tofu police catch up with us all. In fact, I think now would be a perfect time to explore a hostile new planet.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

This is Only a Test

This is a test of your Emergency Cookie System

Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.

This has been a test of your Emergency Cookie System. If this had been a real Cookie Emergency, you would have been informed of where to tune in for more cookie information.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Captain's Blog—Why We Do What We Do

Stardate: Friday

Have you ever wondered why captains go off into uncharted regions to explore where no one has explored before, braving the unknown and darkest recesses of space? It's not fame. It's not the money. It's not the status. It's not even to escape the IRS.

It's paperwork.

I bid you adieu as I begin to grade papers.

Ensign, engage engines.


Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Journal of a Private Eye—Tremors in the Earth

In the early AM hours, the inhabitants of the house snored placidly, their gentle breath going in and out with the practiced ease of travelers through a turnstile. Such innocence. Such trusting. Little did they know what dire twist of plot was heading their way.

Suddenly, a rumbling roar erupted from the bowels of the earth, tossing sound sleepers from their bed. They groped about in the dark, trying to find their cell phones so they could open them for light. The husband was quickly dispatched in pajamas to wade through six inches of snow and secure the perimeter of the house. He returned quickly, none the wiser. (The wife made mental note to remind neighbor to keep dog from using yard as bathroom.)

All was quiet.

Had it been a sonic boom? Had a tree fallen on the house? Had the gas company finally discovered that pesky leak a few blocks over?

None of the above.

Earthquake. Pure and simple as the new fallen snow that carpeted the eerie winter night's landscape. Wakeful, the family waited for something more to happen until it did...

Zzzzzzzzzz