“We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled.
The trick is knowing how to tip ourselves over
And let the Beautiful Stuff out.” — Ray Bradbury
I walked into the Octopus Lounge not long ago and there, at the door was a very young man carding everyone before he stamped their hands and allowed them into the inner sanctum. I paused in front of him and I smiled. So did he.
I waited for him to ask me for my Driver’s License. I smiled again. He stamped my hand. “Don’t you want to see my ID?” I asked.
The secret to writing an accurate description is to be as specific and detailed as you possibly can so that you put exactly what is in your mind into your reader’s head. Most writers rely on adjectives and adverbs to flesh out their verbal pictures. The paradox is that useful as these parts of speech are to describe, qualify or emphasize a thought or paint a picture to your reader, their presence in a sentence all too often weakens your line of thought. It is far more effective to use short, direct sentences with specific nouns and forceful verbs to do the job.
I hang on to things. If I like something I insist on more and more and more of something and nobody can stop me from accumulating whatever it is that hooks me.
And I fear I stand alone. It has been said by too many writers too many times that the relationship of an editor to author is knife to throat, but I disagree. I have been writing for magazines and newspapers for well over 47 years and although I often chafed at what some editors did to my copy, I was always grateful for what they pointed out about my text.
When I write, I try to do more than slam arbitrary words together. I compose careful sentences and group them into musical phrases that reflect what I am trying to feel about what I am saying. My paragraphs are my own a cappella songs. Anyone can write a series of facts and connect them with transitions to make a point. Anyone can write a logical presentation that takes a premise and builds to a conclusion. I want to do so much more than that. I want my words to inspire you, to move you to tears or shock you with their clarity.
My sister telephoned me many years ago and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Writing stories no one reads,” I answered.
She was amazed. Why would I work so hard on such a thankless task? She didn’t realize that I figure out life by putting it on paper. That is how I understand the meaningless, hurtful things that I cannot control and the marvelous gifts that fall in my lap. Someone asked me “Why do you write?” and I answered, “Why do you breathe?”
