Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Teaching Truth


Lucy is seven. Tonight at dinner she told her three little sisters, "There was a shooting in Arizona." "What's a shooting?" asked Chelsea. Lucy explained, "It's when somebody just kills people. This crazy guy shot a little nine-year-old girl at the grocery store." "How do you know?" I asked. "I learned it at school."

How do you protect kids from the truth? You can't. It's sad to me that the ugly truths can be taught at school to the littlest learners, but the beautiful truths can't be.

"The ability to know right from wrong is based on the truth that there is a right and a wrong, a universal standard of ethics that applies to everyone everywhere. One reason for today's decline in moral values is that the world has invented a new, constantly changing, undependable standard of moral conduct.

"Now individuals consider 'good' and 'evil' adjustable according to each situation. Some wrongly believe there is no divine law, so there is no sin. The world has to come back to the basics of divine virtues that have been taught since the times of the ancient prophets."
—Dieter Uchtdorf (Utah Valley University, Oct 28, 2008)

Here's a truth I'm glad Lucy already knows:

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Blog Blurb

What I did in 1980

The seven-year old pushed the cart full of food, I pushed the cart full of kids and the nine-year-old pushed the stroller. An old friend rounded the end of the aisle and we stopped to catch up. "What do you do now?" he asked, as I grabbed random boxes of cereal being taste-tested and then restocked on the shelves. "I'm just a mom," I said. "Oh, so you don't work?" he said.

All the way home I simmered. "Of course I work! He doesn't have a clue . . ." I was boiling now. "Oooo, I'd like to tell him what I do . . ."

Life as a non-working mom

Actually, I'd had my chance but I'd sold myself short. What I needed was a blurb: "I'm a professional mother," would have shown pride in my career choice, and said I took it seriously.

Kids grown and flown, I needed a new blurb. "Just a wannabe writer" I murmured when asked— wimpy. Finally one day I said with authority, "I'm a writer." "What do you write?" "A blog," I whispered. A few days later somebody asked, "What's your blog about?"

How could I explain that? I didn't know from day to day what it would be about. Time to create a blurb for TravelinOma: A collage of things I've learned and things I'm learning.

A blurb is a short statement or a slogan that condenses a message into a few words (like an elevator speech.) Think of an answer you'd like to have ready. Write out the message in a paragraph. Then shorten it to 100 words. Edit it down to 25 words, and now make it 10 words or less. Here's an example.

"What's your book about?" I need to be prepared with a blurb that's adaptable in length. See what you think.

A frontier woman sacrifices her innocence to raise her son. (10 words)

-or-

Son of a Gun, the story of Ruby who gave up her innocence to raise her son, and Leo, the man who discovered the truth. (25 words)

-or-

Ruby had always planned to tell JJ the truth about his father, and the truth about herself, but as the years went by it was easier to let him think he knew the truth. Besides, she’d never actually lied to him, although the lie was there, every time she said his name. Son of a Gun is the story of Jack Smith, a Texas cowboy, and Ruby, the beautiful farm girl who gave up her innocence to raise their son. And Leo, the man who discovered the truth about all of them. (92 words)

-The Original-

JJ is the illegitimate son of Ruby, being raised by his step-father, Leo. Sacrificing her innocence to raise her son, Ruby took work in a saloon owned by Sam where she met a decent rancher who fell in love with her. They combined families and Leo took her to his large Texas ranch. Together they raised two sons, in spite of the hatred Sam shows Ruby for leaving his saloon as a dancing girl. JJ recognizes early his skill with a gun, and begins to put together rumors he's heard. Could he be the son of the greatest gun fighter in the state? The story centers around JJ discovering who his real father is, and deciding whether he would prefer a father set in the ways of peace, hard-work and family; or a father, who rides, gambles, fights and kills for a living. Conflict and challenges complicate his search for his father, including gunfights, a cricket scourge, a death and a devastating fire.


Now it's your turn:
What's your blog about? Answer in ten words or less.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Tweaking Twain


"The difference between the almost right word and the right word
is the difference between a lightning bug and lightning."
—Mark Twain

Mark Twain once wrote about an explosion. A man asked, "Anybody hurt?" Another replied, "Nope. Killed two niggers, though." Twain used the offensive word deliberately, let it roll off the tongue of his racist character like it did the tongues of real people, to slap us in the face. Mark Twain was not a bigot, but through his characters he showed us the ugly reality of racism.

My little brother and I once found a dead bird in our grandma's yard. After wrapping it in a handkerchief and tucking it in a shoebox, we buried it in the orchard with a funeral, song, prayer—the works. A few days later we decided to see if it had been resurrected, so we dug it up and peeked into the casket. Hundreds of white, squirmy maggots were feasting on the tiny body. "Don't look!" Tommy screamed, but a glimpse of reality stayed with me. It was repulsive, but I needed to see it—I needed to know.

Alan Gribben, a Twain scholar, reminds me of my brother. "Don't look!" he seems to say with his new editions of Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer. Tweaking Twain, he is replacing the N-word with "slave" in an effort not to offend readers.

Dagney Velazquez wrote this on her blog today:
"Is it an offensive word? Absolutely. Is it demeaning to an entire race of people? No doubt. Does it need to be completely purged from our current vocabulary? Certainly. Should we pretend like it never happened? No.

"Twain didn’t write fairy tales. And though the protagonists in these books are children, they are not children’s books. He wrote about and for the times, often using humor as the medium for his cutting criticisms of society, a society deeply entrenched in racism, who used words like “nigger” because a majority of them believed that black people were inferior human beings. To turn our eyes from this reality, to pretend it didn’t happen, is to doom us to ignorance, stagnation, and repetition."

Should an author use the ugly words? Should they be spelled out when quoted, as I did above, or referred to by an initial that makes everybody think it anyway? While writing Son of a Gun, I wondered whether to use a rough vocabulary or one I'd let my grandkids read. Research showed that many 19th century swear words are pretty tame today: blazes, boot-licker, dickens, dratted, strumpet, tarnation. Current favorites often meant something completely different in the olden days, so I avoided them by being historically accurate.

It remains a question for the book I'm writing now. I don't swear or take the Lord's name in vain, but should all my characters talk like a middle-aged, 21st Century, Mormon grandma from Salt Lake City? Or should they talk like a Texas cowboy, a Hungarian count, or a dam builder? (did I spell that right?)

Dagney wrote a conclusion I totally agree with:

"If, 100 years from now, someone were to republish my writing and change all the little parts they found offensive, I would rise up out of my grave and knock them over the head. Assuming that Mark Twain was no less spirited than I, let’s not risk it."



Now it's your turn:

You're forty pages into a book and you throw it down in disgust. Is it because of swearing, murder, slavery, war? Was the topic too G-rated? Too R? Did you want more love and less lust, or just the opposite? Was the prison too gritty, the hero too studly or the villain too tame? What do you find offensive in a book? Please leave your critique in your comment!

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Details: The Cure For Stuffy Writing

A Bad Case of Stripes
by
David Shannon


"You make me sick!" Clara told me one day. We'd been sitting at the computer together when I noticed her incredible stamina and vigor. Since I don't believe in perfect people, I used the germs on my fingertips to give her strep throat. Tap, tap, tap—my typing gave her chills!

Clara lives in a book I'm writing. Nausea came on, fever and dysentery—that's what they called diarrhea in 1929—so she consulted a doctor. He prescribed an ice bag for her stomach, together with a salt water gargle and horehound tea for her throat. Alice, her teenage daughter and traveling companion, was instructed to bathe her limbs with vinegar.

Several days later, Clara's ear became infected; the doctor put her in the hospital and drained the pus with a syringe every few hours. A private room with a bath at the American Hospital of Paris (Boulevard Victor Hugo) was $17 in October, 1929. She was there for three weeks before a surgery that left her deaf in one ear, but relieved her pain and saved her life.

These are minor details in Clara's fictional story—she was in Europe searching for her husband's killer—but the details are accurate. If she'd been treated with penicillin, her strep throat would have been minor, too, but inaccurate. "This book is making me sick!" you'd say. "Antibiotics weren't even invented until 1945." However, readers will follow nuggets of truth into an author's imagination.

Clara's husband Max (who we know was murdered) supposedly died of an insulin overdose in Moscow. Diabetics know that before 1922, diabetes really was a death sentence. The discovery of insulin changed people's lives overnight. By the time we meet Max in 1929, he could give himself insulin shots using a needle he sharpened weekly on a pumice stone and sterilized daily in boiling water. Dosage was determined by the color of his urine. Because I want readers to buy into the fiction of Max spying on Stalin, I'm lacing it with these facts, which are also clues to the mystery.

Is your writing making anybody sick? Make sure you check with Dr. Google before your World War II nurse takes her Prozac. It wasn't invented until 1987. In the 1950's her doc may have prescribed electric shock therapy and diagnosed her as neurotic—now that's depressing.

Readers lose confidence in an author who misuses historical facts. We can't put the Civil War in the 1840's or Pearl Harbor in 1931, even if we're writing fiction. A blogger who quotes JFK as saying "We have nothing to fear but fear itself" will lose credibility from readers who know and love FDR. (Details, details.)

Don't let all this give you a headache. Pick a topic you're interested in, plug it into your book, and head for the library. Research is a prescription for gripping writing. (Hey, did you know grippe is an old-fashioned word for the flu? I gotta look that up!)

Now it's your turn.

Do you know an old-fashioned remedy? I'll start you off: Spit on a mosquito bite to make it stop itching. Please leave your cure in the comments.





Wednesday, January 5, 2011

What Smells?


Oh, good! You found us! Did you follow the aroma of the ginger cookies? Have one, and there's some spiced cider on the stove. I thought of holding the Write Stuff Workshops in the old library, but one room was musty and the other had the tang of Pine Sol. Besides, this setting is cozier. Don't you love the pine cones sizzling in the fireplace? Get comfy and we'll start.

Once, when we were selling our house, the Realtor told me the first thing people notice is how a place smells. He suggested having a package of Rhodes frozen rolls on hand. Whenever he called, I popped one in the oven to fill the kitchen with the aroma of fresh baked bread. Instinctively folks felt warm and welcome, happy memories triggered by the scent.

Writing for all five senses makes a scene come alive. I wrote this paragraph for a family history called Bagley Beginnings.

Plague victims were hauled outside the walls of the city like garbage, heaped next to piles of spoiled cabbages, and sheep carcasses. Small brown pigs (that had started off pink) were rutting around a stagnant pond, while men took barrels from the back of a cart and sloshed lumpy contents into the putrid slime. Unwashed clothes clung to their sweaty bodies, and they exhaled breath of rotting teeth and garlic chewed to ward off the disease.

This is an example of show don't tell. With vivid words, readers can tour the setting for themselves, which is much more fun than hearing a narrator tell about his trip to medieval England. Wouldn't you rather visit than just hear about it?

An odor can be pleasing or repulsive. What are some words that evoke familiar smells for you? I'll start the list: week-old gym socks, a dead skunk, pink Baby Magic lotion.

Now it's your turn: In your writing, remember The nose knows. And please leave something smelly in a comment!

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

New Scenery

Carl Larsson

If you came in through the front door, you might be wondering where you are!

Are you one of my back door Blogger or Facebook friends? Make sure you go around to my blog address and check out the remodeling. (Fab new blog decor by my daughter Amy.) I just have to hang the curtains and my workshop will begin.

Tomorrow's post will be about Setting the Scene.


Monday, January 3, 2011

Under Construction





Oh, sorry! I didn't expect you so soon!
But hey . . . you can help.



I have to build this platform.



My publisher (doesn't that sound so dang cool?) says that an author needs to construct a platform to launch a new novel. Supposedly when Son of a Gun comes out next summer, readers will flock to my website to find out all the ins and outs of how I wrote my book.

You know better than anyone that I'm no expert, but now that I've started novel number two, I realize how much writing stuff I learned last year. Here, sit down and let me tell you what I've been thinking.


Remember my School Days Seminar a year or so ago? For twelve weeks I wrote a daily post with homework for everyone to do on their own blog, which I promised to check. It got a little crazy because so many people joined in, and I was giving prizes and diplomas for participation. I had a notebook to keep track of assignments, comments and lesson plans, plus I was reading over a hundred blogs every day—it was like I had a full time job. But it was SO FUN!


So I've decided to do something similar: it's called The Write Stuff Workshop. I know I tend to get a little carried away with my plans, so I'm not going to tell you all of them. (That way, if I start getting overwhelmed, I can cut back and you won't even know.)


The workshops are designed to inspire and improve storytelling through fiction, memoir, blogging or biography. Because you're all writers or readers (or both) I'm hoping you'll join in with comments and links. There will be some prizes and giveaways, interviews, book reviews, guest posts...


My platform will be better than my book!























Saturday, January 1, 2011

Wisdom for a New Year


"Quite often we look at a task and think there is no way we can do what needs to be done.
That happens because we look at ourselves when we should be looking at God."
—Joyce Meyer

Friday, December 31, 2010

New Year's Goal


"I dare you, while there is still time, to have a magnificent obsession."
--William Danforth


Thursday, December 30, 2010

What do you want to have happen?


"In a world where there is so much to be done,
I feel strongly impressed that there must be something for me to do."
—Dorothea Dix


Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Planning Ahead


"The question is not can you make a difference?
You already do make a difference.
It's just a matter of what kind of difference you want to make."
---Julia Butterfly Hill

Monday, December 27, 2010

Happiness Project


Now and then it's good to pause in our pursuit of happiness and just be happy.


Sunday, December 26, 2010

Part of the Gift: Day after Christmas

Art by Eloise Wilkin

An African child listened carefully as her teacher explained why Christians give presents on Christmas Day. "The gift is an expression of our joy over the birth of Jesus and our love for each other," she said.

When Christmas day came, the little girl brought the teacher a seashell of lustrous beauty. "Where did you find such a beautiful shell?" the teacher asked. The child told her that there was only one spot where such extraordinary shells could be found. When she named the place, a certain bay several miles away, the teacher was speechless. "Why, it’s gorgeous . . . wonderful, but you shouldn’t have walked that long distance for a gift for me." Her eyes brightening, the girl answered, "Long walk part of gift."

When you look at the living room today, and wonder why you worked so many weeks for an event that lasted only one day, remind yourself: "Long walk part of gift."

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Merry Christmas!


Did he come yet?

Wow! That was fast.



He's already in my rear-view mirror.

Hope your Christmas is merry and bright!