Dave Owens: How to Tickle the Muse

Howdy All,

Here, today, we have for your perusal another fine bit o' advice for you to chew on. Dave's the man. Learn his lessons well and you too shall prosper with the words. My only regret is it's not an epistle. Heaven knows I yearn for a good one of those. Ah well, maybe next time. Until then, feast your eyes on...

How To Tickle The Muse
By David Alan Owens

Unless you do the work, the world will never see your vision. -Jocko Willink

Today I wrote and revised for 3 hours. My usual activity for early morning. Not much actual writing today, but I scoured one of my stories in progress. I reset the anticipated plot, rearranged the sequence, researched clothing worn by the characters, pasted the images into my story for future reference, and deleted much of the material already written. I am never satisfied, nor should you be satisfied. When a writer becomes satisfied, he's made his first mistake.

Traits a good writer must pursue with vigor:

Writers must be great observers. We watch people, their actions, the little things about them, how they dress. We wonder whether their clothing fits properly. We store the data in our memories, because somewhere in the future, we know we will need the persons we watch to create memorable characters in our stories.

Does the person limp, walk with the aid of a crutch? Does the person strut the walk of self importance – keep him, you'll need him. Does the woman wriggle her hips when she walks, or is it the tall walk of confidence. The boy on the street. Is one of his front teeth missing? What is the appearance of the child's clothing. Readers will remember the child because of his missing tooth. Anything less than focused observation will cause the writer to write stick figures or cardboard characters.

Appearance and physical traits reinforce the character for the reader's pleasure. The same elements drive “Show Don’t Tell.” Ask yourself this question: “Do I love the character, or did I write them flat?” Love your antagonists as much as your heroes. Know all of your characters – write depth of character, and not poor images copied from movies we've seen. Create original characters. Originality is what sells.

We must become great listeners: To listen, instead of speaking, teaches us many things. We learn dialect nuances, speech patterns, rhythm patterns, oddities – a "lisp" for example, might well be usable in a story. Then we must write the "lisp,” because unlike movies and films, we must convert a characters' vocal traits into written words. Not an easy task, and one of the weaknesses I always find when I edit. No matter what your pursuit, when you listen carefully you learn. Turn your mind into a recording device. Store the information you hear in your memory. When one injects himself into learning, the power of the lesson vanishes. Ask this question when you write dialogue: “Does my dialogue read like real people speak? Do they all speak in the name manner? What variations do I employ to differentiate them from each other?”

Writing is art: The story is the core of our art, but it isn't art. Dynamic characters aren't art. Beautiful scenery isn't art. Plot isn't art, but a road map. The smart writer knows the map is not always the correct map. Why? Because a plot rarely survives the scrutiny of an editor. Create a solid Map and revise it often. Discard if the map doesn't take the reader where it should. Find the treasure, and don't randomly search for alternate routes. Find the true map during revision.

A simple change in a character can disrupt the plot. The process requires delicacy not force. When you force the story, you will always fail. I'm living proof.

 Writing is craft: Writing is also something more. We strive to master the craft, but we are practitioners in a craft for which there are no masters. Great stories require a balance between art and craft, but unless the two merge, the story may flounder. This is the point where edit and revision reside.

I’ve talked with writers who think an edit is revision. Well, sort of, but revision is far more difficult than an edit. Proper revision is a destructive process. Destroy and rebuild.

What is an edit? Edits involve a broad scope of knowledge. Grammar, word choice, and punctuation rule the edit. Some forms of edit involve story only. Line edits probe deep into the words and structure, and revision hovers alongside the editor, but the line edit is not a revision. Complete the laborious spelling and grammar check. Solid inspection is a must. Technical elements. Examine the technical aspects of your writing. Edit without mercy. Edit with vengeance. If you don’t, an agent or publisher will know. Most editors and agent can recognize the quality of a manuscript in just eight lines. Eight lines. Those first few lines tell the agent/editor everything they need to know about your style. Is your style strong, does it help create a great hook, or is it dependent upon common weak techniques copied from other writers?

Revision. Now comes the time to “kill darlings.” In revision everything is “fair game.” In addition to the ever-present editing factors, revision digs deeper. The process is intense. Question everything to make sure the writing, characters, setting, plot, plot structure, grammar and punctuation is the very best you can do. It’s a tough process and consumes much time if you revise properly. Avoid shortcuts. Get it right and you’ll find that elusive “satisfaction” —maybe. Does what you’ve written reveal the true story you intended?

Originality: Vibrant writing holds the reader. Hemingway said, “Motion is not action.” What’s the difference? Sometimes the line that separates the two is narrow.

Examine this sentence:

“I’ll get some,” he said going to the refrigerator, opening the door, taking out a bottle of milk, and opening it.

Everything after “he said” is motion and an awful dialogue tag. Stick with said or asked.

Action version. Notice how word count and interest increases.

“Hey. Get me some milk,” Carol said. “I put a fresh bottle in the fridge yesterday.”
Jack wanted to say, “Get it yourself,” but he changed his mind. Like an obedient servant he went to the refrigerator and opened the door. The pungent odor of rotted vegetables assailed him. “Yuck. When’s the last time you cleaned this thing?”

“Just get the milk and quit your whimpering.”

(Did you notice the second sentence Shows instead of Tells?)

Don’t revise for yourself. Revise for the reader. Always for the reader.
Your first reader may be an agent, editor, or publisher. Your story reflects who you are as a writer.

Don’t skimp—give ‘em a five course meal with dessert. Cheesecake anyone?

-Dave Owens

Dave & the End of a Decade

24 DEC 2019

Howdy all. As year's end is fast approaching, it seems fitting to finish the decade with another wonderful article by Dave. A decade denouement if you will. Sage wisdom and advice he always has in abundance. This time his inspiration comes from the good people over at Writer's Digest. Personally, I take away from this article my own struggle with never being satisfied with my writing, as he mentions just above the anecdote. I'm currently in the throes of battle with a story now light-years ahead of where it was months ago (see what I did there, movie-goers?). In other news, I am of two minds about trying my hand at some poetry, just so I can say my writing has gone from bad to verse... 

Happy Holiday!

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The “Had Horrors” Redux

David Alan Owens

In 1927 Laurence O’Dorsay wrote an article for “The Writer’s Digest Guide to Good Writing.” I rediscovered the article “The Had Horrors,” in November 2019. The 1994 Edition of “Guide To Good Writing,” languished in my attic for fifteen years. I dusted the cover and began to read again this wonderful compilation of WD articles. Fine advice from seventy-five years inspired me again — but I read D’Orsay’s article with a renewed interest.

In D’Orsay’s article (page 25), he wrote about when he, in 1927 found himself at the feet of Gamaliel, one of the most famous fiction magazine editors of the day (I researched but found little about this mysterious Gamaliel, and I am not sure whether D’Orsay referred to the rabbinical legend, or the Jewish teacher of the same name, I think the name is an allusion and honors the editor by comparison to the great Gamaliel).

In those days, editors often took it upon themselves to develop writers. Editors and agents do not today reach out to writers with obvious talent and help those new writers develop into the professionals they might become. The concept demonstrates the writing and publishing world’s decline.

Today the object is money and fame where the self-publishing world cranks out millions, yes millions, of poorly written stories, stories without noticeable merit, and they are filled with nothing but trope and cliché. Fame comes not often, and is a rare event in the self-publishing world. Fame is also rare in traditional publishing.

D’Orsay sat in his office with Gamaliel when a young “editor in training” entered the office and placed a manuscript on the table. The young man voiced his complaints about the story. “Something’s still wrong with it. You’ve sent it back to him five or six times. He’s got a good opening now, and a good finish, but somehow it just doesn’t register. It’s a good story, but he seems to take too long to get to the meat of the thing after his dramatic start.”

Gamaliel peeked into the manuscript and announced, “It’s as plain as day. Snifkins (the author) has a bad attack of the had horrors.”

When questioned about this “disease,” he replied, “Most of them have ‘em young. Just like children with measles, best to have them young. They think they must stop the story for a time and tell the reader what the hero and his heroine and the villain had been doing before the reader ever saw them. Causes the reader to start guessing, right from the beginning. Snifkins leaves ‘em hung up in the air until page four. He starts his puppets working, and then drops the strings while he lectures about their past lives. Look at this damn thing! Hads and had beens scattered all over his pages. He has the makings of a good writer, but we must cure him of his had horrors.”

If a story is strong and contains well-sustained entertainment value, an editor might overlook a few technical flaws, but one thing he will not overlook is a bad attack of the had horrors, Gamaliel observed.

D’Orsay relates how hads are like a stodgy lump of cold greasy fat served when you’ve finished the appetizers. He explains how to solve the mess and produce better work (page 26). “The thing to do with this irreducible minimum of explanatory matter about antecedent happenings is to link it with your moving story. Use action, with dialogue, and with thoughts running through the minds of characters. In this way, you can weave the whole thing into one pattern, connect the past with what is present, and future, and turn the thing into entertainment. Keep the dramatic conflict in the forefront and let your characters solve the eternal problem — what happens and why. The process focuses upon the concept of writing for the reader.”

A true writer is never satisfied with his writing. John Dusfresne, professor in the Master of Fine Arts Writing Program of the English Department of Florida International University said, “Show me a writer who is satisfied with their work, and I’ll show you an amateur.”  

Anecdote

In the same 1994 Writer’s Digest 75^th anniversary issue, this short anecdote appears on page 30:

Fred Kelly, the humorist and author of the dog’s only book of philosophy, You and Your Dog, sat with the famous writer Booth Tarkington, in Tarkington’s Indianapolis home. Tarkington related how discouraged he often became when writing.

“Are you ever conscious right at the time of doing something good,” Kelly asked.

“No,” Tarkington chuckled, “it all seems fairly bad. You know, writing is about the most discouraging job of all. One knows so well what he is trying to express, but all the words aren’t available. This afternoon I tried to write a paragraph or two to describe a scene in northern Africa but the words weren’t available. I tried to write vivid description for my readers, but when I groped for the crystals all I could pick up were a few smeary words — a meaningless mess. Yet all the time I knew the right words were somewhere if I could only find them. It’ll never suit me, I’ll still feel that I could do it better.”

Kelly later said, “When I came away, I thought: So long as he has that attitude toward his work, no wonder it’s good.” (Dufresne’s wisdom)

References: Writer’s Digest Guide To Good Writing.

Copyright © 1994, by Writer’s Digest Books - Edited by Thomas Clark

Library of Congress ISBN 0-89879-640-7

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