Maggie West

Writing is Hard Work

"Hard writing makes easy reading. Easy writing makes hard reading."

"Clutter is the disease of American writing. We are a society strangling in unnecessary words, circular constructions, pompous frills, and meaningless jargon."

"There's no sentence that's too short in the eyes of God."

    ~ Quotes by William Zinsser

 

Jeff has always said, "Being a writer is hard work – being a good writer is a lifetime of hard work," to which I'd sigh, shrug my shoulders, and bury my nose – once again – in my keyboard. Many months ago, I thought "How could something I love doing be this difficult?" Hard work? "Bah, humbug." As I continued to learn how to write, however, (and merely on an adequate level, mind you) I realized that truer words had never been spoken.

It is hard work.

As I compare the sentences I write to the ones Jeff edits, the difference is astounding. His sentences are clearer, shorter, easier to read, and "pack more punch." It's rather amazing.

I have often heard the tales of Dr. England's "red pen of death" from his college days. They're similar to horror stories – minus the monsters and evil demons. The meticulous way his papers were graded and the constructive criticism he received were a foundation of sorts for his writing. I must note, however, that the first time Jeff met England's pen this is what he read, "I like your rhetoric" and that they grew to admire each other's qualities and accomplishments – they became great friends.

I surmise – after reading a very small selection of his earlier work – that his talent to turn a phrase was born long ago, however. The Literature and Composition courses merely honed an ability that he already possessed. At least, that's the way I see it: And perhaps, Dr. England saw this as well, which is why he wrote "I never want to see this kind of work from you again" in red – once – on one of Jeff's papers.

And this product of Celtic/Anglo-Norman ancestry with his extensive and exuberant knack for words has been my teacher…

But it's far from the "Yellow brick road" I assumed it would be. It's more like the dark forest, in which the winged monkeys fly up my ass and strip me of my "straw."

To my mind, Dr. England's red pen doesn't hold a candle to Jeff's expressions of displeasure: "You are no longer allowed to use split infinitives or the passive voice – under any circumstances. Both have their uses, but in your case, they're just habits. And it's never appropriate to dangle participles or mix tenses. That shit's just wrong." One may conclude that I have done all of the above, by now – and often. And he or she would be one hundred percent accurate.

But that's neither here nor there…

During my quest for writing knowledge, Jeff accompanies me to many local used book sales. The treasure trove that awaits us at each one is extraordinary: Dictionaries, thesauruses, do-it-yourself books, and table after table of history – old and new.

One wonders why such resources aren't treasured. Why are there rows upon rows of these neglected prizes? But here they are for a pittance. We're like two kids in a candy store: $1.00 for that one, $2.00 for this one, and fifty cents for…no way. Fifty cents! Jeff and I comb the tables for hours for such bargains. By the end of the day, we feel as if we've stolen thousands of dollars worth in artifacts.

Just call us the "Bookstore Bandits."

On our last used book excursion, Jeff found William Zinsser's Writing Well.

As he read it, I heard laughter, many "ah-has," and "Honey, this guy really knows his shit." He reached a stopping point and laid it aside. I picked it up and began to read. I couldn't put it down. I've since read it cover- to-cover – twice.

One thing that fascinates me about Zinsser's teachings is their "to the point" nature – he's very blunt. So much so; he writes as Jeff speaks.

In the preface of his book, he states, "My purpose is not to teach good nonfiction, or good journalism, but to teach good English that can be put to those uses. Don't assume that bad English can still be good journalism. It can't."

And in Chapter Three he writes this about clutter:

"I might add," "It should be pointed out," "It is interesting to note that," – how many sentences begin with these dreary clauses announcing what the writer is going to do next? If you might add, add it. If it should be pointed out, point it out. If it is interesting to note, make it interesting…

…Clutter takes more forms than you can shake a stick at. Prune it ruthlessly. Be grateful for everything that you can throw away.

How is it possible that this book's asking price was a mere dollar?

And yet, the information found in its 142 pages is priceless. No good writer should be without one – no writer, period.

So, now this piece of brilliant writing advice sits on my desk along with the other writing references mentioned on my website. And here it will stay (Well, until Jeff comes to reclaim it for a spell).

Perhaps what I am about say has come to pass in part due to Zinsser's instruction, or it's more likely that Jeff's coaching has finally sunk in and Zinsser's book drove the nail home. But for the last week I have written my pieces with a clearer mind and a "steadier" hand.

How do I know?

Because the man who writes better than anyone I've ever known, the man who turns a phrase as easily as taking a breath, the man who makes the English language sparkle in every sentence he writes told me so. And he doesn't hand out compliments unless they're warranted.

Hence, my hopes for the days that follow are that I continue to grow – to gain knowledge – as a writer for the rest of my days and that the smile I saw on Jeff's face when he read my work shines often.

My Conrad, My Eliot

To my mind, Jeff is as close to a perfectionist as one will ever meet.

And for the record, he will emphatically object to the term I have used, and shoot me a questioning stare or two.

But…

Since I've known him, there isn't an idea, project, or thought that has come to mind, from most who have been in our presence, that he could not contribute to, set an argument against, or resolve with his above-average intelligence. He recognizes facts, figures, and/or circumstances and situations, which may not readily come to the average mind.

He exudes the propensity for setting extremely high standards that the above term's definition describes, and is also often displeased with anything less.

This verity brings me to my writing.

As my editor, he reads nearly all my pieces. More often than not, he will object to any portions of the material that leave him perplexed – as in my last post.

"I agree with that quote," he grouses as he points at the computer screen.

This indicates, to me, that a question has surfaced, in his mind, regarding the rest of the passage. He is not reading the meaning I hope to convey.

To which, I blurt out what I meant to say in the seven sentences that "yank his chain." Oh, how he despises this type of interjection.

"One must write so the reader understands what one means."

In other words: Write exactly what is meant; and mean exactly what is written.

What he doesn't realize is that in all the years I have attempted my hand at writing, no one has ever cared about any content – any article. Whether I could write or not made no difference.

I was alone – very alone.

When Jeff disagrees with me, it makes me think – really think. He becomes the audience, and therefore, sees my writing from an outside perspective. I may not like everything he says, but everything he says makes sense.

His conjectures, corrections, findings, and thoughts on any piece I write bring a "new light" to the subject at hand. From there, I can correct, insert, or further explain certain conditions and issues. How many writers are given such a gift?

Not many, I suppose.

Most editors have tunnel vision. They learn their trade mostly from the company that employs them, others are wannabe writers, and the rest can barely write in proper English.

What amazes me the most about Jeff is that he has "heart." Writing is a passion, not a chore. He revels in every word, every sentence, and every story he writes. He takes his readers out of their comfort zones and transports them to whatever time and place he's chosen. It is an art that is lost in today's journalism: An art that one must "unearth" from the annals of history: From authors who lived "once upon a time."

My Conrad, my Eliot is a desk away.

Too surreal for the average reader to comprehend?

As one of Jeff's readers, I can state, with absolute certainty, that his writings mirror many of the great authors from the past. He has a gift: The likes of which I rarely see.

But all of this has nothing to do with what I set out to say.

It is merely an attempt to describe the "masterpiece" I have in my possession for the reader: An "artifact" that I stumbled upon in the dark. During a time that I was blinded by fate, inspired by hope, and leery to proceed, this work of art was discovered in Georgia: A very unlikely place for one who lived in North Carolina and rarely traveled beyond its borders.

How it landed at my feet is anyone's guess.

But, it has.

And I now know that Jeff has given me what no other person ever has, or probably ever could.

He sits by my side, day in and day out, through many adventures – good and bad. And to me, there is no greater adventure than sharing one's passions, one's desires, and one's future with that special someone: A pure love – the truest of all emotions. Hence, there is no greater love than the one that follows the path each of us has chosen, regardless of the outcome: No hesitations, no reservations – just blind faith and unfaltering devotion.

Who can ask for more?

Not I.

I have my dreams. I have my quests. I have my love. I have Jeff.

I am no longer alone.

Green Hell, Romance, & Writing ~ Part One

Jeff’s otherwise sharp senses may miss the romantic side of most situations, nevertheless, an overwhelming number of other traits make up for Cupid’s bad aim (Hmmm…perhaps, Jeff cautioned him, long ago, about his target practice). Plus, he has plenty of charisma. Hell, he got my attention.

Normally, a female – namely me – may be a tad disappointed when the evening fare is not presented in a cozy, little candle-lit dinner atmosphere (Jeff loves to cook, though. I don’t). Occasionally, a woman – namely me, again – will find that getting a good morning kiss can be as hard as pulling teeth. And perhaps, getting a man to word his sentences in a more adoring manner have her gritting her teeth – often. It could just be me again, but this practice is as foreign to Jeff as filling a beer mug with water.

One may be tempted at this point to yell out, “Kick his carcass to the road, then, dearie.”

Alas, as I said, there is more to this redheaded, Scots-Irish, intermittently romantic, too-smart-for-his-own-britches male than meets the eye.

Jeff may not be the touchy-feely type. However, he passionately confronts every element that makes up his day – good or bad. I’ve never known anyone with such fervor for life.

He is deeply dedicated to work, family, and friends.

As a master of the middle ground, Jeff takes the act of compromise to a new level. He’ll often say:

“I’ll admit to this if you admit to that.”

“I’ll listen and try to understand as long as you do the same.”

“I’ll go here as long as you go there.”

Additionally, Jeff is more willing to concede than any other man I’ve met. If he’s wrong, he’ll say so.

His social graces may need a little refining. After all, one doesn’t normally try to moon passers-by or the occasional jogger; snarl at cashiers; or even proffer the middle finger as a customary reply. On the other hand, he’s very familiar with political correctness and what is or what is not publicly appropriate. So, one should not take an act of inappropriateness to mean anything other than “he’s a rebel and he never, ever does what he should,” as the Ronettes sang.

Although Jeff rants incessantly about one thing after another, his smile is extremely contagious, his laugh addicting – and through each mood swing – the facial expressions are quite entertaining – dare I say, priceless.

Perhaps, a more concise description is; my better half is articulate, profound, humorous, gloomy, moody, loving, devoted, respectful, neurotic, passionate (obsessive at times), and extremely intelligent.

Among Jeff’s many talents (That have been mentioned a time or two – in other words – a hell of a lot.), he is a voracious reader and prolific writer. After knowing him for nearly a year, I am amazed at how well versed he is in all the “rules of engagement” when it comes to writing. Because of this, Jeff can and does break every frickin’ one of ’em when the mood strikes him.

I realize that although I am fortunate enough to have been published by a few newspapers and magazines, this does not mean I have mastered the written word: Far from it, actually. My small successes can be attributed to having been in the “right place at the right time,” or perhaps to the patience of a few very good editors, and their willingness to accept imperfection.Whatever the reasons, my work was included in their publications regardless of its shortcomings.

Through watching Jeff “at work” this past year, I know – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that “the bar” was definitely lowered in my case.

The quality of my writing is nowhere near what it should be – what it could be.

No one has ever taken an interest in showing me “the ropes,” until now. What I have learned from Jeff, in the short amount of time we have been together, is priceless. Watching him turn a phrase, spin a tale, or edit another writer’s piece has provided me a wealth of information: Information that would have taken me years to learn otherwise.

His guidance on my sentence structure and word usage is immeasurably valuable.

“Maggie! You used a split infinitive – again.”

“It’s ‘on’ not ‘in,’ on a rock, in a tree.”

“Clouds are not venomous. They can be toxic or poisonous – not venomous.”

My playfulness during such lessons, at times, must surely be frustrating. Hopefully, for the most part, Jeff sees the admiring student with a willingness to learn and overlooks my levity during these much-needed periods of instruction.

I am not the easiest of pupils, as the nuns at St. Benedict’s could attest through clenched teeth, and with pained grimaces. More often than not, I could be found antagonizing the kid at an adjacent desk, mimicking the nun’s habits (no pun intended), or sitting in Mother Superior’s office for my less-than-serious attitude towards schooling.

Later in high school, the Parks and Recreation Department saw more of me than did any teacher. An absenteeism record of ninety-six in one class clearly demonstrates my deficiency in adhering to school policy. Add to that the exorbitant amount of time spent in the Principal’s office and my insubordination in class.

My poor mother, it seems, spent as much time in high school as I did – posting my “bond” with a little one-on-one with the school counselor and then carting my ass home.

One would think that by the time I entered college, matters, such as they were, would have calmed down a bit. Not exactly. The grueling task of listening to many a professor’s error-laden gibberish in lecture halls became a twisted To Tell The Truth game: With my instructor as the sole contestant. On many occasions, I would assert my objections to the material being covered by raising a No.2 pencil and saying, “Excuse me.”

I was excused, all right – repeatedly – right out the front door.

Impertinently asking:

“Have you ever read…?”
“Have you ever studied…?”

“…And what sources have you used to support this claim?”

This did not make me the most popular student on campus: At least, not to the faculty members. Word of my antics, however, traveled among the student body and I was soon dubbed “No.2.”

One can see, then, that Jeff will surely need the patience of a saint (or a giant sledgehammer) during our writing sessions. He has continually pointed out the errors in my work. But in so doing, he has single-handedly increased its quality.

To be sure, I have a long way to go. But, I look forward to the journey.

One may say, “Why even bother. I know enough about writing. Who needs to be that perfect? Others understand what I say, so there’s no need to improve upon it.”

For me, the difference is comparable to the contrast between a breeze and a gale-force wind. Others may merely read a writer’s work and gain nothing from its content; no reflection, no insight, no thinking attached to it at all. Or a reader can be stirred – even greatly moved – by the proper choice of words and the way in which they are structured.

By slaughtering the English language, we do a great injustice to whatever we write.

I believe a true writer takes constructive criticism to heart. He or she uses this scrutiny as one would use the rungs on a ladder: To reach an ultimate goal – attempting to perfect his art.

In our case, Jeff and I have also found a type of psychotherapy in this instructor-student relationship. As Jeff reads what I write, he’s better able to comprehend my thoughts, my views, even my values. To put a finer point on it, he’s able to comprehend the female side of my makeup -- to my chagrin, a side that exists, however hard I try to rid myself of it.

We talk and listen to one another during these writing lessons; during which life’s frustrations seem to vanish. With one paragraph, we are able to wipe away both misinterpreted acts and harsh words.

Crazy, huh?

Should any of my readers presume that our relationship is based solely on our ability to discuss our writing objectively, or that I am merely using him as one of the “tools of the trade” – think again.

Our relationship is the epitome of “give and take” and neither of us keeps score. Whatever talents, money, or material possessions I own or have, they are Jeff’s for the taking – I give them freely. And since the day we met it has been this way for him as well.

Each day finds us hand-in-hand, side-by-side. Each night is filled with fond thoughts of our days together and…well, never mind.

Let us move forward…

As I learn the “ins and outs” of English, speaking, and writing from this mild-mannered “super” man/swearblogger, I plan to include the material on my website under a new category entitled, Writing Lessons From Green Hell.

My way of relating this instruction, for the most part, may consist of a “blowing off steam” or an “off the cuff” approach, rather than the more academic style my better half employs. Regardless, it may assist others in eliminating some of the poor practices found in their text.

For now, let me just say that a really good dictionary is a necessity. It is the first item Jeff acquired for me. We had to go to a used bookstore to procure one ($8.00/used); the new-fangled dictionaries sold at mainstream bookstores won’t do -- they are too concise and do not include many of the features the older dictionaries considered essential:

The Indo-European origin of English

Good usage, bad usage, and usage in general

Dialects of English

Not to mention:

Inflected forms of the word

Principal parts of verbs – including regular or irregular

Labels – slang, vulgar, obsolete, archaic, poetic, regional, etc.

Variants

Idioms

These are but a few of the benefits of having one.

Next, one should consider getting a good thesaurus. Mine is Roget’s International Thesaurus, which has had thirty-two printings, going as far back as 1911 ($6.00/used). It includes words in Latin, colloquial examples, and rarely used synonyms. One can find myriad synonyms for a single word in this treasure-trove Jeff unearthed for me.

Finally, but only as far as this post is concerned, go out – this very day – and purchase a copy of Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style ($9.95/new). One should not be writing without it. I find myself constantly referencing its content.

A few of the “gems” found within it include:

Correctly forming possessive singular of nouns

The use of commas, colons, semi-colons, and the like

Proper case pronouns

Using the active voice

Words and expressions commonly misused

Elementary principles of composition

Hopefully then – by purchasing the aforementioned – when next I attempt to explain the practical application of the advice I receive from Green Hell, one can recognize what I’m talking about.

As Jeff scolds me for the misuse of:

Weak verbs, strong verbs; connotation, denotation; or too much colloquial sentencing, it will make far more sense to the reader if he or she understands what these are and how to apply them correctly when structuring a sentence.

When I hear:

“Remember, simple sentence structure, my dear.”
”Make every word count. Let every word do justice to your thoughts.”

Get ready.

It will be included in future articles.

But, make no mistakes about what is read on this website.

Understand that Jeff does all that I have mentioned for one simple reason – he cares. He cares about me – about my dream(s).

No matter what one may think, at times – about him or me – this is the most unselfish act I have ever witnessed.

So, even when I write things like:

“Damn. He pisses me off.”

Or

“Yesterday, Jeff farted in my general direction and then he amusingly appended with ‘What’s wrong with you? Can you not hear my Scotland The Brave serenade? I was humming and farting it for you. You wanted romance.’”

Or

“I feel like using a hot poker the next time he rolls his eyes at a comment.”

Or

“What possesses him to howl at the moon, run naked down the driveway, or insanely grin and stare at unsuspecting motorists?”

It is all written with affection – undying devotion.

Jeff loves me. I love him. This has not changed. Nor will it, if I have anything to say about the matter.

That’s enough romance for me.