Peck Out Her Eyes, She Deserves It!

Vindictiveness in Fiction

'Just Desserts,' by Paulina Smit. Creative Commons.

‘Just Desserts,’ by Paulina Smit. Creative Commons.

Some versions of Cinderella end with her ordering her bird-friends to peck out her stepsisters’ eyes. Yes, the sweet, lovely Cinderella whom we all heard about as a kid – though clearly not the Disney version. Apparently she decided to take revenge and punish her sisters by blinding them in the most gruesome way she could think of. Or, in other versions of the story, exiling them to the wilderness, or forcing them to be slaves.

 I always preferred the endings where she invites her stepsisters and stepmother to live in the castle instead, and teaches them how to be gracious. After all, Cinderella is supposed to be better than them, and if she resorts to petty vindictiveness to punish them, how is she better than her stepsisters, who mistreated her because she was prettier than them?

 I always wanted to think if anyone could be outstandingly forgiving, it was Cinderella. And I always wanted to think the stepsisters learned to be better people after what happened. Maybe I’m just an optimist about humanity.

 But, strangely enough, vindictiveness is a strong theme in many works of fiction. I mean, take The Count of Monte Cristo. This is a book completely centred around a man taking revenge, it is regarded as a true classic, and its plot keeps getting used by many other works (the movie, The Mask of Zorro, for instance, and Charade, an actual Christian inspirational fiction book that uses the same plot).

 In the book, the Count of Monte Cristo takes great pleasure in revenge. He manipulates a man’s wife to commit suicide and take her son with her as well, driving the man insane. Then he destitutes another man, and causes a third to commit suicide. Of course, the point of the book is that they all deserved it, but still…

 Clearly, punishing people who were mean to you is attractive to most readers, and I’m not really surprised this natural human reaction is so popular. Everyone likes to see someone get their comeuppance. I am surprised that I don’t enjoy it. Like I said before, I like the versions of Cinderella where she doesn’t punish her stepsisters, and the parts of The Count of Monte Cristo where he relents instead of taking revenge. But this quirk of mine ends up interfering with my enjoyment of other classics as well.

 Take Roald Dahl. Everyone loves Roald Dahl! Everyone’s read at least a dozen of his books in their childhood – Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, James and the Giant Peach, Matilda, etc. So I read them too, and they confused me like crazy. As a kid, I couldn’t figure out if I was supposed to laugh or feel bad (I actually felt bad) when James’ aunts get flattened by the giant peach, or Veruca Salt gets carried away by squirrels.

 So while I knew these books were wonderfully creative and inventive – no one’s written about being inside a chocolate factory before! And definitely not a chocolate factory that was so fun – I couldn’t get past feeling uncomfortable with them. In this case, I never particularly felt that the characters in the book were the vindictive ones – Charlie, or James, for example. It was just this undercurrent of vindictiveness that ran through most of the books – as if the author himself was exorcizing his demons.

 So here’s the thing – bad characters should learn something, or be punished, or whatever makes a satisfactory ending to a story. But what I find uncomfortable is when other characters take this into their own hands. Because I don’t believe we ever see things quite clearly when we’ve been hurt. And I’m always afraid that taking this kind of revenge just tangles things up and makes them worse.

But that’s just me. What do you think about vindictiveness in fiction?

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Haven’t You Heard of Lincoln’s Doctor’s Dog?

Haven’t you heard of Lincoln’s Doctor’s Dog? It is the world’s biggest bestseller, or it should be, if this old saying from the publishing industry was true. Apparently book about Lincoln, books about doctors, and books about dogs all sell extremely well (at least before the internet came along, and fell in love with cats instead…) So clearly a book about all three of those things should be amazing.

Everyone knows this is a kind of silly way to look at manufacturing a bestseller. I agree, and so does the Amrah Publishing House – their latest post, Manufacturing a Bestseller, pokes several holes in this theory. Clearly I, along with several thousand other authors, would’ve written a highschool vampire love story if we’d known beforehand what a big hit Twilight was going to be. But that’s the way of these things, they’re somewhat unpredictable.

PollyChapter4All the same, I know many of you reading this blog did enjoy Why Polly? when I posted it chapter-by-chapter here. Well, I’ve been busy editing and polishing it some more, and ‘Chapter 4- An Explanation of Long Noses’ will be available on Kindle on Friday. It doesn’t contain a doctor, a dog, or anything about Lincoln, but I think it’s a pretty entertaining story all the same.

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Still not sure what Why Polly? is all about? Check out this promotional video:

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The Pleasures of Not Writing

by Paul Fischer. {PD}

by Paul Fischer. {PD}

“The pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again”

—John Updike.

This quote grabbed me because it is something I’ve been struggling with a lot lately – I’ve managed to keep writing a fair amount, but each step is a momentous struggle of motivation.

This isn’t uncommon for writers, I don’t think. Every once in a while it just seems far easier to quit trying to pour out your soul on paper. And everything else starts to look more attractive than staring at a blank page – going out with friends who called you up at the last moment, reading someone else’s blog, or going outside to lie in the sunshine (now that winter is over). And I firmly resist always giving in to these temptations, because if I let all these attractive things have their way every time they pop up, my time for writing will slowly evaporate.

But what John Updike writes is both true and not true. Not writing is terribly attractive, and entirely possible if you let the demands of life take over your attempts at writing. But so far in my life, I keep coming back to writing, over and over, despite having giving it up in despair many times.

That is why I call myself a writer (or, one of the many reason I do, anyway). Why would I keep coming back to it if there wasn’t something inside me that drove me to writing? Giving it up could be so simple, and yet I have never done it.

Still, this quote drives home the point that writing takes discipline. Many people call themselves ‘writers’ because they have a book in their head, but they’ve never actually put a pen to paper. I could continue to call myself a writer, and let my inner writing drive drive me to throw a paragraph down once in a while.

But to produce actual writing that other people want to read, and find useful or interesting or thought-provoking, takes discipline. The discipline to keep going, word after word, until you have just thewriting quote right amount of words to convey the idea you want to get across. Then the discipline, to re-write, edit, re-think, and struggle until that idea comes through crystal-clear. And then the discipline to keep throwing that chunk of writing to places where other people will see it, and to hunt down publishers and promoters until you reach the audience you wrote it for. And this discipline is what many writers struggle with. Writing is a journey in self-motivation, after all.

So keep up that struggle, writers! There are enough non-writers out there already. And for those of you out there who are readers, I’m sure you’re glad, in the same way I am, that so many great writers didn’t give in to the pleasure of not writing.

Writers – have you ever been tempted towards not writing? Readers – which book are you really glad an author managed to motivate his or herself to churn out?

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How a Non-Existent Word Got in the Dictionary

Last Friday, we have some fun looking at potential new English words, and how the English language is changing. Since then, I ran across the delightful story of the non-word ‘dord,’ a word you’ve probably never heard of – because it isn’t actually a word. But for eight whole years it was included in Webster’s New International Dictionary.

Dord,’ the entry read, ‘n, Physics and Chem. Density.’ But it wasn’t until eight years later that editors at the dictionary realized that neither physicists nor chemists used any such word for density. What actually happened was that someone suggested ‘D or d, cont./density’ be added to the dictionary to show that the letter ‘d’ could also be an abbreviation for density. Somehow, ‘D or d’ was misprinted as ‘Dord’ – and so you see, children, spaces are important!

The adventures of the non-word ‘dord’ illustrates two things:

1.) Making up a new word involves a lot more than coming up with the string of letters itself. (If it were that easy, ‘prevening‘ would probably be a word.) You actually have the much harder task of somehow getting a large number of people to use the new string of letters for a long period of time. This is probably why a lot of ‘new words’ people dream up crash and fail, rather than enriching our English language.

2.) Just putting a word in a dictionary does not magically make it a word (except maybe in Scrabble). Words need more than just a definition, they need a backstory, and a lot of people who know the word and use it, to actually be a word.

I suppose I could add one more thing, a number 3.) Isn’t it great that we have people whose job it is to check over the dictionary? Think how many more non-words people would claim to be words if dictionaries were not systematized and well-edited.

I like the sound of ‘Dord,’ though, and I share the lament of the one of the dictionary editors who said, taking out ‘dord’ was ”probably too bad, for why shouldn’t dord mean ‘density’?”Are there any other interesting non-words that you’re aware of?

Just to update you on my story ‘One House, Six Decades – Three Generations‘ over at cbc.ca/hyperlocal – it was recently selected as a ‘Editor’s Pick.’ Thank you to all who read and ‘liked’ it so far!

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What, the English Language Changes? Literally?

Dare you use 'literally' when you mean 'figuratively'?

Dare you use ‘literally’ when you mean ‘figuratively’?

First, a somewhat related note – check out my story ‘One House, Six Decades – Three Generations’ on the new CBC Hyperlocal site. The CBC, our venerable old Canadian broadcaster (for those of you who aren’t Canadian and didn’t know), wanted stories of change from Canadians across the country – change in people and places, not the English language, but still interesting. Since I have the rare and fortunate position of living a house that’s seen three generations of my family, I wrote about the changes its seen throughout the years. Please check it out, like it, or share it! 

Okay, grammar matters. As a device for making our writing clear and readable, and our communication in general easier to understand, it is a necessary (though irritating) set of rules and regulations. Considering how Jane Austen’s writing throws me off every time she writes ‘surprize’ instead of ‘surprise,’ and how Shakespeare confuses me by using ‘nothing’ to mean gossip and rumours, I suppose it is good someone set out to systematize our language and standardize everything. While I reserve the right of writers to break those standards when necessary, I will admit a basic knowledge of grammar for most people does matter.

The problem comes in, however, when fans of English grammar try to impose useless rules on the rest of us. As linguists have long pointed out, knowledge of a language and its grammar has not merely been used throughout history as a way of improving communication between people, but also – more sinisterly – as a way to classify people. People who use ‘ain’t’ clearly must be less educated than people who don’t. People who split infinitives must be stupid and clueless. And so on. This results in some grammar rules that are just used as a stick to beat other people with – even when whatever people are writing is perfectly clear as it is. Worst of all, this mindset clings to the idea that there are some hard and fast rules of English out there, and when the changing language of English leaves this idea behind in the dust, its supporters merely howl, “But that’s wrong! You’re ruining English!”

I care because I love how English changes. I love how I can twist words and sentences to mean exactly what I want them to mean, ignoring whatever grammar rules might water this meaning down if I have to. So today, let’s look at two of the ways English is changing right before our eyes! First up, we have that wonderfully maligned word… ‘literally.’

Literally:

Everyone knows people use ‘literally’ when they really mean ‘figuratively.’ ‘His head literally exploded!’ is a common example given to writers to drive home the point that using ‘literally’ in this way is wrong, wrong, wrong. Except… maybe it isn’t. As Jesse Sheidlower from Slate points out, ‘literally’ has been used in sentences like this since at least the 18th century. James Fenimore Cooper, Thackeray, Dickens, and Thoreau all used it, and no one noticed until the twentieth century or so, when someone had to add another example of ‘bad writing’ to their style book. Also, in the interests of clear communication – I think everyone except possibly the very newest speakers of English would understand ‘literally’ in this context doesn’t actually mean the guy’s head actually exploded. Maybe this rule just exists so thousands of internet commenters the world over can spend their days writing “the author used ‘literally’ wrong, she obviously can’t know what she is talking about…”
But as this use becomes more and more common, do you think we’ll see the day where it is grudgingly accepted by grammarists?

Using ‘They’ to mean ‘He or She’:

I’m a huge fan of this one, and I hope it gains acceptance soon! Even the most stringent grammarist will note there is no genderless pronoun to use in sentences like, “When I tell someone a joke they laugh.” You could say, “When I tell someone a joke, he or she laughs,” but that just ruins the flow of most sentences. And since everyone uses ‘they’ like this in casual conversation, it makes sense to use it this way in all writing except the most formal, academic manuscripts. In novels, you don’t want to jerk the reader out of the story, even if the combination of words you use is ‘right.’
On the positive side, many analyzers of the English language are giving into this as a natural evolution of English, as it fills an obvious void our language has.

Bonus English Language Change!

Lastly, I want to point out a new word the English language has generated in the last couple decades – not an accepted, official word by any means, but a useful, slangy word that will either rise to prominence or die the ignoble death of other slang terms such as ‘the bees’ knees.’ This word, of course, is lol. Lol, you ask? How can I bring up such a horrible example of textspeak?
Well, as Farhad Manjoo pointed out recently, it’s a wonderfully flexible piece of slang. It doesn’t actually, strictly, mean ‘laughing out loud,’ though everyone knows that’s what it stands for (and we use similar phrases such as, ‘it cost me an arm and a leg,’ without literally meaning it cost you that). Actually, apparently it signifies something more like ‘basic empathy’ between two people. It can mean That made me smile a bit. It can mean I hear you. It can mean I’m not ignoring you, I’m just not sure what to say to your comment. If it ever gets accepted into dictionaries as something other than colloquial speech, it’ll be a wonderful example of how humans invent useful words to put into conversations and get a new kind of meaning across.
That said, am I going to be the brave writer who uses lol in a new, literary way? At the moment, I have no plans to. Unless one of my characters is actually online or texting something, lol will remain at the sidelines of my stories. As it stands today, lol has not crossed the boundaries of the virtual world. A few people have used it in casual, everyday conversation, but they have been met with strong resistance. And until this word becomes a conversational word, I’m not sure it will ever be a literary one.
But who knows, the wonderfully chameleon language known as English may prove me wrong yet.

What’s your favourite change in the English language?

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The World Is Better On Coffee (But It Won’t Make You Write Better)

Cup o'coffee, wikimedia commons. (CC BY-SA 2.0)

Cup o’coffee, wikimedia commons. (CC BY-SA 2.0)

“Many people claim coffee inspires them, but, as everybody knows, coffee only makes boring people even more boring.”

- Honore de Balzac, On Modern Stimulants

Coffee won’t make you write better, but it might make you feel better. A large cup of coffee every morning, laced with cream and sugar and carried with me in a leak-proof travel mug, gives me just that extra perk to cross over from sleep to waking. It is the ever-so slow, ever-so steady infusing of euphoria into my veins. At its very peak, everything seems possible, every achievement looks within reach – and so I start my daily work. Yes, it is a drug, but not one I will ever feel bad about taking.

I have weaned myself off coffee for months at a time before, and I function just fine after an initial few days of blurriness. But it is not worth it. There is a spark missing in the world, a spark so close to imperceptible that should not make that much of a difference, but it does. The warm smell of coffee would drift across my nostrils, and I would know what I was missing. The first gulp would reinforce this knowledge even more.

Do I write better on coffee? Aside from performing a double-blind, randomly controlled study, I’m not sure how I could tell. But I know several tens of thousands of words looks like a lot smaller of a mountain to climb, after a cup of coffee. Stringing the perfect set of words into sentences that connect with throngs of people appears to be achievable, someday, if I just keep at it. Coffee brings confidence, and confidence brings out writing. So maybe it affects quantity more than quality, though confidence has been known to improve quality before as well.

Not all writers are coffee-drinkers, though many writers throughout history have been. All the same, coffee obviously does not work the same way on everyone, and not everyone should treat it like a wonder-drug. If you cannot write, coffee won’t make you better at it. If you wire yourself up into a hyper-caffeinated state, you might produce pages and pages of gibberish, but you might not be any better at writing. Balzac, in the midst of his own ode to coffee, realized this, and so do I – being interesting takes more than mere caffeine!

So take up that mug of coffee, especially if it pushes you a little farther outside yourself than you would normally go. Drink it if it makes the world glow in ways it never does uncaffeinated. Let it drive you actually sit down at that table and write. But beware, if you have nothing interesting to write about.

What does coffee do to you?

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Argue Your Way to Knowledge!

John MIlton {PD}

John MIlton {PD}

“Where there is much desire to learn, there of necessity will be much arguing, much writing, many opinions; for opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making.”

- John Milton

According to Milton: the desire to learn -> opinions -> knowledge. In order to arrive at knowing something, you have to make the leap to where you think you should stand on a subject. It seems more logical to get the knowledge first, then decide what your opinion should be. But Milton is right – once you have to defend your position, write it in words, and fight with others about it, you know its strengths and flaws much better. You might even change your opinion and start all over. Either way, you’ll know much more than you did before.

“As iron sharpens iron,
    so one person sharpens another.”

That’s Proverbs 27:17 in the Bible, and sums up how two people can clash and be better as a result of it. Sometimes we can be too afraid of arguing. Too afraid of opening a can of worms. We can go a little too post-modern, and feel we don’t ever have the right to think anyone else is wrong. Or just feel the natural worry that friendships will be hurt if we disagree on something. No one wants to lose friendships. And if it’s a fragile, sensitive sort of friendship, I agree you shouldn’t needless push the boundaries. But a real, robust friendship can handle even long, intense arguments. That is why I love the ability to argue with some of the people closest to me.

 I’ve been frustrated with people who run from discussing important topics, and I’ve been that person who run from arguing. I’ve had opinions and been scared to examine them. I’ve been scared to voice them. But gathering up the courage to air opinions is essential for a writer, unless you want to be the anemic sort who never says anything worthwhile. And it’s equally essential to face the challenges to what you say.  So if I want to be a writer – I’ll have to face that iron. Let’s hope I’ll end up on the “knowledge” side of the equation in the end.

What do you think – can you argue your way to knowledge?

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Ranking Jane Austen – Is It Possible?

Emma
Mansfield Park
Pride and Prejudice
Sense and Sensibility
Northanger Abbey
Persuasion

 Is this a sensible way to rank Jane Austen’s books? As far as I can discern, this is how Adelle Waldman ranks them, in “I Read Everything Jane Austen Wrote, Several Times: Here Are Some of the Many Things I Learned.” Fans of Jane Austen, of course, can argue for hours about which of her novels are best, and non-fans are probably just surprised she wrote more than Pride and Prejudice. But this particular ranking is unique enough that I feel compelled to comment on it.

 In general, most of these choices are justifiable, and while I would rank Pride and Prejudice just a little higher than Emma, they are both of such good quality that they could both be at the top of any list. I did not think Emma was well-plotted the first time I read it, because it was so long and it felt like the action dragged out forever. But it is well-plotted, if you know many of the little details will add up to something in the end, and reveal how blind Emma was at certain point, or how blind you as the reader were about what was really going on.

 Uniquely, Waldman looks down on Persuasion. I have often been confused as to why so many critics think it is one of Austen’s best works, though I would not be as hard on the novel as Waldman is. It is not as funny and sparkling, true, but there is something sweet about it. I have the most amount of sympathy for Anne Elliot, because I know what it’s like to be overlooked.  Depending upon which novel I am reading, I would probably rate Persuasion, Sense and Sensibility and Northanger Abbey all pretty close to each other, and so I’m not going to quibble about which one should be rated higher than the others. I just have to stick up for Persuasion when it is stuck dead last.

 But she puts Mansfield Park far too high up the list. While the complexity of the characters do make the novel a more mature work, I cannot forgive the deficiencies of its plot. It does not leave the reader with any feeling or satisfaction, or ending in the right spot, even though it ends with the expected happy ending. (I ranted more about Mansfield Park here).

 However, I can’t help but thank Waldman for the observation that Austen is not merely about romance and marriage, but primarily about people and how they should behave. Romance and marriage tends to act as a reward for the right sort of behaviour, which is why Austen’s work often comes off as intensely moralistic. But it is also why Austen’s works have endured so well. We all know vain and pompous fools (Sir Walter Elliot), scoundrels who lead women on (Wickham), jealous and competitive women (Caroline Bingley), and foolish and vindicative women (Mrs. Elton). We want to see people like that learn a lesson – though Austen realistically never forces a vile character to change as a result of the lessons a reader can glean from the action. As Waldman states, “She gives us a cast of characters and then zeroes in, showing us who and what is admirable, who is flawed but forgivable, who is risible and who is truly vile… Austen wrote stories that show us how we think.”

Yes to that.

As a postscript, my personal ranking goes like this:

 Pride and Prejudice (as the best paced and best plotted one of the bunch, with highly entertaining characters who go through believable character development)

Emma (almost as good as Pride and Prejudice, upon second reading, but a little too long to be thoroughly enjoyed on first reading – as I discovered here)

Sense and Sensibility and Persuasion (both entirely serviceable and charming novels, and I’m not sure which one rates above the other)

Northanger Abbey (which is enjoyable but somewhat flawed – understandable considering it was one of the first she wrote, as well as one she later revised, though it was published posthumously and therefore it’s hard to say it she would’ve been satisfied with its finish published form)

If you include Lady Susan as one of Austen’s novels, though it is more of a novella, I would stick it last on the list. If it had been longer, I would’ve liked it more (more of my thoughts on Lady Susan here).

And then… I can’t decide where Mansfield Park fits in. I think that novel will annoy me for the rest of my life. Is that a mark of great literature?

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Making Fun of Readers?

books 2 I would never make fun of anyone who loved to read.

- Juliet Ashton, in The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

People who love to read get made fun of, sometimes. This is probably leftover from childhood, when the bookworms were thought of as kids who sat in the corner and had no friends, while the ‘cool kids’ boasted about how much of Animal Farm they didn’t read. So I would never, never make fun of anyone who loved to read. It’s too much of a life pleasure to make someone embarrassed about doing it.

This is probably why I cringe inside when someone tells me, “I never read,” or “I haven’t cracked open a book since junior high!” Because I am afraid they’re subtly trying to prove they’re superior to me. This is probably an entirely unfair way of reading this situation, and it’s highly likely no one is trying to insult me this way. It’s merely a knee-jerk reaction from my schooldays, in the same way I cringe when someone calls me “smart,” and I automatically insist I’m not (while looking over my shoulder in fear of being labelled “teacher’s pet” as well.) In the same way I try not to tell anyone my grades, even though getting a good grade in university has a lot less stigma attached.

But this works the other way too. When someone admits to me that they love books too, I feel a sudden kinship with them, as sharing a love of reading means we have a lot of other things in common too. I’ve discovered this is not always true, of course, but one of the fastest ways to get me to like a person is still for them to not be afraid to talk about the books they read.

I know, people who don’t like reading are sometimes looked down on by readers – the best solution would be for everyone to think twice before laughing at someone else. But since all of you lovely people are clearly readers, I have to ask you – do you ever feel looked down upon because of your reading habits? How do you feel when you meet a fellow reader?

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I Wish I Could Write

writingI wish I could write well.

What do you mean? you say to me. You’ve got a blog. Of course you can write.

But I still wish I could write well.

If you’ve been following my blog lately, you probably noticed I’ve been posting less. It’s not because I’ve run out of ideas. I always have ideas. It’s because I’ve run out of confidence my ideas need to be written.

I can write as well as the average blogger, maybe better than some, and worse than others. I can write short, entertaining little stories that some lovely people shell out money to buy. But is that reason enough to write? I want to write things that make people feel, that contribute to society, that add something to the world. Not change the world, but are more than a momentary distraction.

Because, after all, I read tons of blog posts that I don’t remember the next day. I surf through thousands and thousands of very interesting articles in a month, and when I run across them again later, I don’t remember whether I’ve read them or not. Something needs to be truly great for me to remember it, and for me to see the world differently because of it.

So what is the point of me being another contributor to this infinite stream of information on the web? Why does the world need another slightly charming distraction from the daily grind? Shouldn’t what I write be somehow worthwhile?

There are three types of people in this world. There are people who can’t write, and who look on those who can with awe. There are the vast multitudes of those who can write, varying along a scale from absolute hacks to clever and skillful authors. And then there are those who don’t merely write, but actually write – the difference is almost impossible to describe but obvious to see. They are able to describe something no one else can put into words in a way everyone can relate to. In a way that, when you read it, you’re forced to say – yes, that’s actually how it is. I just never knew how to express it before. And then you go away amazed that other people in this world feel the same way you do.

But sometimes, as I struggle along with the vast multitudes of serviceable writers, the gap between us and these virtuosos of the craft seems so large, so impossible to cross, that it hardly seems worth it to struggle along anymore. Why does the world need another writer to put the mundane into mundane words, when so many writers who do just that already exist? The world needs more virtuosos. And to get to that point – there are no instructions. Each writer is on their own.

So now you know, if you’ve been wondering why this blog hasn’t been updated as much. I apologize for that, if you’ve been looking forward to it. I haven’t lost interest in writing, and I can never lose interest in it. I write because writing gives me the chance to get the words exactly right, in a way just speaking the words never allows me to. Speech is fleeting and gone in a moment, and you can so easily leave the wrong impression without meaning to. Writing gives me the chance to say what I mean. I just hope that someday what I mean will be worth writing.

 

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