"Metaphored to death"

Metaphor is cool. Touted as the most used figure of speech, metaphor is, at its base, a comparison made by referring to one thing as another. 

Shakespeare used it when he said in As You Like It, "All the world's a stage." Hemmingway used it The Old Man and The Sea: the ocean is a metaphor for life, for man's place in nature. Mark Twain used the Mississippi River as a foundation for metaphor in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. And Orson Scott Card, author of Ender's Game, said, “Metaphors have a way of holding the most truth in the least space.” 

Metaphors are everywhere. You don't have to be a writer to use them. Often, what we see, hear, and experience can be turned into a metaphor. I tend to think in metaphor when going about my day, which can be quite irritating to my kids (metaphors pop into conversations frequently, and though they smile and nod often, I can also see their faces scrunching up now and then while resisting the urge to roll their eyes). Yes, writers love metaphor. And here's why:

Metaphors can be oh-so effective. Like no other trick out there, metaphor can take your words and magically melt meaning into the reader’s mind. Like a chef dipping a wooden spoon into liquid dark chocolate, we writers stir and swirl words around the page, intent on making a dessert for the mind and heart. If our words are sweet enough, the memory is also strong and sweet. And that’s what we want. Strength. Impact. Memory. 

But writers beware: Metaphors can take over. We get crazy with the wordplay, and paragraphs become a twisted mystery of phrases tangling the idea. There’s nothing wrong with cool word pictures that lead readers to meaning. But let’s be real. Too much is too much.

Go ahead and use metaphor in one sensory-painted experience. Not three (in one paragraph -- oy!). Or five (on one page -- gah!). And not with an extended metaphor that just won't quit (while the reader is panting, alright already!). Let one metaphor do its work. When we use metaphor in one strong moment, the reader feels -- and remembers.

I'm preaching to myself, too. Let's not metaphor the reader to death. Make metaphors timely, sweet, and meaningful. 

Stirring the chocolate,
Erin

How to be a great writer (part 3): Accountability

I've noticed something about writers.

Writers traverse the walkways of life like young pups in a park. We love living -- and follow the excitement and passions of life that are splashed about in the colors and textures around us. We sniff along tangents with tail wagging. We immerse ourselves in sensory moments. Those moments give us pungent, profound lungfuls of oxygen -- allowing us to breathe into the rich soil of experience from which to write. And, ironically, it's those same moments that keep us from writing.

True writers write. We are committed to having a relationship with our computer, sitting for hours at a time with fingers pattering one-way conversations on the keyboard. Yes, we writers find deep meaning in creating and walking in the worlds that we've created. When we're swooshed into our worlds, in an inexplicable level, we're pulled into the screen: the sounds, smells, sights of the tangible world around us fall away, and the energy of creating takes over in an addictive rush. (If you're a writer, you completely understand what I'm talking about.)

It's a dichotomy. There is a pull toward living passionately in the world. And there's a pull of passion to create.

In order to be who we're called to be, writers need accountability. We need a friend (or foe) telling us to keep at it. Without accountability, "writer" is only a name.

Accountability is part of writing. Make a date with yourself. In fact, make and keep a regular appointment in the calendar, just for writing on your key project. Put your tush in the chair. Meet that word count. If there's one thing that getting an MFA in fiction writing is teaching me, it's that the discipline of being held accountable is the foundational discipline of being a writer.

Thank God. Because accountability takes us to a new level.

Writing together,
Erin

How to be a Great Writer (Part II)

Great writers place words in specific places, for power. With sentences, there's such a thing as a weak layout and a strong layout.

Here's a simple power tip:
Finish the sentence with the strong word, phrase, or idea.
Finish with what you want your reader to remember.

When speaking, we usually say the important info first. Then we tell more -- filling in the gaps, giving more details, walking around the subject with chatter. For strong writing, it's the exact opposite. We start with the extra, then end with the strong.

Here's an example:
The copier needs to be replaced, even if funds are low. This sentence focuses on low funds. Is the idea really about money? No, it's about the copier being replaced. So the stronger sentence is this: Even if funds are low, the copier needs to be replaced. It's a subtle difference. Add the subtle differences together, and your writing starts to shine.

You probably write the way that you speak, with weak ideas at the end. No worries. Simply go back and switch things around. Great writers don't write it right the first time. Great writers look for the strong idea, then edit the strength to the end of the sentence.

You don't edit, you say? Hm. Time to change that. (Now.) Find your keywords and key ideas, and rearrange.

Strong writers know: Strength lives at the end of the sentence.

Cheers,
Erin

for word nerds (and anyone else who likes to communicate well)

If you're a word nerd, read on...and if you're not -- then go ahead and read anyway. It might give you the power to wield words that you've wanted.

Note: This is more than a language lesson. Look for the nuances here that make the info upper-level...so that your writing can be upper-level.

To wield more power in your words, you'll want to first know the four basic word types and what they do.

#1 -- Concrete Nouns. Concrete nouns are your persons, places, things, and ideas. What is it? Who is it? What's it about? Weak nouns are blase. Strong nouns are memorable. Dog can be a weak noun; Tibetan Mastiff is a strong noun. See the difference? If you've had a Mastiff drool on your arm, the picture in your mind is vivid. A strong noun cements your sentences in a way that makes the reader want to stay with you. Search for concrete nouns and use them, and your writing can become powerful.

#2 -- Vibrant Verbs. Vibrant verbs are actions that push your ideas forward. What happened? Did it fall or careen? Was it placed or flung? Did you see, observe, or perceive, or distinguish? Each word is a different flavor, hue, or pitch on the scale of intensity. Pick the word with the timbre giving the meaning closest to your intention. And while you're at it, ing means that it's happening right now, so ing words can be strong.

#3 -- Well-placed adjectives. Well-placed adjectives are words that give details about nouns -- those people, places, things, and ideas that you want to get across. Adjectives add a pinch and a dash of meaning. If you're talking about a strong person, is the person powerful? Brawny, strapping, or well-built? If you're describing a strong smell, is it intense, pungent, or rancid? Variations of words bring slight changes in meaning. A well-chosen word can engender the reader to your ideas though the evoking of a strong memory that's attached to the word. But Writers Beware: William Zinnser, author of On Writing Well, said, "The adjective that exists solely as decoration is a self-indulgence for the writer and a burden for the reader." If you can write meaning through action, without adjectives, then try to do so.

#4 --  Sparsely-laid Adverbs. Sparsely-laid adverbs -- words that describe the action -- can make your reader feel connected and give feeling. Adverbs are "ly" words, like swiftly. The swiftly-falling snow is poetic, and poems can use adverbs melodically to create a feeling. If you're a speaker telling your audience a story, using the words thumbing quickly through the files evokes an audience emotion that is different from thumbing slowly through the files. However, for fiction writing, adverbs carry the same warning tag as adjectives: Avoid them. Write through action and dialogue. Hence the title for #4, Sparsely Laid Adverbs. But speakers and poets, adverb away ... in all the right places. (Yep. Less is still more.)

In fiction writing, the fancified parts of speech are often thrown out. Expelled. Banished forever to a dark corner of the dictionary. But I believe that these little babies do have a place in our writing. All words are good, in the right place, at the right time. The strongest writing is concise, direct, and clear. No fancification.

If you're not a word nerd, and you read to the end of this post anyway, bravo. You're most likely the curious type, and (contrary to the old saying) curiosity didn't kill the cat. Vast worlds of words are available for us to use -- words to make writing rich. Curiosity makes you rich with ideas and possibilities. Rich is good.

Share your ideas. Enjoy the wealth of words.

How to Be a Good Writer (Part 1)

Good writing is like a good outfit: You need all of the right pieces in the right places, to be fully clothed. If something's missing, your writing will be naked and drafty. No one wants to be naked.

This post is the beginning of a little series on what you need in your closet, to write well. If you want others to understand your writing -- and to act on your ideas -- then you'll need a few things.

The first thing you'll need is words -- Not a few words, but bunches of them ... a working vocabulary that you can pull from, at will. Words in your head, ready to go. Lots. Many. Several. A ton. Gobs. Oodles and oodles. See, I'm doing it, here.

Allow me to go on an analogy binge: Your words are crayons:: the more colors in your box, the more elaborate the possibilities for your picture. Your words are Legos: the more Legos in your bucket, the taller your tower to build. Your words are wood for the bonfire: the more logs you can throw on, the bigger the flame. Your words are liters of gasoline in your car: the more gas, the farther you go. Okay, you get it. Words are your base supplies. (Sorry, I had to do one more.) Bottom line: You need a diverse vocabulary.

How do you get a diverse vocabulary? Repeat after me: The thesaurus is my friend. That little right-click drop-down box in Word drives you into synonym land -- a land flowing with hues of words that you didn't even knew existed -- or if you did, probably wouldn't think of, on your own (I'm talking from experience). There is no shame in looking up variations of words. In fact, there's a whole lot of wisdom in searching for -- and capturing -- new words.

So gather words. Tons of them. Words are your foundation.

Writing together,
Erin

What first inspired you?

Everyone has experienced a "magic moment" -- a realization or idea that positively influences and transforms your future. Something touched you, making your mind and heart burn in flames that couldn't be quenched. Colors became more vibrant, sounds became more intense, and the air became palpable with energy that brought life to a whole new level. Face turned upward, it felt like nothing could stop you, if you just moved forward into that magical idea.

There are three crazy truths about magic moments:

1. Magic moments can happen at any age. Many -- if not most -- happen when we're small. As a child, an idea fascinates, awes, and draws us into possibilities for the future. Our dreams and passions come from early magic moments, don't they?

2. Magic moments can be small, but their impact is huge. One word, one conversation, or one encounter changes our perspective forever. The moment moves us, seeping into who we are -- guiding us through our entire lives. Some of us have careers that began with a magic moment.

3. Magic moments can be huge, but their impact is small. Like fireworks on a dark summer night, a bright realization explodes. But because we don't do anything with the idea, the idea fizzles, leaving only traces in our mind's eye as to where the color once raced through the sky. We look away; we put our heads down; and we get lost in the mundane.

The magic seems lost. But it's not. It's still there.

Can you remember your magic moment? That moment when an inspired idea burst into your life, and great things happened? Magic moments aren't lost. They're just waiting to be rediscovered. No matter what you do -- write, create, lead, serve -- inspiration brought you here.

I've reconnected with my magic moment for writing: I'm reading again my "magic book" -- that book/series that inspired me to write fiction. Through each page, each scene, and each moment side by side with the main character, I'm realizing again what gives that story its magic -- and what made me feel the magic. The connection is nothing less than golden.

What inspired you before? What have you lost connection with, that would be great to rediscover? My guess is that it's something that's not too far away from your heart, right now.

So here's a challenge: In your mind, go to that magic moment and reconnect with it in a way that stokes the inspiration fire. There's not reason why it can't be: this is the year where magic multiplies.

Writing beside you,
Erin

Writing non-fiction: Who's it about?

When you write, who is it about? Where is the focus -- on me or on you?

Most of us write with the focus on ME. I did this, I did that -- I think this, I think that. I, me, and my abound in the text. But if you want to gather a following as an author, create loyal followers to your blog, or have a website that others read (and buy from), it has to be about them. Okay -- enough pronouns. Let's get to the point.

It's not about me telling you about my experience. It's about your experience. It's about how the words and ideas that I'm sharing fit into your world.

It's about the reader's benefit: what the reader gets.What is it that your reader wants, from reading your stuff? Give it to them. It's not about information only; it's about feelings. How does the reader want to feel, after interacting with you? Be aware of the feelings that your words evoke, and write intentionally to bring out those exact feelings.

The reader is always asking, what's in this for me? So try something. Stop writing with I, me, and my.  Present ideas that are statements toward the idea, not personal soliloquies on your thoughts, feelings, and daily ins-and-outs. Sure, you can share a personal story. But give the story a point that's about the reader. 

Start with questions. Before you write, ask your imaginary reader, what is it that you desire? How can I help you to do x, y, or z? Then write the answers. In your text, write a question to the reader. Questions get him or her thinking, before you give the answer to the question. And in all, focus on the reader's perspective. It's all about how the information shared works for their world.

Finally, make sure that you have a single point. A bottom line. A take-home that the reader can grab onto and walk away with. Simple, concise, and direct, so that the idea is remembered.

There are quite a few take-homes, here. It's about the reader. Avoid I, me, and my words. Focus on your audience. Find their benefit, their bottom line, and give it to them. If you decide to focus on the reader, people will want to be around you and your words -- because they'll find value residing there.

Write concise, powerful words that meet your reader's needs. When you focus on the reader, everyone wins.

To writing together,
Erin