Colonial Language

by G.Parker

I have been fortunate at times during our blog's history, to post on days that have national significance. Some would probably argue that July 24th isn't a national holiday, but I think it affects them, whether they accept it or not.

Anyway -- the first holiday this month is national. The 4th of July is Saturday, and while Keith will have the honors, I still get to mention it.

Recently, my family and I have been taking a closer look at our country and it's its founders -- especially at their writing and how it is viewed today. One of the early writers of the revolution was Thomas Paine. He wrote several articles that ignited the people and helped spark the resolve to separate from England. In a talk on Sunday, one of the articles (The Crisis) was mentioned and quoted.

"These are the times that try men's souls."

In listening to the quoted material, I noticed how differently we talk now. Depending on whom you were to talk to today, this sentence could come across in many different ways.

Child - "I don't know what he's talking about. Do you?"
YA - "Hey, like, these times are trying, ya know?"
Late Teen - "It's getting harder and harder to pay off my credit card, dude."
Adult - "I'm worried about where this country is going."
Educated adult - "The conflict and dissolution between the parties is pulling at the very fabric of our country."

As writers, we try to make our writing something that isn't associated with a specific time period. In my critique group, they comment on particular phrases or common slang, and remind the writer that if they don't want the work to be classed as '80's' or '70's' or whichever era, they need to take out the slang words that were related purely to those times.

In some ways, it's sad that our language has lost some of its depth. Many of the words Thomas Paine used would be confusing to someone of our day. Here's another paragraph from his book The Crisis to illustrate what I mean:

"THOSE who expect to reap the blessings of freedom, must, like men, undergo the fatigues of supporting it. The event of yesterday was one of those kind of alarms which is just sufficient to rouse us to duty, without being of consequence enough to depress our fortitude. It is not a field of a few acres of ground, but a cause, that we are defending, and whether we defeat the enemy in one battle, or by degrees, the consequences will be the same."

I admit, if I were reading that in a newspaper today, I'd skip it and move on. It would not be my chosen reading material, because the language is different from what I'm used to. But I still like the intelligence it displays. It's kind of the same reasoning some people use for slang or swear words. My mother-in-law likes to say that those who swear just can't think of better words to use.

I think our language has changed because we have gotten lazy. It's a sad state of affairs, but it's true. One of the common complaint my husband has had about cell phone texting, for instance, is that those who do it a lot loose some of their ability to use grammar and spelling correctly.

Thus -- again, our language is being affected by the changes in society. Amazing how many different things are changed or affected by how people act, speak and think. Including the books we read and the education we get.


For now, enjoy our nation’s birthday, and remember the freedoms we have as a result of an amazing and intelligent group of words on paper. Next week I'll explore another early writer -- Benjamin Franklin.

Proud to be Free and Grateful to the Brave

By Nichole Giles

As I contemplated what I’d write about this week—tossing topics around in my head between taxiing my kids and taking care of life—I kept coming back to the fact that our nation’s birthday is coming up. And as I thought about it, I realized something.

I’m able to try new things, step out of the bounds others might try to impose on my personal self, because I live in this wonderful free country. I haven’t done anything to necessarily earn this freedom, other than being born in the United States. I just am.

This week, my husband and I watched the movie, Defiance. It’s the true story of some Jewish people in Europe who, during World War II, ran away to live in the forest—thereby defying Hitler’s attempt to kill them. What started off as three brothers turned into a huge community of people over a thousand strong. (Great movie, by the way, and very well done.) They were free within the confines of their little community, and yet, were hunted until the end of the war.

And here I am, living in this place where I can dress however I choose, work at any job I set my mind to do, give birth to as many children as I want without government imposed limits, and try something new every single day. Well, you know, if I want. That is the glorious nature of America.

Just because I didn’t do anything to earn my freedom, there are many, many people—historically and currently—who have done it for me. Since the beginning of time, people have been fighting for the kinds of rights and freedoms that I enjoy today. I may not have fought the battles, but that doesn’t mean I should ever forget them, or what our country is because of the brave souls who did.

Today, I choose to thank the soldiers—those out serving, those just returning, and those waiting to be called up. I’m thankful to all the soldiers—from all the wars and conflicts and issues—who have given their lives, or at least large chunks of time, fighting for my freedom.

I am truly honored to live here.

In honor of the holiday, and because this is a blog about writing, here is an exercise:

Write about what freedom means to you, and what you can do to show gratitude toward those who have fought so diligently for it.

Happy Independence Day, America! We are the land of the free, because of the brave.

Pitch a Story in Which Ear?

By Cindy Beck



Recently, I ran across a blog article by William Highsmith suggesting writers stand a better chance if they pitch their story in the editor's right ear. At first, I wondered if the article was meant as a joke but as I read farther, I realize it wasn't. It went on to say that the human brain has cross-wiring. No surprise in that, as my brain always seems cross-wired ... only not in a scientific way, like the article intended.

The old adage about words going, "...in one ear and out the other," is almost true. What really happens is words that go in one ear come out on the other side of the brain. Therefore, something heard in the right ear is processed by the left side of the mind. And the left hemisphere is the logical side—the portion of the editor's brain that you want to accept your work.

I suppose the trick lies in getting the editor to turn so you're speaking in the correct ear. I'm not sure how to accomplish that. Maybe point to a good-looking chick/hunk (depending on whether your editor is male or female) to your right and comment on the lack of clothing, thus causing a head turn on the editor's part that might rival Linda Blair's in The Exorcist. I'm not certain that's the best subterfuge, but it certainly seems worth a try.

All I know is that I intend to give it a shot in the future. After all, no one can dispute that it's a good idea to pitch a story in the write ear.

My Book is Not Closed

By Darvell Hunt

I have something that Michael Crichton, Edgar Allen Poe, Emily Dickinson, John Steinbeck, Jane Austen, or even Mark Twain or William Shakespeare, do not have.

I have life.

My work has not yet been completed. I can still write more than what I have—and better than what I have. If one of my stories is not yet complete, I can finish it. If there is an idea that’s been banging around inside my head for years, I can still put it on paper.

Life is precious, but very limited. Unlike land, which they say goes up in value because it has a finite supply, we get a steady stream of time—24 new hours each and every day. It comes and goes whether we use it or not, and everybody gets the same amount per day.

I have recently made a commitment to use more of my daily allotment of time to produce more writing—word combinations unique to me that no other person on earth can create, nor compare exactly to what dead writers have already created. My words are my own and unique to me.

In addition to the few names I listed above, there are many other great dead writers out there, but nobody knows who they are. They didn’t write. Or they didn’t submit. Or they didn’t persevere.

Popular fantasy writer Tracy Hickman says that if your words are not read, you are not a writer. If we waste our moments of time doing something else besides our God-given talents, which may include writing, then we waste our lives, as time is the essence of life.

I am a writer. I have more life left—more time to write. My book is not closed. My work is not done. I must continue to write as well as I can until life closes my front cover and puts me on a shelf, where I hope people will recognize my name and further give me life by reading my words.

Sincerity

By Ali Cross

A couple thoughts collided to bring you this post. First, I’ve been thinking a lot about how some writers tailor their work to suit the market. I’m talking about those writers who write outside of their genres just to meet market demand. Or who change their main character from a girl to a boy because they heard there were fewer strong male protagonists for middle grade readers, not because they wanted to write a story about a boy.

Secondly, I’ve been thinking about those times we try to manipulate our stories so they go in a direction that they clearly don’t want to go. I’m sure all of you can relate: There are times when you have an expectation from your story, you sit down to write it, only to discover your characters have something else in mind.

When a writer does either of these things, their story becomes less sincere and the reader knows it. What happens when a reader encounters such writing? Well, I’ll tell you what I think happens . . . the reader snaps the book closed and tosses it onto the floor.

As a writer, you have a responsibility to your readers. Lie to them, and they’ll know it. If you’re lucky, they’ll forgive you, but if you’re not so lucky, if you lie to them too often, they might never read your stuff again.

It’s important to be aware of market trends when writing your books, but you should never write in a genre you aren’t comfortable in. If your voice and story ideas are best suited to adult epic fantasy, but you’ve heard the trend is toward YA dystopian, don’t change your genre. You may be able to crank out something that’s publishable, but your heart won’t be in it, and eventually your readers will discover that about you. Guaranteed, at that point they’ll feel let down.

Similarly, if you try to make your characters behave in ways that are contrary to their nature, your story will be derailed—in feeling, if not in actuality. Your readers will begin to doubt what they’re reading and question everything they thought they knew before. No matter how the changes propel the story forward, if your character is not believable, your story might as well be dead.

Writing is a responsibility. In exchange for their hard-earned money and valuable time, you must be honest with your readers. They trust you to take them to another world, to let them escape reality for a little while. If you betray that trust, the reader will know, and they will not come back to you.

Be sincere in your writing. Be true to your heart, to your story and to your characters. Your readers will thank you for it!

Agent in Old Lace

A book review by Keith Fisher

When Tristi Pinkston agreed with the rest of us to attempt a start of a critique group, I was pleased. I knew I’d learn a lot about writing, but since Tristi wrote historical fiction, I figured I’d learn more about history.


On that first day, Tristi brought the first few pages of her Secret Sisters Manuscript. Needless to say, I fell in love with her characters and thoroughly enjoy the antics of Ida Mae. After receiving a contract on the series Tristi came with a mystery/suspense that had to be edited right away. I sat in awe of Tristi’s versatility.

Because of difficulties, I didn’t get a chance to help much with her edits. So, I got to read this book fresh and I found a great story.


I’m still waiting for Secret Sisters, but Agent in Old Lace is a great snack to tide me over. Actually I liked the book. The story intrigues and delights the readers. The plot twists keep them reading, and the protagonist is fleshed out completely.


Here, read this:


. . . With the gun still in his hand, he glanced from side to side.
"Shannon!" he yelled, and for a minute she thought she’d been spotted. "This is the biggest mistake of your life!" He kept walking. "Shannon, come out," he cajoled. "We can still make it work. I’ll forgive you, and we’ll get married. "Just come out and everything will be all right."


Yes the poor guy is insane. But look at the scene. He’s got a gun. He’s threatening her with it, and he still thinks she might marry him. What a delightful situation this is. Agent in Old Lace is full of this kind of writing. I liked it. You can get a copy here or at bookstores near you. If it isn’t on the shelf ask for it.


As far as historical fiction is concerned, I’m not disappointed. I know Tristi will eventually bring some history to our group, but I enjoy Agent in Old Lace.


Good luck with your writing---see you next week.

Another Vignette from Life...

by G.Parker

The other day I was sitting outside of a large movie theater, enjoying the warm summer evening. A tall slim woman with short blond hair and bright yellow top came by, loaded with shopping bags and a little Chihuahua. She put her bags on the stairs and then put the dog down. It ran around like it had found paradise. I've never seen a happy Chihuahua -- only snippy, snarly ones.

It came over and grinned up at me, sniffing around my legs and wagging it's stubby tail. I was hesitant to pet it, not wanting my fingers bit. After a minute it wandered back to it's owner, and she chuckled.

"He's a friendly little guy," she assured me.

"I can tell," I said, still reluctant to put it to the test.

I watched it run around the plaza, and then the lady stood up and looked at me, a cigarette in hand.

"Do you have a match?" she asked.

"Sorry," I told her, shaking my head. "I'm afraid not."

"Darn."

She looked around the area, wondering who to approach, and right then a man came out of the theater, with shaggy light brown hair, scruffy T-shirt and worn jeans, a backpack thrown over his shoulder -- holding a cigarette.

She immediately headed his way, little dog following. Right as she got up to the man, he asked, "Do you have a lighter?"

I chuckled at the interchange, and wondered what they would do.

"No!" the woman said, obviously dismayed. "I was coming to see if you had a light!"

"That's why I came out here," he said. "What do you think we can do?"

Both of them looked around the square at this point, and then a woman who was sitting at a nearby table noticed them holding the cigarettes and waved at them.

"I've got a lighter," she told them.

Both of them looked relieved as they headed her way.

"Thank you so much!" The blond woman gushed as they gathered around the table.

I watched them get their cigarettes lit, thinking it was pretty funny how a habit could unite three total strangers.

See what you can observe in your world. See ya next week.