George Carlin said it best. “I don’t like euphemisms, or euphemistic language. And American English is loaded with euphemisms. Cause Americans have a lot of trouble dealing with reality. Americans have trouble facing the truth, so they invent the kind of a soft language to protect themselves from it, and it gets worse with every generation.” That’s an excerpt from his Explicit Lyrics CD. I have to tell you it popped into my mind when I read about the recent movement afoot to wipe out the “r-word.” I kept hearing George Carlin yelling like a maniac from his grave. He surely would have pounced on it in his irreverent, acidic way. As I attempted to analyze the idea in my column this week, pro and con, I still am not sure where I fall. I completely understand the attempt to change attitudes by manipulating the language. But to ban it completely? Wipe it out in order to keep people from saying it? Something about that just doesn’t settle well with me. Not at all. In fact, it makes me nervous enough to get an upset stomach. Or in the words of Carlin, “Well, maybe not vomit. Makes me want to engage in an involuntary personal protein spill.”
You have heard it said a million times, no doubt: Write what you know. In its purest form, this is true. And actually makes sense. If you write what you know, then your experience will paint your piece with an authenticity that only living through something can add. But I confess, I often write what I don’t know. Specifically in my novels and fiction work, when I write about situations and people I don’t have first-hand experience with. One of my novels is based on the life of a Hasidic lawyer who had been raped as a young girl. Another is based on four children who grew up in the post-Korean War era of 1954 in Nebraska. But as I have come to realize, the point behind writing what you know isn’t as limited as it may appear. Why? Because we are all human and I contend that we all relate to basic human emotions such as isolation, pain of loss, desperation, comfort and love. If our characters are indeed real, then part of the art is in expressing those emotions through them in a way that touches all of our readers.
I am not the person to give advice to bloggers because quite frankly, other than posting these narratives, I am not a blogger. Whatever that is. I suspect blogging is still an evolving art form. From my limited knowledge of blogging, it seems the most popular bloggers are those who have strong opinions, which should not be confused with the idea that they have something important to say. I embrace the concept of free speech and uncensored opinion, but I am not sure I would fit in the mainstream blogging world. In trying to understand the art of blogging or at the very least find a definition, I accessed a web site http://blogcritics.org/scitech/article/the-art-of-blogging/ wherein the writer quotes Andrew Sullivan – a political blogger – as describing a blog as “somewhere between writing a column and talk radio.” Having done both professionally–that is written a column and had my own radio show–the radio reference rings particularly true for me. I was in broadcasting for 10 years at the very start of my professional career. What I found was there was a commonality between many of the men who were DJs. A majority of them were very shy, social misfits, who seemed uncomfortable in their own skin. But put them behind a mike, switch it on and they were transformed. Their alter egos were often funny, bordering on irreverent, personable and affable and what I can only describe as the complete opposite of their true selves. I suspect some bloggers, especially the more outrageous ones, are cut from the same swatch of cloth. For blogging, like opinion writing and being on the radio, allows you to become someone else. And the more comfortable you are with that alter ego, the more life you breathe into it. Soon the alter has opinions of its own often emboldened by the mere fact that it can speak through faceless, electronic words in cyberspace or via the air waves, which often slows the swiftness of accountability.
Oh, it’s been a theme this week. Rejection still has the ability to reach into my gut and wrench hard. Being a professional writer for several decades, I should be used to rejection. And for the most part, I am. Rejection and criticism come with the territory of being a published writer. And I generally don’t mind when someone disagrees with me. But while I can slough off rejection from professional agents and publishers, I admit I have a hard time if they choose to be rude. I have come to realize that there are quite a few people out there who just don’t know how to deliver constructive criticism. Many times, it is laced with personal opinion, cutting remarks and rudeness. I wonder if this is a trend. While I applaud the Internet for providing an open forum for discussion and opinion swapping, it does mystify me just how many people it attracts who want space to just vent and who don’t give a whit as to who they character assassinate or attack. I was taught that anger is the worst way to get someone to listen to you. And I believe that everyone–bar none–should be treated with respect. And I won’t be disrespectful in return but I also won’t waste my precious time on you either. Because in the words of my husband, you should never wrestle with a pig because the pig likes it and you just get dirty.
Ever want to build an entire piece around one phrase? I often do when it comes to the column. This week, the phrase “corpulent corpuscles” rode around in my head as I sat with the phlebotomist giving blood. On the drive home, contemplating the column, I kept thinking about how I could devote 500 plus words to the small act of having blood drawn. I guess I fell in love with “corpulent corpuscles” and the need to breathe life into that phrase life was not to be denied. It ended up being somewhat of a descriptive narrative using some of my favorite column-writing techniques, namely referencing my mother, analyzing human reaction and working some irony and sarcasm in every once in a while. I have found that finding a phrase that speaks to me will often be the impetus to writing something, lighthearted or not, that will entertain others.
A comment was posted on this site about going where you don’t want to go with your writing. I know too well about this. Sometimes, especially when writing about sensitive topics or painful experiences from the past and present, I find myself delving into an area of my life I would rather just ignore. But then I have to ask myself why. After all, there is no such thing as being able to avoid myself. Circumstances and situations that brought me to where I am right now all had reasons beyond just bringing me pain. If I can’t see what those reasons are right this minute, perhaps writing about it will help. Quite frankly, it has been through my own writing, both commercial and private, that I have been able to make sense of the seemingly nonsensical. I guess the point I am trying to make is that wherever you end up in your writing may be the best place to be. And accepting that might be the key to understanding.
Right now is a great example of how constipated I can get when writing. It feels as if everything is stuck in my head and I can’t get a a damn thing on paper. It’s not quite writer’s block, which to me feels as if I am standing with my nose against a looming cement wall with no chance of ever getting over it much less seeing it in its entirety. Hopeless, overwhelmed and a failure. The feeling I have this morning is different. It feels as if there are no walls at all, just a million open paths and I can’t figure out which way to go. So I falter and pause, hem and harrumph and hope that I can find the motivation to walk down one of them. When I am in this place, I have learned some tricks to give myself the push I need. One of them is to remind myself that no matter which path I take, it will still get me there (wherever ‘there’ is). The other is to stop thinking and start doing. My mind is my biggest asset to my creative writing and also my most annoying liability. Overthinking is a bad habit that has left me frustrated and blank-paged. Right now I have to remind myself that the craft is actually honed on paper not in my head. Just go do it, Lenore. I’ll let you know how it turns out. 
The only sure fire way to lose is to quit, give up, or stop trying. As obvious as this sounds, it is the place where a lot of great writing has ended up–just steps from the finish line. I am hardly a patient person. It is one of my tragic flaws. Timelines, goals and endpoints live in my head and dictate to me just how my career and even my life should unfold. Of course, it rarely works that way. And it’s been one of my greatest lessons to let go of that way of thinking and just focus on what my part is in all of this. Namely, as a writer, it is to never give up. And than requires tenacity. I wish I had nickel for every moment I wanted to quit, every tantrum I had over rejection letters and foiled plans, every time I told myself that this was it–my final attempt at success. Wealthy is what I would be. But thanks to my stubborn nature and the confidence of a few pivotal people in my life, I always go back and try again. Over time I have come to the place where I can isolate what my role is in all of this. It is to develop the ideas, do the writing, finish the projects and create, create, create. Then to sell, sell, sell. And that always involves a lot of waiting, waiting, waiting. But what I have realized is that I don’t need to cultivate worry, anxious thoughts of what now or fret over why isn’t anything happening. I have learned to allow the universe, God or just the unfolding fates to do the rest. I think it’s called faith, or perhaps better put, trust.
Where does the evil little voice in your head come from? It has to have a source, right? One of exercises I do in my writing seminars is to ask the participants a series of questions designed to give a face and a voice to the critic the exists in all of us. To give life to the critic who tells us we will never make it; we don’t have what it takes to go the distance; we lack talent; we should just give up. Many during the process discover that the origination of their inner critics take root in their parents, a judgmental teacher or mentor, a jealous peer group, or some other influence from their young lives. The ironic result of the exercise is that after painting a face and a personality on this inner critic, the participants realize that they have to ultimately take ownership of the wretched monster. Because as much as we would like to blame our inner critic for our inability to feel good about our accomplishments and ourselves, the truth is we have met the critic and it is us.
I have a voracious appetite for writing tips. Thankfully, I have found a mentor in my literary agent who has helped me immensely with a plethora of tips. I believe the art of great writing is an expanding one; always changing, deepening and spreading even if only by nuance. No writer is ever so good that he or she doesn’t need a) an editor and b) a teacher or mentor. You may notice when reading your favorite authors, some of them get sloppy with success. Some don’t. Those who take their time producing their writing projects over a longer period of time often show a consistency in style and plot development and continue to be solid writers that can captivate the reader. Others, often the ones who have become superstars and crank out book after book after book, can have the tendency to start to believe that every word they type is untouchable. Either that, or they have ghost writers doing all the work for them. Two of the authors I admire have fallen from grace in my opinion. Their newer works seem to have bypassed the editing process. Extranneous detail, going-nowhere dialog, and boring plotting seem to drag them down. I can only assume that they have gotten somewhat full of themselves. It reminds me of the early days in my professional journalism career when I worked on the copy desk at McGraw-Hill in NYC. I worked for BusinessWeek Magazine and was this young, just-out-of-college kid. Part of my first day on the job was to edit copy from one of the most established and prestigious writers there. I nervously but dutifully did my work and sent it back to him for his approval before the piece went on to publication. It came back to me with his approval. But as I read through it, he had stripped out all of my edits–which were few–and replaced the original copy. Apparently, he felt he didn’t need to be edited. Especially by some punk kid. I think this can easily happen in the case of writers, especially since most of us have frail egos and can view our writing as untouchable. If you don’t believe anything else anyone tells you, please believe this: Having a second set of trained eyes work through your copy for content as well as grammar and syntax is invaluable and a vital part of solid writing.
