William Wren

I began this list last Thursday. I finished it off Saturday morning. Surprisingly, on Saturday I also came across Ten rules for writing fiction. It seems I wasn’t alone in putting together a list. (Those writers, by the way, are much better than I am so their lists should carry a good deal more weight than mine.) There is no order to my list. They are “off-the-cuff,” jotted down as they popped into my head. They read as follows:

#1 If you’re the kind of writer so very good that only modesty withholds the modifier “great,” you can ignore rules. By the way, if you’re that kind of writer you’re probably dead and have been for some time.

#2 Writing correctly is not the same as writing well. A sentence can be perfectly grammatical yet fail to communicate its message. Some sentences are ungrammatical yet communicate their meaning immediately and clearly.

#3 Writing isn’t about words, it is about communicating. Words are just the tool. Don’t fall in love with language.

#4 Few things are as discouraging to readers as very long paragraphs. Break it up. Better still, brutally look at what you’ve written and ask if it is really necessary. The answer is usually no.

#5 Get to the point. Immediately. Don’t write long paragraphs to set things up (referred to as exposition or back story). If that material is truly necessary, you can toss it in later (however, see rule #8).

#6 Read everything you write out loud. If you can’t read it out loud easily and fluidly, something is wrong with it. Rewrite it or drop it. (Additionally, read material that is not your own out loud. It will help convey to you how things should read and sound – or the opposite.)

#7 Listen. Everyone has their own way of speaking. They use particular words, phrasing and syntax. By listening, you’ll find new ways of constructing sentences and hear how language can communicate character (among other things). You’ll also notice that people rarely use long, clause-filled sentences.

#8 Edit. Rewrite. Edit. Rewrite. Edit. Rewrite. Repeat until doctors start suggesting Prozac.

#9 Your favourite writing is usually your worst, pretty as it may be. It’s the stuff that needs to be junked. It’s sad but true. On the other hand, it’s a great way to flag material that should be dropped. If you love it, that’s a sign something is wrong.

#10 Getting paid beats compliments every time.

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I’ve just quickly created a page of books that have influenced me. In fact, while it’s page name is “Books” the secondary headline is Books that have influenced me.

It’s a short list — just five. I think of all of them as related to writing though only one is specifically about writing. Most are web/social media related. But I see their messages as applicable to writing.

And a couple may strike you as peculiar. You may ask, “What the hell has that to do with social media?” or something similar. You may think they are old and no longer relevant.

As mentioned, I threw it together quickly and I hope to explain soon what it is about each of them that I think is important. If the stars are properly aligned and I can write well, you’ll understand what it is about each I find of value and why I’ve picked them.

You can see the list here.

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I’ve been busy this week and haven’t posted anything. (The web collectively mutters, “Thank heaven!”) But I have come across a few things that caught my attention.

The first is oodles of writers providing their rules for their craft and while it is in a fiction context many, if not all, are applicable to any kind of writing. The second is a brief Seth Godin post that points to how to use clichés (and why they work). Third is a post of my own from my other site, included if only because it has been ages since I’ve added anything new (probably of limited interest). And finally … a post that begins talking about language but soon reveals itself to be about impermanence. It’s interesting, at least to me, and may prompt me to write a lengthy post of my own. We’ll see.

And now the links:

Ten rules for writing fiction

“Get an accountant, abstain from sex and similes, cut, rewrite, then cut and rewrite again – if all else fails, pray. Inspired by Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules of Writing, we asked authors for their personal dos and don’ts.”

How to use clichés (Seth Godin)

“The effective way to use a cliché is to point to it and then do precisely the opposite.”

A Lady Takes a Chance -1943 (Piddleville)

After having it on my computer for about two months in a half-finished state, I’ve finally posted my take on A Lady Takes a Chance (1943). It stars Jean Arthur and John Wayne and, yes, it’s a romantic comedy.

Let’s Get Radical (thinkBuddha.org)

“… We are, perhaps, not very good at thinking about change. Western thought, in particular, seems to be very wedded to an idea of stasis as the fundamental condition of things.”

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As I mentioned yesterday Writelife will, “… be a bit of a schmozzle for the next day or two.” I’m experimenting with a few things, such as:

• trying Disqus for comments — just to see if there is any value in it
• setting up Google for site search — because I’m not thrilled with the current search
• trying a few different plugins and what not in the sidebars

The concern I’ve always had with Disqus for comments was simply that it might add a new step for anyone leaving a comment. I’m not sure that it does, but I believe everything should be as simple as possible for users — and they shouldn’t have to stop and figure out what to do. That is simply a barrier to using something.

I have the Google search way at the bottom of the far right column for now. It’s obviously not set up correctly since no matter what you enter it shows zero results. It’s one of those head scratching things that people like me encounter, people who are primarily something other than technology guys.

I’ve added a few Google ads in the sidebars mainly because I can and I’d like to see how they set up and, once in place, whether they are anything more than clutter. I’m looking at a few other things with “revenue generating potential,” as some might put it. I’m also considering going through those sidebars and whittling them down. Is there any value to some of them? (In some cases, the answer is yes but only to me.)

To sum it up, I’m in a revisionist frame of mind these days and thus I’m rethinking. I rethink best visually: I often have to see and use something to really get a sense for its worth.

From a visitor’s point of view, this means disruptions. Think of it as summer on Writelife and the city has road construction going on almost everywhere.

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Work is necessary in order to be complete. We tend to think of work only in terms of reward – an income – that allows us to fulfill other of life’s necessities and, if we can, enjoy our lives more fully with some of its luxuries. But work itself is a necessity and for that necessity to be truly met how we work is important.

A long time ago I read The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen. It masquerades as a nature/travel book but it’s really an account of a spiritual journey into the Himalayas with the faint hope of seeing the rarely seen snow leopard. One part of the book has always remained with me.

On their trek they have a Sherpa to help and guide them. In their group there is a British couple that continually treat the Sherpa with disrespect – with a kind of upper-crust disdain as if to say, “You don’t exist except to serve us.”

Yet the Sherpa continues along doing his work as if indifferent to his treatment. Finally, one day, Matthiessen asks him, “How can you be so indifferent? How can you respect these people?”

The Sherpa says, “I don’t. I respect the work.”

That made me think. The Sherpa separates the employment from the employer. I think regardless of the employer, regardless of the work, how he performs it says something about him. The employer and employment may be lousy but if he has agreed to do the work then how he performs it reflects on his character.

If the conditions of the employment are awful, he can look for other work, resign from the employment. To continue to do the work but do it poorly may make things difficult for the people or company employing him but they also undermine him.

Imagine an athlete, let’s say a hockey player. He has loads of talent. He’s in the upper echelon of players. His team, however, reaches a point that it has no chance of making the playoffs. As a whole, the team has performed as well as they might. What does he do? Does he continue to play at the top of his game, trying to help the team improve? Or does he slack off because there is no chance of winning and, “What’s the point? This team sucks. I want to get traded.”

He could probably get a trade in the real world. And in the real world I’m sure lots of teams would want him. But I think that would be a mistake. His performance on the team that is out of the playoffs says he only plays well under certain conditions. It says his interest in “the work” is only to the extent that he is rewarded for it with money and accolades. If you take those away, he’s a slug. He plays for himself, no one else. He certainly doesn’t play for the team.

He doesn’t respect the work and by extension he doesn’t really respect himself. It isn’t surprising that some of the best workers are those who have been out of work for a while. Take it away, and you quickly realize how important it is in defining who you are and the degree to which you have a sense of self-respect.

We tend to focus on jobs, as we should, but how we perform them, think about them and feel about them is just as important. More often than not, it defines who we are.

Related links:

• Mike Rowe on how we view work
• Why success can make for lousy work
• Work is not a dirty word (Broadcasting-Brain)

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Nothing is as easy as it appears – even talking.

We’ve likely all encountered variations of this comedic scene: someone looks like one thing but their voice doesn’t fit our expectations. Let’s say there is a huge football lineman who towers over us yet his voice is high-pitched and squeaky. He may even have a lisp. So we laugh or chuckle.

It’s politically incorrect and socially inappropriate. Worse, it’s unkind. But it’s a natural response to the gap between expectations and reality. Comedy is all about setting up expectations then delivering the unexpected.

How we sound has always intrigued me. I’m always surprised when I meet someone who, should the conversation turn to the subject of radio, has a kind of dream of being on the radio. Seriously, there are a lot of them! I suppose it’s understandable but I know that there is a huge difference between the idealized, fantasy image of being a radio announcer and the reality.

To begin with, it’s one thing to talk it’s quite another to say something that is listenable. You can talk, but are you saying anything worth hearing (the content)? You can talk, but do you have bad habits like a chuckle, the same chuckle, preceding every pause? Do you have to script everything you say or can you talk off the cuff and be sensible? Can you talk and naturally work in all the announcements you’re required to: weather, ads, promos?

Here’s an example: I have a moderately listenable voice. But if I were on the radio and had to talk off the cuff it would all be gibberish punctuated by the odd profanity because, unfortunately, you have to actually think about what you’re saying and my brain works slowly. It’s sad but it’s true. It also goes off on unanticipated tangents.

When you talk, do you sound like yourself or do you sound like a completely different person? Some people, I found, sounded like “announcers.” We use to have a term for that – “Ronnie Radio.” (In other words, there are announcers and there are people who trying to imitate what they think announcers sound like.)

Let’s say you are reading something, a news story or an ad or an introduction – do you sound like you’re reading or can you sound natural, as if you aren’t reading?

Some people have the skills and talent required to be on the radio. Still, they fall into a couple of types. There are some people who are great announcers but no matter what the situation, always sound like announcers. For example, if you have an ad that requires a character voice, let say the average Joe talking about his car, they can’t do it. Put in different terms, they can be a narrator in a film but they can’t be one of the film’s characters because they can’t act. They do one thing, do it very well, but that is it.

And some people can do those character voices but couldn’t be an announcer to save their life. A few can do both.

All this voice business, by the way, doesn’t even touch on all the other requirements, such as public appearances, community involvement and radio station functions they may have. (Maybe they have to also sell ads, or manage the music, or produce commercials.)

On the outside, being a radio voice appears easy and fun. It can certainly be the latter, fun, and for some it can be both. But talking on the radio involves a lot more than talking on the radio.

That is why it is something I never tried. Years ago, when I first started in radio, I saw what was involved and gauged it against what my skills were and my personality was and it was clear to me that it would not be something I’d do even remotely well.

And so I write.

(Yes, today was a bit of a tangent.)

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Communications is made up of two halves, something like yin and yang. I call them the positive side and the negative side. In using a word like “negative” we immediately think it is something bad. But it isn’t. Both sides can be done well or poorly so the positive side, done wrong, can be very bad. The negative side, done very well, can be very good. Let’s see if I can explain what I mean.

What I call the positive side is essentially the message we want to get across. Sometimes this is referred to as marketing “happy talk” but that isn’t what it is unless it is done badly. Happy talk is empty. It lacks substance. It’s the kind of communication that tells potential customers your product is “cool” or “awesome” or “great” without ever saying why. In other words, it doesn’t explain the benefits – why a customer would want it. It’s actually negative communication because it’s characterized my absence.

Negative communication is a bit dodgy but it can be summed up this way: it’s all the material we don’t provide because it isn’t overtly about promoting the product or service. In terms of the positive side, it’s all the material that would have made the marketing communications you did substantive – it’s the material that would have explained why something was “awesome.”

Put another way, everything is communications – sometimes good, sometimes bad. Even no communication is a kind of communication. It tells customers you don’t care, or don’t know, or don’t have the courage to say, or that you are so slap-dash you forgot.

A good question to ask is, “What am I not saying?” One of the hardest things to figure out is what is missing in our communications. Are all the I’s dotted, the T’s crossed?

I came across an example the other day where a TV ad for a site made reference to something very specific (amongst several specifics). When I went to the site, however, I couldn’t find it, despite my searching. Eventually I found it – using Google. What do you imagine my impression of the company was?

This is what I mean by negative communication. It’s everything we neglect or choose not to say.

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I’ve been following Seth Godin’s blog for years. I’ve been reading his books for years. (I think I started with Permission Marketing.) However, as he himself describes in a different context, we often experience a dip and so, as with anything that goes on over a long period of time, it waxes and wanes. Thus I read his blog almost daily for a while then other things get my attention or I get too busy and I go through a period of not following his posts, or seeing them only occasionally.

And then my interest renews and I start following daily again. I get past my “dip.”

Why do I read I him? I asked myself this question today while drinking coffee and freezing my butt off as I paced around my deck. (The pacing was about keeping warm; being outside was about waking myself up.)

I think I know the answer. Although often referred to as a “marketing guru,” and strictly speaking I suppose that is what he is, I don’t think that is what he is or does. What he does is observe and describe human behaviour – and that’s why I find him interesting.

You could probably say all marketing is about this, as well as using what we learn from it to create interest in products or services and ultimately stimulate sales. But it’s often at a distance, as if we’re speaking of something that is “other,” of which we aren’t a part.

From what I’ve seen, when the various aspects of marketing are discussed there is a degree of detachment. Maybe it’s the way we speak of it, maybe it’s because there is a heavy focus on numbers and charts. It’s a cerebral way of seeing it.

With Seth Godin, I sense the visceral. While the head may agree or disagree, it is the agreement or disagreement in the gut that is strongest. I’ll read something that he is describing, such as The Dip, and I know it’s true because I’ve experienced it or seen it in others. Often, he’ll describe something we’re already aware of, if only intuitively, but we’ve yet to formulate or articulate it. But there is an element of recognition we experience in what he says.

I came across one of his posts today, Random rules for ideas worth spreading, and it was the same thing. There is a list and much of it might be called common sense, even obvious in some cases, but each item resonates in one way or another with what we observe either in ourselves, in others or both. My favourite was this one: “Are you a serial idea-starting person? If so, what can you change to end that cycle? The goal is to be an idea-shipping person.” Yes, I know that one.

In his books Seth speaks of being remarkable, of tribes and now, in his latest book, of being a linchpin (Linchpin: Are You Indispensable?). Regardless of the words used, each term (and the ideas contained in the books in which they’re found) are born out of the observation and understanding of human behaviour, something we recognize as true in our guts.

I think that is the key to his success and, while I don’t know this to be true, I’d suggest at the core of what he does is a love of and fascination with people. I suppose someone could achieve success without this but I can’t help feeling that to do so would require so much more effort.

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It’s good to repeat yourself. By default I think we believe to repeat ourselves is a bad thing. However, if we’re trying to communicate it’s through repetition that it gets across. The trick is to do this without becoming redundant  — in other words, knowing when enough is enough.

The other trick is to repeat ourselves but not in exactly the same way. While this post’s headline may not be the best example, it is an example of sorts. Put a better, more lengthy way, we might answer a question with, “Repetition is good. When we say something once only, it is easy for its essence to be lost in all the other communication that goes on between people. Thus, to say it two or three times helps to break through the clutter and make it more memorable. The lesson, then, is that it is good to repeat ourselves.”

Okay. That may be a bit too long, too wordy and too tedious but I think you get the idea.

Repetition is one of the ways we remember. Why do football teams in practice run the same play over and over? It’s to work out the weaknesses, get everyone on the same page and also to ensure every knows it, learns it and understands what to do almost without thinking when the play is called in a game situation.

I went off on this topic after reading Why Twitter was inevitable? over on Julien Smith’s blog. He begins by talking about recalling things he had forgotten about radio culture, such as the necessity to, “… constantly repeat the thing we’re talking about …”

I worked in radio as well, years ago. It was in commercial radio. I remember coming up with my own rule about ads which was, if you’re forced to choose between creativity and frequency, always go with frequency.

Ideally, you wouldn’t have to make this choice. You could have a creative ad plus frequency – meaning it got played a lot, hopefully throughout the day, particularly at the high listening periods (morning and drive). One of the reasons you hear and remember those awful local car dealership ads is because they forego creativity (well, maybe they think their ads are creative) and go with frequency – ads that are run a lot, often concentrated toward the end of the week and weekends when it was assumed anyone buying a car might be out shopping for one.

The theory was simple and, I think, true: an ad heard once would not be remembered, no matter how good it was. There is simply too much noise to break through. Our minds recall the things we hear, see and do frequently.

Repetition is how we learn and that is because it is how we remember. That is what makes repetition a good thing. It requires some skill to avoid becoming obvious and annoying but the bottom line remains: it’s good to repeat yourself.

Roll credits …

I went off on this topic by reading an interview with Julien Smith over on Mark Dykeman’s blog (Broadcasting Brain). That lead me to Julien’s blog and the post I referred to above.

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