I've written about some of these common errors in word choice before, but they keep popping up and this time I thought it might be fun to illustrate them. Here's the first one:
"This book is literally explosive!"
No, unless it goes boom it is figuratively explosive. You don't need to add the "figuratively" because people will know that's what you mean. It's adding "literally" as though it means "very" or "extremely" that is the problem.
Frank Mouse, above, is convinced that what's held him back is that he's not as cute as Mickey Mouse. His ears are too small, so are his pupils, and his hand is badly drawn. He believes that's why he's not famous and he's pretty bitter about it.
Is he right? I don't know, but I do know that excuses are the easiest thing in the world to find.
I'm an expert. I can give you plenty of reasons why I'm not farther along in reviving my Spanish, my transmedia project is on hold, and my script rewrite isn't done.
But, as I said in my last post, we do what we really consider most important at the time, so this post isn't about doing more.
It's about giving up excuses. I've found that when I accept my excuses they get stronger and more persistent. It's harder to give them up even when I don't need them any more. They seem to have become facts rather than useful temporary fictions. And, worst of all, they shift responsiblity away from where it belongs--with us.
We can do a lot with what we have, even if our ears are too small (or too big) as long as we don't let our excuses convince us otherwise.
I might even animate Frank some time, small ears and all. He will never be Mickey but he might be an interesting Frank.
What about you? Do you have excuses it might be good to give up?
We all have favorite authors and the hope we might someday write as well as them. But is it a good idea to try to emulate somebody's style?
Yes and no.
I think it's worth analyzing exactly what it is about your favorite author's style that appeals to you so much. One good way to do that is to write a page or two in that style. However, these are not pages to publish or show anybody else. It's a fun exercise. Even better is to write the same paragraph or two in the style of several different authors.
When you turn to writing your own material, forget about trying to copy anybody else's style. You'll find some echoes of your favorite author's style if you look for them but you won't come off as a poor imitation.
Style or "voice" is a by-product, not a goal, and you may find it takes time for yours to emerge...and one day, when you've stopped worrying about it, it'll be there.
(Need some guidance? Get a copy of my book, "Your Writing Coach," published by Nicholas Brealey and available from Amazon or your other favorite book seller.)
If you find you are held back by negative thoughts about your writing or anything else in your life, research has shown that there is a simple method you can use to help yourself get rid of them.
When I say simple, I mean REALLY simple. So much so that you may dismiss it as being TOO easy. Keep an open mind!
Here it is: write down the negative thought on a piece of paper. Throw that paper away.
Don’t just imagine doing it, that doesn’t work. Actually do it.
Now for the science: three studies conducted at the Universidad Autonoma de Madrid showed that negative thoughts that were written down and then discarded had a lesser effect afterward.
By the same token, thoughts that were written down and kept, especially those carried around in the person’s pocket were more influential afterward.
Why not conduct your own study?
First, write down any negative thoughts you’d like to get rid of. One example might be, “I will never get this project done,” or “I always fall short of what I set out to do.”
My instinct is to use a separate piece of paper for each negative thought.
Crumple up the pieces of paper and throw them away. If you can do it safely, you might prefer to burn them or tear them up before discarding them.
Next, write down any thoughts you’d like to magnify. For instance, “I can get this project done on time,” or “I am now setting realistic expectations for myself and I achieve them.” Write boldly.
Carry those pieces of paper with you in your pocket or a purse or wallet.
Make a note on your calendar to review the situation in a week. At that time, notice whether you have felt and behaved any differently.
I don’t believe there is any magic to this, it is a matter of taking physical action that parallels a desired mental action. It’s not actually a big surprise that the two can work together.
Let me know how you get on with this, either in a comment below or via email to jurgenwolff (at) gmail.com.
(Helping you overcome fears you might have about writing is the point of the first part of my book, "Your Writing Coach," published by Nicholas Brealey. You can get it from Amazon or your ohter favorite bookseller.)
The questions probably should be are writers more paranoid than others, because according to a new study at the Institute of Psychiatry, Kings College, London, paranoid thoughts are common.
They used a virtual reality Underground ride during which participants heard laughter and were asked whether they thought it might be about them, or were looked at by avatars and asked whether they felt the figures were friendly, neutral, or menacing.
Forty percent of the 200 participants had at least one paranoid thought. I guarantee you that one hundred percent of the people who ride the real London Underground during rush hour have at least one paranoid thought. Although, as somebody noted, “Just because you’re paranoid does’t mean they’re not after you.”
One of the researchers, Dr Daniel Freeman, said “In the past, only those with severe mental illness were thought to experience paranoid thoughts, but now we know that this is simply not the case.”
Of course it doesn’t help that the government feeds such paranoia, especially with what I call the “theatre of security” that plays out at the airport. Or is it paranoid of me to think that way? Naah.
Writers get paranoid mostly when they have sent their work to somebody--e.g., a producer, agent, or editor--and don’t get a response. Then it’s easy to start assuming the recipient hates it and is just putting off rejecting it. Sometimes that IS what’s happening but most of the time the manuscript is just buried in a pile of papers on their desk.
The other time writers get paranoid is when they think someone has stolen their material. It does happen, as I know from being a victim on one major occasion, but it’s relatively rare. If you don’t show your material, nobody can buy it. Keep good records of who saw it and when and you should be fine.
Overall, I don’t think we’re any more paranoid than the next person...in other words, a little.
(Of course, you should worry about missing out on all the good guidance you'll find in my book, "Your Writing Coach." It's published by Nicholas Brealey and available from Amazon or your other favorite bookseller. Keep your eye on that shady-looking person in the bookshop--they may be plotting to grab the last copy.)
In The Wrap, Brad Fisher, one of the producers of the summer blockbuster film, “White House Down,” was quoted as saying, “"What people really remember in movies are the characters. Spectacle will take you so far, but all the bells and whistles in the world will not really mean anything unless you have a story with characters you care about."
Shocking! You mean they know this and make movies with tissue-thin characters anyway?
Director Roland Emmerich took it one step farther. When he first met with the producers he said, “Guys, it's a very good script. Everything is there. What's missing is the movie has to be about something.”
Of course neither of those features much in the trailer for the film. That consisted mostly of explosions. Based on that, I wasn’t planning to see the movie, especially after seeing “Man of Steel.” It wasn’t terrible, but it was a mistake to see it in 3D from a front row at an IMAX cinema. At times I felt like the Malcolm McDowell character in “A Clockwork Orange.” It reminded me that endless fight sequences, no matter how fast-paced and loud, can be boring.
Still, maybe i’ll check out “White House Down” after all, to see whether the good intentions about characters and some kind of political message made it through. I'm not getting my hopes too high.
An agent once told me the biggest mistake would-be children’s writers make is to focus too much on trying to teach a lesson (the second biggest mistake is to write yet another soft, sweet story featuring a mouse).
I was reminded of that when I read a quote by the wonderful author Maurice Sendak. Robert Heller wrote that when he asked Sendak whether it was his intention to convey to kids that its OK to have many different emotions (not just “nice” ones), the reply was:
“I was not a humanitarian or a social worker. Or even someone who understood children. I don’t have children. So I cannot pretend that I set out to help other children. Primarily, my work was an act of exorcism, an act of finding solutions so that I could have peace of mind and be an artist and function in the world as a human being and a man. My mind doesn’t stray beyond my own need to surive.”
If we asked a novelist why she or he writes, probably we wouldn’t be surprised to hear that kind of reply; should it be any different for those who write for children?
(For friendly guidance on writing any kind of book, get a copy of "Your Writing Coach," published by Nicholas Brealey and available from Amazon or your other favorite book seller.)
The three-act structure of films and stories applies to real life, too. Yesterday's cartoon was a glimpse of one man's Act I, today it's Act II, which often features a reversal of some kind in the middle.
(Want friendly guidance for writing your book? Get "Your Writing Coach," published by Nicholas Brealey and available from Amazon or your other favorite bookseller.)
Screenwriters and others probably are familiar with "3 act structure" - the way many stories are organized (the story kicks in with an inciting incident in act 1, escalates with lots of conflicts in act 2 (often with a reversal of some kind in the middle) and resolves in act 3. Really it's another way of saying beginning, middle, and end. We can look at our lives in the same way, which is what led to this little series of cartoons. Today: Act I.
(for guidance on writing your book, get a copy of "Your Writing Coach," published by Nicholas Brealey and available from Amazon or your other favorite bookseller.)
(Would you like some writing advice from Charles Dickens as you accompany him on his rounds assisting fallen women? How about having F. Scott Fitzgerald tell you about revealing character as the two of you have a drink--actually, 12 drinks--at his favorite bar? Or maybe you'd like to ask Beckett for some tips afte he tells you his favorite "Knock-knock" joke: Knock-knock/ who's there? /(silence). Sorry, they're all dead but you can still get their writing advice in my book, "Your Creative Writing Masterclass," published by Nicholas Brealey and available from Amazon or your other favorite bookseller. Well, except Beckett's advice. I'm still waiting for that.)
