I know you’re all anxiously awaiting the “big reveal” on my full rewrite of “Cast in Stone”–he said, his words dripping with sarcasm–but that’s still a couple of days away. Meanwhile, I’m still working on the analysis task I set for myself.
If you’ll recall, as preparation for my next book, I’ve been analyzing the writing of some writers whose style I’d like to emulate. I’ve started with Alice Hoffman’s Blackbird House, a set of vignettes describing centuries of life around a single location. My goal was to understand how she is able, with extremely simple language, to create the feeling of lyricism and the mystical atmosphere that imbue so much of her work.
Let me warn you, though, before you take on a task like this. Just as most sausage-lovers don’t like to see sausage being made, doing a breakdown/ analysis/ desconstruction of a favorite author’s work can take some of the magic out of the reading experience. Suddenly, you’ll see the elements on every page, in every paragraph, and it may take some time before you can stop seeing those elements (if at all).

This is the last specific topic I’m going to post in this series on common mistakes that plague new/untrained writers. But, I’ve decided that the final post is gong to be an experiment. I’m going to take an old trunk story and post it here, warts and all, highlighting the errors I’ve been complaining about here. Then I’m going to edit it, rewriting it to see how much better it might be. Then, you can be the judge of whether or not my advice given here is of any value.
A follow-up to my earlier post about