A few weeks ago, I reported that a book I was reading made me question my long-held belief that William Shakespeare, the man, and William Shakespeare, the playwright, were one and the same. Now before your eyes glaze over (“O, by Heav’n!” you say. “Not again!”) let me say that as a writer, I found this of great interest. Several people have tried to interpret aspects of my writing and deduce things about my background and history; this is exactly the same…except with a genius writer instead of me. (more…)
Posts Tagged ‘Writing’
A Peeper’s Dry Plate
Posted in Television, Writing, tagged blog stats, blogging, creative writing, peepers dry plate, Ripper Street, television, Writing on 30 Jan 2013| 4 Comments »
It’s been seven months since I began this experiment, and I feel it’s been pretty successful. The interest from you all has gelled around a handful of topics–writing, food, reviews, Seattle–but I haven’t felt restricted or limited in any way. And to date, nearly a hundred of you have decided to keep tabs on my flow of opinions. Thank you; I find that gratifying and encouraging.
Oddly, one of the most popular posts has been my review of “Ripper Street.” That one post, still only a couple weeks old, ranks #4 on the “most viewed” list, surpassed only by the Home Page and other pages that have been here from the beginning. And most every day, it gets a couple hits, mostly from search engines looking for references to a “peeper’s dry plate.”
So, if you’re here looking for an explanation for that rogue comment, made by Sergeant Drake on “Ripper Street” (S1E1):
A “peeper” was Victorian slang for a mirror, but also (as today) for anyone who might be engaged in voyeuristic activities, such as a photographer of smut.
A “dry plate” is an improved photographic plate, using gelatin, that was invented in the late 19th c., and which had many practical advantages over the “wet plate.”
My thanks again, to you who read this regularly.
k
The View from Here: Like a What, Now?
Posted in Writing, tagged bad writing examples, creative writing, editing, metaphor and simile, metaphors and similes, novel writing, publishing, the view from here, Writing, writing mistakes, writing techniques, writing tips on 25 Jan 2013| 1 Comment »
People have told me that I’m too tough in my critiques. Privately, I’ve been told that these “The View from Here” posts are too harsh, too critical. “New writers will make mistakes,” I’m told. “That’s what editors are for.” Poppycock.
A number of years ago, I used to read slush for a magazine. It was unpaid intern-type-stuff, but it taught me a great deal (as all good unpaid intern-type-stuff should). It taught me about deadlines and time-management. It taught me a lot about publishing, as I was able to see a lot of it from behind the scenes. It taught me the truth of the adage: The only way to make a small fortune in publishing is to start with a large fortune.
But most of all, it taught me to think like an editor.
An editor is like an alcoholic in a 12-step program–Let’s skip right over the joke about how most of them actually are alcoholics in 12-step programs and move right to what I mean by that.–i.e., editors read MSS one page at a time. Screw up on Page One, they’ll never read Page Two. After all, why go farther? Why read any more if page one just sucks? They won’t. Screw up on Page One–hell, screw up in Paragraph One–and you’re done.
So yes, I’m tough. And now, onto the next item I see a lot in some of the fiction posted out there: Bad metaphors and stupid similes.
The View from Here: As You Know, Bob
Posted in Writing, tagged as you know bob, creative writing, editing, exposition, expository block, novel writing, self-publishing, Writing, writing techniques, writing tips on 18 Jan 2013| 1 Comment »
It’s virtually unavoidable, this one. Seriously, virtually unavoidable, just like the old show/tell chestnut. It takes a mountain of diligence, discipline, and work for me to avoid it. And in the end, if I am successful in removing its stain from my story, the result might not be any better. So, as with that old “Show, don’t tell” adage, this one is largely a matter of degree. Too much, and my prose is comical. Too little, and…what’s that? You don’t know what I’m talking about? You mean I didn’t explain something to you?
And there’s the rub. If you haven’t from the title or the above gleaned my drift, let me spell it out for you. I’m talking about the dreaded expository block. Yes, that clunk-fest where the author steps right into the story, takes you (poor Reader) in hand, and gently explains to you what’s really going on. It’s that section which, when put into the mouth of a character, usually starts with a phrase like, “As you know, Bob…” It’s when Steven Spielberg paints a little girl’s coat red in an otherwise black-and-white film, just to make sure that you and he are on the same page.
But exposition is often necessary. My readers aren’t psychic, and just as I can’t “show” every last detail and nuance, neither should I take my story back to the beginning of, well, Everything, in order to expose my reader to all the backstory and context that imbues my heartbreaking work of utter genius. So, it’s another balancing act, another vague artist’s equation wherein phrases like a lot and too much prominently figure.
Some examples after the jump:
Life’s Letters Lost
Posted in Culture, Writing, tagged alphabet, eth, lost letters, Roman alphabet, thorn, typography, unknown letters, Writing, wynn, ye olde shoppe, yogh on 16 Jan 2013| 2 Comments »
An interesting article crossed my desk yesterday, detailing a dozen “letters” that just didn’t make the cut for our modern Roman alphabet. Well, okay, it’s not that cut and dried. It’s not like there was a Council of Nicaea meeting on the alphabet. Most of these “lost letters” were in wide use at one time, but just fell out of favor.
You know some of them already. The friendly Ampersand (&) is the best known, and anyone who’s read a facsimile of our Declaration of Independence has snickered over the phrase “Purfuit of Happinefs,” wherein we find both the old “long s” and its surviving relation, the “short s.” (And now you know what to call that “effy” S-thing.) (more…)
Devil on my Shoulder
Posted in Writing, tagged creative writing, novel writing, Writing, writing techniques, writing tips on 16 Jan 2013| 2 Comments »
Part of me always feels guilty.
The writer in me is always watching, always observing, always taking notes. One year, a friend presented me with a t-shirt that said: Careful or You’ll End Up in My Novel. She thought it was funny. I know that it’s true.
There is a vast supply of information out there, presented to us everyday, free of charge–on the bus, in the grocery, on the freeway, in the workplace–and all we writerly-types have to do is watch, observe, note.
So, part of me always feels guilty. Especially at times when my inner amanuensis probably wouldn’t be welcome.
The View from Here: Marching Into the Detention Center
Posted in Movies, Writing, tagged clunky dialogue, creative writing, editing, Marching into the Detention Center, star wars, Writing, writing techniques, writing tips on 09 Jan 2013| 5 Comments »
I was young, with a penchant for obsession. I studied musical performance and conducting, and ran with a cadre of like-minded scholars. I was a science-fiction/fantasy geek, and so were they. It was fated, then, that when the first Star Wars movie came out, we would band together for trips to The City. Week after week we would ride down Geary, invade The Coronet theater, outmaneuver all comers, and claim the eight seats at first-row-center. There, practically vibrating with anticipation, we would wait, hands poised, ready for the downbeat. Together, we would conduct the entire score (long ago committed to memory), cueing the chords of the Death Star leitmotif, pulling in horns and strings as we swept up to light-speed. It was grand. It was intoxicating.
Until Harrison Ford tried to get his mouth around the line, “Marching into the Detention Center is not my idea of fun.”
A lighthearted line, to be sure, but one that brought sniggers George Lucas did not expect. I mean, Harrison practically had to spit out his teeth to deliver that line. How did it ever make it through the table-read? What was that writer thinking?
Now, having cut my own writing chops, I know exactly what that writer was thinking. He wasn’t.
Kurt R.A. Giambastiani 