Notes, Rants and Ruminations

Marginalia: you know, those errant thoughts and notes we make in the margins of the books we’re reading, things that go beyond the yellow highlighting…I wonder, after we’ve made them, how often do we go back to the book to read them and consider them further—at least in those books that aren’t being read for research? No matter: This is a monthly column of the thoughts I’m putting in the margins of my professional life, things for you to read and comment on if you’d like. You can also ask questions (once upon a cyber-lifetime ago, I did a column called "Ask the Editor"; they’re out there somewhere, I guess), but this page is the new version. It’s best if you do ask questions; if you don’t, I’ll just fake it. Works for me if it works for you.

For now, I want to talk about one of the most important aspects of writing—at least for me—and one that seems to get short shrift in most of the books on our passion, as well as at conferences and workshops. Really, when’s the last time you attended a panel on language in writing? When’s the last time you saw one offered?

One of the best reviews my books have received comes from mystery writer Jeremiah Healy. He said that reading me was like sitting down and having a 265 page drink with the author. (He did, thankfully, go on to talk about the material as well.) What his comments meant to me is that my language, the words I’ve chosen to use, were not only appropriate to the topic, but were comfortable to the reader, that they were natural.

That doesn’t mean that they’re sloppy, though they might be a tad informal. Each word is carefully chosen, keeping in mind as I type that every word we use is read or heard (and readers do hear us speaking) through a veil of meaning and definitions that are often personal. As a writer, one of your most important jobs is to choose the right word.

Some of my friends and writers (fortunately, most of my writers are also my friends) have gotten tired of hearing me quote Mark Twain: "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug." Still, the truth of it cannot be ignored or forgotten, and it manifests itself in several ways. For instance?

Here’s a little exercise you can do: Take a chapter from your work and, as you read it, circle every occurrence of a word. No, not "the" or "and," but words like, oh, "spun" or any other word that calls attention to itself. Then play connect-the-dots with your circles. Are you using the same word—an adjective perhaps, or a verb; they are the most likely instances, though nouns may show up, too—too frequently because it’s easier or because you’re not stopping to think about alternatives? That lack of richness in your writing is going to shock your first urgent reader, an editor or agent, right out of your manuscript.

Why? Because as I said, we hear what we’re reading, and the monotony of hearing the same word repeated, particularly in close proximity, dulls the senses. That’s not something you want to do.

It isn’t the only problem, however. Look at the words you use to tell your story and put aside for a moment that bit of classic instruction to use only Anglo-Saxon expressions, to keep your language really, really simple. That creates another dulling for the reader; for me it creates boredom beyond measure. My favorite example is this one: would you rather have the lovers in your story simply meet or date or get together, or would a rendezvous hold more magic?

It’s all about that magic, about creating images in the reader’s imagination, about transporting her into your world and keeping her there. The language you use, the lightning that your words bring stroking and streaking across the page, that’s going to keep us going, that’s going to make you and your works enjoyably memorable. And it is that memory that’s going to make an editor want your next work because we know that the readers want it.

Think, then, about the words you use, about why you’ve chosen one rather than another, and choose more carefully. We’ll all be better off for it.

Until next month, write on.

Michael Seidman © 2003

Questions? Contact mseidman@mseidman.com