Just Because...

The End.

Nice words, aren't they? They evoke images of a completed task, relaxation due to a job well done, perhaps a breathtaking sunset. You get the picture.

Only, here in university-student-ville, the words "The End" mean nothing. Nothing. The end of the semester is coming...and I have just as much work as ever, plus some. Oh, the irony.

Anyway...

As if I didn't have enough to do, I'm doubling my efforts in blog-land. You've got it; I have an insatiable urge to write something that won't be graded. So...I will. Soon. Right after I write that paper on Nostalgia, Identity, and the Transcendental Signifier...

Courtney

So...that procrastination thing...

It's funny how things work, isn't it? I recently wrote about procrastination, and here I am procrastinating ( I have to write two papers this evening) and looking at writing jokes. Here's a notable one:


Avoid alliteration. Always.

Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.

Avoid cliches like the plague. (They're old hat.)

Employ the vernacular.

Eschew ampersands & abbreviations, etc.

Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are unnecessary.

It is wrong to ever split an infinitive.

Contractions aren't necessary.

Foreign words and phrases are not apropos.

One should never generalize.

Eliminate quotations. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."

Comparisons are as bad as cliches.

Don't be redundant; don't use more words than necessary; it's highly superfluous.

Be more or less specific.

Understatement is always best.

One-word sentences? Eliminate.

Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake.

The passive voice is to be avoided.

Go around the barn at high noon to avoid colloquialisms.

Even if a mixed metaphor sings, it should be derailed.

Who needs rhetorical questions?

Exaggeration is a billion times worse than understatement.

In a World Full of Manuscript Editing Monotony...There is Still Hope

If you read the title in the big, echoing announcer voice I imagined it in, kudos.
If it tweaked your interest and got you excited, even better! But I'm not writing a post today... I'm posting a link:

YOU MUST READ THIS. IT MIGHT MAKE YOUR DAY.

And now, back to midterm studies...

From: A Traveler's Tale

Although editing is a riveting, interesting, thoroughly enjoyable occupation of my time,I often find myself in the need of a reprieve.Did I say often? I meant OFTEN.

Editing can be monotonous, especially if you're also an English major and spend the majority of your time writing/editing anyway.

To break the monotony, I take breaks. Sometimes I actually do something that involves standing and looking away from the computer screen. But only sometimes. The rest of the time I spend writing more things that I will eventually have to edit. Ironic, isn't it? So, without further ado, here is one of those things:


From: A Traveler’s Tale

From thence we came perchance to find
That others, there were, like us
And mayhap we could all unite
So none could ever bind us
Straight to this work we did approach
We had no other goal
Alas, too late, we did embark
Too late to save our souls
And never more would our daring throng
Approach the foaming sea,
And never more, no never more, dream of liberty
Cruel men had bound, no chained, our hearts
Until we must obey them
Now land, and air, and even sea
Are but an ultimatum:
We must, who once roamed free throughout,
Dwell in this land so small,
Or else, like ants, be trod and tramp’d
Until they’ve killed us all.

ProcrastinEDITING

Editing is really important. So important, really, that writing has been said to be editing. Well, actually it has been said to be rewriting, but you get the point.

Don't you? Let me explain myself, by all means. Reading a published book with typos is often maddening enough to cause spikes in blood pressure. It's ANNOYING. And that is for a published book, with one or two typos. An unpolished manuscript is bound to have many times one or two typos. You don't want to annoy agents or editors, you want them on your side. You want them to love your work. You want them to send you chocolate. Well, maybe not chocolate...

But I digress. Editing is important. Important.

Despite what you may have heard, the real reason so many authors submit unpolished query letters and manuscripts is a couple of natural phenomena known as plagues of locusts and midterms.

That is my story. I'm not procrastinating. I really would be editing my book right now if it wasn't for those darn locusts. I mean, they ate the whole thing!

Now Entering the Wonderful World of Editing (not to be confused with the Twilight zone, although it is indeed similar)

I wrote the bulk of this draft of my novel in about two and a half months, while going to college full time, working two jobs, and being around to babysit my little brother. Needless to say, the effort left me a little bit tired out, so I set the draft aside for about a month.

Many people/writing websites have suggested this "setting aside" to me numerous times, as a way to gain a clear perspective on a story. As it turns out, I've always thought that this process resembles the proverbial process of "bed rest" which never turns out as well as it should...but I digress.

I set aside my manuscript for about a month, and picked it up again last week. After reading through it (skimming really, but I've been working with this story for five years...) I realized that the first third of it needs some major plot revision.

Bummer? yes. I was ready to read through it, say: "Finally, my masterpiece is complete!" and set about researching agents/publishing houses. Sure, I was aware that the scenario in my mind was flawed, deeply, but it was a nice, flawed scenario.

On the bright side, my realization was coupled with another realization: if I do the plot revision well, I'll have built my story on some really, really relevant issues. Oh, and I really like the end.

Courtney

Introduction: This Enchanted Land

While dealing with the aftermath of a plan gone awry, Kathryn Morgan finds herself facing bigger, but related, problems: her uncle dies, her aunt turns against her, her boss still won’t let her write under her own name, and the town is going to burn...

This Enchanted Land is a historical fiction novel set in Eastern New Mexico territory in the 1900s. I have been working on versions of this story since mid 2004, when I was starting my first year of highschool. The current draft has been finished for about a month, waiting to be revised. The revision will begin this week. Here's an excerpt:

Kathryn watched her worn out boots make shallow prints in the dust, glanced upward toward her destination, and looked back down. The new schoolhouse she approached stood empty, free of the children that would fill it with life when school resumed in about five months. Kathryn, however, was not thinking about school. A frown formed on her face and deepened as she trudged along the dirt road with a full jug of water in her arms. She stopped walking for a moment, bit her lip, tilted her head, and nodded—she looked up once more as if to seek agreement for some conclusion she had reached. All that met her gaze was a clear, cloudless sky. For weeks, Kathryn, and other townsfolk, prayed for rain. The preacher said perhaps the town needed more faith before rain would come. Disregarding the barren state of the sky, Kathryn smiled and continued walking toward the schoolhouse.

###

Geoffrey Benson straightened from his cramped position on the school-house roof. Pain shot up and down his back and throbbed in his thumb as a result of his lengthy use of a hammer and roofing nails. His throat felt as dry as the parched and cracking ground below him. Geoffrey put a hand over his eyes, squinting into the cloudless blue sky as he searched for any sign of his water-bearing cousin. When he spotted her, he smiled.

“She’s on her way, Pa” Geoffrey said. The man squatting beside him only grunted, cocked his head, and swung the hammer once more. They’d already wasted too much time building the schoolhouse roof, and much more work needed to be done before the school would be ready for students. Without waiting for a reply, Geoffrey raked his fingers through his wavy brown, sweat-soaked hair, and moved toward the ladder.

“‘Bout time, cousin,” Geoffrey said, grinning as he jumped from the last few rungs of the ladder.

“I would have been here sooner,” Kathryn said with a frown, “If Aunt Katie hadn’t made me wear these skirts!” She shook the offending fabric impatiently as she spoke, and then with a quick glance at the roof, pulled Geoffrey close. “I’ve had an idea,” she whispered. Geoffrey leaned closer instinctively. “I am going to write for Mr. Johnson’s newspaper. As a man!” Geoffrey squinted at his dust covered cousin. Had she gone mad with the summer’s heat?

“And just how do you plan on doing that?” he asked.

“Mr. Johnson never has to see me bringing my articles. I’ll deliver them at night, and use a man’s name to sign them.” Kathryn glanced at the roof as she explained in whispers.

“Isn’t that a bit underhanded?” Geoffrey asked. Kathryn bit her lip.

“It’s my best plan so far.” Geoffrey shrugged and took another swig of water.

“Well,” he said, keeping his eyes on the roof, “If you can live with it, you might as well give it a try.” The sounds of hammering stopped suddenly, and both cousins jumped apart.

“Hey, Geoff, how about sharing some of that water!” George Benson shouted.