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Driven to write by a word

Schmutz.

It’s a word of Yiddish and German origins, and for some reason, it popped into my head this morning.

If it’s a word unfamiliar, it’s often used to describe a bit of unidentified something on a person. Usually their face. For many of us, that’s followed by your mother wetting her thumb with saliva to wipe it away.

Ah, mothers. So loving. So sanitary.

In my part of the world, it’s an uncommon word, which usually means I’m going to work it into my book (and apparently, a blog post).

And then my writer’s brain was off to the races.

In 45 minutes, I whipped up about 550 words, or a page and a half, inspired by the idea that Tildy has schmutz on her face, but due to her ability to unconsciously shapeshift, the schmutz avoids her mother’s efforts to clean it away. It’s actually a pimple, and it disappears and reappears across Tildy’s face.

I immediately fell in the love with the scene, and not just because writers often fall in love with their writing (a PAINFUL truth, except when they hate it). No, it’s because it accomplishes many things in service to the story.

It fits into the first chapter of Tildy’s second book, helping reintroduce our characters to the Reader with things like Tildy’s abilities, her relationship with the witch (her adoptive mother), and a little bit about their personalities. Additionally, we get the melodramatic woes and annoyances of a teenager.

But to me, the best part is the humor. You see, it’s actually an outbreak of acne, but Tildy’s skin is trying to prevent the pimples from surfacing.

“I no longer think it is a simple pimple moving around your face. I believe there are many, but your skin is resisting the outbreak. I wonder what would happen if you stopped doing whatever you are doing?” the witch mused, as she turned Tildy’s face, that way and this, as she looked for the next pimple’s appearance.

Tildy didn’t particularly care, but as the thought entered her mind, her face grew red and itchy.

“Oh ho!” the witch laughed, her face delighted. “Now they are everywhere! You really are a sight.”

I think it also creates some tension for Tildy. She has the ability to fight acne, something that many teens would be jealous of, but she can’t control it. Quite the opposite. Ironically, her efforts only seem to make it worse. Her struggles, however, eventually result in new mastery of her abilities, which is a recurring theme throughout the series. It helps us see Tildy growing up.

Sometimes, inspiration comes as simply as that. A single word demands several hundred in response. If only it was always as easy as that.

It’s a good start to a day, and as I write this, it’s now time to get to my office job. Good luck with your own writing (and that other work that pays the bills).

Mike

Enjoy what you just read? Leave a comment or like the post, and we’ll ensure that you see more like this!

© Michael Wallevand, October 2023

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Give that writer a little nudge

“Got any big plans today?” the cashier asked as I inserted my card into the machine. It was the typical checkout small talk we all experience, but never give much thought to.

“Going to do some writing,” I replied. I had my laptop in the backpack hanging from my shoulder.

“Oh, that’s nice,” she said mechanically, but politely. Probably her typical response. If you’ve worked in retail, you probably still reply this way sometimes. Like when you tell a cashier, “Thanks for shopping today.”

Her eyes widened as she comprehended what I’d said. “Ohhhhh! That’s interesting.”

“Thanks!”

“What do you write?”

“Horror and fantasy.”

“That’s so cool. I used to write in middle school, but you know, I don’t have much time. Maybe this winter I’ll get back to it.”

Writers say similar things all the time, especially the lapsed ones. But I know from personal experience that it often takes a simple nudge to push us back into the chair. So I replied, “You really should get back into it. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

The smile that crossed her face contained something more than the typical expression that customers get during idle chitchat. “Thanks. I will!” she promised.

And I hope she does.

I doubt I’ll ever know if she kept that promise to herself, but I like to think so. There are so many of us writers who need just a little more encouragement. I’ve gotten plenty myself, which I always appreciate, and I like to pass it on when I get the chance. Who knows what amazing stories could come to life as a result? Who knows how many masterpieces have been lost because someone said, “I just don’t have the time”?

Take the time. Accept the encouragement. Pass it on.

The world needs more stories. Good luck with yours!

Mike

Enjoy what you just read? Leave a comment or like the post, and we’ll ensure that you see more like this!

© Michael Wallevand, October 2023

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Author’s Journal – I Put Myself In Editing Purgatory

Altar from Franciscan Monastery of the Holy Land in America, Washington, D.C.

In December 2019, I finished the final draft of Tildy Silverleaf and the Starfall Omen. I exhaled, wrote a post, and put the book aside for the holiday season, intent on querying in 2020. I started researching agents over the winter and began querying in earnest in early spring.

Around that time, rumors had begun, followed by vague news reports, about a new disease that would eventually be known as Covid-19. In March 2020, I said goodbye to my office desk and began working remotely for nearly 3 years. In May, riots erupted in Minneapolis and elsewhere over the murder of George Floyd. As the year progressed, the political landscape in America became fraught, then angry, then vicious, and civil discourse became less common.

The world seemed to stop.

And so did I.

I tried to write, and in two years, I had about 100,000 words of my next book, which featured Samor, Tildy’s brother. There was some joy, but the weight of things beyond my control pressed upon me, and the work became more grind than pleasure. I struggled to recapture the magic.

I decreased my blogging output in that time, too. After all, what did I have to write about my process? I wanted to share positive things and my passion for writing, but they were hard to think of, much less give enough attention to bring to life. There seemed to be more important things in the world.

I started Project 3 in that time, hoping a return to Tildy’s familiar story would help me push through. For a time, it did.

It wasn’t enough.

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The Synonym Trick: Affect vs. Effect

When I was in elementary school, phonics played a prominent role in the curriculum. Even at that young age, I recognized and appreciated the structure and rules, and I remember being surprised when others struggled. It was a method that resonated with me (heh), and I usually achieved high marks in spelling.

However, there are times when phonics lets me down, especially in the use of similar-sounding words: “appraise/apprise”, “elicit/illicit”, “passed/past”, and “awhile/a while”. Suffixes can also be a pain, such as “-ible/-able”.

“Affect/effect” is another, and I’m not alone in my confusion. They are among the most misused words in English.

While editing my manuscript today, I discovered a pesky “affect” had survived several rounds of revisions. I’m at the point with my writing where I don’t chastise myself for the miss, but I’d still prefer to learn from the mistake. So I decided I would find a way to minimize it happening again.

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Exclude your audience or include them?

I’m always reviewing my writing for exclusionary words. In this post, I’ll be taking a discriminating look at a few paragraphs from my book with the intent of removing discriminatory language. Don’t worry – this wasn’t some prejudicial diatribe I needed to cut. I’d found a trite, gender-centric passage, and I decided to shake it up to turn a trope on its head. Painless right? And kinda fun, kid.

Language is both simple and powerful in its ability to bring people together, but it’s also very easy to exclude broad swathes of people with specific words. For instance, using “men” to describe soldiers or “wife” or “husband” instead of “spouse”. If you’re always represented in the language like I am (i.e. a white guy), you’re less attuned to it and less exhausted by it. And even if you want to write differently, these things still unconsciously find their way into your writing because much of what you’ve read is rife with similar language.

The fixes aren’t difficult, but you have to look for them and be willing to change your way of thinking a smidge to include people.

BTW, if you want to complain about political correctness or wokeism, this probably isn’t the website – or book – for you. I’m sorry to see you go. We’ve got a heckuva a wild fantasy ahead of us and there’s room for humans of all kinds.

I’ll start by presenting the passage in its fixed state, hoping that you’ll appreciate how it reads like a perfectly normal piece of writing, not some screed trying to brainwash you.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts like a dog shakes out waterlogged ears. “Listen, youths are idiots when it comes to impressing someone they like. They get all sorts of notions in their heads. Probably the storybooks they read,” she said with an eye on Tildy. She continued, determined to say her piece. “Some want to be knights, fighting to prove themselves worthy of marriage and titles and lands. It makes them do reckless things.”

Tildy stared, mind reeling. What in the world was she talking about? And like a smack to the head, she understood and laughed. “You think he’s going to fight for my honor or something?”

The witch looked unhappy. “I have seen many young people rushing to battle for honor or some chivalrous reward. Only some returned, and none were the same, regardless of the prize.”

See? Perfectly normal and not brainwashy at all.

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Writing Exercise: Memorial Day tribute

I planned to delve into writing this weekend, mixing those responsibilities with other chores around the house. I needed to regain momentum on Project Two, which had stalled during the pandemic; ironically, I was also fighting the lingering effects of my own bout with Covid. I knew I would have plenty of optimism when I finally sat at the keyboard, even if I had no idea where to begin.

That’s when Serendipity paid a visit.

Goodnight, Saigon by Billy Joel came up on my playlist, and his lyrics drew me in like I was watching a movie. I don’t know if you’ve experienced this, but your mind’s eye takes over, even as your body goes through the motions of dressing and pouring coffee. I’m not even sure of the sequence of events: my mind connected the song to Memorial Day and a scene where Samor rejoins his companions after they’ve lost someone. There was nothing; then there was something.

I grabbed the computer, put the song on repeat, and 30 minutes later, I had this.

Samor greeted his companions as they gathered to him. Their welcome was genuine, their words warm. But he read something else on their faces that he hadn’t seen before. Or rather, he realized he hadn’t had the skills to interpret the tragedies that lay there. The worry that creased Hochness’s brow; the crow’s feet that used to merrily step away from the corners of Oafsson’s eyes. Even the betrayer Chork, addled as his mind remained, seemed more sedate against the bonds that held him to the litter. A weight drug at them all, anchoring them to the battle where they’d lost their friend and compatriot. The look of survivors, a mix of gratitude and guilt, made worse by each condemning beat of their living hearts.

His past naiveté angered him, but mostly it saddened him. No words seemed important enough, nor considerate or meaningful enough to break the silence of the moment. And so, he took his cue from his friends, yes, that is what they were now, and he embraced them silently and exchanged knowing looks that would have been inscrutable to the person he used to be. In the strength he gave, he felt more returned. They knew he knew. They accepted him and were grateful that he offered to share the burden.

Samor recognized this understanding wouldn’t have come from a lifetime of study. Simple words upon the page were shallow, going no deeper than the ink that sank into the paper – practically lies for their misinterpretation of the awful reality. The knowledge was horrible, and he wished he’d never acquired it. A small voice between his ears reminded him it was a necessary experience for the future leader of Empyrelia, a land destined for war, but he could derive no comfort from that. He hoped he never would.

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Tighten Up Your Writing #8

I have a day off from the office and I’m trying to savage my final draft like a drunken barbarian. The Project One manuscript ended at nearly 190K words, and that’s an awful lot for many reasons. It’s a big investment for a reader, not to mention a publisher. It also sets a precedent for future books, and that’s a writing pace I’m uncertain I can maintain. It feels heavy, both literally and metaphorically.

Amidst the edits, cuts, and barbarically setting the countryside ablaze, I came upon this sentence:

  • Tildy also noted that it was still as quiet as she remembered.

It tripped me because my brain registered “still” as a synonym for “quiet”. Well, if that’s confusing, does the sentence work without that unnecessary word?

  • Tildy also noted that it was as quiet as she remembered.

It does!

I wonder if I’ll be able to make similar cuts, the way I did here and here? A quick Ctrl-F showed 192 instances. Some will likely remain, but others will have to go. And then there’s this:

Screencap of Tildy Silverleaf and the Starfall Omen, showing 5 instances of the word "still"

Well, that’s embarrassing, but a fine example of how difficult it is for a writer to be objective when editing their own work. If you’re curious, I deleted the first three, rewrote the fourth out, and kept the fifth. Only 187 left to go.

For more tips (and embarrassing admissions), we recommend these posts. Good luck with your writing!

–Mike

Enjoy what you just read? Leave a comment or like the post and we’ll ensure that you see more like this!

© Michael Wallevand, May 13, 2022

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I’d been thinking about quitting

I didn’t want to write this post.

I’m sure some of that came from the societal stigma about showing vulnerability and my extreme reluctance to share personal aspects of my life. I think the greater issue, however, was the fear that such an admission would transform thought into reality if it reached the written page.

I wrote a draft of this post in mid-September after a rough couple weeks, when stressors and disappointments had piled upon another. I’d found myself angering easily or venting frustration in situations where it wasn’t warranted. My novel always appeared to be the catalyst: not having time, not being inspired, delivering garbage when I did sit down.

It wasn’t the first time I’d had similar feelings, but these were more acute and my defenses were down.

My writing time was precious and I was wasting it, and this realization was eating me alive.

There’s a betraying voice in your head that suggests the simplest solution: Quit doing the thing that’s causing pain. Just walk away.

Because writing is the primary way I express emotion, my head started drafting a post along those lines. The admission hurt, and that feeling intensified as I fleshed it out, because it reflected the abandonment of something I’ve wanted my whole life.

I sat at the computer that morning with little optimism and a negligibly more determination. I didn’t want to write this post…and I told myself over and again that I was pretty sure I wasn’t quitting.

Then I happened to read the following passage I’d copied from a book, and my perspective changed.

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The Nonverbal Kid’s influence on my writing

My younger son, Benji, is nonverbal and autistic. I don’t share it much because one of my primary responsibilities is protecting his dignity and privacy. And it’s usually not relevant to this site. But like any person important to you, his influence is always there in my writing, nevertheless. In this post I’ll share one of the ways my craft has changed because of him.

Ben has a limited vocabulary, though his communication includes expressive gestures and sounds, not just words. In talking to us (people who clearly are too dim to understand), he’s practically speaking three languages, and often, more than one at a time. It’s not his problem when we can’t figure out the translation; it’s ours.

To an outsider, however, it might create an uncomfortable situation. Not because that person is a bigot who despises neurodiversity, but because they are walking in unfamiliar territory. I liken it to me meeting a Black man for the first time (in my memory, he looks like actor Brock Peters in his Star Trek days). I was just a little kid, terribly shy around strangers, and before me stood a person so completely unlike every person I’d known in my secluded little rural town. At least, that’s the lie your brain tells you. In every aspect that I could see except skin color, he was like my neighbors.

I hadn’t been taught to hate or even dislike Black people; I just had some unintended bias to push past because my world was filled with people who looked like me and had basically the same beliefs and ancestry.

It’s one thing to know there are a variety of people in the world. Seeing them is another. Further still, interacting with them changes your perspective in significant ways. Watching Black people on TV wasn’t the same as meeting them. And meeting one certainly wasn’t the same as having people like him in my daily life.

I choose to believe the same lack of experience is true for people who aren’t sure how to react around Ben. It could be uncomfortable at first, but the smallest effort by them can overcome that. I don’t think they can do it alone, however. As Ben’s father, I believe one of my responsibilities is to help people with this, which also helps him.

Now, I grew up as a Boy Scout and I’ve always cheered for the underdog. I’m predisposed to helping others and recognizing those who are disadvantaged. But there’s a distinction between that and being an advocate. Believe it or not (sarcasm), there’s a difference between adding a rainbow frame to my Facebook picture and standing up to LGBTQ bigotry when people post it. Advocacy requires deliberate action, and I can help by leading through example, by sharing posts like this, and by injecting it into my books.

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Learn about your writing by talking with people

At a recent happy hour for a departing colleague and friend (aka Trusted Reader #3), the subject of my writing came up several times. I’m at the point where I enjoy this more than I once did. Part of it is comfort, part is the practice of refining my synopsis, and part is knowing more about the story and what I’m doing as a writer.

I’ve written about the difficulties I’ve had here and here.

As stressful or scary as this might feel, it’s an important part of the writing process. Even if you never want a person to read your writing (which I consider a shame – share with us!), it will help you as a writer.

I’ve talked about the importance of developing this skill in the context of pitching your story. But there’s another benefit, and that’s to the story itself.

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