What's Funny About Words (Guest Blogger)

At my improv class this week, one woman killed the rest of the class with a scene where she described her partner's butt as "two turkeys just bobbing up and down toward the end zone." (I'd explain, but it would take too long. Just know it was damn funny.) The whole scene that followed was hilarious, but it was the "turkey" that put it over the top. "Turkey," all by itself, is a funny word. That "urr" sound is a funny noise to me. And the hard "k" sound has often been cited by comedy writers as something that helps make a word funny. No one has really ever been able to explain why.

For some time now, I've wanted to explore what makes a word "funny." I realized there were certain words I fall back on when I need to be off-the-cuff funny: "Cats," "squirrel," "perturbed," and "pants" are some of them.

So I mentioned on Facebook (you can "Like" right here. WordNerdGirl likes to be "liked.") that I was looking for other people's ideas about what make a word funny when my über-funny, ultra-wordy friend, Dave Ankers, offered some of his thoughts. Then a few more. And then some more. Poor guy is recovering from a Mardi Gras-induced broken ankle and the cabin fever is getting to him. But what he had to say was very interesting and covered way more ground than I ever could with four kids pulling me away from the keyboard every 2 minutes. So I decided to turn today's blog post over to him. Take it away Dave...

Dave Ankers' Random Thoughts About Funny Words
Some random thoughts about funny words, as I procrastinate my hobbling out on crutches to pick up both ground beef and my cholesterol-reducing medication (without irony):

Words can be "funny" in as many ways as there are words and ways to use them, I think. Some word can elicit an amused response just due to how they sound phonetically to us. Haboob. Hurly-burly. Rattletrap. Poughkeepsie. Bulbous. Yabba-dabba-doo. Babaghanoush (which we're all familiar with now, so it's no longer funny. These are usually non-Latin or French-derived words. I realize now that I must personally think words with lots of Bs and Ps are funny.

Some are funny because they are archaic and out of common use, and sound old fashioned, like poppycock, folderol, bolderdash, winsome, or zounds! Or because they're foreign and not familiar to us, like benihana, Addis Ababa, bibimbap, couscous.
Alliteration and rhyme can also make a word stand out.

We laugh at things that are unfamiliar and new and unusual. Making something funny has to do with seeing it in a new way that changes its status and dignity. (See also: drag queens calling out to a cop "Excuse me, miss policeman!" Or a gardener solemnly referring to pests as 'Miss Aphid" or "the esteemed representative of the nation of rabbits." but those examples aren't about funny words, per se.)

Most often, words are funny because they are dropped in places you don't expect them, out of their usual sphere of usage. Like calling a pathetic dinner of canned marinara sauce over chow mein noodle as "fusion" "multicultural" or "sino-Italian."

"Tasty" or "crunchy" aren't particularly funny words, or even noticeable words, when positioned next to "breakfast cereal." But they will probably get a giggle when modifying "Volkswagen" or "sound effects manipulation" or "defense attorney." (Both of these words were once fresh and funny when applied by stoners and jam-band fans to "guitar solo" and so on, but they're now a cliché, so they might as well be modifying "breakfast cereal." That usage isn't funny anymore, to paraphrase Morrissey.)

A very funny usage would be "a crunchy and tasty multicultural fusion snack of chow mein noodles cleverly sauced with a traditional Sicilian marinara." Desperation munchy becomes a parody of food-writing pretension.

Ezra Pound said that the whole point of writing things is to make things new, in our descriptions. Recombining words and images in unexpected ways gives us vivid and new thoughts. Which are usually funny because we're saying something you aren't expecting.

Combining techniques, like using non-funny-sounding words in unexpected ways, can be funny. A great recent book title: "The Guernsey Literary And Potato Peel Pie Society." Not funny enough to get me to read it yet, but certainly an inherently amusing title comprising totally ordinary un-funny words in an alliterative and also dry and dignified way. Combining abstract words (literary, society) with vivid and even undignified words and images (the lowly potato peel, unexpectedly crammed into the form of a probably repulsive pastry) can give you a sharp unexpected blow to the head, in a comedy sense.

People who were really good at this combining ordinary words in multiple ways, for comic effect: SJ Perelman, the Marx Brothers, Monty Python. Sometimes Tom Stoppard.

The word "avalanche" may not be funny to you, but remember, avalanche is better than no lanche at all, yes?

A true benefit of English is that it has all these odd-sounding Anglo-Saxon words, as well as lots of weird words absorbed from non-romance languages, which combine with all the words derived from Latin (both religious and legal) and French (which the Norman conquerors spoke), forming a never-quite-blending stew of sounds and shadings of meaning.

Lots and lots of toys in the toolbox, to mix a metaphoric cocktail.

I really should mention John Lennon as a natural master of funny wordplay. Not his song lyrics, but the funny little books he put out: in "His Own Write" and "A Spaniard in the Works." At their best, they are amazing little case studies on how to replace one word with another, usually a homonym, and make a dull sentence both funny and thought-provoking.

Also, Irish writers historically have been very good at clever wordplay. And I'm sure somebody has a well-reasoned theory as to why, but it's not me. Check out quotations from Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw, and James Joyce. Please exclude Bono from your investigations -- he is an unfortunate exception to the trend.

Other words: doughboy, wallaby, wombat, ocelot, kazoo, Bonobo. Bebe Rebozo.
 

Cloris Leachman. Which becomes funny when juxtaposed with "Clorox Bleach."

Kalamazoo.

Conniption. Aneurysm. (Which aren't so funny to most people, probably. But think of the comedy mileage you get with just an exclamation point: "Aneurysm! The Musical!" Or imagine a solemn and pompous John Grisham legal thriller titled "The Conniption Ruling" or something like that.)

A great exercise is taking a word that is decidedly unfunny, and finding ways to make it funny, to the point of making people really uncomfortable. (Cancer Crispies, anyone?)

Can you tell I am going stir crazy, stuck indoors on crutches, alone all day, with nothing to do?

 We can tell Dave. That's one of the reasons we love you. Comment below on words you think are funny, your thoughts on Dave's thoughts, or what you think Dave should do while cooped up in his apartment in a cast/boot for the next one to three weeks.

Celebrating Autism Un-Awareness

We have another off-topic blog post today, for something very close to my heart. I promise the next post will be more writing about writing. Meanwhile, April marks the beginning of Autism Awareness Month. My 9-year-old son and 2-year-old niece have both been diagnosed on the spectrum. Below is an essay I wrote on the subject of how great it feels to be unaware of autism. Thanks for reading, and remember that if you see someone wearing a puzzle piece pin, that puzzle piece represents a person who is loved:

Michael, holding his baby sister
at the top of the sliding board.
(Thankfully, I had my camera
with me that day.)

 Celebrating Autism Unawareness

It’s April – Autism Awareness Month. Time for puzzle pieces, wearing blue and experts who tell us that it’s a neurobiological disorder of epidemic proportions, but nobody knows what causes it. It’s probably genetic, but might also be environmental. But it’s definitely not vaccines. More research is needed.

Personally, I’d like to have an autism un-awareness month. I have to settle for the occasional unawareness day, like the one we had a couple weeks ago. It was a warm, pre-spring day at the playground, and my son Michael, age 9, was chasing his younger brother up the jungle gym. My 18-month old daughter got away from me and followed, up the steps to the highest point at the sliding board platform.

Honestly, if my oldest had not been off with her friends, I would have had her do it. But in a parental leap of faith, I put the baby in Mikey’s lap. He held her tight and smiled.

Then Mikey took his baby sister for her first ride down the big kids’ slide. Then they did it again. And again.

It was a small milestone for the baby, but a very big deal for Mikey. In that moment, he wasn’t one of the 1 in 110 kids diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder (ASD) that everyone hears about each April.

For one afternoon, he was just a big brother, protecting his sister on the sliding board. It was an extraordinarily normal moment for all of us.

For Michael, his ASD means he struggles to maintain his coordination and balance, especially when at any kind of height off the ground, like on a jungle gym. He also has low muscle tone in his upper body, so he doesn’t always have the strength needed to do simple things, like hold his squirmy baby sister in his lap.

Mikey also has sensory issues. That means he’s easily overwhelmed by sights and sounds, and can’t eat many foods because the textures make him gag. He’s never had a slice of birthday cake. The spray of water stings his skin. Once, he tried for 10 minutes to play in a sprinkler because he saw the other kids having fun too. But it ended the way I should have known it would – with him dissolving into a meltdown.

If you only know autism from the TV’s Parenthood, that show usually gets it right from the parents’ perspective. But in real life, we don’t have the luxury of a fade-to-black commercial break when the tantrums start. The wailing and flailing can last all day. I’m lucky; Mikey’s pretty mellow. He only has one or two meltdowns a day, and they’re not usually physical or long-lasting. I know other parents who have to medicate their children because the tantrums are so frequent and violent.

Mikey is “high-functioning.” (That term makes me think of robots – he’s anything but.) He can speak. Academically, he’s on-target, assigned to an integrated classroom with other special needs and “typical” third graders. He has an education aide assigned to help him through each day because he needs constant reminders to stay on-task.

So I am lucky – I remind myself – that Mikey is able to cry out, “I’m a weirdo!” during a meltdown. He knows he’s different – and if he forgets, he has all the constant reminders.

While consoling him, I’ve tried to explain why he feels different, and that it’s okay. But I have no idea if he understands.

Even with three siblings, Mikey is lonely. He wants friends, and gets mad at me because I can’t get him one. I’ve tried. We just finished 10 sessions of a social skills group. (We called it a “friend-making class.”) I’ve arranged play-dates and signed him up for a special needs sports clinic.

But when he goes to these things, he often pulls away to do his own thing -- crazy dancing, or a word-for-word recitation about how to build a campfire. He can be hilarious. But he can also be inappropriate, like the time he repeated all the “big balls” wisecracks from Wipeout. If we try to pull him out of his little world and help him interact with others, he gets overwhelmed, and the tears well up again.

I already know more about autism than I ever wanted. In addition to Mikey, my two year-old niece was diagnosed on the spectrum just a couple of months ago. So in our family – even as we wear blue clothing, attach puzzle pins to our coats, organize walk-a-thon teams and promote research to identify a cause and effective treatments – we do these things while not-so-secretly wishing for more autism un-awareness days, like that day my son had on the playground. It’s one I’ll hold forever in my heart.

Personally, I think Mikey deserves more of them.

Heartfelt Words from My Dad

My father -- a Vietnam veteran who, until recently, has not shared a whole lot of his experiences -- wrote this letter this morning. He sent it to me because, "I thought you might be able to use it on your newspaper whatever thing."

It's called a blog, Dad. (And I say that -- rolling my eyes -- with love.) 

This blog is (usually) about writing -- how to write so that your words have an effect on people. Today, the lesson is 'writing from the heart.' And the lesson is an easy one: If you write the truth as you know it,  you won't have to worry about the effect of your words, because they'll have a power all their own:

To those of you who served, this letter is to you:

Welcome Home and Thank You for Your Service to Our Country!

Believe it or not, after all of these years, they have finally decided to say, "Welcome Home!" to the Vietnam Veterans.

There was actually a resolution passed in the House earlier this year designating March 30 2011 Welcome Home Vietnam Vets Day, by Rep. Richard Burr (R-NC) and endorsed by 5 other members of the house. – I’m impressed.

I happened to stumble across this in a news article from the VFW letter I receive periodically – I personally have certainly not seen a whole lot in the press (printed or electronic) or on the television.

And as far as a "Welcome Home" goes, this should go out to all Veterans, for any hazardous duty assignment, not just Vietnam. People ended up just as dead in Korea, Grenada, Mogadishu Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan etc. It is a shame that it took the event of 9/11 to wake people up to the fact that veterans and their families make sacrifices, and that politics and service to this country are not a dividing line that determines whether or not you should thank someone for their service.

The military has been the mainstay of the defense in this country, and allows people the liberties that we all enjoy. A simple "Thanks" and "Welcome Back" should not have to be solicited – but sadly, that appears to be the point we have devolved to.

In my opinion, Vietnam got all the attention because of all of the political protests and the stigma brought out by the press coverage – everyone from every conflict should have been welcomed back. We all did a job, be it significant or insignificant, with several goals – uphold the Constitution, defend the people, obey lawful orders, get back in one piece -- or at least enough pieces to function .

Remember, all gave some – some gave All.  Celebrate that (for more than just one day a year) PLEASE.

Michael C. Bartha

Specialist 5

Hazardous Duty Service 1970 - 1971

HQ Company, 1^st Signal Brigade – Phu Bai

337^th Signal Co. M/W, 1^st Signal Brigade -101^st Airborne Div Camp Eagle

Active Service May 20, 1958 – March 16, 1973

Status – Disabled Veteran

Vietnam was one of the most boring experiences of my life, interrupted by moments of sheer terror.

My parents' wedding, February 7, 1970, one week before my father left for Vietnam

This Was The Week in Words

Happy Friday everyone! Hope we make it through the weekend, what with the crazy 'Supermoon' that we're supposed to get tomorrow. Really, I think we've all had enough natural disasters for one week, but more on that in a sec.

This week in words, The Washington Post apologized and suspended its Pulitzer prize-winning journalist Sari Horwitz for plagiarizing stories from the Arizona Republic. Horwitz also issued her own apology. Sorry, lady. Deadlines are no excuse for stealing other people's words.  Meanwhile, over at The New York Times, the newspaper finally unveiled plans for its online paywall. It sounds overly-complicated, but Gawker's Hamilton Nolan sums it up nicely:

"For those of you inclined to bitch about paying to read NYT stories online: stop bitching. The fact is the paper needs the money. All papers need the money. In retrospect, it was a strategic mistake for newspapers to put their content online for free. Charging for online access is the way of the future. Get used to it. If you're going to pay to read journalism on the internet, you might as well pay for good journalism."

But the week's biggest words-related controversy came from comedian Gilbert Gottfried, who tweeted when he should have kept his quack shut. Gottfried was fired from his gig as the voice of the Aflac duck after posting a slew of really tasteless jokes on his Twitter feed about the earthquake and tsunami in Japan over the weekend. He has since apologized, and removed the jokes from his Twitter feed. But they're everywhere. Nothing really dies on the Internet. (Sari Horwitz, are you paying attention?) It turns out that Aflac insures a substantial number of properties in the disaster zone. Gottfried -- whose entire act is based on tasteless jokes, that's his thing -- was not the only one to say insensitive things (Rush Limbaugh, 50 Cent, we're looking at you), he's just the only one to have lost work over it. Honestly, I think Limbaugh's comments were far worse... because he was being completely serious. An actor who lost his gig as a Geico spokesperson after criticizing the Tea Party had an interesting take on the situation. 

The sex jokes, in particular, were baaad. But I'll I'll admit, I laughed at a couple of Gottfried's other jokes. (Personal favorite: "What do Japanese Jews like to eat? Hebrew National Tsunami.") That's a great bit of word play, and would be funny -- if hundreds of thousands of people had not just died or had their lives destroyed by an earthquake, a tsunami and now, multiple nuclear reactor meltdowns!! The torrent of news has been oh-so-heartbreakingly sad and terrifying. It would be nice to find something funny in it. Since there's not much, I'll take that silly Hebrew National Tsunami punchline. And then I'll take a cue from the Geico guy. Instead of tweeting jokes, or telling everyone how very-very-outraged I am, I'll do something more productive, like text 90999 to the American Red Cross to donate $10 to the relief effort, or make another donation to reputable agencies that are helping. Hope you will too.

Finally, tomorrow is also the Jewish celebration of Purim, which, from what I understand, is a lot like Mardi Gras, but without the beads and boobs. So enjoy life this weekend. Hug your kids (I'll be hugging mine.) Between the radiation clouds, California falling into the ocean and that crazy, crazy moon, we might not even make it to Monday.

This Was The Week In Words

Breaking news... (because I just heard about it this morning): Funny Or Die, the website founded by Will Ferrell and Adam McKay and known for its viral comedy videos, announced this week that it is launching its own book imprint, Funny Or Die Books. They say their business model will be to take ideas from authors, polish them, then sell to publishers with the backing of the Funny or Die brand. I have mixed feelings about this news. It's great that there's a new publishing imprint out there for up-and-coming writers, but it sounds to me like they're using the Internet's 'site aggregator' model of publishing by taking other writers' work and making it their own -- appropriating the writer's work in the process. Writers need to learn how to build ourselves as our own brand (sounds like a WordNerdGirl post topic we should cover.) What do you think? Funny Or Die Books: Good or Bad? Comment below.

Related to that, is this really an "accidentally beautiful" photo of printers' ink dumped on a highway, or really a metaphor for the newspaper industry?  I got a big laugh out of these headlines -- all grouped together on Yahoo News this morning. It looked like the web equivalent of a supermarket tabloid rack:

• Will March 19 'Supermoon' Trigger Natural Disasters?
• Zombie Ants Fall Victim to Mind Control Fungus
• Photos of Hitler's Wife Stirs the Web

And try as I might, it was impossible to avoid the fallout news generated by last week's meltdown of He-Who-I-Will-Not-Name-because-I'm-tired-of-hearing-about-it-and-more-headlines-just-contribute-to-the-ongoing-displays-of-coked-out-narcissism, but I must say I enjoyed Jon Cryer's appearance on Ellen earlier this week, as well as his admission on Conan O'Brien's show yesterday that he is, indeed, a troll. That may be true, but he'll always be Duckie to me.

Finally, water, water is everywhere as the Philadelphia/South Jersey area deals with widespread flooding from last night's rain, and Japan, Hawaii and the West Coast of the U.S. is reeling from an 8.9 earthquake and resulting tsunami. Forget next week's Supermoon, today is the day we should really be worried about, as the natural disaster is still unfolding. Sending good thoughts and whatever help we can to the victims half a world away. 

The Feedback Loop

Last week, Salon posted a good Q&A with comedian Michael Showalter about his new memoir, "Mr. Funnypants." One quote of his, in particular, jumped out at me...

"I didn't perform any of it (his book's comedy material) in front of an audience, which is one of the more interesting and terrifying things about writing a book. You really have no idea whether or not what you're writing is funny. In stand-up and sketch comedy, you know right away and you can make your changes accordingly."

I smiled the first time I read that, because I can relate -- especially now that I've made the conscious decision to write more humor. It's a frustrating thing writing the funny for print. You have no way of knowing for certain if what you're writing is getting the laugh until it's read or published. I often crave that immediate feedback. When you can tell a joke or perform a sketch, if the intended gag is met with audience silence, that will usually tell you everything you need to know.

Every writer -- regardless of their experience, or what they're writing -- carries a tiny bit of anxiety, questioning, "Is what I'm writing going to get the reaction I want?"

• Will my memo convince the boss to start production on my product?
• Will my legal brief sway the judge?
• Will readers get turned on by my steamy romance story?
• Will my headline generate page views on the website?
• Will the studio buy my screenplay?

That's why it's so important to seek out -- and listen to -- feedback on your work. The "seeking out" is relatively easy: go to writing classes and workshops, open mike (mic?) nights, track the web hits counter, track your book sales, watch your Facebook friends hit the "Like" button, ask a colleague, seek out the advice of a mentor.

Experienced writers can get in their own way, tuning out help because they think they know what they’re doing – even when they don’t. New writers, because they lack confidence, tend to "over-listen." Regardless of where the feedback is coming from, they make every change suggested, and question their own instincts. They don’t stop to ask, "What is this person's motivation?" Sometimes, you have to consider that the person giving feedback has his or her own agenda.

This happened to me early in my career. For a (thankfully) short time, I wrote for a newspaper where one of the editors actually had the balls to circulate a memo that showed examples of how to not write stories. Every single ‘don’t write like this’ example quoted from stories with my byline.

Still relatively new and unsure of myself (despite a couple of years and awards already under my belt), I felt humiliated and took it to heart, because this guy was an editor with more experience. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me:

• The stories were all good enough to publish in the first place.
• None of my other editors had complained before (or since).
• I never asked for his opinion. No one did.
• His memo did not offer constructive criticism -- helpful suggestions that would be instructive to everyone who saw it for how to make our writing better.
• He may have been purposely sabotaging me, trying to push me out of the job.

 While at the time, I was floored (and – surprise, surprise – quit very soon after) I eventually came to realize that this guy, even though he was an editor and had more experience than me, was your basic, run-of-the-mill d-bag asshole. He had his own agenda for telling me and everyone in the office I didn’t know what I was doing. Helpful instruction was not part of that agenda. This was feedback that could be rejected.

Now, this is the exception, I believe, not the rule. Most often, if you ask for, or are offered, feedback -- especially from other writers – people genuinely want to do right by you. But sometimes the feedback is misguided. Occasionally, it can be damaging. It takes experience to learn how to sort through it all. This is by no means complete, but here is a list of questions to ask yourself to help tell the difference.

Advice from a Do-Write, or a D-Bag?

• Why is this person giving the advice? Did I ask, or was it offered?
• Does this person have expertise in your area of writing?
• Is this person giving you their honest, fair assessment?
• Does the feedback talk to you in terms of what works and what doesn't in your writing? (As opposed to what is "good" or "bad" about your writing. "Good" and "bad" are subjective. What "works" is something that can be quantified and/or explained.)
• Is the person asking questions about what you were trying to accomplish?
• What's in it for this person if he/she is offering to help me?
• Is this person only focused on what they didn't like, or what was "wrong" with the writing? Can he/she point to what you wrote that was right.

I'd love to hear about how others get feedback, and when you can tell if that feedback is good. Post in the comments.

Referenced link: Salon: Michael Showalter interview

A Wordier, Nerdier New Day

Your Friendly Neighborhood WordNerdGirl has been rather dormant, being neither wordy nor nerdy the last few weeks. That's partly because I've been working my girlie butt off (there are a couple of links below to some of my most recent feature stories in SJ Magazine -- just a couple of the recent writing and editing gigs that have kept me busy.)

When Life Changes in a Heartbeat - February 2011 issue of SJ Magazine

Cuts to the Bone - January 2011 issue of SJ Magazine


But I also had to take some time to reflect, ruminate and plan for the ever-changing future. In the next few weeks, I'd like to tackle writing issues that are not only of interest to me, but also to you, my loyal fan base of not-quite-a-dozen readers, with regular features that include a focus on the many different types of writing out there -- everything from screenwriting to PR to comedy to ad copy to videogames to fiction to essays to trade magazines to... you get the idea. Writing and publishing news, advice, problem-solving, interviews with other writers, and sales and marketing strategies for freelancers are just some of the features I'd like to see posted here -- items that are useful and interesting to writers, veterans and newbies alike, no matter what they write.

It may be overly-ambitious, but hey -- I gotta be me.


In the meantime, let me know what YOU, as a writer, want to know more about. Leave comments below or email wordnerdgirl@comcast.net. Tell me what you want to read about, what you write about, and what would help you.

Unfinished Business

Everyone makes a big deal out of New Year Resolutions. They're meaningless. Most people don't follow through on their January 1st declarations. More often than not, by January 2nd, the personal resolve fades. Really, if you were serious about what you said you wanted to do, you'd be doing it already.

That's why I purposely waited until now to blog in the New Year -- January 2nd --to talk about follow-through, both in writing and in life.

I have stored, on multiple hard-drives and in boxes, the beginnings of many fiction stories, both short and novel-length. All of them were abandoned, for one reason or another. With some, I just had no idea where to take the story. Others were left unfinished because other priorities took over -- be it my kids, my family, an editing or writing gig, blogging, or hanging out and talking with my friends. But really, they were excuses. I managed to write and edit other things -- jokes, essays, feature stories and blog posts -- but I always had a reason to not get back to my stories.

Honestly, I'd often struggle with the fiction once I got past my beginning. I got to the point where I hated what I was writing and found the story draining. I'm very good at deconstructing a fiction story, finding the problems and solutions for other people. But for some reason, constructing the fiction just ain't in me.

I used to promise myself that, one day, I'd buckle down, eliminate the distractions and finish those stories. And this is the point where most writers would declare their New Year's resolution to get those stories finished, write X number of pages per day, and complete their Great American Novel. But I'm not going to do that.

I'm leaving those stories abandoned. I'm letting them go.

Because really, if I was serious about what I said I wanted to do, I'd be doing it already.


Back in October, I read a post on the Advanced Riskology blog that really stuck with me, especially the opening section:

"Every decision you make is life or death. Every single one leads to one result or the other -- even the seemingly insignificant ones. When you decide to do something you love, you choose to live. When you decide to do something you don't, you choose to die, it really is that simple."

Personally, last year was -- for lack of a more poetic term -- a crap-tacular disaster for me. Among other things, my grand, years-in-the-making career plans to -- finally -- write fiction in a graduate school creative writing program went down in flames, and for a very long time after that happened, it felt like my dreams had died. I have been, to a certain extent, mourning that loss over the last six months.

The one bright spot has been launching my WordNerdGirl business, because I do love making things funny, writing essays and feature stories, writing this blog and editing stories and scripts for other people. LOVE IT. I've had a chance to work on projects I never would have tackled years ago.

Also, I've been taking improv classes (not -- it should be noted -- fiction writing classes, which I could have easily done). Initially, I did it to blow off steam and forget about my life aboard the Titanic. But learning how to perform and be funny on stage has done wonders for my writing. I'm exploring things I had always told myself I could never do. It's been challenging, but it also has been the thing that's made me feel alive, when so much else in my life has -- for lack of a more poetic term -- sucked.

It is January 2, 2011 and I am not a fiction writer. It is not something I love to do. It's something I always wanted to do. It is something I used to love to do, years ago, when I was a different person. And it's something I always thought I should be able to do. But I don't love it. So I'm letting it go.

I write almost every day. I am a funny writer, an essay writer, a script writer, a news and features writer, a kick-ass story editor and script doctor, and I am a WordNerdGirl blogger. But I am not a fiction writer.

Sometimes, I think, it takes coming face to face with what you are not to help you figure out what you are. It really is that simple.

If yesterday, you resolved to write more, submit your unpublished stories, or start a blog, it doesn't really matter. The real question is, what are you going to do today, January 2nd? And March 14th? And July 5th?  Writers write. If you are not writing on this day, or that day -- for whatever the reason -- then you are not a writer that day. And that's okay too.

My 2011 wish for everyone -- writers and not-writers alike -- is that you try new things, every day, figure out who you are not, and become who you are.

Happy New Year.

Referenced link: Advanced Riskology: Every Decision is Life or Death

'Mad Men' Explains Punctuation: How Semicolons are Like Joan Holloway

;Semicolons
Semicolons are like Joan Holloway in Mad Men; a sexy wink and a smile, semicolons got it goin' on – with the curve down there, stacked with the dot up there. When you see a semicolon in a sentence, if used the right way, you know that it must have something smart to say. Semicolons make sense out of large, messy sentences, usually created by misguided, scatterbrained commas. They're also a smart way to link two independent clauses -- sentences that can stay separated, but are always so much better when they hook up. You don't notice semicolons because they are flashy and overused, like the exclamation point! (Exclamation points are the Snooki of punctuation.) They don't demand attention; they command it. Semicolons know what you want to say and, if used correctly, help you say it with style and class.

, Commas

If semicolons are the Joan Holloway, commas are the secretarial pool. They're everywhere and used frequently. When they're where they're expected to be in a sentence, no one really notices. But when they don't show up, or show up at the wrong time, it causes big problems. They're overworked and, for everything they do, they're underappreciated. They're expected to set off dependent clauses, clarify parentheticals, support conjunctions and quotations, separate adjectives... and that's only a small sample of the demands placed on them.  Like a drunk secretary steering a lawn mower through the office, they can cause real damage to your writing. And, if in the wrong place at the wrong time, they create the kind of chaos that breaks apart subject-verb relationships.

...Ellipses
Ellipses are those three periods in a row that trail off a sentence, or appear in the middle of quotes. Ellipses always leave you wondering, "What was left out? What aren't they saying?" Ellipses are the Don Draper: they only like the beginnings of things. Sometimes, the ellipses is there to indicate that something was purposely omitted. It can also be used to let the reader to draw their own conclusions. You're following along with the sentence's thought when... what? Whether out of necessity or choice, when you use an ellipses, its presence almost always has an air of mystery.

.Periods
 Periods are the Burt Cooper, the president and patriarch of punctuation. All other punctuation marks work in service of the period. In very long sentences, periods rely on the employ of the other marks to keep things running smoothly. If they do their jobs right, the sentence works and makes the period look good. If they don't, you can wind up with a confusing, run-on sentence that leaves you wondering why the period didn't show up sooner. When you see a period, no matter how odd or strange the sentence may be, the discussion has closed and the final word has been spoken.

Keep It Simple, Say It Plainly.

I was talking to a friend earlier this week about how you can tell when a writer is trying too hard. The signs are usually obvious, even to an untrained eye:

• Strained similes and metaphors are in every other sentence.
• Every adjective sounds like it was the 5th entry in a thesaurus search.
• Most words have a three-syllable minimum.
• Ideas and events are told, then shown, then explained again, but with different words. And then there's the summary...

Every writer does this. All of 'em, me included, though I've found it's most common with people who are either inexperienced or trying to impress people. Most of the time, this is done with good intentions. When you care about what you're writing -- whether it's a grant proposal, a college essay, a screenplay, a speech or a magazine article -- you want it to be good. Memorable. Perhaps even unforgettable. You want to make a good impression, or get your point across. So you go the extra mile to make every sentence great, because you care about your work -- it's all about the work, dammit!

If this sounds like you, stop. You're not doing yourself, your readers or (if you're writing for publication) your editors any favors.

It's very easy to get so caught up in The Writing that you forget about The Reader. Your sentence could use the most original words and imagery ever written, but if the reader has to slog through large, long blocks of text, unfamiliar words and confusing comparisons, it won't matter, because they will stop reading. This point does warrant a repeat, and extra formatting:

They will stop reading.


Whether you're writing The Great American Novel, or an email to colleagues, you don't have work sentences into flowery prose, explain every minute detail, or use words that you've only ever heard on the National Spelling Bee. A little bit of the fancy stuff here and there is great -- it makes the writing interesting, both for you and the reader. But when it's too much, your story gets confusing, your message gets lost, and no one has heard that thing you labored so hard and so long to say.

More often, it is the short, straightforward words that are the most powerful. That's what people remember and respond to most.

Keep it simple. Say it plainly.

WordNerdGirl vs. The Lit Critic (in defense of NaNoWriMo)

I originally logged on to write a brief post about NaNoWriMo -- National Novel Writing Month, which kicked off November 1st. (Bang out 50,000 words for the first draft of a novel in a month, which is a little over 1,600 words/day. If you're not familiar with it, check out NaNoWriMo.org.) A friend had emailed over Halloween weekend to ask if I was doing it. I hadn't planned on it but, still bummed out about my graduate school plans falling through (for an MFA in creative writing) and determined to follow through on my newly-adopted, improv-inspired "Yes, And..." writing philosophy, I decided to cheer him on (go Dave!) and do my own, unofficial version of NaNoWriMo... a Nano-NaNoWriMo, if you will: if I manage at least 500 words a day, I'll be happy. After two days, I have over 2,000 words, so for myself, I'm ahead of the game.
 
But, like I said, I originally wanted just to share that little snib, but this morning, Laura Miller at Salon.com managed to annoy me again with this article (which means she's doing her job as a critic, I suppose). So, in true bloggy fashion, I'm going disagree. Or, if I want to increase readership of this blog, I guess I should be a little more extreme and flamey:

LAURA MILLER HATES WRITERS

Okay, scratch that. Honestly, that's too extreme for my taste. How about...

LAURA MILLER HATES WRITERS
Hey Lady, Chill out!

Nah... not enough 'zazz in that title. Oh wait, I know... we'll go with the superhero/comic book imagery:
LAURA MILLER HATES WRITERS
Hey Lady, Chill out!

WordNerdGirl vs. The Lit Critic


I  like it. It oversimplifies the argument a la The Huffington Post, but doesn't get too personal. And I get to picture myself in a super-hero costume, which is just silly, like a lot of flamey blog wars. But I'm getting off track here...

Ms. Miller is arguing that NaNoWriMo is "a waste of time" and that people shouldn't encourage writers to write their stories. Instead, she says we should be encouraging readers to read, because they will demand good stories from writers. That just plain old doesn't make any sense, and completely misses the point of NaNoWriMo. NaNoWriMo is about being creative, having fun and getting something you can work with down on the paper. How "good" it is doesn't matter when you're writing a first draft (and "good" is in the eye of the reader.) Sure, most of those writers may never get their story published, but so what, if they enjoy writing it?

Her main complaint seems to be that most NaNoWriMo participants don't go through the next (and necessary) step of editing and/or re-writing before sending in their submissions. Okay, fair enough. If you're serious about getting published, you have to do that work. Maybe NaNoWriMo should launch a rewriting initiative in February -- a ReWriNaNoWriMo, if you will, to encourage and guide writers who want to try to publish. But to complain because agents and publishers have to wade through a large slush pile of unsolicited, unedited manuscripts in the months after NaNoWriMo ends just sounds silly. If I'm not mistaken -- that's their job!


She also takes issue with the fact that NaNoWriMo encourages writers to seek encouragement. Again, that's just silly. Some of us need that encouragement, especially you're a writer (like me) who has the very bad habit of editing as we write, so much that we give up on our stories before they ever get past the first 30 pages; and especially if you're a writer (like me) who wanted to do something like an MFA in creative writing program, -- which would no doubt get the Literary Critic Seal of Approval -- but can't. If every writer approached writing the way she is suggesting, there would be very few stories for readers to read, because all the writers would be too busy second-guessing their stories, lest they be branded as "bad." And, as for all those readers who are being encouraged to read stories that those writers aren't writing, how is a reader supposed to know what stories are "good" or "bad" if they have nothing to compare?


So I am going to publish this post, eat my stuffed cabbage lunch, and get back to cranking out my unofficial nano-NaNoWriMo project of (at least) 500 words before the younger two kids wake up from their naps. My heroine needs to escape her kidnappers, which may sound like a bad story to some, but writing it is just fun for me.

*Referenced links: Better Yet, DON'T Write That Novel, NaNoWriMo.org, The Huffington Post, Salon


*In fairness, I adopted this format from for blog links after reading another column by Laura Miller, so she's not wrong all the time.

Yes, And...?

Disclaimer: This blog post will not be edited, reread or proofed in any way, shape or form (I'll explain why in a moment), and does not represent the usual high-quality standards of Your Friendly Neighborhood WordNerdGirl.

Whew, that was hard... I reread those sentences as I was writing them, at least six times before I moved onto this one. Okay, baby steps -- I'll go one paragraph at a time.

Anyway -- hey there and hi. I haven't been around much lately. Very, very busy, which is a good thing, mostly. I've been WordNerdGirling for SJ Magazine as their copyeditor, and was very excited to have the privilege of editing a book proposal, and I am wishing ZsaZsa Gapooch, Auntie Ness and Merka the best of luck now that their agent has the final document in hand. I also have my four kids, who are a fulltime job themselves. But since I've had to delay my grad school plans indefinitely, I've also been seeking out my Plan B, pursuing some other non-writing interests in hopes of kick-starting my very depleted creative juices: I'm planning some quilting projects -- but not the Amishy, grandma-quilting-bee kind. I'm talking about a bad-ass mixed media, kind of quilting. I am also in the midst of an improv comedy class, which is why I've decided to write this post without editing it (and torturing myself in the process -- I didn't realize how compulsively I reread and play with things I write until now. Agh - just caught myself rewriting that last sentence.)

 So, how does improv, which is all about making it up as you go (remember the TV show Whose Line Is It Anyway?) supposed to help with writing? Explaining needed...

In the first class, the instructor, who is (parent-alert) also the host of the Sprout channel's The Sunny Side Up Show, talked about the philosophy behind improv. (And I've learned something already: improv is a philosophy?) That philosophy is "Yes, And..." Basically, all that means is that you take whatever is thrown at you by your scene partners and build on it -- even if you have no clue what to do with it. If you screw it up, move on. If it doesn't come out quite the way you wanted, move on. But don't fight it, don't try to force it to be something it's not. Just add your own contribution and hope for the best and,  more often than not, you'll actually wind up getting the desired result -- in this case, a laugh.

One of my weaknesses as a writer (WordNerdGirl - you have a weakness? Say it ain't so!) is when I'm writing fiction, or poetry, or anything that requires imagination, I find it next-to-impossible to turn off my internal editor. The same thing that makes me a great, kick-ass editor (yeah, I said it -- great. And kick-ass.) makes it almost impossible for me to sit down and write all the stories I have rattling around up in my head. Because I know what result I want, I know exactly how it should work, but because it's creative, it is messy and -- especially in the first writing draft -- it is imperfect, much like this blog post is now, because these paragraphs are too long and I'm not explaining this as precisely as I want. It needs editing, and I all I can see are the flaws that need fixing. I get so caught up in fixing the flaws, the stories get lost.

I am finding that "Yes, And..." is a very useful way of looking at writing, as well as living. (Gee, I guess it really is a philosophy.) The last few months, I've been dealing with more plot twists than a daytime soap opera. It's been exhausting, trying to fix and repair everything. Part of the fallout has been delaying grad school, which I had hoped would put me in an environment where I could learn to turn off my editor and write more stories. That's not happening now, but maybe I can learn to write creatively just by saying, "Yes, And..." And maybe I can better deal with the unexpected, and get results that may not be the one I wanted, but is -- I hope -- better than I could have ever expected.

And this is usually the point where I go back and hammer at every word I've written and rearrange paragraphsandrereaditandbythatpointI'myellingatthekidsand -oh, wait! If I change the wording here it will shortentheparagraphandshortergraphsareeasiertoreadandI'mdoingitagain. Yes, I am. And?

Just click "Publish Post," please.

Referenced Links: ComedySportz Philadelphia, The Sunny Side Up Show, Quilting Arts Magazine, SJ Magazine