Tom Barnes's Blog: Tom's 'RocktheTower' Blog - Posts Tagged "thomas-wolfe"
Tungee's Gold and John Steinbeck's Spoken Word
This Week
2010 Hurricane Watch
Tungee's Gold – Bad Weather Birds
Writers Notebook: John Steinbeck and the Spoken Word
The Hurricane Hunter: Forecasters see Risk of Tropical Storm and Hurricane Activity in Gulf of Mexico Next Week.
Tungee's Gold: The Legend of Ebo Landing' Excerpt
A sea gull perched on top of the mizzen royal yard, a half dozen mews were flying a hundred feet above the ship and almost stood still as they labored against a steady breeze.
Tungee stood back from the foremast and looked up as Jeff, Dobbs and Blakely worked hard to repair a frayed halyard and a slipped brace on the fore upper topsail yard. The talkative Dobbs yelled down. "Just look at that bunch of birds, mates. Makes a pretty picture, don't you think."
Tungee called up, "Do you know what they are?"
"Not a clue."
"They're mews and some folks call them bad weather birds."
"Does that bad weather bird mean what it sounds like?"
Tungee smiled. "I'm afraid it does." Then he pointed to the gull back on the mizzen. "There's another part of the bad weather group."
Dobbs chuckled. "Many more of them birds in the rigging and we'll take on the look of Noah's Ark."
"It's just a rest stop," Tungee said. Their natural instinct tells them to move away from the storm."
"Smart little buggers, ain't they."
In final preparation for weather ahead, Captain Foster gave the order to remove all light sailcloth and replace it with heavy canvas. The crew turned to and by mid afternoon of the following day the changes had been made. The ship plowed through a medium swell at more than ten knots on a close haul starboard tack. Valparaiso was far astern on the port quarter.
A school of dolphin showed up off the port beam and put on an exhibition doing jumps and spins to the delight of the crew. The playful dolphin stayed with the MFC for two full days before making a final circle around the ship and heading into the sunset.
By the numbers the migration of bad weather birds had increased and you could see a buildup of clouds to the southwest, darkening and boiling down to a running sea.
Captain Foster called, "Mr. Cheny, let's begin to take off some canvas. We'll reef sail on fore, main and mizzen masts from t'gallant's down."
"Aye, skipper." Then Fritz Cheny cupped his hands round his mouth and blasted Foster's order verbatim.
The mizzen royal yard had become a resting-place for gulls on their way out of the area. Mews and terns had flopped down in the water for food and rest some one hundred yards aft. And the weather was changing; there was a definite chill in the air.
Gideon Foster had already decided to take the longer route known as Drake's Passage round the Horn, not chancing the sometimes treacherous, if shorter, Strait of Magellan. Keeping to the open sea had its merits, but it did put you nearer Antarctica and those frigid ice flows. The past two days had seen the midday temperature drop from a balmy seventy-five degrees to two points below freezing.
Almost to the man, the crew was wearing their oilskins. Hank Jensen had apparently found a supply of rum and was using it to help ward off the chill. For the past three days he had staggered from mast to lifeline, fallen into and then dragged out of the scuppers, soaking wet and quoting everything from the Bible to Shakespeare.
The crew had just shortened sail and most of the port watch top men had dropped down to the main deck. Jensen had gathered quite a congregation at the foot of the mainmast. The gathering storm in the path of the MFC and a heavy blanket of darkness seemed to encourage the tale telling second mate. The performer took a swig from his bottle, steadied himself against the mast, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and croaked out his version of an old seafaring tale.
"Twas on a dark and cheerless night to the southward of the Cape." He quoted every verse and added a few of his own. Then he wound up with, "The Sea all round was clad in foam and just up on our lee, we saw the Flying Dutchman come a bounding o'er the sea."
There were mixed emotions among the crew regarding that old canard. Some believed the thing was true while others called it nonsense. But whether they believed it or not, every man in the audience gave Hank Jensen a good round of applause for his efforts.
Gene Blakely looked across the waters as if he expected to see the Dutchman come bounding over the horizon.
Dobbs added a cryptic note. "It's been seen you know, that bloody old Flying Dutchman."
(To be continued)
Writers Notebook:
For all you writers that feel challenged in the area of English grammar, take heart and read John Steinbeck's response to a letter on the subject.
2441 Fillmore Street, San Francisco, California, December of 1929.
In this excerpt John Steinbeck said, ...'I want to speak particularly of your theory of clean manuscripts, and spelling as correct as a collegiate stenographer and every nasty little comma in its place and preening of itself. “Manners,” you say is, and knowing the “trade” and the “Printed Word.” But I have no interest in the printed word. I would continue to write if there were no writing and no print. I put my words down for a matter of memory. They are more made to be spoken than to be read. In have the instincts of a minstrel rather than a scrivener. There you have it. We are not of the same trade at all and so how can your rules fit me? My sounds are all in place, I can send them to a stenographer who knows his trade and he can slip the commas about until they sit comfortably and he can spell the words so that school teachers will not raise their eyebrows when they read them. Why should I bother? There are millions of people who are good stenographers, but there are not so many thousands who can make as nice sounds as I can.'...
Fortunately the modern computer grammar and spellchecker software has almost solved your problem. Still there are many of you that tell stories by ear and instinct not by design. You storytellers that work by instinct are working in a way that is similar to musicians that produce music by ear.
A few examples are Jazz pianist Earl Garner and humorist, lyric and music writer Steve Allen, neither of which could read a lick of music and Ray Charles was blind from the age of seven.
So you storytellers challenged by some of the rules of grammar, set up by academia and the ivory tower crowd, take heart and get your stories into print. So what if you have to hire an editor to do a little clean up for you. I'm convinced that you folks have some good stories to tell and I look forward to reading some of them.
Next week we'll hear from Maxwell Perkins, famous editor for Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Thomas Wolfe and others, when he shares some thoughts on how to approach writing.
Tom Barnes -- Actor, Writer and Hurricane Hunter.
Check out my website for books, blogs, western legends, a literary icon, reviews and interviews. Also my novels Tungee's Gold, The Goring Collection and Doc Holliday’s Road to Tombstone along with a non fiction remembrance of The Hurricane Hunters and Lost in the Bermuda Triangle.
Facebook and Twitter
www.RocktheTower.com
http://thehurricanehunter.blogspot.com
www.tombarnes39.com
2010 Hurricane Watch
Tungee's Gold – Bad Weather Birds
Writers Notebook: John Steinbeck and the Spoken Word
The Hurricane Hunter: Forecasters see Risk of Tropical Storm and Hurricane Activity in Gulf of Mexico Next Week.
Tungee's Gold: The Legend of Ebo Landing' Excerpt
A sea gull perched on top of the mizzen royal yard, a half dozen mews were flying a hundred feet above the ship and almost stood still as they labored against a steady breeze.
Tungee stood back from the foremast and looked up as Jeff, Dobbs and Blakely worked hard to repair a frayed halyard and a slipped brace on the fore upper topsail yard. The talkative Dobbs yelled down. "Just look at that bunch of birds, mates. Makes a pretty picture, don't you think."
Tungee called up, "Do you know what they are?"
"Not a clue."
"They're mews and some folks call them bad weather birds."
"Does that bad weather bird mean what it sounds like?"
Tungee smiled. "I'm afraid it does." Then he pointed to the gull back on the mizzen. "There's another part of the bad weather group."
Dobbs chuckled. "Many more of them birds in the rigging and we'll take on the look of Noah's Ark."
"It's just a rest stop," Tungee said. Their natural instinct tells them to move away from the storm."
"Smart little buggers, ain't they."
In final preparation for weather ahead, Captain Foster gave the order to remove all light sailcloth and replace it with heavy canvas. The crew turned to and by mid afternoon of the following day the changes had been made. The ship plowed through a medium swell at more than ten knots on a close haul starboard tack. Valparaiso was far astern on the port quarter.
A school of dolphin showed up off the port beam and put on an exhibition doing jumps and spins to the delight of the crew. The playful dolphin stayed with the MFC for two full days before making a final circle around the ship and heading into the sunset.
By the numbers the migration of bad weather birds had increased and you could see a buildup of clouds to the southwest, darkening and boiling down to a running sea.
Captain Foster called, "Mr. Cheny, let's begin to take off some canvas. We'll reef sail on fore, main and mizzen masts from t'gallant's down."
"Aye, skipper." Then Fritz Cheny cupped his hands round his mouth and blasted Foster's order verbatim.
The mizzen royal yard had become a resting-place for gulls on their way out of the area. Mews and terns had flopped down in the water for food and rest some one hundred yards aft. And the weather was changing; there was a definite chill in the air.
Gideon Foster had already decided to take the longer route known as Drake's Passage round the Horn, not chancing the sometimes treacherous, if shorter, Strait of Magellan. Keeping to the open sea had its merits, but it did put you nearer Antarctica and those frigid ice flows. The past two days had seen the midday temperature drop from a balmy seventy-five degrees to two points below freezing.
Almost to the man, the crew was wearing their oilskins. Hank Jensen had apparently found a supply of rum and was using it to help ward off the chill. For the past three days he had staggered from mast to lifeline, fallen into and then dragged out of the scuppers, soaking wet and quoting everything from the Bible to Shakespeare.
The crew had just shortened sail and most of the port watch top men had dropped down to the main deck. Jensen had gathered quite a congregation at the foot of the mainmast. The gathering storm in the path of the MFC and a heavy blanket of darkness seemed to encourage the tale telling second mate. The performer took a swig from his bottle, steadied himself against the mast, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and croaked out his version of an old seafaring tale.
"Twas on a dark and cheerless night to the southward of the Cape." He quoted every verse and added a few of his own. Then he wound up with, "The Sea all round was clad in foam and just up on our lee, we saw the Flying Dutchman come a bounding o'er the sea."
There were mixed emotions among the crew regarding that old canard. Some believed the thing was true while others called it nonsense. But whether they believed it or not, every man in the audience gave Hank Jensen a good round of applause for his efforts.
Gene Blakely looked across the waters as if he expected to see the Dutchman come bounding over the horizon.
Dobbs added a cryptic note. "It's been seen you know, that bloody old Flying Dutchman."
(To be continued)
Writers Notebook:
For all you writers that feel challenged in the area of English grammar, take heart and read John Steinbeck's response to a letter on the subject.
2441 Fillmore Street, San Francisco, California, December of 1929.
In this excerpt John Steinbeck said, ...'I want to speak particularly of your theory of clean manuscripts, and spelling as correct as a collegiate stenographer and every nasty little comma in its place and preening of itself. “Manners,” you say is, and knowing the “trade” and the “Printed Word.” But I have no interest in the printed word. I would continue to write if there were no writing and no print. I put my words down for a matter of memory. They are more made to be spoken than to be read. In have the instincts of a minstrel rather than a scrivener. There you have it. We are not of the same trade at all and so how can your rules fit me? My sounds are all in place, I can send them to a stenographer who knows his trade and he can slip the commas about until they sit comfortably and he can spell the words so that school teachers will not raise their eyebrows when they read them. Why should I bother? There are millions of people who are good stenographers, but there are not so many thousands who can make as nice sounds as I can.'...
Fortunately the modern computer grammar and spellchecker software has almost solved your problem. Still there are many of you that tell stories by ear and instinct not by design. You storytellers that work by instinct are working in a way that is similar to musicians that produce music by ear.
A few examples are Jazz pianist Earl Garner and humorist, lyric and music writer Steve Allen, neither of which could read a lick of music and Ray Charles was blind from the age of seven.
So you storytellers challenged by some of the rules of grammar, set up by academia and the ivory tower crowd, take heart and get your stories into print. So what if you have to hire an editor to do a little clean up for you. I'm convinced that you folks have some good stories to tell and I look forward to reading some of them.
Next week we'll hear from Maxwell Perkins, famous editor for Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Thomas Wolfe and others, when he shares some thoughts on how to approach writing.
Tom Barnes -- Actor, Writer and Hurricane Hunter.
Check out my website for books, blogs, western legends, a literary icon, reviews and interviews. Also my novels Tungee's Gold, The Goring Collection and Doc Holliday’s Road to Tombstone along with a non fiction remembrance of The Hurricane Hunters and Lost in the Bermuda Triangle.
Facebook and Twitter
www.RocktheTower.com
http://thehurricanehunter.blogspot.com
www.tombarnes39.com
Tom's 'RocktheTower' Blog
I do a variety blog and post every Wednesday. I am an actor, writer and hurricane hunter and my subjects are generally written about those fields. During Hurricane Season I do at least one story every
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