Christina Bauer's Blog, page 90
October 30, 2013
Book Review: Faeriewalker Series
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October 29, 2013
Writing tips from poetry: Action Scenes
And now, because I’m just that kind of stubborn, here’s a follow-up post on writing tips from poetry for action scenes! Say it with me, y’all: WOO HOO!!!!
Tip Number 1. Make up words
The English language is a pain in my ass. Time and again, I struggle to find the right word to describe something, so I do what Lewis Carroll did: make shit up. Compound words especially, like Angelfire, window-hole, something-slash-something. If nothing else, you know no one else has seen it before. Here’s a poem with the Master of Making Up Words at work:
Jabberwocky
by Lewis Carroll
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
2. Short sentences
Action scenes do well with shorter sentences. Oh, and if I can find a way to work in a countdown, I do that too. E. E. Cummings is my inspiration here. In the poem below, the phrases are short, sweet and crazy-powerful. Buffalo Bill comes to life, shooting clay pigeons from his charging steed…
Buffalo Bills’ defunct
Buffalo Bill's
defunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-silver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what i want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death
3. Hard consonants & more
IMHO, the ultimate word master—in the sense of playing with language—is none other than T. S. Eliot. He was also a rather verbose poet, so I won’t cut-n-paste all of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock below, but I will share one section as an example:
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas
Just reading that, I want to take a shower. Why? It’s the hard consonants that he uses: g, p, t. And since he’s such a pro, he uses complex consonant structures like cl and sc, too. Add to that some killer imagery (ragged claws, WTF?) and a classy dose of onomatopoeia (you can see the ragged little claws scuttle-scuttle-scuttle), and the action comes to LIFE!
When writing action scenes, Eliot’s lessons are clear: use consonants, onomatopoeia, and strong imagery. Oh yeah, and don’t be afraid to go for the ragged claws! Make your audience a little ill.
Coming up next from Writing Tip Land: Another verb that I freaking hate
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October 25, 2013
Book Review: Paranormalcy Series
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October 24, 2013
An open letter to the French guy I met in Geneva, Switzerland
Dear French Guy,
It was spring 1992, on a street corner in downtown Geneva, Switzerland. I was 22, wearing a flowered dress and my Doc Martins. That’s what threw you off. Americans wear sneakers, not esoteric English footwear. Which is why you walked up to me and said “Thank you. You’re lovely.”
I was alone, living solo in a strange city, and I freaked out not a little. As a result, I snapped out one word: “What?”
That’s when you frowned. “You’re American.”
The Doc Martins threw everyone off that spring. I consistently got treated as a German, which I liked quite a lot. Still, I was an unarmed faux-German who was feeling accosted at this point. So I replied: “Yeahhhh?”
For the first time, I got a good look at you. Middle aged. A little paunchy. Business suit. Receding hairline. French accent that still made you seem handsome and exotic. You used that sweet accent when you replied: “American men. They always leer. Make you feel uncomfortable. It’s spring. It’s sunny. You’re young and in a flowered dress. The sunlight in your hair…you’re lovely. I wanted to thank you for the moment.”
And yeah, that comment totally nailed why I was freaking out. Back home, I’d only ever felt leered at. Or, on a good day, desired…Which at the time was a more of a mutual-leer to me. I’d never actually felt pure appreciation for simply being lovely. I didn’t know what to say, so I blurted out something to the extent of “Yeah, whatever” and walked away as quickly as I could.
But I’ve regretted that choice ever since.
I’ve thought quite a lot about what you said, my springtime friend, especially now that I’m getting older myself. It was honestly one of the nicest complements I’ve ever received. And more than that, it changed my views on beauty and desire. Today I see young people, smiling in the springtime of their lives and I think of you, my mystery guy, and I appreciate them as the fleeting gifts they are. It’s spring. They’re young. They’re lovely. What a beautiful moment.
It’s long overdue, but I wanted to be sure I said this, at least once. Wherever you are, I truly wish you’ll feel the full force of my appreciation:
“Thank you, my friend. You’re so very lovely, too.”
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October 22, 2013
Writing Tip: Meet My Ultimate Enemy
You read that right: ‘is.’
Why? ‘Is’ adds no texture, no insight, no sense of action or movement. A blot on the page. A mean-nothing verb that, IMHO, must be avoided at all costs. In my first book, The Pirate Queen, I used ‘is’ once. Yeah, once. At the time, that concession really pissed me off. I literally spent one full week, nine-to-five writing, focused on one damn paragraph that described a pirate ship getting ready to leave harbor. Goddamn it, I was not writing that sucker with the verb ‘is’ in it, and I didn’t. But later on, yeah, I gave in. Whatev.
Years later, I’ve mellowed somewhat. I no longer take umbrage at every use of is, although I do still play what I like to call the ‘is’ game. As in: Is there any freaking way to write this passage without is? The toughest times come when I have to describe scenes. Oh, how much faster it would be to write that the light bulb is hanging from the ceiling, the door is open, my Princely boyfriend is cute. And sometimes I give in.
But more often, I muck around far too long, searching for find a verb that provides insight into how the narrator feels about their surroundings: the door towers before me, the light bulb dangles from a single lonely cord, and my Princely boyfriend swoops in to give me a kiss. See? Better, am I right? The ‘is’ game is worth it. Although, knowing my obsessive-compulsive nature, the ‘is’ game may no longer be a matter of choice. Which brings me to an important disclaimer:
Beware writers: once you start to square off against ‘is,’ you’ve chosen a lifelong battle. Even now, I’m rewriting this freaking paragraph six times to avoid the dreaded capitulation to mine enemy. But going forward, perhaps I’ll have some company in my ongoing war… [Insert Les Mis style fight song here]
I’m talking about you, dear reader. And possible writer. Join me in my esoteric verb-battle that is ‘is.’ I promise no fancy accolades or benefits. Hell, this war will drive you insane. But, if my personal experience is any indication, at least it will be a better use of your time than Solitaire. [Music swells and I give a kick-ass solo]
The end.
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October 18, 2013
3 Writing Tips from Poetry: For Softer Scenes
I’m nowhere near the writing league of Mr. Eliot, but dang, I still feel his asthmatic-style-pain.
Whenever I’m struggling to find the right word, I turn to poetry. And it helps. A lot. So in the interest of sharing personal best practices, here are three poems and their related writing tips for softer scenes, such as a character professing true love:
1. Use soft sounds for softer scenes.
I suppose this is obvious, but it always helps to see a master at work. My all-time favorite poem for soft sounds is Summer Remembered by Isabella Gardner. I love how Gardner moves through words with gentle s, m, wh, and n sounds…And then brings them to life by contrasting their soft qualities with harsh tones like ‘pizzicato plinkle’. BTW, I’m pretty sure she made up the word plinkle. Go Isabella.
Summer Remembered
by Isabella Gardner
Sounds sum and summon the remembering of summers.
The humming of the sun
The mumbling in the honey-suckle vine
The whirring in the clovered grass
The pizzicato plinkle of ice in an auburn
uncle’s amber glass.
The whing of father’s racquet and the whack
of brother’s bat on cousin’s ball
and calling voices call-
ing voices spilling voices…
The munching of saltwater at the splintered dock
the slap and slop of waves on little sloops
The quarreling of oarlocks hours across the bay
The canvas sails that bleat as they
are blown. The heaving buoy bell-
ing HERE I am
HERE you are HEAR HEAR
listen listen listen
The gramophone is wound
the music goes round and around
BYE BYE BLUES LINDY’S COMING
voices calling calling calling
“Children! Children! Time’s Up
Time’s Up”
Merrily sturdily wantonly the familial voices
cheerily chidingly call to the children TIME’S UP
and the mute children’s unvoiced clamor sacks the summer air
crying Mother Mother are you there?
***
2. Bring your scene to life with texture and detail
No one describes the tiny details that encapsulate a big picture like D H Lawrence. In the poem below, all the chick does is run a wet washcloth over her shoulder, but you’re there, adoring her as much as the author.
Gloire de Dijon
by David Herbert Lawrence
When she rises in the morning
I linger to watch her;
She spreads the bath-cloth underneath the window
And the sunbeams catch her
Glistening white on the shoulders,
While down her sides the mellow
Golden shadow glows as
She stoops to the sponge, and her swung breasts
Sway like full-blown yellow
Gloire de Dijon roses.
She drips herself with water, and her shoulders
Glisten as silver, they crumple up
Like wet and falling roses, and I listen
For the sluicing of their rain-dishevelled petals.
In the window full of sunlight
Concentrates her golden shadow
Fold on fold, until it glows as
Mellow as the glory roses.
***
3. Check all five senses.
Sometimes (actually, a lot of the time) I struggle to grab the ‘hook’ that brings a scene to life. When I have that trouble, I run through all the five senses my character may be experiencing: sight, touch, smell, sound, and taste. In my writing, I often go first for the obvious choice—sight—in order to build a scene, but the other senses are often far more powerful. A great example of this is below. Although the poem is arguably no love scene, it still hits you over the head with all five senses. You’re there, feeling the full punch of the author’s experiences in WWI.
Dulce Et Decorum Est
By Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.
GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!– An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.–
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
***
Up next week: poetry tips for action scenes!
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October 17, 2013
Book Review: A Temptation of Angels
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A Temptation of Angels
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October 15, 2013
Hades Wasn’t An Asshole & Other Crazy Facts About Greco-Roman Myth
Although, in looking at the list, most of these facts have to do with death, which means I either need to get out more…Or eat some frozen yogurt. Or both.
Fact #1: Hades wasn’t an asshole
Hades is the god of the underworld, and for that he gets a bad wrap in modern storytelling. How? Everyone freaking assumes that he carries a grudge over his job description. Don’t get me wrong: I don’t think he was pumped to rule the dead. But that said, the ancients didn’t see him as a resentful dickweed. On the contrary, he was portrayed as a fearsome, terrible, yet ultimately noble soul who oversaw an afterlife that was actually pretty okay. Want proof? Check out the sculpture of him at the opening of this blog post…Now that’s a nice guy!
Still, being surrounded by death, he missed life and beauty, which is how Persephone came into the picture. Abducting her was arguably the only asshole thing he ever did, and yet it’s the one thing he’s rarely condemned for in modern writing. Go figure.
Fact #2: Persephone was not some kinky-sicko-slut
Au contraire. Hades’s wife was a sweet and beautiful girl full of life, promise, and innocence. She stayed that way even after she became Queen of the Underworld, too, returning each year to Earth’s surface to bring her youth and life energy back to the landscape in the form of Spring. So nyah.
Fact #3: Far from being Heaven or Hell, the afterlife was kinda meh
In Greco-Roman myth, after you die, you basically float around Elysium. Essentially, the afterlife’s like being stuck in a bland strip-mall 24-7, only you’re semi-transparent. When it came to eternal punishments, only true asshats got those, like Tantalus. Undoubtedly, for some folks, the Greco-Roman afterlife was a walk in the park compared to their Earthy existence. So there you go.
Fact #4: As heroes go, Hercules was kinda meh
The guy was strong, sure, but he was a box-of-rocks in the brains department. His one moment of intellectual brilliance was when he tricked Atlas into taking the world back onto his shoulders after Old Herc borrowed the burden for a while. Atlas was in no hurry to get back his old job, so Hercules said he needed a pad to cushion the weight of the world, and could Atlas take the globe back for just one eensy weensy second? Atlas bought this nonsense, presumably because he’d lost a lot of blood flow to his head over the years. Still, no one in ancient times wanted to be a brainless pile of muscle like Hercules. You wanted to be Theseus, Odysseus, or any hero of Troy. Brains plus brawn.
Quasi-Fact #5: Why this is important…To me, anyway
As human beings, we have a disturbing tendency to rewrite history in our contemporary image. In my own reading, I was surprised to learn that in ancient times, no one wanted to be a he-man-Conan-Hercules-type muscle guy…That death wasn’t seen as a bad dude…And that his girlfriend Persephone was kinda nice, too. You get the idea. Reality is far more plastic than we know. Writing little blog posts on the topic reminds me to always question the tropes and paths I outline in my own stories. I hope that I always ask ‘what if,’ because chances are, somewhere in the multiverse, for someone not to dissimilar from me, my hypothetical is their reality.
OK, enough multiverse BS. It’s time for some fro-yo.
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October 10, 2013
Book Review: Enchanted (The Woodcutter Sisters)
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