Flavoring
We all love to eat, and some of us love to cook. Those who do probably have their own specialty; a crock of soup, chicken on the grill, a hearty stew. My husband is one these people and usually prepares supper every night. Me, I only like to cook two things, Thanksgiving Day turkey and lasagna.
Being 1/4 Italian and from New York, the sauce for the lasagna is important to me. I can't stand restaurants that open a can of Hunts, dump it in a pan, heat it and then call it done. I'm the same with chopped tomatoes warmed over a flame. That isn't sauce. It's disgusting. And it's raw. When I make sauce for lasagna, I cook it for a week. Why? Because I learned from my father and grandfather that sauce needs to be rich, thick and flavorful for the meal to taste good.
So, what does making sauce have to do with writing? Plenty. As with any Italian meal prepared right, you want to savor the flavors of basil, oregano, parsley and a hint of parmesan cheese. You want your taste buds to zing and be fulfilled, especially after the aroma of lasagna baking for an hour has teased and tormented your sense of smell. You anticipate a good meal, expect one and are disappointed when you're served a plate of lasagna made from sauce poured out of a jar. The same hold true for the stories you write and your readers.
I write historical westerns and know my readers do not want my hero and heroine chatting away on cell phones. Nor do they expect them to travel around in heated/air conditioned train cars and pick-up trucks. High-heeled shoes, mini skirts and shorts and sneakers are a no-no, too. Readers of historical westerns want to be taken back to a time and place when none of that existed, to an era that was fresh, exciting and hard, where the land was wide-open, untamed and in some cases, untraveled. And they want to experience that through the flavor of the words.
Just like adding too much oregano will kill the taste of sauce, too many western terms will kill the story. I sprinkle in words and phrases here and there. 'Give me a call if you need help' translates to 'send someone from the ranch to get me'. 'Oh my God' becomes 'Mercy'. 'Being sent to the slammer' is now 'sent to the calaboose'.
I have a handbook for everyday western life and slang. Accompanied with my own knowledge, I pay close attention to detail in my writing, just like I do when adding the ingredients to my sauce. I don't overdo it, but I want the flavor of my story to reflect the era I write, and keep the reader in that era. A simple term is sufficient, especially if it doesn't pull the reader from the story and make him ponder the meaning.
And flavoring doesn't only hold true to westerns. Many eras have their own expressions and meanings. So if you're setting reflects 1950's Germany, London in the 1700's or space travel, flavor it with the right terms and the reader's anticipation for a good book will be fulfilled.
Being 1/4 Italian and from New York, the sauce for the lasagna is important to me. I can't stand restaurants that open a can of Hunts, dump it in a pan, heat it and then call it done. I'm the same with chopped tomatoes warmed over a flame. That isn't sauce. It's disgusting. And it's raw. When I make sauce for lasagna, I cook it for a week. Why? Because I learned from my father and grandfather that sauce needs to be rich, thick and flavorful for the meal to taste good.
So, what does making sauce have to do with writing? Plenty. As with any Italian meal prepared right, you want to savor the flavors of basil, oregano, parsley and a hint of parmesan cheese. You want your taste buds to zing and be fulfilled, especially after the aroma of lasagna baking for an hour has teased and tormented your sense of smell. You anticipate a good meal, expect one and are disappointed when you're served a plate of lasagna made from sauce poured out of a jar. The same hold true for the stories you write and your readers.
I write historical westerns and know my readers do not want my hero and heroine chatting away on cell phones. Nor do they expect them to travel around in heated/air conditioned train cars and pick-up trucks. High-heeled shoes, mini skirts and shorts and sneakers are a no-no, too. Readers of historical westerns want to be taken back to a time and place when none of that existed, to an era that was fresh, exciting and hard, where the land was wide-open, untamed and in some cases, untraveled. And they want to experience that through the flavor of the words.
Just like adding too much oregano will kill the taste of sauce, too many western terms will kill the story. I sprinkle in words and phrases here and there. 'Give me a call if you need help' translates to 'send someone from the ranch to get me'. 'Oh my God' becomes 'Mercy'. 'Being sent to the slammer' is now 'sent to the calaboose'.
I have a handbook for everyday western life and slang. Accompanied with my own knowledge, I pay close attention to detail in my writing, just like I do when adding the ingredients to my sauce. I don't overdo it, but I want the flavor of my story to reflect the era I write, and keep the reader in that era. A simple term is sufficient, especially if it doesn't pull the reader from the story and make him ponder the meaning.
And flavoring doesn't only hold true to westerns. Many eras have their own expressions and meanings. So if you're setting reflects 1950's Germany, London in the 1700's or space travel, flavor it with the right terms and the reader's anticipation for a good book will be fulfilled.
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