Monthly Archives: March 2012

Spring is officially here!

How do I know? ‘Cause I’m looking out the window, watching the clothes on the line sway in the breeze. Hanging clothes on the line is one of those quaint traditions (I can’t bring myself to call it a chore) that I just love. I’m conscious that calling it quaint is probably insulting in some manner. Possibly it marks me out as privileged in more ways than I’ve considered. Surely there are many many people in the world for whom it is a necessity instead of a luxury. Certainly there are far more people in the former category than the latter. But in the modern West it seems to be a dying activity.

I remember when I was growing up in rural Tennessee everyone had a clothesline, and everyone used it. Maybe half the people in town had a dryer, but they were considered expensive to run. So unless it was raining the clothes went out. Let’s face it the sun is free anyway you look at it, and people knew to take advantage of it.

As I became an adult and moved into urban America I saw fewer and fewer families hanging their clothing in the air to dry. Granted some of this is due to constraints on space. I get that. An apartment building is not particularly conducive to hanging clothing outdoors. But there also seems to have been a shift in mentality. It has been my experience that hanging ones garments in the open air is thought to only be done if you don’t own a dryer, or take the last step at the laundry mat. It is in effect advertising the fact that you can’t afford these things. Let’s face it the sun is free anyway you look at it, and who wants to advertise being poor or make themselves look poor even if they aren’t?

This is a surprisingly strong disincentive to using the resources of nature.  I once had a neighbor complain that it made the neighborhood look trashy when I strung a line on my back balcony (overlooking my own backyard) to dry the babies cloth nappies. I was furious and politely explained to her that I hung them in the sun not only to save electricity, but also because solar rays are antibacterial and this is good for both diapers and the babies that wear them. I also curtly told her that I would do anything I liked on my own balcony, but I felt conspicuous from that day forward. It took a little of the joy out of the experience.

What I didn’t know at the time is that she may have had every right to complain my about my nappy line. The use of clothes lines is officially banned in many areas! Millions of Americans are not even allowed to string a washing line even if they want to. I am shocked by this! Shocked I say.

As aware as I was that my  propensity to air-dry clothing  was culturally at odds with my neighbors, it wasn’t until I moved to the UK that I really gave it much thought. Here, despite postage-stamp-sized gardens (yards, no one grows vegetables in an English garden) the vast majority of people find a corner to string up a line and hang out the smalls.

I take great joy in this. It means that, like today, I can hang it up, sit back and watch the breeze blow the moisture away. It doesn’t cost me a dime. My neighbors don’t look at me like a freak. I’m doing something good for the environment, or rather not doing something bad, and my life seems somehow more complete.

Does this seem like I am contributing too much importance to a mere clothes line? Maybe; but it’s all true. I would like to think that as people become more environmentally aware the humble clothes line may come back in style; that instead of seeing a line of T-shirts, towels, and jeans as an indication that the owner couldn’t afford the electricity to dry them, they might be seen as proof that the owner was green conscious. More states need to follow the example of Florida, Colorado, Utah, Hawaii, Maine and Vermont, who have passed laws (it’s ridiculous but yes laws were necessary) forbidding bans on clotheslines. I look forward to the day when I can sit at home in the States and watch the clothes sway in the breeze, just like I can when at home in the UK.

Combustible Sinners just topped the TBR list

Writers are readers too, and while I can’t speak for others, I still get excited about entering a competition to win a free one. This morning I received notification that I won this one on Goodreads. I must admit I don’t often read short stories. In fact I recently told someone that I have absolutely no use for them. So it is with no small amount of chagrin that I say I can’t wait to get stuck in and read this one. That’s why I entered the contest in the first place. Come on with a description like this how could I not be intrigued?

“Lissi Linares is a pastor’s daughter whose love for others contrasts with her fear of eternal damnation. Little Jasmine “Jazzy Moon” Luna is determined to save Jesus from being crucified. Naida Cervantes hides a brutal secret behind shapeless, florid dresses. Hermana Gracie tries to set her son up with a good Christian girlfriend, only to make a surprising discovery. Zeke wants a new guitar and Ben wants a cool girlfriend, but what they find as migrant workers in Arkansas changes their desires. These individuals and others try to negotiate the often rocky intersection of faith and culture in seven independent but intertwining tales that explore life in an evangelical Christian, Mexican-American community. Frank, funny and heart-breakingly real, this volume explores themes of identity, culture, religion and sexuality in the context of a little-known subset of Hispanic culture.”

I just can’t wait. Be sure to check back in a few weeks for the review.

Good writing practice

I had to do something horrible today. I had to take a 2,900-word thesis proposal and squeeze it into a funding application form with a 1,500-word limit. Painful does’t even begin to describe the experience. The problem was exacerbated by the fact that the original proposal was about 3,500 words before I edited, trimmed and sacrificed content to get it down to the “two sides of A4 paper” limit imposed at the first stage of the application process. I already felt like substantive information had been lost, so cutting out another 1,400 words felt very very wrong.

“How can I adequately relay the pertinent information in 1,500 words? How can 1,500 words be better, or even as good as 2,900?” I asked myself this over and over as I snipped, and snipped, and snipped. Literally – I even went through and made sure that any reference with two authors used an & sign instead of the word ‘and’ in order to save the two extra characters. They really do add up.

The answer to the above question is the whole point of this post. While I miss my elucidating examples and florid language, the 1,500-word proposal does all of the same things as the 2,900-word proposal did, and while it pains me to admit it, it probably does it better. An example might make this more apparent. This sentence came from the Aims section, “… the utilising of quantitative survey analysis to assist in assessing children’s wellbeing in a culturally relativistic manner is both innovative and necessary. This is because the rich qualitative data inherent to anthropological research is notoriously difficult to utilise for policy reform and social change.” It became “Using quantitative methods to help assess children’s wellbeing is both innovative and necessary because the rich qualitative data inherent to anthropological research is difficult to use for policy reform and social change.” I could probably have taken the ‘inherently’ out and trimmed it just that much more.

I like the first sentence. I like the way it reads, but the second is sharper. The second is both a better sentence, and a better fit to purpose. How does this relate to you the reader? Well, I put to you that the extreme editing necessary for my thesis funding application is not that different from that necessitated by the traditional publishing industry.

I recently followed a forum discussion in which the original poster complained of being criticised for using long, comma and clause laden sentences. I felt her pain. I am that writer too. I also agreed whole-heartedly with the posters who reminded her that there is a time and place for different writing styles. You wouldn’t write a business brief in hyperbole, and a bullet-pointed novel wouldn’t sell many copies (though I am tempted to try it). The unfortunate fact is modern best sellers often require short punchy sentences to keep the reader interested. Not all of them. Historical fiction often allows authors to retain a slow, languid pace, but by and large quick reads sell books.

When the thread moved on to publishability being dictated by digital formatting requirements  such as short sentences and paragraphs designed to fit small screens my blood boiled. This seems instinctively wrong somehow. But isn’t it the same argument? As much as I dislike it, I have to think that it is. It is another example of making your writing fit for purpose. Does this mean that a lot of good writers will never be picked up by traditional publishers because they are not willing or able to conform to the industry’s stodgy rules of literary and stylising  formating? Yes. Is this too bad? Yes, but it is also a reality.

Thus, to bring this back to my original task of fitting the substance of 2,900 words into 1,500, I have a challenge for you. First, choose your camp. If you write solely for the personal joy of it, or you are satisfied with being self-published, write anything you want and to hell with everyone else. But if you aspire to sell your books to the traditional publishers, just as I hope to sell my PhD proposal to the funding board, be a professional. Look at the industry standards and make your writing fit to purpose.

For those in the second camp the real work begins now. Take out your literary shears and snip away. Take out every unnecessary word, no matter how much you like it. Set a ridiculously low word count and pair the whole thing down to the bare bones. See what you think when you look at it. The process is incredibly painful, but I bet you won’t hate the end result as much as you think you will. I have to wonder if this isn’t the very reason my finding board set two different limits within the same application process, thereby forcing applicants to distill their work. I both love and hate them for this.