"Sally Had a Pimple on Her Nose" and Other Musings
Writers, we all have a certain style. We also have a method, a process by which words clatter, swirl, and chatter (some incessantly) around in our writer brains, then by some miraculous event (similar to my kids eating spinach without vomiting or better yet, The Big Bang Theory) they appear on paper.
Some of the greatest have shared the methods in which they produce works that don’t stink. It’s been said that a lot Erma Bombeck’s ideas came to her as she was washing dishes. Dave Barry, I believe, has a stare-down contest with his monitor. He usually wins, and in a big way.
As any great writer ‘wanna be’, I devour anything my favorite writers have produced. From novels, to essays, even thank you notes and grocery lists. Reading, they say, will surely improve one’s writing. So, in my quest to be the next great I will attempt to emulate my personal favorites. I know Erma has passed but often times that’s what I emulate the best, but for argument’s sake I have tried to follow her ways when she was still breathing (and doing dishes).
So, entering my kitchen, I turn the faucet on and begin chucking paper plates and plastic ware into the garbage, when my muse will suddenly stab me with a plastic fork right between the running lights and say, “HEY! Did you get a look at the festering, puss-oozing boil that bubbled up on Sally’s beak? I bet it’s consumed half of her cartilage by now – hilarious! I saw it squirm, it even winked at me.” So, I streak, but fully clothed, as I don’t write erotica, back to my bedroom (cause I can’t afford a place with an office, yet) and jot down my thoughts.
Sally had a big pimple on her nose.
Great start, I think.
I go back to the basics…who, what, why, where, when and how. Seems I’ve covered most of them, ok, half. It’s the ‘why’ and ‘how’ that mess things up, thus creating the basic plot. Then I contemplate; maybe I should use the word ‘fat’ in there.
Sally had a big, fat pimple on her nose. No, FAT. Better, much better. Now, I’d like to add the word ‘hairy’; but Dave Barry already does this kind of…style, (if I may). He wrote about a hairy something-or-other when defining his own writing process in one of his books. So, I’m left to make it appear as though my ideas are original (which they are not - ever) and I really hate it when he gets all the good ideas first.
Immersion into one’s characters is a key element into making one’s stories believable to the reader. This I think about often when I’m writing. I prefer pencil on paper and will tap my pencil – sometimes in the area of my cheek - while I ponder the fate of not just my characters but my writing career as well. (Tap, tap, tap).
This is how I proceed to create my masterpiece (or more likely a stick figure if you think of it in terms of say, the Mona Lisa). (Tap, tap, tap). And the funny thing is, I am not alone in this crazy kind of processing. All writers have a unique (but fanatical) way to get the words from out of their busy little minds onto the page. (TAP, TAP, TAP).
It might be a few hours or even days before I burst from my sanctuary, joyous, albeit starved and dehydrated to share my prose with my children. They listen, yawning – but they never roll their eyes. They are staring at the gigantic zit I have just tapped onto my own nose with my miraculous pencil. My husband, he’s seen this so many times and has taken to connecting the dots in the likeliness of Mona Lisa. It’s truly a remarkable transformation.
So, by now, if you are not crying or throwing up (or throwing this in the trash)… then, by God, you have just witnessed a miracle.
Some of the greatest have shared the methods in which they produce works that don’t stink. It’s been said that a lot Erma Bombeck’s ideas came to her as she was washing dishes. Dave Barry, I believe, has a stare-down contest with his monitor. He usually wins, and in a big way.
As any great writer ‘wanna be’, I devour anything my favorite writers have produced. From novels, to essays, even thank you notes and grocery lists. Reading, they say, will surely improve one’s writing. So, in my quest to be the next great I will attempt to emulate my personal favorites. I know Erma has passed but often times that’s what I emulate the best, but for argument’s sake I have tried to follow her ways when she was still breathing (and doing dishes).
So, entering my kitchen, I turn the faucet on and begin chucking paper plates and plastic ware into the garbage, when my muse will suddenly stab me with a plastic fork right between the running lights and say, “HEY! Did you get a look at the festering, puss-oozing boil that bubbled up on Sally’s beak? I bet it’s consumed half of her cartilage by now – hilarious! I saw it squirm, it even winked at me.” So, I streak, but fully clothed, as I don’t write erotica, back to my bedroom (cause I can’t afford a place with an office, yet) and jot down my thoughts.
Sally had a big pimple on her nose.
Great start, I think.
I go back to the basics…who, what, why, where, when and how. Seems I’ve covered most of them, ok, half. It’s the ‘why’ and ‘how’ that mess things up, thus creating the basic plot. Then I contemplate; maybe I should use the word ‘fat’ in there.
Sally had a big, fat pimple on her nose. No, FAT. Better, much better. Now, I’d like to add the word ‘hairy’; but Dave Barry already does this kind of…style, (if I may). He wrote about a hairy something-or-other when defining his own writing process in one of his books. So, I’m left to make it appear as though my ideas are original (which they are not - ever) and I really hate it when he gets all the good ideas first.
Immersion into one’s characters is a key element into making one’s stories believable to the reader. This I think about often when I’m writing. I prefer pencil on paper and will tap my pencil – sometimes in the area of my cheek - while I ponder the fate of not just my characters but my writing career as well. (Tap, tap, tap).
This is how I proceed to create my masterpiece (or more likely a stick figure if you think of it in terms of say, the Mona Lisa). (Tap, tap, tap). And the funny thing is, I am not alone in this crazy kind of processing. All writers have a unique (but fanatical) way to get the words from out of their busy little minds onto the page. (TAP, TAP, TAP).
It might be a few hours or even days before I burst from my sanctuary, joyous, albeit starved and dehydrated to share my prose with my children. They listen, yawning – but they never roll their eyes. They are staring at the gigantic zit I have just tapped onto my own nose with my miraculous pencil. My husband, he’s seen this so many times and has taken to connecting the dots in the likeliness of Mona Lisa. It’s truly a remarkable transformation.
So, by now, if you are not crying or throwing up (or throwing this in the trash)… then, by God, you have just witnessed a miracle.
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