On Writing: Clarity

Clear day, courtesy of pixabay.com

Clear day, courtesy of pixabay.com

Writing is communication via the written word.  Sometimes, I forget that.  And sometimes, you, dear reader, might forget that.  You might be writing parts of your novel, poem, essay, or non-fiction, one day, caught up in what you want to do with your poem or the moment, that when you open your eyes, you find this gaping pile of purple prose staring at you.

Or worse, your reader finds it before you do, and it’s too late to change it.

Well… today, I’m here to offer a solution you’ve probably heard before, but explained in a different way.

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Review: The Art of War for Writers: Fiction Writing Strategies, Tactics, and Exercises by James Scott Bell

The Art of War for Writers: Fiction Writing Strategies, Tactics, and ExercisesThe Art of War for Writers: Fiction Writing Strategies, Tactics, and Exercises by James Scott Bell

My rating: 4.9 of 5 stars

Any writing reference book, even a tip books, is hard to review. Because its information is presented in a small, quickly digestible bits, a lot can be covered, but not in great depth or detail. Instead of being tied down to one subject and sticking to it, it tries to cover a lot of ground, and some things might be repeated or familiar.

However, I found this tip book to be quite good, and want to read more of James Scott Bell’s works in the future.

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On Writing: Self-Sabotage

warning sign, courtesy of pixabay.com

Tell me if this has happened to you before.

You’re minutes away from the deadline of your short piece or whatever you happen to be writing.  You want to do a really good job.  You read your piece aloud.  You check for errors.  And then you realize, you forget something in the middle, and in your heart-pounding anxiety, type in that extra thing.  You race off to submit it, and you think, Awesome.  I’m finally done.

Only to realize, after you’ve submitted your piece, it has typos that you didn’t catch.  In your rush to make things perfect, you’ve gone and made things completely imperfect.

You loathe yourself.  You think, Why—why of all things did I do that? Why have I done this yet again? If only I had been more vigilant.  Now I look like a total fool.  Why do I keep shooting myself in the foot? I don’t mean to shoot myself in the foot, so why do I keep doing it anyway? 

If you’re thinking these things, you are not alone.

I repeat: you are not alone.

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