Fancy Flies Like Snow

Sometimes when it snows, my fancy flies....

When I told them I want to be more like the snow, they called me foolish.

They—the watchers, worriers, waiters, hurriers—had never stopped to notice the things I did. I couldn't blame them. If they had not seen the things I had, snow was nothing but a blocker of cars, a jammer of traffic, a danger, a distresser, a thing that kept one from going out and another from coming in. Snow was a biter, nipper, spoiler, killer. All nasty, ugly names for a crushingly beautiful thing.

To one who will not go at a snow-pace, snow is foolishness. To one who never slows down, the secret truth of it is hidden: that snow is honest; that it is an artist; that it tells stories.

So when I said that I want to be more like snow, they laughed and rushed on their senseless way, fretting against peaceful things. No matter.

For one day they will hear my honesty, taste integrity that crunches white and crystalline between the teeth, and see the snow. It will blind them.

One day they will find themselves surrounded with a sudden beauty, their barrenness covered by a loving word, their sere fields sifted over with quiet art made in the wing-ends of life. Their curtailed words and fell mood will be eased by the same innocence they despised. Beauty, love, art, thrown with a liberal hand to the ones who never deserve it. They will see the snow. It will chill them.

One day they will sit, bound by the spell of my fables. Like bird-tracks, fox-feet, deer-steps, I will show them wonders. I will tell of things their hearts have muttered and spin for them webs of words. The tales to come and the stories past, the dreams they dare not dream, the hopes they knew were dead. And things will awaken, thrum and pierce in their hearts for the Story their being craves.

And I will be snow, and I will gentle them.

"Dash it all, Pelinor!" Or: Cursing In Literature

I love how topics, like fashion, recirculate every little while. I hope we've learned to drop the topic-version of harem-pants and tie-dyed tops, but there are some subjects that can stand a re-hashing. Back in June of this year, Abigail Hartman wrote a very well thought-out post on the subject of swearing in her novels. In Hartman's words:

When a word comes to mind as admirably suited to a piece of dialogue, do you go ahead and write it, or do you hurriedly shoo it out and substitute something that, let's be honest, is always rather stale by comparison?

-And-

Bad words are for bad things.  When your wife is murdered, when you come up against a blackmailer, when your rival's about to win the man you love, when you've just been played for a fool, "oh bother" is not the first thing that springs to your mind.  Maybe we as the authors don't condone it, but we don't have to sermonize about it (that's even worse than not using the word in the first place).  We ought to write with understanding and compassion for the nature of man in all his God-made glory - fallen glory, yes, but glory all the same.  That includes the imperfections and the red-blooded passion of the real world.

At the time, I was not terribly active on the blogs, being in the middle of finishing "final" edits for Anon, Sir, Anon and traveling all around the country, but I remember being in possession of a feeling akin that shared by Mrs. Banks:

"Oh George, you didn't jump into the river. How sensible of you!"

This post I am now writing is intended strictly for a discussion of language in literature. In my day-to-day life, I don't curse and barely even use words like "crap". This has more to do with the fact that I despise sounding common and I live in a town of rednecks who use those words in place of adjectives. Frankly, I think cursing makes one sound less intelligent. I am not making any statements as far as the morality of using "damn" or "hell". Those words are of a different ilk than the Famous Four-Letter Furies which, I believe strongly, you can do without. Those four-letter words are understood by everyone in everyplace to be used to intentionally hurt a person or, simply, to be crass.
But "hell" and "damn" are in the Bible and if you want to argue logic, "hell" and "damn" are both very effective curses. It is definitely wrong to say "damn you" or "go to hell" as directed toward a person, because that is a very serious invocation and God's word says that Jesus himself was not willing that any should perish. In cursing at someone, you are telling them you'd like them to be Satan's property forevermore and that is hideous. But likening the pain inflicted by stepping on a Lego in the dark to the pain inflicted by a lake brimming with fire is probably quite honest. I know that my human concept of ceaseless pain cannot get much worse. All the same, most people's minds don't dash to logical arguments when they hear a curse. When most people say, "Damn," they are just being sloppy, crass, or offensive. Therefore, I abstain.

As regards "hell" and "damn" in literature, however, I was conflicted for a long while. Was it terribly awful of me to include a word like that? Would I alienate readers? Would I do harm to someone's sensibilities? I've realized the answers to these questions are, in my experience: No, perhaps, and yes.

I will always do harm to someone's sensibilities in my writing. I cannot help it. That is the charm of being an author who can't possibly please everyone at the same time. I may write about the breeding habits of sardines and some reader somewhere would be displeased that I hadn't mentioned their aquarius habitat and natural coloring as well.

 As for alienating some readers, I had to go to war with this subject (friendly war, but war) when my editor went through Anon, Sir, Anon. She noticed the occasional language in the book, mentioned the fact that it might rub some readers the wrong way, and questioned my choice in using the hells and damns. The thing is, when I use "language" in my writing, it always serves a purpose. I don't drop the world "damn" in a Mark Twainian fashion (i.e. because the word 'very' is too weak), but I will use the word when it serves its purpose and forms a connexxion between the reader and the story world. If I truly believe that my job as a writer is to bring to life an existing world of a story, then that existing world will have evil people in it as well as good. It must, or you'd have no story. I must be true to those people--the evil and good--and portray them aright.

You might sit and frown that the d-word has slipped into the most heated argument of the novel, but perhaps you aren't quite perceiving the whole image. The character who used that words exists...and I am portraying him to you. What if, dear reader, I have censored a good deal of, say, Michael Maynor's language and left you with only a pale grey "damnation" out of the blackness of his brew? Surely I've dealt more fairly with you than with him? Real-life villains are assuredly not content with "Oh blow," or Farnham's "bang," and if you've any sort of fondness for reality, you'll realize the implications of cutting it away. Certain characters are meant to turn your stomach. I am not the author to turn to if you're looking for a villain who is only grossly misunderstood and not evil at all, really. My villains are villainous and come with their villainy partially intact.

"That's all very good and well, Rachel, but I heard Dr. Breen swear and I was really shocked. I thought he was a good guy."

Again with the characters. Dr. Breen, if you cared to notice his history, is a man who has lived a bachelor's existence and is really quite ill-learned in the art of behaving around women. He tries to modify his tone, his language, his actions around Vivi but the reality is that the doctor is a roughened-up, stout-hearted Catholic man with a fondness for his drink and his friends. He is neither as conscientious as Farnham, nor as level-headed. It is in his character to be blunt and with that bluntness comes the first words at hand. If Breen uses one of the duo currently under inspection, it is because Breen as a real man would also use them. (Also, can one of my British friends please tell me if "damn" is considered swearing in the UK? I have heard that it isn't and from its common usage in nearly every British classic I've read--old and new--I would nearly believe that rumor.) I would even venture to say that if Breen used "damn" quite cheerily, he'd still be playing true. But for the sake of some of my younger, gentler readers, I cut out some instances.

Someone or two advance-readers took exception to Farnham's habit of saying "bang" in place of a more common curse-word. I can only imagine what the few uses of "damn" did to them, but I'll address "bang" now. I am curious about whether the persons who objected to "bang" would also object to saying, "Blast," "Snap", "Crumbs", "Golly", "Shoot", "Fiddlesticks", "Crikey", "Darn", "What the heck", "Crud," "Criminitly", "Dash it all", "Oh my stars", "Great Scot" and any of the other phrases that so pepper my own speech. Do you never invoke anything at all, be it the revered name of chocolate pudding as Katie so memorably did? Farnham, of course, never does anything in the common vein so he invented his own expletive. Certainly he meant something stronger when he used "bang", but what do you mean when you say "Oh blast. The tip of my pencil broke."? I really am curious, not trying to mock you.

On the flip side, I had some readers say that once or twice, they thought "damn" would have fit better than "bang" in a moment and that my use of the milder term felt awkward. Of course it does. So does "blast", when you're trying quite hard not to let fly the realio-trulio yellow-eyed owl. Farnham's essence is awkward chivalry and he tries especially hard to be clean-cut in the presence of some particulars.

In laying out my views on the subject of cursing, I don't intend to argue anyone off their stance, or even defend my uses. Really, I am writing on this subject for conversation's sake. In fact, if you've thought out your opinions on the matter and want to do a post in response, I'd love to chat. (Or if you have no inclination but still want to chat, the comments sections is always receiving.) I was not as succinct, scholarly, or compact as Abigail in my post on questionable words but am I ever? Just as I am true to my characters, I'm true to myself. You'll get nothing but the real stuff from me.

Reading and Metronomes

I am as guilty as the next party of pushing reading to a back-burner, feeling that if I take time to read in the middle of the day instead of at night AFTER I've finished the demands on my time as a writer, I'm a horrible author. The thing is, why do we write? So people can read. After several days of pushing hard at Anon, Sir, Anon, and finding nothing is budging, I am going to give myself the day to read, draw, write letters, whatever, and count it as a creativity-replenishment day. We can't always be pouring out without refilling. To take a comment from Jenny in one of her recent letters:

"I was feeling unmotivated to write, which was no doubt due to my lack of fiction in-take."

That is exactly how I feel. The only reading I've done recently has been crammed. Cram down the rest of Bonhoeffer so I can return it on Sunday; cram in Duty so I can review it. Cramming isn't good for the mental digestion. It gives one a stomach ache. I could sit here at the computer toiling out a thousand words that mean nothing to me, or I could read several thousand that will spark new ideas. In our music theory class, Dad was telling us how when he worked at Tanglewood for a summer, certain musicians would wear metronomes around their necks for eight to ten hours a day so they could better internalize sixty-time. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Reading is the metronome for writers. The more we read, the better we subconsciously internalize the talent and creativity that went into whatever book it is we read. That is why reading poorly written books is a waste of time. If we internalize and become what we read, it doesn't pay to fill ourselves with drivel. Nor does it pay to write drivel. If we're writing drivel, we have probably been away too long from our metronome. So today I'm not going to create my own fiction...I'm going to internalize someone else's, and enjoy words for their versatility and beauty. You don't always have to harness beautiful horses...sometimes it's better to let them run and watch from a distance. If we are the let words run today, I want to leave you with this amazing snatch of poetry by Edward Shillito in WWI:

If we have never sought, we seek Thee now;

Thine eyes burn through the dark, our only stars;

We must have sight of thorn-pricks on Thy brow,

We must have thee, O Jesus of the Scars.

The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;

In all the universe we have no place.

Our wounds are hurting us; where the balm?

Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars, we claim Thy grace.

If, when the doors are shut, Thou drawest near,

Only reveal those hands, that side of Thine;

We know today what wounds are, have no fear,

Show us Thy Scars, we know the countersign.

The other gods were strong; Thou wast weak;

They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;

But to our wounds only God's wounds can speak.

And not god has wound but Thou alone."