When my son started to speak, he did many of the normal, sweet things toddlers do. He mispronounced words, used improper sentence structure, and—most horrifying of all—he ad-adverbed. Yeah, you read that right. He doubled adverbs. His favourite was ‘alsoly.’
Are you kidding me?
I had only been writing in earnest for about two years, and his crimes against words made me think I’d birthed a monster.
You may be a new writer; you may have experience galore. But by now you’ve probably noticed that the most effective way to start a riot at a writer’s party is to stand up, clink your glass for attention, and declare, “Adverbs are wonderful!”
I was thinking about Hansel and Gretel yesterday.
Which got me thinking about how stupid they were to use breadcrumbs to mark their path through the woods. Instead of saving food to eat, they mark a trail with it. I guess there could be good reasons for that.
But then they get to the witch’s cabin, made out of delicious candy and gingerbread and whatnot. Of course they’re going to dig in. And the mean old witch, well naturally she’s built said house to lure children to her so she can eat them.
And I’m like, whoa! Hold up.
Why does she need to eat children if she can make a whole house out of food?
A lot of historical fiction focuses on big events and famous people—those names and deeds that are well enough known they might intrigue an audience. There are certainly events which have gripped my imagination. The eruption of Vesuvius is one, and that’s why I wanted to include it in at least one book.
However, the flip side is that it’s not the event itself which fascinates me. It’s how such a big event affected your regular, average person. Makes me wonder
For better or worse, J.R.R. Tolkien wrote A LOT of words. Even if none of the rest had value, it’s worth shifting through such tremendous output for these:
Not all those who wander are lost.
Every time I read it, I get that gut-punched reaction of: Bam! Right on!
It’s not wrong to wander, and search, and still enjoy. Doesn’t mean you don’t know who you are or where you want to go. It just means you’re not in a rush to get there.
Happy wandering, everyone.
Well, gentle readers, in the interests of unlocking yet another achievement, I’m pleased to announce that my first book, A is for Adverb: An Alphabet for Authors in Agony, will be released in September.
Cover sneak-peek right here:
Wisdom? Nah. I don’t got no stinkin’ wisdom.
But I do have some humorous and honest observations on cutting my teeth in the world of authoring.
Some of my favourite topics:
E is for Emotions
F is for Fuck and Other Swears
and, of course
Z is for Zombies and Other Monsters
Stay tuned for the official launch date.
Warning: Introspective alert ahead!
I don’t like the word truth.
Why? Because it sounds like there’s only one.
Sometimes we use the word true to refer to fact. Like humans needing oxygen to stay alive—that’s true. (And yes, fighting over what is a ‘fact’ is a debate for another day.)
But we also use the word ‘true’ to mean what is ‘true for me.’
Yes, that dress makes you look fat.