Monthly Archives: March 2017

Write Like You Talk – A Guest Post By Phillip T Stephens

When I taught college writing, I told students to write like they talk.

I didn’t mean write like you really talk.

If we taped and transcribed our conversations, we’d quit reading after the first page. In everyday conversation we use filler language to give our brains precious seconds to catch up with our words, we backtrack to fill in details we previously forgot.

From time to time we expel word farts.

For example:

“Like, Carol and I were driving, you know what I mean? When this badass cop, I mean really badass, six foot tall in navy blue, nazi jackboots, you could tell he wanted to bust anyone to put another notch in his badge. Where was I? Oh, yeh, he pulls us over, we were driving seventy, like, I mean…we were in Dripping Springs which is about twenty miles south of Oak Hill, if you’ve never been out that way? No shitting? Man, I thought everyone knew about Oak Hill even if they never drove through. But anyway, the only other drivers are rednecks and blue haired ladies, I kid you not…”

Artifice vs. communication

I use the phrase “Write like you talk” as a metaphor for stripping the pretension from your writing, writing to communicate rather than impress. In non-fiction that means make sure to make your point clear. In fiction that means no distractions; keep the reader in the story.

“Write like you talk” doesn’t mean leave no room for art, tropes, themes and metaphor. In fact, writing without artistry can turn away readers as quickly as murky prose. It means that you shouldn’t front-load your prose to impress readers with your artistry, but to enhance the story. If it distracts the reader, if it draws attention to you and away from the story, then you might as well write poetry.

However, even should you turn to poetry, the best poets would advise you that art should never distract the reader from the poem. The only time you want the reader to dwell on the trope is when she reaches the last line, the image lingers in the corners of her consciousness and she thinks, “Wow.”

The artistry in your story should be like that. It should linger at the back of the reader’s consciousness. They might not even recognize it until another reader points it out. Readers want to ride in the passenger seat at full speed until you dump them at the destination. Ride over. Their response should be. “Ride over? No way. Let me back in the car.”

A Fine Line between clarity and art

Crafting a good story requires walking a fine balance between clarity and artistry. Hopefully the adage, “write like you talk,” will remind you that every story should carry a quality of ordinary conversation.

Compare the writing of Pynchon and Joyce to Hemingway and William Carlos Williams. Which impresses and which do you follow without wrestling with meaning?

You don’t want your readers (especially when you write non-fiction) to think, “He was a brilliant writer. I didn’t understand a word he said.”

Links

Amazon Author Page

Blog: Wind Eggs

Book Reviews

Twitter: @stephenspt

Novels

Cigerets, Guns & Beer: Kindle, paperback

Seeing Jesus: Kindle, paperback

Raising Hell: Kindle, paperback

The Worst Noel: Kindle, paperback

Short Fiction

“The Hellelujah Trail,” free on Smashwords

“A Christmas Carol: The Sequel,” Smorgasbord—Variety is The Spice of Life

“Quantum Noir” Wind Eggs

“Free Wheeling Free Association and the Theme Park Rangers of Death,” Hell’s Grannies: Kickass Tales of the Crone

“Hell’s Kitties,” Hell’s Kitties: and Other Beastly Beasts

Poetry

Feeding the Crow

Academic Publications

The Poetry That Drives and Divides Faith International Journal of Religion and Spirituality in Society (1:43)

Science and the Language Wars,” International Journal of Religion and Spirituality in Society(2:4)

Phillip T Stephens

Ere We Die

Thank you to Pax Et Dolor Magazine for publishing my poem “Ere We Die”.

PaxEtDolor Magazine's avatarPax Et Dolor Magazine

By :- Kevin Morris

On seeing the stormy sky
The poet thinks “man must die”.
He sees the young girl bloom
And says “she is destined for the tomb”.
Oh let us gather wild flowers
And not waste our powers
Trapped in ivory towers.
Beware the scholar’s domed head
For we are soon dead.
May our spirit fly
Ere we die
And are lost in endless sky.


The copyrights on the article belong to the author. The responsibility for the opinions expressed in the article belongs exclusively to the author. Find more of his beautiful works at newauthoronline

The poem appears in his
collection of poetry, “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind

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Kevin’s Poetry Featured On The World Poetry Reading Series

I am delighted to report that 2 of my poems where featured on the World Poetry Reading Series, a weekly programme hosted by Vancouver Co-Op Radio. The show was broadcast on Thursday 9 March. I am grateful to Ariadne Sawyer for kindly including my poetry. To listen to the programme please visit http://worldpoetry.ca/?p=11601. On Thursday 29 January the World Poetry Reading Series featured an interview with me, during which I read several of my poems. For my previous appearance on Vancouver Co-Op Radio please visit http://worldpoetry.ca/?p=11413.

And Then They Murdered Jane Austen

Kristen Twardowski's avatarKristen Twardowski

writer

When I say that they murdered Jane Austen, I’m not speaking metaphorically. Some person in the distant past didn’t simply eviscerate her work. No, I mean that a few scholars believe that someone poisoned Jane Austen. With arsenic.

According to research from the British Library, Jane Austen’s death at the age of 41, her early cataracts, and her strange facial pigmentation are all consistent with the effects of arsenic poisoning.

Some scholars say this sounds like murder. Others remind us that arsenic was often used in medicine; even Austen’s death resulted from the chemical, there may not have been anything nefarious about it. And still other scholars grumble that these claims are nothing more than academic click bait.

Whatever the truth is, the subject is a fascinating one. I suggest you read all of the British Library’s blog post on the subject before coming to your own conclusions. We always…

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New Poetry Collection

This week I shall begin the process of pulling together many of my poems, with a view to producing a new collection of poetry.

My poems lie scattered as leaves on a forest floor, in no particular order throughout my blog.

Many will appear “as is”, however others require to be edited by me, while all of my poems will be proofread prior to their publication in book form.

Proofreading is, for me, about spotting typographical errors such as spelling mistakes and the use of a comma where a colon or no punctuation should properly be. It is not about the proof reader/editor re-writing my work, for however good a proof reader/editor is (and there are many excellent proof readers/editors out there), my work is my work and the only person who will make changes to it (other than correcting typographical errors) is me.

While I am engaged in this project, I shall post less frequently as the work entailed in producing a poetry collection is both time consuming and laborious in nature.

I will, however take breaks from the task in hand and post on newauthoronline.com from time to time.

Kevin

What Is Progress?

What is this thing
Called progress? I asked a girl, who stood alone,
But her phone
Did ring
And technology (the king)
Who rules all
Led her to answer that call.

What is progress? I asked a teenager sitting at his laptop.
He answered me not
For he was engaged in the plot
Of a game in his bedroom
Which he played long into the gloom.

What is progress? I asked the statistician.
She gave me rhemes of data to analyse
Which led me to pedition.

What is progress? I asked my dog as he lay in the sun
He did an answer lack
But rolled on his back
Just for fun.

Magpie

Someone said
A magpie
Killed a blackbird, stone dead
And that is why
He dislikes the magpie.

We laud it over the magpie for he is our inferior.
And we humans, being superior
Do good to one another
For who will
Kill
His brother?

Wavertree Playground or The Mystery

As a child growing up in Liverpool, I have happy memories of visiting “The Mystery” or, to give the park it’s correct name, “Wavertree Playground”.
The unofficial title of “The Mystery” derives from the fact that the donor of the land wished to remain unknown. It is, however believed that the land was gifted by a Mr Holt of Liverpool, (http://www.old-merseytimes.co.uk/wavertreeplayground.html).