Tuesday Tidbit: “I’ve failed dreadfully if you have to read a sentence twice to figure out what I meant.”

 

Continuing with your need to strive for clarity in your writing. . . .

 

After you’ve set aside your rough draft for a while, read it with fresh eyes, checking for ways to make your wording perfectly clear for readers.

 

One of your most important goals

is communicating effectively with your readers.

 

Here’s one way to do that:

Aim your writing at an eighth-grade audience.

 

You might be asking: “What?!?”

 

You read that correctly.

 

Years ago, when I studied journalism, instructors taught us to aim our writing at eighth graders—that is, to write in a way eighth-grade students could easily understand.

Recently I saw the same advice so it must still be the best practice.

 

What’s true for journalists is true for memoirists: Aim at an eighth-grade audience.

 

Ken Follett, Welsh author, says his goal is to make his prose “utterly easy to understand.” He calls it “transparent prose.”

 

“I’ve failed dreadfully,” Follet says, “if you have to read a sentence twice to figure out what I meant.”

 

You know what Follett means.

You have had the unpleasant experience

of reading a sentence or a paragraph

two or three times

before you could figure out the writer’s message.

Don’t be that kind of writer!

 

Revise your sentences and paragraphs

and chapters until they are

“utterly easy to understand.”

 

And remember,

“revision is not punishment”

(Donald Murray)

 

There you have it:

your Tuesday Tidbit.

 

Writer’s block? No problem. You can still work on your memoir.

 

Writer’s block: You know how to write. You want to write. But for some reason, you can’t write.

 

Take heart. Everyone gets stuck from time to time. Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Charlie Schultz, and Mark Twain struggled with writer’s block, too.

 

If “writer’s block” describes you today, don’t despair!

 

I have good news for you:

 

Writer’s block is temporary.

 

And here’s more good news: You can still make progress on your memoir.

 

This is your opportunity to spiff up your already-written segments, those chapters still in rough draft form, those beautiful stories that will someday—soon, we hope!—be compiled as your memoir.

 

By “spiff up” I mean to tinker, to rearrange, to polish—to revise.

 

“Revision is not punishment,” says veteran writer Donald M.Murray in The Craft of Revision.

 

“Writing evolves from a sequence of drafts,” Murray says. “Scientists . . . experiment . . . . Actors and musicians rehearse. Retailers test markets, politicians take polls, manufacturers try pilot runs. They all revise, and so do writers. Writing is rewriting.”

 

Professional writers know the benefits of revision.

 

So . . . Be like the pros: If you’re stuck with writer’s block, use this time to revise the chapters you’ve already written.

 

Revision, Murray says, is “re-seeing the entire piece of writing.” That’s so important.

 

This is your opportunity to re-see what you’ve written. Re-seeing will show you where, specifically, to revise.

 

Revision involves checking punctuation, grammar, spelling, diction (word choice), sentence length, rhythm, conciseness, organizing, and so on. I suggest you consider each separately as you evaluate your rough draft.  

 

If you’re stuck in writer’s block,

this is a perfect time to revise because

distance and time are a writer’s friends:

They do wonders for objectivity.

The fresher the story is in your memory,

the harder it is to catch things you need to change.

 

Today, let’s consider clarity.

 

“Clarity depends . . . on your ability to put information together so that readers know at every point where they are, where they’ve been, and where they seem to be going,” writes Peter P. Jacobi.

 

“When we read, our minds work in linear fashion. We cannot grasp jumps and jerks or even the sudden shifts of scene. . . .” Jacobi continues. “We [readers] have to be moved carefully, smoothly, through the [story].”

 

Donald Murray encourages a writer

to read a rough draft the first time

as the maker of that piece,

and then read it again as a stranger—

as someone reading the piece for the first time.

Good advice, Don!

 

So, put yourself in your readers’ shoes. Does your vignette or chapter make sense, or does it cause confusion?

 

Does your story have “jumps and jerks or . . . sudden shifts of scene”?

 

Look for gaps:

Did you leave out information

readers need to know?

If so, they’ll have trouble grasping

your story’s message.

 

Remember, it’s not in your story

until it’s in black and white on your page.

 

Strive for clarity.

 

Also remember: “Revision is not punishment.”

 

Enjoy making your revisions!

 

“When you say something, make sure you have said it”

 

After you’ve written a chapter for your memoir, set it aside for a week, or for at least a couple of days. Don’t think about it for a while. Instead, work on another chapter.

 

Distance and time are your friends—they do wonders for objectivity—because the fresher the story is in your memory, the harder it will be to catch things you need to change.

 

Later, print that chapter. Reading on paper is different from reading on a computer screen. I haven’t yet figured out why, but it’s true. I always notice glitches and hiccups on a written page that I miss on a computer screen.

 

Read your story aloud. Read it as if you were a stranger. You’ll be surprised at the changes you’ll want to make—changes that will improve your story for your readers.

 

“When you say something,

make sure you have said it,”

says E.B. White.

“The chances of your having said it are only fair.”

 

He’s right. Rarely do we write a clear message the first time, or even the second or third times.

 

I’ve heard that 80 percent of what we communicate is misunderstood.

 

In other words, we communicate accurately only 20 percent of the time.

 

That’s scary.

 

Read over your stories to be sure they’re clear. Be sure you’ve said what you meant to say.

 

Listen to this advice from a long-time mentor of mine:

 

“You write to discover what you want to say.

You rewrite to discover what you have said

and then rewrite to make it clear to other people.”

Donald Murray

 

And remember:

 

“Revision is not punishment,” says Murray in The Craft of Revision.

 

“Writing evolves from a sequence of drafts,” he says. “Scientists . . . experiment. . . . Actors and musicians rehearse. Retailers test markets, politicians take polls, manufacturers try pilot runs. They all revise, and so do writers. Writing is rewriting.”

 

Instead of thinking of revision as punishment, think of it as an art—it’s polishing your manuscript and making it sparkle.

 

Remember, your stories are important. They can change individuals, families, communities, towns, nations—even the world!

 

Write your stories!

 

Writing your memoir: “A lump in the throat and a deep, wordless feeling”

Prolific writer Frederick Buechner says that when he writes books, they “start—as Robert Frost said his poems did—with a lump in the throat . . . with a deep, wordless feeling for some aspect of my own experience that has moved me.” (Now and Then: A Memoir of Vocation)

Do you know that “deep, wordless feeling” that longs to find its way from within you and into black and white on paper?

If so, you’ll find encouragement and inspiration from Donald Murray’s words in The Craft of Revision:

If you haven’t yet begun to write your memoir,

begin today!

Write so you can discover what you want to say,

and then rewrite to make sense of that

“deep, wordless feeling,”

and share your story with others.

Tuesday Tidbit: “A lump in the throat and a deep, wordless feeling”

Frederick Buechner says that when he writes books, they “start—as Robert Frost said his poems did—with a lump in the throat . . . with a deep, wordless feeling for some aspect of my own experience that has moved me.” (from Now and Then: A Memoir of Vocation)

Do you know that “deep, wordless feeling” that longs to find its way from inside you and into black and white on paper?

If so, you’ll find encouragement and inspiration from Donald Murray’s words in The Craft of Revision:

Begin! 

Write so you can discover what you want to say, 

and then rewrite to make sense 

of that “deep wordless feeling” 

and share your story with others.

“When you say something, make sure you have said it”

After you’ve written a chapter or vignette for your memoir, set it aside for at least a couple of weeks. Don’t think about it for a while. 

Distance and time are your friends—they do wonders for objectivity—because the fresher the story is in your memory, the harder it will be to catch things you need to change.

Later, print out that chapter/vignette. Reading on paper is different from reading on a computer screen. I haven’t yet figured out why, but it’s true. I always notice glitches and hiccups on a written page that I miss on a computer screen.

Read your story aloud. Read it as if you were a stranger. You’ll be surprised at the changes you’ll want to make—changes that will improve your story for your readers.

“When you say something,

make sure you have said it,”

says E.B. White.

“The chances of your having said it are only fair.”

He’s right. Rarely do we write a clear message the first time, or even the second or third times.

I’ve heard that 80 percent of what we communicate is misunderstood.

In other words, we communicate accurately only 20 percent of the time.

That’s scary.

Read over your stories to be sure they’re clear. Be sure you’ve said what you meant to say.

Listen to this advice from a real pro, a long-time mentor of mine:

“You write to discover what you want to say.

You rewrite to discover what you have said

and then rewrite to make it clear to other people.”

Donald Murray

And remember:

“Revision is not punishment,” says Murray in The Craft of Revision.

“Writing evolves from a sequence of drafts,” he says. “Scientists…experiment…. Actors and musicians rehearse. Retailers test markets, politicians take polls, manufacturers try pilot runs. They all revise, and so do writers. Writing is rewriting.”

Instead of thinking of revision as punishment, think of it as an art—it’s polishing your manuscript and making it sparkle.

Remember, your stories are important.  

They can change individuals, families, 

communities, towns, nations—even the world!

Write your stories!

“One of the great challenges of the writer is to produce a text that will …”

Donald M. Murray tells about reading a World War II story and interpreting it through his own experience as a paratrooper in that war.

His wife worked in the Pentagon during World War II and when she reads the same book, “she will read a different book,” says Murray in The Craft of Revision.

Murray continues, “When my daughters, who were … raised during the Vietnam era, read it, they will each read a still different text.”

In the same way, your memoir’s readers will interpret your stories through their own experiences and historical eras.

Murray says:

“One of the great challenges of the writer is to produce a text that will cause readers to draw on their different experiences and still understand what we have to say.”

How can you write stories from your past that will resonate with readers growing up in a different epoch? Perhaps some of your readers have not yet been born!

“The first step,” Murray says, “is to recognize that our world may be different from the reader’s.”

In addition to recognizing readers will live in a different historical setting, he says, “We must recognize that our readers may not share our religion; our political party; [or] our economic perspective.…”

In writing a book about World War II, Murray says, “I must remember that my readers may not know what an M-1—our rifle—was, or a C-45—the two-engine troop-carrier plane from which we jumped. They may never have heard of the Maginot Line … or the SS …; may not even know of the Holocaust.…”

Imagine the year is 2040 and your great-grandson, age twenty-five, is reading your memoir.

Will he understand that when your house caught fire in 1962, you could not run outside with your phone to call the fire department because phones were attached to the wall with a cord? And that’s why you had to stay inside to call for help, and that’s why your pajamas caught fire? And that’s why your legs have scars?

If you came of age during the Vietnam era, especially if you or a loved one was drafted into the military, you’ll want readers to understand the political, social, and religious factors that divided and rocked our nation during those years. (You’ll probably need to explain what the draft was, too.)

Charlie Hale has compiled several brilliant pieces about both World War II and the war in Vietnam, including I Remember: Viet Nam, my friends, and Memorial Day.

Over at Diana Trautwein’s blog, she writes “It was the mid 1960’s and the escalating war in Vietnam brought deep soul-searching for many men of draft-able age. My husband had a unique up-bringing which led to an unusual choice, a choice which took him far away from the jungles of [Vietnam].… A saving grace in the draft process was to register as a 1-W—a ‘person opposed to bearing arms by reason of personal religious conviction.’ And that’s exactly what my husband had done.… He had registered as a conscientious objector (CO) … [and] that meant two years of service offered in lieu of joining the military. My husband wanted to do those two years somewhere far from home.…” (from An African Journal—Post One: Beneath the Surface)

If you want to witness a master craftsman make history come alive, take seven minutes at Charlie Hale’s blog for his video, The Images, Stories, and Songs of War. He uses black and white photos, songs of the era, and his concise narrative to capture both World War II and Vietnam—and their stark differences. It is a riveting piece.

Learn from Donald M. Murray, Charlie Hale, and Diana Trautwein. Capture the social, political, religious, and economic milieu of your life stories. Your history and your world are different from those of your readers but with a bit of effort, you can do what Murray says: “produce a text that will cause readers to draw on their different experiences and still understand what [you] have to say.”