“Sentences are a little like purses. . . .”

 

After you’ve written a few chapters of your memoir, or even a few vignettes, reward yourself by taking a break—a productive break, one that will not delay progress on finishing your story.

 

How does that work?

 

Read what you’ve written with fresh eyes, your oldest writings first.

 

Read aloud. Even more helpful, I find, is using the “read aloud” feature on my computer. Your ears will catch what your mind skips over.

 

Today we’ll look at how to best fashion your sentences.

 

Specifically, scrutinize how your sentences read, how they flow, how they sound, and whether they make sense.

 

First, let’s acknowledge this:

“Very few sentences come out right the first time,

or even the second or third time.”

(William Zinsser, Writing About Your Life)

 

As you write, believe this:

rewriting is not punishment.

Even pros and experienced writers

revise their sentences numerous times.

 

For the sake of your readers, commit to crafting good sentences. Why? First, you want readers to enjoy your story and, second, you also want them to understand your message. 

 

“Just as there are arts of weaving and fly-fishing and dancing, so there are arts of sentence making,” write Collette and Johnson, authors of Finding Common Ground, A Guide to Personal, Professional, and Public Writing.

 

“. . . Writing is a partnership with the reader. . . . The way you put your stories together counts a good deal toward how your reader will understand what you say.

 

“You can . . . arrange, rearrange, or prearrange them to suit particular purposes.

 

“The writer shapes the sentence to indicate how readers should construe the meaning . . . . Building a sentence, then, is a way of defining and specifying meaning, of focusing a reader’s attention. . . .” (Finding Common Ground)

 

As you begin to evaluate your sentences, Bill Roorback points out that “sentences are a little like purses: They come in various sizes and can hold a little or a lot.” (Writing Life Stories)

 

So, let’s start by looking at those of the smaller size:

 

Short Sentences:

 

“ . . . In artful prose, [sentence] length is controlled and varied. Some stylists write short sentences to strike a note of urgency.” (Joseph F. Williams, Style: Ten Lessons in Clarity and Grace)

 

“ . . . Short sharp sentences increase tension in a scene.” (Lynda  R. Young)

 

For example, here’s how Kristen Welch writes short sentences to express tension and urgency:

 

“She came to us alone, with a baby she didn’t want stirring in her womb.

 

“Orphaned at a young age, she wandered this earth unloved and unwanted.

 

“Charity came to us broken, detached, angry.

 

“Outwardly she pushed others away, isolating herself through pain, distancing her heart from love.

 

“But we loved her anyway. We set firm boundaries and we loved. We prayed. We fasted. We begged God to draw her close. We shed so many tears over this child having a child.

 

“We feared for her unborn son. How would this detached girl attach to a baby she never wanted?

 

“He was born to an angry mother. She didn’t want him.

 

“And we didn’t know what to do. . . .” (Kristen Welch, We Are THAT family)

 

 

Sentence Fragments:

 

Consider writing short sentences here and there in your vignettes, but also think about writing sentence fragments—incomplete sentences and thoughts.

 

Grammatically, sentence fragments are incorrect, but “There are occasions when a sentence fragment can be stylistically effective, exactly what you want and no more. [For example] ‘Harrison Ford has said that he would be more than willing to take on another Indiana Jones project. In a New York Minute.’ As long as you are clearly in control of the situation, this is permissible, but [doing so] depends on the circumstances.” (CCC Foundation)

 

Breaking the rules occasionally with sentence fragments can add punch to your writing. Or sizzle. Or grief.

 

 

Next week we’ll look at long sentences

but for now, examine your rough drafts

and look for sentences that need spiffing up.

 

Where can you write “quick, breathless utterances” (Williams),

like Kristen Welch did, to create tension,

urgency, drama, or emotion?

 

Where might sentence fragments

work even more effectively than complete sentences?

 

And throughout, ask yourself:

Will readers understand

what I’m trying to get across?

Have I written each sentence clearly?

 

And remember, rewriting is not punishment.

(Smile!)

“Sentences are a little like purses. . . .”

Before you publish your memoir, analyze the quality of your writing. You’ll probably need to polish your skills in the craft and art of writing. To help you with that task, today we’ll look at how to fashion your sentences.

First, let’s acknowledge this:

“Very few sentences come out right the first time,

or even the second or third time.”

(William Zinsser, Writing About Your Life)

As you write, believe this:

rewriting is not punishment.

Even pros and experienced writers

revise their sentences numerous times.

For the sake of your readers, commit to crafting good sentences. Why? First, you want readers to enjoy your story and, second, you also want them to understand your message. 

“Just as there are arts of weaving and fly-fishing and dancing, so there are arts of sentence making,” write Collette and Johnson, authors of Finding Common Ground, A Guide to Personal, Professional, and Public Writing.

“. . . Writing is a partnership with the reader. . . . The way you put your stories together counts a good deal toward how your reader will understand what you say.

“You can . . . arrange, rearrange, or prearrange them to suit particular purposes.

“The writer shapes the sentence to indicate how readers should construe the meaning . . . . Building a sentence, then, is a way of defining and specifying meaning, of focusing a reader’s attention. . . .” (Collette and Johnson, Finding Common Ground; emphasis mine)

As we begin to scrutinize sentences, Bill Roorback points out that “sentences are a little like purses: They come in various sizes and can hold a little or a lot.” (Writing Life Stories)

So, let’s start by looking at those of the smaller size:

Short sentences:

“ . . . In artful prose, [sentence] length is controlled and varied. Some stylists write short sentences to strike a note of urgency.” (Joseph F. Williams, Style: Ten Lessons in Clarity and Grace)

“ . . . Short sharp sentences increase tension in a scene.” (Lynda R. Young)

For example, here’s how Kristen Welch writes short sentences to express tension and urgency:

“She came to us alone, with a baby she didn’t want stirring in her womb.

“Orphaned at a young age, she wandered this earth unloved and unwanted.

“Charity came to us broken, detached, angry.

“Outwardly she pushed others away, isolating herself through pain, distancing her heart from love.

“But we loved her anyway. We set firm boundaries and we loved. We prayed. We fasted. We begged God to draw her close. We shed so many tears over this child having a child.

“We feared for her unborn son. How would this detached girl attach to a baby she never wanted?

“He was born to an angry mother. She didn’t want him.

“And we didn’t know what to do. . . .” (Kristen Welch, We Are THAT family)

Sentence fragments:

Consider writing short sentences here and there in your vignettes, but also think about writing sentence fragments—incomplete sentences and thoughts.

Grammatically, sentence fragments are incorrect, but “There are occasions when a sentence fragment can be stylistically effective, exactly what you want and no more. ‘Harrison Ford has said that he would be more than willing to take on another Indiana Jones project. In a New York Minute.’ As long as you are clearly in control of the situation, this is permissible, but [doing so] depends on the circumstances.” (CCC Foundation, emphasis mine)

Breaking the rules occasionally with sentence fragments can add punch to your writing. Or sizzle. Or grief.

Next week we’ll look at long sentences

but for now, examine your rough drafts

and look for sentences that need a little spiffing up.

Where can you write “quick, breathless utterances” (Williams),

like Kristen Welch did, to create tension,

urgency, drama, or emotion?

Where might sentence fragments

work even more effectively than complete sentences?

And throughout, ask yourself:

Will readers understand

what I’m trying to get across?

Have I written each sentence clearly?

And remember, rewriting is not punishment.

(Smile!) 

Tell yourself rewriting is not punishment

Writing your memoir’s first draft is an experiment. Even your second and third and fourth drafts are experiments.

It’s like trying on for size—like taking five yellow dresses off the rack and heading toward the dressing room. When you slip into them and look in the mirror, you discover only one yellow is the right shade; you look washed out in the other four.

So, you keep only the one yellow dress that’s the right shade—

and in writing,

you keep only the sentences

and words

and paragraphs

and openings

and endings

that fit—those that work best.

You can also compare writing and rewriting and polishing to arranging flowers in a vase. You do your best to create beauty but when you stand back, you see the bouquet is lopsided, or you didn’t distribute the colors well, or you’ve left a gap, so you rearrange it, tweaking it here and there until it’s just right.

With dresses and with flowers and with writing, we need to stand back, take another look, and adjust accordingly.

We can view rewriting and editing and polishing as a pain in the neck, or maybe even punishment—OR we can consider it an enjoyable process of enhancement.

Amber Lea Starfire writes, “As a teacher, it always surprises me when beginning writers resist the revision process, because that’s often when the best writing takes place.

“I think of the first draft as a kind of rough sketch—the bones of the piece,” she continues. “It’s during the revision process that the skeleton acquires muscles and flesh and features. And I often have to do major surgery, restructuring the skeleton, before I can write what needs to be said.” (You’ll enjoy Amber’s post, Writing is Revision is Re-Writing is Craft.)

Good writers revise and rewrite, often many times.

Dinty Moore says, “The difference. . . between writers who are successful in finding an audience and those who struggle, is when and where in the revision process a writer throws in the towel and settles for 'good enough.’” (Read his How to Revise a Draft Without Going Crazy.)

Don't settle for  just “good enough.”

Tell yourself rewriting is not punishment—

instead, rewriting is beautification.

So, beautify! And have fun!

Will readers misunderstanding or misinterpret your writing?

Did you know that 80% of our communication is misunderstood?

Here’s how Kendall Haven says it:

“It has long been a guiding principle of writing that,

if there is any possible way

for readers to misread

and misinterpret

what you write,

they will.

The purpose of laborious

and tedious editing

is to make the writing so precise

that it cannot be misread

and misinterpreted.”

(emphasis mine; Kendall Haven, at A Storied Career)

Consider this oh-so-true statement:

“I know that you believe you understand

what you think I said,

but I’m not sure you realize that

what you heard

is not what I meant.”

(attributed to Robert McCloskey,

U.S. State Department spokesman)

So what are you, a memoir writer, to do about that?

After you've written a vignette—or two or three or ten—set your work aside for a few days (or better yet, a few weeks) and think about other things.

Later, print your manuscript. Reading it on a computer screen is different from reading it on paper. I can’t explain why that’s true, but it is: I always catch boo-boos on paper that I miss on the computer screen.  

With printout and pen in hand, read. You’ll be surprised how objective you’ll be after stepping back from your story for a while. Jot notes to yourself about changes to make.

Next, make those revisions, keeping in mind that every good writer revises his or her manuscript a number of times.

Set aside your manuscript again for a few days or weeks and then print it and read it aloud. Your ears can alert you to what your eyes missed. Repeat this step as often as necessary until you’re satisfied.

Put yourself in your readers’ shoes and, for their sake, clarify. Simplify. Spell out.

Ask yourself, “Will they understand my story? Is it clear?”

Have you used lingo (Christianese, for example) or language (foreign or technical, for example) your readers might not understand?

Reword everything that could cause confusion.

Most of all, have fun spiffing up your rough drafts! Revision is an art: polish your story and make it beautiful.

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

Stories can change lives for eternity. Write your stories!

Taking a break can help you make progress on your memoir

Toni tells me she hasn’t worked on her memoir for a couple of years—but she wants to get back to writing it.

I haven’t worked on my second memoir since about Thanksgiving. Life got busy. We took a long trip. Had a lot to do for Christmas and related events. Entertained an out-of-town guest. New Year’s Eve. Those are my excuses.

But like Toni, I want to get back to work.

I suspect most of you can identify with us. How long has it been since you worked on your memoir?

It’s easy to get stuck in a non-writing rut.

Lots of writerly-type folks offer advice for getting out of that rut, especially this time of year, but here’s what works for me and I suggest you give it a try:

Instead of nagging at yourself, instead of attempting to talk yourself—or bribe yourself—into sitting down to write, simply get out your manuscript.

Is it a Word document? If so, sit down in front of your computer and open that document.

Is your manuscript hand-written and tucked into a folder in a filing cabinet drawer?

Wherever it is, get it out.

You might not realize it yet but taking a break from writing might be the best thing that could happen to your memoir.

Here’s what I mean: Whether you’ve written several vignettes, a few chapters, or an entire rough draft, set it aside. That’s right—leave it alone for a while. Do something else, because….

Well, here’s how Zadie Smith says it:

“…if money is not a desperate priority,

if you do not need to sell it at once

or be published that very second—

put it in a drawer.

For as long as you can manage.

A year or more is ideal—

but even three months will do.

Step away….

The secret to editing your work is simple:

you need to become its reader instead of its writer.”

Zadie Smith (emphasis mine)

That’s it! You need to look at your manuscript as if you were reading it for the first time.

Think about it:

You know what you are attempting to communicate

but if you’re too close to your story,

you don’t recognize the gaps

you’ve inadvertently left.

In your mind,

you know all the subtle things

and the back story

and where the story is going—

so, in your brain, all the info is there.

The problem is this:

too many of those details are still only in your mind

and not on the paper or computer screen

in black and white.

If you’re too close to your manuscript,

it’s easy to overlook holes and cracks—

those things that will trip up readers and interrupt your story.

If you are too close to your manuscript,

you can’t read it as if you’re reading it for the first time.

This means that if you’ve set aside your manuscript for a while, you now have an opportunity to take a fresh look and fix things that need fixing.

Here’s how you get started: Read it. Better yet, read it aloud.

Check for clarity—does it make sense?

Your goal is to eliminate confusion, to enhance your readers’ understanding.

Is your story clear and concise?

Have you used easy-to-understand words? Don’t make readers get out a dictionary—they won’t do it!

How can you simplify your words and sentences and paragraphs?

Do you need to rearrange the order of

• words in a sentence?
• sentences in a paragraph?
• paragraphs in a vignette?

What do you need to add or subtract to make your story understandable for your readers?

Make it easy for your readers to keep reading.

Working on clarity might not seem like writing your memoir, but you will have accomplished valuable, necessary work. You will have made significant progress.

More on clarity next Thursday but until then:

What you’re doing is not punishment!

It’s polishing something beautiful.

“If there is any possible way for readers to misread and misinterpret what you write, they will.”

Did you know that 80% of our communication is misunderstood?

Here’s how Kendall Haven says it:

“It has long been a guiding principle of writing that,

if there is any possible way

for readers to misread

and misinterpret

what you write,

they will.

The purpose of laborious

and tedious editing

is to make the writing so precise

that it cannot be misread

and misinterpreted.”

(emphasis mine; Kendall Haven, at A Storied Career)

Consider this oh-so-true statement:

“I know that you believe you understand

what you think I said,

but I’m not sure you realize that

what you heard

is not what I meant.”

(attributed to Robert McCloskey,

U.S. State Department spokesman)

So what are you, a memoir writer, to do about that?

After you’ve written a vignette for your memoir, put it aside for a few days and think about other things. Then, get out that manuscript and, with pen in hand, read it. You’ll be surprised at how objective you will be after stepping back from it for a while. Jot notes to yourself about changes you’d like to make.

Next, tell yourself that rewriting is not punishment and make those revisions, keeping in mind that every good writer revises his or her manuscript a number of times.

Then set aside your story again for a few days and then read it aloud. Your ears can alert you to what your eyes missed. Repeat this step as often as necessary until you’re satisfied.

Put yourself in your readers’ shoes and, for their sake, clarify. Simplify. Spell out.

Ask yourself, “Will they understand my story? Is it clear?”

Have you used lingo (Christianese, for example) or language (foreign or technical, for example) your readers might not understand?

Reword everything that could send an ambiguous meaning or cause confusion.

Most of all, have fun spiffing up your rough drafts! Revision is an art: polish your story and make it beautiful.

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

Stories can change lives for eternity. Write your stories!