Rocket Scientist

What?  Wait!  Don’t run away!  Sheesh, mention poetry and they all turn tail and run as fast as they can.  I’m not going to make your write poetry.  Ever.  I promise.

I have to completely give snaps up to my sister , the English Ph.D., for reminding me what fun writing on command is.  Yes, you heard me and I meant it.  Shakespearemom is a font of writing know-how on the collegiate level and I so encourage everyone to check out her website.  She also will do writing exercises from time to time and I’ll make sure to link whatever exercises she does on this Wednesday feature so you can’t miss ‘em.  (You know she’s an expert because she never shortens “them” to “‘em.”  And she reads Shakespeare - for fun!)  This week, it was one on adding detail to make emotions and feelings come alive and one on writing haikus , which was really cool because my inspiration for this feature came from the first and the second just played into it.  She added another one today .

Now, let me also preface this by saying I’m not nearly the technical expert on writing that she is.  My degree is in Engineering Physics and I tested out of all my English requirements.  My only college creative writing course was a waste of time for me (which the professor told me himself) and the only other English course I took in college (Physics in Fiction) wasn’t exactly a writing course.  But I’m going to run this feature anyway because I can write and write well.  I’m just mostly self-taught.

So, here’s the boring story.  See, in high school, I wrote poetry, lots and lots of rhyme and rhythm poetry, much of it long and epic-like.  I’m not advocating this path for everyone, but it taught me a few lessons (hence the poetry part 1).  In college, I moved from mostly poetry to mostly short stories.  The lessons I learned there were completely different than the lessons I learned with poetry.  When I made the switch post-college to novels, I had to work on a completely new set of skills, while still taking advantage of the ones I’d built doing the other stuff I’d previously learned.

So, in the interest of sharing the wealth, I’m going to start with lessons I learned writing poetry.  My sister’s blog mentioned the “magic” in detail for making an feeling come alive, rather than just telling how someone felt.  I entirely agree with it.  But sometimes there is something to be said for brevity, for pulling emotion with just the right words, for emoting with almost no words.  I know you’re laughing.  What would rocketscientist know about brevity (especially given the poetry she wrote was sometimes pages long)?  Well, just because a work is long, doesn’t mean the lines are brief and limited.

When I was on Gather, someone pointed out the story of Hemingway who was challenged to write a story in six words.  His answer: “For sale.  Baby shoes.  Never worn.”  He challenged us to do the same .(By the way, this is probably the only time I’ll ever use Hemingway as an example.)

You might be asking, why bother?  Because, sometimes, brevity is very powerful.  Take for instance, the following passage:

It wasn’t fair.  Children shouldn’t be wracked with pain, eaten with fever.  Mothers shouldn’t sit at the bedside, grieving for pain one can’t stem or heat one cannot quench.  To fight for days against a disease, a sickness, it wasn’t fair that the fever, in the end could win, could only be beaten by the boy finally gasping his last.

Or I could write:

The fever and boy both broke.

Both have their uses and there are times where the first one is the right one.  But, sometimes, the second works more powerfully because everything in the first is implied by the second.

I know, it seems scary limiting yourself to six words.  But, you know what?  When I tried it, it was much easier than I thought.  So, here’s what I want you to do.  Don’t write a story necessarily (though you can), but build an emotional response, an image that resonates in…just…six…words.

Here are some examples.

He’d promised he’d do better.  Again.

He never even heard the gunshot.

In an instant, she was gone.

Mommy, why don’t you love me?

You were never what I wanted.

Ms. Bastion, you don’t have cancer.

My babies are still in there!

He had never known such kindness

With one smile, her life opened.

Because of her, his life mattered.

He would never hurt anyone again.

She only said she loved me.

OK, now you.  And, if you need more inspiration, check out the link to the gather article I have up there.  There are some excellent examples (which I hope I didn’t accidently duplicate).

Have fun!

(By the way, if you were prompted to register to make comments yesterday, that should be corrected today.  Sorry about the trouble.)

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