Essence of Style

I have had some interesting conversations about my writing style. I think it's funny that anyone thinks I have a style at all. Writing came to me almost by mistake, and, like a lot of people who are brutally honest about their creative endeavors, I don't regard myself very highly. However, I don't take that as a burden. I take it as a freedom. I tried copying the writing styles of many different writers - everyone from Ernest Hemingway to Alexander Pope to Nathaniel Hawthorne to Edgar Allen Poe to Bill Bryson to Andy Rooney. It was a fun exercise to see if I could try to capture the essence of their styles. I also realized that I could not truly write like any of them to fool the public, but it helped me shake off the nettles of what I thought writing should be. I decided that, hey, I don't WANT to write like them. It would be like toiling in obscurity as a tribute band to some pop music star with nothing but the pity and disdain of my friends as a receipt for my efforts.

As I have mentioned before, I was told to "just write, young man!" Just sit my ass down and start typing. Something worthwhile will eventually come blasting out of your fingers. So I did. I sat my ass down and just started writing. I like to call it "Improv Writing." Just take the smallest shade of an idea and run naked with it. Some have told me that it goes against the convention of structured or proper writing. Well, that's kind of my point. It's NOT supposed to be like anything else. I also am thoroughly convinced that many, many people out there write in the same fashion. How refreshing! It's exciting to whip your literary steed into a full gallop and then just get the hell out of the way and let it go wherever it wants to go.

I once had a professor in college by the name of W. D. Snodgrass. It was Poetry 351 or something, and you had to submit works to be able to be accepted into the class in the first place. Personally, I cannot stand poetry - never could. But, I took it for two reasons: 1) I needed it for my English major, and 2) I wanted to explore ALL disciplines of writing in order to improve myself as a writer. Confused? Let me paint it this way: I cannot stand rap music. I won't share my reasons, but it's probably not what you think they would be for a white, 40-ish male. Yet, I think rap is important for music as a whole. Without rap, music would still have a much more narrow sluice into our lives. I am not much for modern music, but some of the modern music I do like owes a debt to the expansion of the canvas that rap has created.

Now, back to the wonderfully-named Mr. Snodgrass.

Do you remember those scientists that Gary Larson used to draw for his outstanding comic "The Far Side"? well, he looked like that. Tall, bald on top, with a mesmerizing shock of grayish-white hair that circled his head like a thick, bushy reef. Stately spectacles, gloriously full beard, corduroys, and he drove a wood-paneled station wagon to boot. Plus, he had a booming voice that commanded respect and conveyed compassion at the same time. He was a force of nature. Oh, and he also happened to win the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1959 for "Heart's Needle". This man came to the classroom with credentials. Yet, none of that impressed me as much as something he said on the first day of class. My words won't do him justice, but, to paraphrase, he hit us with this:

"If you do all of the assignments and complete them on time, you will get a B in my class...I am not here to tell you if your poetry is good or bad. I am only one man with one opinion. I am not one to judge whether something is good or not."

It went something like that. Now, writers are some of the most egotistical, back-stabbing, jealous people on this planet. Well, that pretty much goes for most people in any artistic profession. But, here was a frigging Pulitzer Prize-winning poet sublimating his well-earned chops for the betterment of a classroom of people who can't wait to get back to their dorm rooms and binge drink themselves into the morning. He didn't just impress me as a professor, he impressed me as a man, and I've never forgotten what he did for us, and for me.

It was being armed with that message that really helped propel me to write more frequently. I am not a writer. I am a man who writes. I don't care if I write a hundred books, I will never be a writer. Writers generally have a clue, or a concept, of what they are doing. Some write the endings before they write the beginnings of their books and just find ways to connect the wires in between. I just sit down and start typing. Where the story goes is completely up to the story itself. This piece here started with just a shadow of an idea. For the cynics and critics out there, here is a free shot at me.

I've always wanted to meet regularly with like-minded people for a sort of Improv-Writing workshop. Each meeting would have assignments to be completed at the meeting. For example, if there are six people in the group, everyone suggests one noun. That's six nouns, total, for those of you scoring at home. The assignment? Write a paragraph or two that contains all six nouns. Or maybe a poem with all six, or a song. Maybe get into groups of two and write a skit that contains all six nouns. Read them in front of the group and everyone votes on the best. Nerdy? Sure. But, one person's Improv-Writing group is another's Renaissance Festival or Drum Circle. Hey (hey), you (you), get offa my cloud.

So, if you have an idea, no matter how big or how small, for God's sake, write it down. Does it matter that no one else may see it? Does it matter that it may only be one sentence long? Photographs and videos capture moments in time - visual moments in time, a time that will never grace this good Earth ever again. Once it's experienced, it's already passed. Images are the hearts of memory. The documented words that you put to paper, computer screen, or whatever your chosen conveyance may be, is the essence of the soul of memory. Never miss a chance to put both to work for you. And do it with style.

Yours.