4.1 The Spice of Writing

THE SPICE OF WRITING
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It's only words,
And words are all I have,
To take your heart away.
         —Words, Brian Gibb

It may indeed be only words, but words are the workhorses or our writing. Without them, we would be lost. Good writers have fun playing with words. Chaucer and Shakespeare knew this, as do most good modern writers. They love choosing and arranging words to get the most desired effect. Robert Frost surely had fun writing this line:

         Something there is that doesn't love a wall. (1)

Isn't that much better than the way some scholarly writing is? How dull it would be to read the same line as, "Some unidentifiable factor is assumed which obviates popular appreciation of man-made divisional barriers like walls and similar structures."

And just because you may be writing an article, essay, or even in your journal, does that mean it has to be dull? Writing shouldn't be a struggle, it should be fun. And the way to have fun is to use the English language so full of wild and wacky ways of writing wonderfully (there, now wasn't that fun).

A light touch, a pun, an anecdote, a play on words, a little alliteration might be just the thing to give your reader that needed lift from the solemn, serious, scholarly-stuffed writing that so much writing these days is beset with (notice the alliteration of the esses ... isn't this fun?) Put aside that love of big words when you sit down to write, and concentrate more on the tone of your writing. Then it will not become a nasty chore.

A good place to start is with an understanding of the English language. Of all the modern languages, none is simpler, more flexible, nor more efficient than English for communicating an idea. It is one of the Teutonic languages, but one with a difference. Once, it was as complex as German. Verbs had their conjugations; nouns, pronouns, adjectives, and articles had their declinations. Believe it or not, it sounded much like German. But that was many centuries ago.

At the time of the Norman conquest of Britain, a great change in the language occurred. English became relegated to a vulgar language of the common people. Anyone of importance used Norman French. English was not taught in the schools of that time period, so the language began to change. Verb endings faded away, noun declinations were lost, and words were cut short.

From this trod-upon language, a new one emerged—hard, tough, trimmed, yet capable of delicate beauty. It had an elegant simplicity that was responsive to the fun side of reading and writing. Learning how to use this elegant simplicity in your writing will make your stories come alive.

There are four basic concepts to understand for creating effective imagery.

          Literary Techniques
          Using Your Senses
          Finding A Voice
          Setting the Tone


Literary Techniques

Using the vivid imagery of the English language is a means to improve how you convey a scene, a specific atmosphere, or an event or character. Some of the more common techniques are used primarily in poetry, but good prose makes use of them too. There are hundreds of such techniques, and as you grow as an author, you should try to gain an understanding of most of them. However, let's starts with just a few basic ones that will serve you well.

Simile and Metaphor

The difference between simile and metaphor are slight. A simile compares two ideas by using the words, "like" or "as". A metaphor compares them by implying they simply are the same. "My grandson, Zak, jumps around like a kangaroo" (simile). "My grandson, Zak, is a kangaroo" (metaphor).

Similes are used often in fiction writing, but many are clichés, so be careful to use fresh ideas. "As cold as ice" is a hackneyed simile, whereas "as freezing as a fish factory" is more original, and has the added benefit of being alliterative (more on that below).

Metaphors and similes are important because, while a reader may not have experienced the scene you describe, they may have experienced the metaphor or simile. But it's not necessarily about saying something is like something else, or saying something is something else. It goes well beyond that. Take, for example, a simple line William Shakespeare penned:

         Tigers, not daughters. (2)

He did not say his daughters were like tigers (simile), nor did he say his daughters were tigers (metaphor). He merely implied the metaphor. This is using the English language to its fullest imagery and greatest simplicity. These are the kinds of effective imagery you need to fill your writing with. Let's take this concept a step further. Consider the following:

         Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin
         to kill a mockingbird. (3)

Killing a mockingbird is not like a sin (simile), and it’s not a real sin either (metaphor). But using it within the context of metaphor sums up the sanctity of innocence. Obviously, what your English teachers told you about the definition of a simile and a metaphor is only scratching the surface of what you can do with the language in relation to similes and metaphors. Let's look at another example.

         The old coloured houses of irregular size along the narrow quays of the Liffey
         seem to lean outward as if to study themselves in the water. (4)

Does the effective use of simile or metaphor get any better than this? The houses leaned out, "as if" to study themselves. The author didn't say they leaned out like something, nor relate them to something that leaned—like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, for example. They simply leaned to study themselves. The depths to which similes and metaphors can be used to spice up your writing is unfathomable. So, was that a simile, or a metaphor?

To try and explain this a little further, compare the following statements.

         The water looked like glass.

         The water was glass.

         The water glassed over.

The first example is a simile, the second a metaphor. But it's the veiled metaphor in the third example that brings so much more vivid imagery to the description. Water can't really turn to glass, nor can daughters really be tigers. But they can certainly appear to be so without drawing attention to the fact that they are.

Other aspects of metaphor and simile need to be considered, because there are subdivisions. Two of the most popular in fiction writing are personification and anthropomorphism. Personification animates the inanimate, and anthropomorphism gives human characteristics to animals. "The chair rocked like my grandmother" is personification. "The rabbit grew sullen like a child who had lost a toy" is an example of anthropomorphism.

Onomatopoeia

Onomatopoeia uses language that sounds like its meaning. It names a thing or action by vocal imitation of the sound associated with it. Onomatopoeia can be a great tool in fiction writing. It allows you to convey a feeling or a meaning without specifically expressing it. Onomatopoeia helps your reader develop a mental picture—something you can utilize to draw your reader into your story. The clearer the picture is to your reader, the more they can relate to your subject. Inferring a sound or feeling to your written image increases participation.

         Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn yard. (5)

         You could hear the tinkle of ice in a lemonade pitcher. (6)

         The whing of father's racquet and the whack of brother's bat on cousin's ball. (7)

Can you hear the noise the horseshoes made on the street, the ice in the pitcher, the sound of the racquet and the bat hitting the ball? However, the latter example brings out an important point because the word "whing" cannot be found in the dictionary.

You should be aware that not all words used as onomatopoeia are legitimate. They are written only to evoke a certain understanding of how something sounds. For example, I could write:

         I watched as the band marched past, and didn't turn away until the oom-pah
         oom-pah of the tubas had receded into the distance.

You won't find oom-pah in the dictionary either. I could have used the word "sound" in place of "oom-pah oom-pah," but that wouldn't have been nearly as effective, and would have been perfectly boring. Onomatopoeia is a literary device that is not necessarily good English, but it's useful in evoking an image or feeling, and therefore effective when writing fiction.

Let's take a look at another use of onomatopoeia.

         From the thick grass at the foot of the bush came a low hiss—a horrid cold sound
         that made Rikki-Tikki jump back two clear feet. (8)

The onomatopoeia in this example is more subtle and thus, even more effective. If you were to guess, you would probably say it was the "low hiss" that was the onomatopoeia, and that would be correct. But it's not the only use of onomatopoeia the author uses. Say the following words aloud—"jump back two clear feet"—and what sensation do you get?

You get the sensation of a small mongoose jumping backward in a quick burst of action. Is there any reason to include the word "clear" in that sentence unless the author was trying to invoke a particular sensation of motion? Even "two feet" seems excessive unless it's for a reason. It's a truly inventive and imaginative use of the language.

Are you beginning to see how much fun you can have with writing? Wait, there's more.

Phonaesthesia (fon-es-THEES-ee-a)

I believe the root words for this term mean phonetic aesthetics. It's closely related to onomatopoeia and occurs when certain sounds become associated with certain meanings, even though they do not attempt to imitate the sound.

For example, it could be argued that “sl” is a phonaesthetic combination of sounds (or phonaestheme) in English of words such slip, slippery, slide, slither, sloppy, slimy, sleazy. The meanings are associated with wetness or greasiness, and gradually take on unpleasant connotations.

Alliteration

This is a common one, well-know and used extensively. It's the repetition of a sound, but only the initial sound.

         What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells. (9)

Or, how about the naming of the Americas, primarily South America which was explored extensively by Amerigo Vespucci. Why choose his first name, when geographic locations are often identified by only the last names of explorers? It's because two of the other continents at the time were Africa and Asia, hence America. Did that have something to do with the naming of Antarctica as well? The Arctic would be Arctica if it were a continent. Alliteration is everywhere.

Assonance

Like alliteration, this is a repetition of sound, but focuses primarily on vowels within words.

         The doom-laden mood made the room brood like a tomb. (10)

This example contains almost too much repetition of the "oo" sound. But it effectively shows how assonance can be used with vowel sounds. However, it can also be used with consonants.

         The moan of doves in immemorial elms, and murmuring of innumerable bees. (11)


Understanding these techniques is just the beginning of the path you need to follow. It's really how they are all used together that makes writing effective. The following is a more complex example:

         Each morning we set sail soon after dawn, casting off from an overnight mooring
         beside the bank. Within a few hundred yards the drumming of the engine and the
         unchanging green walls would erase any sense of the real passage of time, of
         minutes, hours or days. Noon would whistle to me from her perch in the prow of
         the Salammbo, and point to the vertical sunlight that filled the centre channel.
         Only then would I realize that it was time to boil a pan of rice and resume the
         hopeless task of trapping a shrike or plover. Hours had slipped by in seconds,
         falling like dust through the open grilles of my mind. (12)

          “Set sail soon” is an example of alliteration.
          “Drumming of the engine” is onomatopoeia.
          The jungle becomes "green walls"—a metaphor.
          Personification transforms noon into a woman who whistles and points.
          Time is dust, like the sands in an hour-glass (but not as clichéd).
          His mind is like a grill, unable to hold on to reality.

The reader gains so much more than a scene here. The author uses many of the techniques just mentioned to evoke a wide range of feeling. Here's another example.

         He was so big and trumpeting and red-hairy and used to fill every inch of the hot
         little house like an old buffalo squeezed into an airing cupboard, ... she was so
         small and silk and quick and made no noise at all as she whisked about on
         padded paws, dusting the china dogs and feeding the buffalo, setting the
         mouse-traps that never caught her, and once she sneaked out of the room, to
         squeak in an oak or nibble in the hay-loft, you forgot she'd ever been there. (13)

          Simile: Like an old buffalo squeezed into an airing cupboard.
          Metaphor: So big and trumpeting and red-hairy
          Alliteration: Hot little house, padded paws, dusting the china dogs.
          Assonance: Squeak in an oak.
          Metaphor, alliteration, and assonance: She was so small and silk and quick.


Using Your Senses

Regardless of which language you might be writing in, all have limits. English, even as vibrant as it is, has these limits as well. And that has to do with how we overemphasize one of our senses—sight.

Think of words we use to describe objects. You'll find that there are many ways to describe what they look like. First, there are various color combinations. We don't just have basic words like red, blue, and yellow. There's fuchsia, chartreuse, cerulean, and so on, which merely scratches the surface of words describing color. What about shape? We not only have round, square, and triangular. We have elliptical, parabolic, and trapezoidal. There are cones and frustums of cones. The list goes on and on. Then there's size. No, not just big and little, there's gigantic and herculean, teeny and tiny, rotund and beefy, slim and slight ... again, the list goes on and on.

Now, try to think of using your other senses—sound, smell, taste, and touch. You'll find we are much more limited in the words we have to describe these. Oh, sure, there's clanging, pungent, bitter, and rough. Yet the number of words to describe these other four senses do not match what we have to describe the things we see. That's why, as an author, you need to be wary of using only your sense of sight to describe things.

It's also why, in a lot of cases, authors rely on some of those literary devices just mentioned when trying to use these other senses. Something is as cold as a fish freezer, the tubas go oom-pah oom-pah, the hiss of a snake, and so on. It's difficult to do sometimes, and easy to fall back on just descriptions of what something looks like. But you should always strive to use all your senses when you write, much as Hemingway did.

         As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste
         that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the
         succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it
         down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be
         happy and to make plans. (14)


Finding a Voice

This relates to your personal style of writing. We all have a writer's voice inside that makes us unique. When writers first begin, they often lean on the writing style of established authors they enjoy reading, and that's okay ... for the time being. It's a learning process.

My favorite author was, and still is, John Steinbeck. When I first started writing, I couldn't wait to write like him. But I soon found out that I was no Steinbeck. What I discovered in the process was that I have a style of writing wholly unique to me. That doesn't make it good or bad, better or worse than any other writing, nor does it mean it will be particularly successful. All it means is that I had to find that voice, accept it, and let it come out. It was a voyage of discovery.

It's important to keep your writing simple, direct, and to the point. However, there is one thing I need to caution you about in regard to style: don't eliminate your particular style for the sake of brevity alone. Let me give you an example.

Below is how we might edit the beginning of a speech made by a famous American. It's as concise as the original, to the point, and flows well. Yet, it is sadly lacking in style. See if you can guess which speech it is, and it's true author (without sneaking a glance below) ...

         Eighty-seven years ago, our ancestors created a new government. They wished
         to form a free society in which everyone had an equal voice.

Here is the original ...

         Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a
         new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are
         created equal.

Lincoln's Gettysburg Address is a sparkling diamond of American oratory. Barely over two minutes long, Lincoln even stated in the speech that it would not be remembered ("The world will little note nor long remember what we say here"). Yet, the imagery he created, and his lyric style, turned it into an enduring classic. While you may not be an Abraham Lincoln, never turn from your particular style. It's what makes you unique.


Setting the Tone

Most writers fail to realize that what they write can be presented a number of different ways. The same words can be reorganized and the stress altered to produce either a harsh or mild tone, or anything in between. It can be made arrogant, angry, argumentative, or sarcastic. It can also be softened, cooled, made to feel light as a feather rather than harsh as a bloody axe. Of course, if the bloody axe is what you're after, then by all means let it flash.

You can do this by the words you choose, as well as simply by word order and stress. When a comedian tells a story, he or she always puts the punch in the last few words. In a sentence or clause, the last word is the one that catches the stress. A slight change in the word order can change the tone.

It can also be done with inflection or setting. What are the circumstances surrounding your characters and how have you made them feel? Sometimes, a simple statement can be taken many different ways, depending not so much on the words, but inflection, setting, and characterization. Perhaps noted film-actor Christopher Walken said it best ...

         I have this theory about words. There's a thousand ways to say, "Pass the salt."
         It could mean, you know, "Can I have some salt?;" or it could mean, "I love you."
         It could mean "I'm very annoyed with you;" really, the list could go on and on.
         Words are little bombs, and they have a lot of energy inside them.

The final test for any kind of writing is how it sounds. That may not make sense for something related to the written word, but it is indeed important. Read it aloud, or have someone else pick it up cold and read it aloud to you while you make notes. Mark any spots where the reader stumbles, or any spots where the sounds are hard to say.

Listen for the tones. Savor the sounds. In reading it, does it drone on or does it seem to skip along? Does the word order put the emphasis on the right words? If you want to write well, work within the nature of our vibrant English language, not against it. Strive for simplicity, but above all else, have fun with it.


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FOOTNOTES

(1) Frost, Robert. "Mending Wall," North of Boston, 1915.

{2) Shakespeare, William. King Lear (Duke of Albany, Act IV, Scene ii).

(3) Lee, Harper. To Kill a Mockingbird, 1960.

(4) O’Brien, Flann. The Dalkey Archive, 1964.

(5) Noyes, Alfred. "The Highwayman", 1906.

(6) Bradbury, Ray. The Martian Chronicles, 1950.

(7) Gardner, Isabella. "Summer Remembered".

(8) Kipling, Rudyard. "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi," The Jungle Book, 1894.

(9) Poe, Edgar Allen. "The Bells," Sartrain's Union Magazine, 1849.

(10) E-zine Publishing. "Imagery," Short Stories, 9 Nov 2005 (697).

(11) Tennyson, Lord Alfred. "Come Down, O Maid," The Princess: A Medley, 1847.

(12) Ballard, J.G. The Day of Creation, 1987.

(13) Thomas, Dylan. “A Story," A Prospect of the Sea, 1955.

(14) Hemingway, Ernest. A Moveable Feast, 1964.

REFERENCES

Hopper, Vincent F.; Gale, Cedric; Foote, Ronald C. Essentials of English, 4th ed., rev. by Benjamin W. Griffith. Barron's Educational Series, Inc., Hauppauge, NY. 1990.

Strunk, William Jr.; White, E.B. The Elements of Style, 3rd Edition. MacMillan Publishing Co., New York, NY. 1979.

Zinsser, William. On Writing Well, 5th ed., rev. and updated. Harper Collins Publishers, New York, NY. 1994.