Saturday, June 19, 2004
Music is powerful – it has the ability to flip your emotional switches. When it accompanies a good picture it seems to express the silent song that lurks there, just waiting to be sung. This no doubt explains the popularity of nature-music videos with surging rivers and thundering cataracts accompanied by Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” or some other inspirational piece. In fact, such audio-visual communication seems to hold the edge on all other methods. Even the power of oration falls short. Why else do you think evangelists always have an appeal song at the end of a sermon? Because the appeal they gave wasn’t good enough! For writers, however, the situation continues to deteriorate. Writers are doubly cursed because their communication can neither be physically heard nor observed. In order to atone for this deficiency of written work, I propose that we incorporate some of the characteristics of music into writing. It's time to take it to another level. It's time to face the music.
One badly underrated and maligned element is staccato, or in writing, the fragment sentence. While it shouldn’t be overused, just as you don't hear many songs composed solely of syncopation, when used appropriately, fragment sentences can have tremendous impact. Like the snap of a finger or the pop of a gun. Powerful. Startling. Which of course may be a very useful tool for an audience that would otherwise be lullabied to sleep by droning description. Some authors are babblers. Their stories become a snarled mass of tangled vocabulary with run-on sentences that, were they unwound, would no doubt span a distance of several miles. Of course, by the time you reach the end of such a tortuous highway, you have well nigh forgotten the original purpose of the trip. At best, it has been a jolly jaunt in which your vocabulary has been slightly expanded. At worst, it has been one hell of a ride, leaving you nauseated and sick to your stomach. If you're really fortunate, all you are left with is a feeling of wonder -- wonder how such a blundering idiot ever managed to get published.
I do not claim to have attained this higher level of writing ability. In fact, I probably tread on my own toes by writing about it instead of just writing. But I think people need to be aware that there is a better way. On to clearer, crisper, communication. ¶ 4:40 PM
One badly underrated and maligned element is staccato, or in writing, the fragment sentence. While it shouldn’t be overused, just as you don't hear many songs composed solely of syncopation, when used appropriately, fragment sentences can have tremendous impact. Like the snap of a finger or the pop of a gun. Powerful. Startling. Which of course may be a very useful tool for an audience that would otherwise be lullabied to sleep by droning description. Some authors are babblers. Their stories become a snarled mass of tangled vocabulary with run-on sentences that, were they unwound, would no doubt span a distance of several miles. Of course, by the time you reach the end of such a tortuous highway, you have well nigh forgotten the original purpose of the trip. At best, it has been a jolly jaunt in which your vocabulary has been slightly expanded. At worst, it has been one hell of a ride, leaving you nauseated and sick to your stomach. If you're really fortunate, all you are left with is a feeling of wonder -- wonder how such a blundering idiot ever managed to get published.
I do not claim to have attained this higher level of writing ability. In fact, I probably tread on my own toes by writing about it instead of just writing. But I think people need to be aware that there is a better way. On to clearer, crisper, communication. ¶ 4:40 PM
