A Yawn, in Three Acts

he last thing I need to do is find another vehicle to reinforce my excuses for what I’m not writing. That’s not stopping me from exploring the cause and effect, here. I’m all hung up about the 3-Act format. I just don’t have the sort of contiguous mental processes that submit to a rigid structure. I am much happier just letting it fly and seeing if I can bring it in for a safe and satisfying landing. I can’t schedule the orderly flow of the story because I have only bits and pieces of knowing the personalities of my characters and only vague notions of an average day in their world.

y own story isn’t helping, either. I am dead smack in the middle of my own monotonous 3-Acts in real life. Well, not so much real as it is my life. I’m all about dreams and visions for select and specific details but I’m not the sort of person that daydreams about the happy world I’d like to find myself. I should have all the fodder I need if my motivation was to imagine an escape from my day-to-day. Many great stories have been birthed from that impetus. I just am not one to look back and wonder what-if I had taken another course. I know me too well. I took the course I would have taken nearly every time. I’m not a person that makes coin toss decisions. I assess the risk and go ahead and stomach the consequences. Then I whine about it ever after.

o I have a fundamental theme as far as a plot convention for my tale. I have given the nod to at least three characters as being caught up in the story. All of them are just too resigned to, more than content and accepting of, their circumstances. I think they’re behaving too much like me. I’m not getting a handle on two very critical elements. I am able to introduce the cast without any problem. Their basic drives and lifestyles are easy enough to present. I do not have a significant cause for them to champion. I don’t have any great challenge for them to surmount. They are all going about their business in the same clueless condition as me. That does not make for good reading. I don’t need a model of futility. This is unfortunate since the antagonist of my story is supposed to be so ordinary as to blend into the background but he is more dynamic than any of the other players. This wasn’t set out to be a clichéd accolade of the disturbed mind. Instead it’s becoming a loosely assembled map to my disturbed mind.

Law of the Land and the Rules of English

To some it is a comfort that the rules of language and grammatical usage are flexible and not as rigid as mathematical or universal constants. I find it a shame for two reasons. Firstly, some of the gray areas in effort would go away and leave that much more space for thought instead of caution while in pursuit of the ideal. Secondly, I love to defy concrete rules. So language has me at a disadvantage and I love words. The parallels to my status with and devotion to women are numerous. Really that makes sense as words are the currency with which we must demonstrate endless supply while frivolously spending them to gain favor. In writing as in love there are no guarantees that by pouring out one’s soul and expressing the most heartfelt thoughts that the message will be received as intended.

With that in mind I am interested in providing a few tools I have been extremely pleased to locate on the web. For as much facility as I try to maintain with the language I have gaps and some out-and-out mental bridges simply washed away. There are a couple instances that always snag my sleeve as I run through the forests of my ideas. The first is the usage of “then “ and “than.” This should not be all that difficult and yet . . . I get caught every now and again. So here is the easy way to distinguish the application of these two words:

"Then" indicates a change in state or progression, such as the example, "Do this then do that." This is a progression of events or time. "I started out walking, and then I jogged until the end of the course."

"Than" indicates a choice, such as, "I would prefer this one rather than that one." In other words, “Than” is used usually as a comparison or preference. "I'd rather walk than jog." Personally, I find to test the usage as to whether “than” is appropriate makes the decision easier.

Another bothersome sound-alike pair is “affect” and “effect.” For this I humbly defer to Paul Brians, of Washington State University. According to him,

“There are five distinct words here. When “affect” is accented on the final syllable (a-FECT), it is usually a verb meaning “have an influence on”: “The million-dollar donation from the industrialist did not affect my vote against the Clean Air Act.”

Occasionally a pretentious person is said to affect an artificial air of sophistication. Speaking with a borrowed French accent or ostentatiously wearing a large diamond ear stud might be an affectation. In this sort of context, “affect” means “to make a display of or deliberately cultivate.”

Another unusual meaning is indicated when the word is accented on the first syllable (AFF-ect), meaning “emotion.” In this case the word is used mostly by psychiatrists and social scientists— people who normally know how to spell it.

The real problem arises when people confuse the first spelling with the second: “effect.” This too can be two different words. The more common one is a noun: “When I left the stove on, the effect was that the house filled with smoke.” When you affect a situation, you have an effect on it.

The less common is a verb meaning “to create”: “I’m trying to effect a change in the way we purchase widgets.” No wonder people are confused. Note especially that the proper expression is not “take affect” but “take effect”—become effective. Hey, nobody ever said English was logical: just memorize it and get on with your life.

The stuff in your purse? Your personal effects.”

Rather than (Heh? See- see? I used it properly) attempt to provide proper descriptions, here, I will instead offer the links I found on the web. The Grand Daddy for all of these references is the University of Chicago Writing Program, GRAMMAR RESOURCES ON THE WEB. It is presented concisely and in good humor. Writing should be fun and these references make it exciting.

Gleaned from within that page are all of the sources I am currently depending on for accurate guidance. Paul Brians’s link is there but also here, Common Errors in English and another particularly intriguing resource that culled my attention was the Guide to Punctuation, Usage, and Grammar , by Marcus D. Rosenbaum and John Dinges.

These sites are likely addictive for those who may be like me and read the thesaurus for entertainment. I intend to revisit this post whenever I, or someone thoughtfully commenting, locate(s) additional or specialized resources. Enjoy!

Simple is (What's the word . . ?) Too Easy

have a personal confession to make. I love to focus on seemingly trivial details. Fortunately for someone such as me, I am living in an English speaking country, and America, which is even better for really mucking up the language. This luxury affords me endless hours of pleasure wincing at grammatical errors and equal dread for my own blunders. In ordinary conversation I have managed to avoid a great many phonetic aberrations that would betray the geographical area of my upbringing. Still, there is nothing in my speech that is unusual in comparison to those around me other than choice of verbiage. I have had several people ask if I am from England.

stopped reacting or even acknowledging the question years ago. I suppose that although I am perfectly happy to join in the banter with everyone else and employ the same language, when given the choice I opt for more exacting words. I also have a love for the melody associated with certain phrases. There’s just such a wonderful cadence to certain sounds and syllables strung together. I have a mild concern that my preoccupation (some would argue insistence) to ameliorate dialog will actually be detrimental to my writing. The reason this blog site is subtitled “Verbal Pyrotechnics” is due to that being the attribution of a college composition professor. Prior to reading one of my submissions he addressed the class with the disclaimer, “Try to get beyond the verbal pyrotechnics and appreciate what he is saying.” He was constantly engaged in a battle for me to use ordinary language. So many papers came back with red circles and chastisements exclaiming “ARCHAIC.” I tried to argue that the word was still valid and his retort was, “Only to you and Twelfth Century, English poets!”

evertheless I will guard against a good deal of the language I am comfortable using for the sake of the characters and even the narrative of my novels and other stories. I am exercising none of that in this missive because I still need a channel to let this stuff flow. The advantages of a blog is the freedom to just put oneself out there and kick off the shoes of rigor and civility and wiggle the toes a little. Besides, this forum presents me the opportunity to try a whole lot of things – that even if every one of them fails – I will benefit from the experience. This is a place to try experiments and test concepts and ideas. I hope it will knock both the rust as well as the unnecessary from my writing.

Are We Known by the Company We Keep - or Bad Hair Days?

I was desperate to find a photograph - any photograph to put into my profile. The only choice available was what you see, now. It is grainy and not entirely representative of me but will have to do. There are just no pictures as no one has taken any of me and I'm not terribly interested in taking my own. The photograph which I most eagerly anticipate is that found in the jacket of my novels.

In my mind, that photograph will capture the essence of the brooding artist and the penetrating but far away stare of a philosopher entranced in thought. My hair will be white and wild and my bushy eyebrows frowning to emphasize my taking bead and aim at another evil about to be addressed with my wit and wrath and blistering reason. As I age I am well on my way to that iconic dream. I am reflecting on why such a picture defines the author but it is supported by history. After some consideration one must wonder which came first, the misery or the mystery captured in the images we have of great writers? It is really something that I believe happens concurrently.

Here are some but not all of the giants that have either influenced or reinforced the ideologies to which I subscribe. Each was out of step with their times because they were miles ahead. That you may disagree or not embrace them as I is not important. It is my opinion and you are entitled to it.

Charles Dickens. Until I located this photograph I had no idea he was left-handed. My admiration has now expanded without bounds. In addition to his use of the superior opposable thumb I share his participation in personal misery and misfortune and find writing from experience as the most natural for me. I read Great Expectations at the tender age of twelve and it forever nurtured my misogynistic tendencies. God bless us, each and every one!

Continuing the theme of bad hair and worse attitude is the sardonic, Mark Twain. I will try to not become as jaded and cynical as Samuel Clemens became in later life but I will gladly drink deeply from the well of his inspiration and trust the same wary eye to allow me to see through the folly of daily human preoccupations.



Alexander Pope. What deliciously rapier wit and pointed sarcasm. Another hero as much for his facility with the English language as his precision with expressing his observations. I love technical mastery and because the constraints Pope put upon himself to remain within the strictures of acceptable language in his prose only magnify rather than restrain him is all the more reason I so enjoy him.

Robert Frost, is timeless in his verbal snapshots of America. He produced such vibrant colors with black and white descriptions. There is nothing light about his verse. His pensive mood and probing thoughts could provide a panoramic landscape or tunnel in with microscopic scrutiny to the soul. "Mending Wall" proved to me that a poem can express as much as a great novel.

Ayn Rand. Loved or hated there is no mistaking this author's work. Her ideologies and stance were and still are so contrary to the culture of comfort seeking and living without thought or consequence. If a writer can not provoke you or inspire you then why should they be read? Honestly, can her style, energy, passion or craft be dismissed because of her political reasoning? Hardly. I avoided reading her for years because so many people wanted to draw comparison between her principle characters and my own conduct and attitudes. Her style is as distinctive and powerful as Hemingway's. That did not happen by accident or chance and no one was seeking to afford her the opportunity to express herself. She voiced her mind unwaveringly and clearly by shear force of will.

Why Beca Sue? Because . . .

his blog is anticipated to be a sort of stream-of-consciousness journal of my floundering efforts to write professionally. It will meander and muse on whatever distracts or gives pause to me during the journey. I hope to discover and pass on little bits and pieces of valuable insight and information. To be honest if I only accomplish that personally will be enough. However, I hope to have more to contribute.

ne of the first issues to address is my typing. I had proper instruction as far back as my sophomore year of high school. I even spent nearly two decades in Information Technology so it would be expected that I would demonstrate decent facility. Nothing could be further from the truth. I hunt and peck and the best explanation would have to be that I lack confidence. I simply do not trust my fingers to coordinate the effort and consistently locate the appropriate keys. I am constantly interrupting my thought process to focus on the keyboard. I don’t merely glance but stare at the keys. Even then I miss every other stroke and tend to interject the space bar either at odd syllables or one letter shy of a complete word. This must be a reflection on my need for assurance on the whole or especially as pertaining to composition. Coincident with the typing dexterity issue is the need to read what has been laboriously entered about every three sentences. There is so much redundancy and self-congratulatory nonsense interrupting the process that there is very little allowance made for progress.

have considered three solutions and may end up incorporating them all and find a few extra. The obsolete method to capture thoughts before they were lost to distraction or mechanical limitations was to transcribe them via Dictaphone. The modern alternative is software such as Dragon Speak which inputs and formats the text to the computer as one speaks. I may find this very conducive to performing brain dumps and then going through the output and turning it into something resembling crafted writing. Another necessary adjustment is to practice my typing and get more acclimated and automatic with my usage. There are some brain-to-finger transfers that have become trademark patterns as well as bitingly irritating. One repetitive error is a personal demon and a great source of amusement for my friends. No one knows who the elusive Beca Sue, is, but I can tell you she is often mentioned in nearly everything I type. She originated in my consistent typographical error in trying to enter the word “because.”

Therefore, my third corrective behavior is not to get hung up on corrective behavior at all and to just write. If I focus too much on the mechanics and grammar and my personal idiosyncrasies I will not be free to express my ideas and get them into a tangible form. Once the thoughts are actually recorded I may spend however much time is necessary or that I like to massage and rework and prove them – but, they need to be out of my head first and foremost. It sounds so reasonable and simple. Let’s see . . . A,S,D,F . . J, K, L, semi-colon. I can do this!

Another Wannabe Writer

elcome to my new office space. I suppose it’s the way of authors, or in my case a wannabe author, to imagine ourselves in all sorts of exotic locales and interesting circumstances. I tend to focus on the details of what those far-away - in another time - places have to offer before they become as common and ordinary to me as they are to the people that live and work and play there every day. So I’ve grown a bit nostalgic for some familiar items but with a glance backward to when they seemed modern and fresh. Banker’s lamps and desk blotters make me believe I’m the possessor of vast industrial fortunes. Airmail, brandy, and a good cigar allow me to exercise my vices as a man of the world. Ah, the phone, again . . . probably my publisher looking for that final draft.

efore I flop into that old arch-back chair I think I’ll glance outside and let the weather set my mood. I love hands-on living but there is one benefit of the digital world; I can immediately pacify my whim for what vista will greet me looking out of the virtual window over my desk. Perhaps I’m in New England in the Fall? There’s the love of my life in a baggy sweatshirt and her hair tossed with the wind just like the leaves she’s raking. I love the way the light plays off that auburn silk glinting with streaks of honey. She’s so beautiful among the burgundy and amber backdrop of autumn.

hat is that muffled sound? Seagulls and the tumbling waves are calling me to leave this musty paper and step through the cabana doorway into the warm sand of the beach. Cocoa butter and salt are caressing my nose. The squeals of children barely carry over the static of the surf. My toes idly search the gaps between the dry rotted planks of the floor beneath my feet. I’ve got to focus and get to work. I have writing to do.

here is no time to gaze out on these desert dunes. They should seem lonely and lifeless but they’re hiding something mysterious beneath those layers of sediment streaked rust and blood in the encrusted rocky ledges. Tenacious clumps of grass defy the odds of survival. The frail blades reach for the endless sky but grow faint and bow down to the arid earth This old rocking chair has worn ruts into the porch after all of the hours I’ve spent after the sun and the heat go down in the evenings.

uts. I’m certainly in one now. Come on, Lance, sit down in that chair and start writing. This stuff doesn’t write itself. I suppose that’s the magic, isn’t it? Someone has to write the short stories, novels, plays and scripts so why not me! I really want to be a writer instead of [anything else] and, I also write. I have always wanted to indifferently stroll into the bank with a royalty check from my publisher and have the cashier be excited to realize, “You’re Lance Schneider?!” Before any of that can happen I actually need to write something. Too bad. Maybe I’m afraid the dream is better than reality just as my stories are better than my life? There is only one way to know for certain.

t’s time to take off this jacket and these cuff links; roll up these sleeves and loosen this tie. That’s better. Huh. She left her stockings strewn over the end of the sofa, right where I finally persuaded her to let me peel them off. What was her name . . ?