The Bookshelf Muse: Setting Thesaurus Entry: Deserted Island

The Bookshelf Muse: Setting Thesaurus Entry: Deserted Island

"I guess he . . ."

I ran across some grammar, slash, spell checker software called Grammar Expert Plus last night. There’s a free thirty-day trial period and I thought, “Why not try.” What a hoot.

Here’s an example of the kind of the hints it gives. The program highlighted the words ‘I guess he.’ The message:

Check to see if you meant to use “he” here. A pronoun such as “he” which is the object of a verb such as “guess” is usually in objective-case form. Possible a relative pronoun such as “that” or “who” is missing.

Taking its advise and using "who" with those three words, doesn't fit. And using "that," well, I'm not an expert, but I read a lot. Something I read, recently, discouraged using the word "that." I wish I knew where I read it so I could share the article, I'm sorry about that. When I did a search in my WIP, most sentences read well without the word.

Nevertheless, the words were used in dialogue. People just don’t talk in ‘objective-case form.’

If I were to rate the Grammar Expert Plus, I'd give it a C-. I don't think it was designed to work with creative writing. Some of the suggestions made me take a second look at my sentence structure; however, and rewording a phrase or sentence made it much easier to read. Take the good with the bad, you have to use your own judgment in the end.”

There’s another, more expensive, program called “Perfect English,” by Whitesmoke. It has dedicated options for professional writing as well as for creative writing. The demo looks pretty cool.

Maybe I should contact Whitesmoke and get compensation for plugging their product. Truth is, I'm not plugging it because I've never used it and though it may help, there is no perfect word processor or grammar checker anywhere.

Microsoft Word is great. It corrects my spelling, it makes suggestions on sentence structure, and sometimes it corrects my grammar and punctuation. What it’s biggest sin is; however, it doesn’t distinguish between homonyms.

Well, that’s my wisdom for the day. I'm going to go drop this post into Grammar Expert Plus now. If you find mistakes, IT'S NOT MY FAULT.

Happy Easter and happy writing, everyone.

Elizabeth

Hooker

At night just before I turn out the light, I sometimes fill the page of a notebook I keep beside the bed, with . . . well, crap. The crap part usually happens if I also drink a glass of wine before lights out.

I’ve been interested in first paragraph hooks. If the whole rest of your book stinks, you at least have to wow them with a first paragraph masterpiece. After an agent gets through the first paragraph in total awe; of course, you don’t want the rest of the book to stink, but you get my point.

My strong strength, if I have one, is leaving the hook at the end of the chapter. Some agents must be immediately entertained before they reach the masterfully written end hook. Pity. Anyway, I digress.

Hooks. I’m going to share some of the hooks I’ve written in the late night hours. Some of them are cheesy, I admit. Maybe you’ll think they all are. But, here it goes.

• Had I known I’d be wading through Poison Oak, I’d have worn jeans instead of my prom dress and three-inch Stilettos. Who knew that jerk would drop me in the middle of nowhere.
  
  
  
• I fell asleep on the tanning bed. When I woke, the lights were off and my body could have melted the ice of an igloo. The act of getting dressed caused excruciating pain. I nearly tripped over the body when I stepped out of the tanning chamber.
  
  
• It was all coming back to me now.
  
  
  
• It started in the dead of night, but the sun had been up for hours.
  
  
  
• Sometimes you have to let things go.
  
  
  
• It was a stench I’d never forget. The stench of death warmed over by who knew how many days in the sun.
  
  
  
• I reached for my cell phone where it lay ont the rock and heard a rattle.
  
  
  
• Babies don’t belong in bars, especially if one hapless little tyke has me for a mother. The owner told me if I left the child in the bar again, he’d report me.
  
  I really have to quit drinking before I start sleeping. I'm no poet.

by the seat of my pants

I want to outline in the worse way. I love to outline. Outlines look so cool, and with a word processors, it’s so easy. Best of all, it’s one of the best ways to procrastinate that I know, especially if you are me, because I know I’ll never finish one.

I’ve tried writing software. New Novelist, It’s a good program. I got it off EBay. I used it for about a week, then forgot about it.

The Cadillac of writing software; in my humble opinion, is
yWriter4. It’s got some neat bells and whistles. A story board, an outline feature, a rating chart, a daily word count target dowidget, individual chapter features, a word usage counter, a view point tracker, and more. Best of all, it is absolutely free. Check it out at the above link, the website is quite interesting as well.

Here’s what I always fall back on. It's rustic and home spun. Good old Microsoft Excel worksheet. I got the idea from Randy Ingermanson. If you haven’t read about his Snowflake Method, here’s the website, Snowflake Method. Even so, it’s still a post-outline, but with my lack of consistency, or until I get my undiagnosed ADD under control, that's long for early onset dementia, it’s the best I’m going to be able to do. It’s called seat of the pants writing.

Critique Groups

I've been a member of three critique groups. I've met some really nice folks who still stay in touch, but Oh my gosh. I don't think I'm alone in this. You critique a story and send it back, you know the person on the other end is either going to balk or see the light. I do both. I balk, then I see the light.

You spend hours sweating over each and every word you write and put it out there for someone to, dare I say, criticize. That's what critique means. It's a humbling experience.

After the decadent ice cream binge, the denial, and the stomping of feet, you finally have to either reject or accept, sit down and put the advice to use or not. It's always been your choice and it's always going to be painful. But in the end, goshdarnit, you turn out to be a better writer and a better person, so sock it to me, I need improving.

An Interview with a Star

Interview your characters. No kidding. The best way to get to know them is to interview them like they lived. With this in mind, I sat down with the star of my book for a serious interview. Had to make sure he was the man for the job. But like everything I write, it got out of hand and ended up like this.

"This is Giddy Gerda, and I’m here interviewing Jack Troy, the starring character in E.A. McKenzie’s soon to be completed book, ‘Bum’s Rush.’

“Thank you for joining me here today, Jack. I must say, you are one handsome dude. I like ‘em tall, dark, and handsome. Where do you get your suits? No, let me guess, J.C. Penney’s.” --Honking donkey laugh from Giddy. -- “Just kidding."

Giddy turns toward the audience: "Jack is the CEO of Galaxy International Internet Services and works in that big tall building on SW 6th and Morrison."

Giddy turns back to Jack: "Making the kind of dough you make, that suit is probably some brand name I can’t pronounce. I don’t speak Italian.”--Honking donkey laugh from Giddy—“Oh, I just crack myself up.”

Back to Jack: “But seriously, you look like you just stepped off the cover of GQ Magazine.”

Jack Troy remains unruffled and smiles:“You are a funny lady, and I know there were compliments in there somewhere. My mother always said, 'It’s not how well the package is presented, it’s what’s inside that counts.' And my father was always around to take me down a notch. He rode me pretty hard to take care of business—academics and sports, but most important they both taught me responsibility.”

Giddy contemplates Jack: "Hmm, I detect a little resentment, Jack. Was Daddy too hard on poor Jack?"

Jack’s smile fades and his eyes glaze: "He and I had some moments, shall we say."

Jack recovers his smile: "What normal, young, healthy boy doesn't lock horns with his father?"

Giddy taps her bottom lip with a manicured fingernail: "We'll come back to that another time. It’s a good thing your parents taught you responsibility, no matter how many "moments" it took. When they kicked the bucket, you were saddled with your nine-year old brother. I hope they instilled a lot of patience in you as well. And I hope you and he haven’t had ‘moments.’”

Jack Troy still smiles, but is now guarded: “I wouldn’t say I was saddled with him. With the difference between our ages, Ancel and I really didn’t know each other. By the time he was two, I was off to college. When I became his guardian, yes, it was rough, but for Ancel too, and there have definitely been ‘moments.’”

Giddy: “It must be easier now you’ve become acquainted, and he’s a teenager.”

Jack looks at Giddy as if a horn has just sprouted from her forehead: “The key word there is ‘Teenager.’ Easier doesn’t factor in.”

Giddy:" You look awfully young for a man with such a high post. I mean most CEO's are shriveled up, gray-haired men with wrinkled foreheads. They have one foot in the grave, another on a banana peel, and both arms clutching all the money they can get their hands on, in case there's a bank where they're going. Like that's possible. Money is made of paper, after all."

Jack Troy still maintains a pleasant, yet strained expression: “Let’s say I'm just the other side of twenty-nine. Don't worry, by the time this book is completed, I may look like your stereotypical CEO, minus the money."

Giddy: "Well that's all the time, or rather, space we have for today. We'll finish interviewing Mr. Troy in another post. Until then, this is Giddy Gerda saying, 'True heroes are fictional.'"

Getting Less Costing More

It seems to me everything is getting less and costing more. Frozen diners are where I notice it most. The ones that used to be full to the brim of ingredients are now so watered down you almost have to use a spoon to eat them. My favorite cereal bar is now smaller and has more calories. That upset me so much, I took the before and after wrappers and wrote the company a nasty letter. I never sent it. Now I wish I had. I might have gotten a case of them from the company.

Probably the only company who increases their ingredients are the cigarette companies. I don’t know this for sure, I don’t smoke anymore, but it makes sense. Keep ‘em addicted. But that’s another subject.