What do the following words have in common?
Activity
Awesome
Beautiful
Big
Do
Interesting
Leave
Piece
Put
Stay
They're perfectly good English words, right? How many times have you heard them in the course of a conversation? How many times have they crept into your writing over time? They are on a list of the one hundred most commonly overused words in the English language. But never fear. There's a book that addresses that. The title is A Cure for the Common Word by K.D. Sullivan. The back blurb on the book tells us our brains hold a vocabulary of more than 20,000 words, but we only use a small fraction of them. Instead we use the same words over and over. Words like interesting, good, and nice. I mean, how general and abstract are those?
Each word has a two-page spread with definitions, sample sentences, quotes, and an extensive list of synonyms. These can be found in any good thesaurus, of course, but the list breaks them down into parts of speech. Nearly 60% are adjectives and adverbs.
Let's take interesting, for example. The author provides ( I almost said gives, but it's on the list) 39 "cures," with seven "powerful remedies." Here are the remedies for interesting:
Absorbing
Amusing
Compelling
Fascinating
Intriguing
Riveting
Stimulating
It's better than a thesaurus because the author zeroes in on the culprits. It's well worth the $14.95 list price. So, when you begin the revision process and find your prose or poetry ho-hum, grab this little gem of a book and start circling words.
FLEX YOUR MUSCLES
Writing Prompt:
Write about the stain on the wall.
Showing posts with label Writing Prompts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing Prompts. Show all posts
Monday, July 2, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
Someone once called me a professional student. Maybe it was because after graduating from high school in 1954 it took me the next fifty years to finally walk down the aisle and receive my Masters degree in English. That's right. Got that puppy in 2004 at the tender age of 67. Unfortunately I won't be around to join my fellow grads from the class of '04 when they get to sit down at the front in their golden robes in 2054. Be that as it may, that education is something I wouldn't trade for anything in the world and it's something no one can ever take away from me.
And guess what? I'm still at it. Last week I made my way out to McNeese not once, but twice. Poetry class on Tuesday and Flash Fiction on Thursday. I've been seriously blocked since the first of the year. Hadn't written anything new since January. I left Poetry class with two poems and Flash Fiction class with one very short story. Got my mojo back. These are Leisure Learning classes, so there's no pressure to do anything. I have two excellent mentors. Connie, a retired teacher, is the poetry instructor, and Rachel, an MFA grad student is our fiction teacher. We only have three in the poetry class, but that's okay. Quality, not quantity. We have a few more, maybe eight, in the fiction class, but still quite manageable.
So go ahead and call me names. I'm going to keep at it as long as the old brain lets me.
P.S. If you do the math you can even find out how old I am. I don't do math. I'm an English major.
FLEX YOUR MUSCLES
Writing Prompts
Anthony Burgess suggested taking a page from a dictionary and seeing if the words on the page can build up a scene or a description.
And guess what? I'm still at it. Last week I made my way out to McNeese not once, but twice. Poetry class on Tuesday and Flash Fiction on Thursday. I've been seriously blocked since the first of the year. Hadn't written anything new since January. I left Poetry class with two poems and Flash Fiction class with one very short story. Got my mojo back. These are Leisure Learning classes, so there's no pressure to do anything. I have two excellent mentors. Connie, a retired teacher, is the poetry instructor, and Rachel, an MFA grad student is our fiction teacher. We only have three in the poetry class, but that's okay. Quality, not quantity. We have a few more, maybe eight, in the fiction class, but still quite manageable.
So go ahead and call me names. I'm going to keep at it as long as the old brain lets me.
P.S. If you do the math you can even find out how old I am. I don't do math. I'm an English major.
FLEX YOUR MUSCLES
Writing Prompts
Anthony Burgess suggested taking a page from a dictionary and seeing if the words on the page can build up a scene or a description.
Monday, June 4, 2012
The Oner
Preacher Hebert was a oner. "Preacher" was a nickname he picked up in grammar school, and it followed him through his long, diverse life. Will Rogers once said he never met a man he didn't like. Preacher went him one better. He never met a man who didn't like him. As the years passed more and more of his friends, coworkers, and family members said goodbye to this world.
"There won't be anyone left to see me off," he often joked. He would have been surprised at the steady stream of condolers on visitation night and the standing-room-only crowd in the chapel the day of his funeral. There were plenty there to "see him off." Wife, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, former coworkers, hunting and fishing buddies, seven siblings, and assorted extended family. And friends. Lots of friends of all ages. The eulogies went on for quite a while.
He was in my life from the day I was born until the day he died. I observed nearly every phase of his life. Early on I remember those dark Cajun looks--the curly hair, the laughing eyes, the pug nose that is a strong familial trait of the Heberts. Tall and solidly built, he had an athlete's fluidity of movement. I remember his hands--so big they could hide a baseball, strong enough to skin an alligator, yet with a touch so delicate he often bested his sisters, so I'm told, in a game of jacks. The dark curly hair grayed and thinned over the years, but the laughing eyes were there until they closed for the last time in his ninety-second year. December 8, 1999. Twenty-three days before the new century.
He excelled in all sports, but his passion was baseball. He was amazed he could actually get paid for doing something he loved so much. But when it was time, he hung up his cleats and went on to the next phase of his life. He never tried to relive the past through his children. Of the five of us, only two showed any real interest in sports, but that was fine with him. He always supported us in everything.
His retirement years afforded him the opportunity to pursue his other passions. He hunted ducks in the fall and winter. Spring and summer was the time for fishing and gardening. He skinned alligators during gator season and read "shoot-em-ups" when the weather was too bad for anything else. His talents extended to the kitchen as well, where he could whip up a mean gumbo. We were often treated to fried filleted fish, French fries, and fried okra followed by our mother's blackberry cobbler.
A snapshot shows him sitting in his pirogue in a quiet backwater of the Calcasieu River, an old man fishing, his face shaded by a battered baseball cap. A stranger might be surprised to know he'd been equally at home on the pitcher's mound in St. Louis, San Diego, and Pittsburgh. That snapshot is only part of his story. He was in my life a long time, and I regret he's no longer a part of it.
FLEX YOUR MUSCLES
Writing Prompt
See what you can do with this:
A person who refuses to fit in and an asteroid heading toward Earth.
(Taken from The Storymatic)
"There won't be anyone left to see me off," he often joked. He would have been surprised at the steady stream of condolers on visitation night and the standing-room-only crowd in the chapel the day of his funeral. There were plenty there to "see him off." Wife, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, former coworkers, hunting and fishing buddies, seven siblings, and assorted extended family. And friends. Lots of friends of all ages. The eulogies went on for quite a while.
He was in my life from the day I was born until the day he died. I observed nearly every phase of his life. Early on I remember those dark Cajun looks--the curly hair, the laughing eyes, the pug nose that is a strong familial trait of the Heberts. Tall and solidly built, he had an athlete's fluidity of movement. I remember his hands--so big they could hide a baseball, strong enough to skin an alligator, yet with a touch so delicate he often bested his sisters, so I'm told, in a game of jacks. The dark curly hair grayed and thinned over the years, but the laughing eyes were there until they closed for the last time in his ninety-second year. December 8, 1999. Twenty-three days before the new century.
He excelled in all sports, but his passion was baseball. He was amazed he could actually get paid for doing something he loved so much. But when it was time, he hung up his cleats and went on to the next phase of his life. He never tried to relive the past through his children. Of the five of us, only two showed any real interest in sports, but that was fine with him. He always supported us in everything.
His retirement years afforded him the opportunity to pursue his other passions. He hunted ducks in the fall and winter. Spring and summer was the time for fishing and gardening. He skinned alligators during gator season and read "shoot-em-ups" when the weather was too bad for anything else. His talents extended to the kitchen as well, where he could whip up a mean gumbo. We were often treated to fried filleted fish, French fries, and fried okra followed by our mother's blackberry cobbler.
A snapshot shows him sitting in his pirogue in a quiet backwater of the Calcasieu River, an old man fishing, his face shaded by a battered baseball cap. A stranger might be surprised to know he'd been equally at home on the pitcher's mound in St. Louis, San Diego, and Pittsburgh. That snapshot is only part of his story. He was in my life a long time, and I regret he's no longer a part of it.
FLEX YOUR MUSCLES
Writing Prompt
See what you can do with this:
A person who refuses to fit in and an asteroid heading toward Earth.
(Taken from The Storymatic)
Monday, May 14, 2012
Southern Writers Magazine: A Review
Fiction. Nonfiction. Poetry. There's something for everyone in the May/June issue of Southern Writers Magazine. While I was paging through it I ran across some names familiar to me.
Jessica Ferguson, past president of the Bayou Writers Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana, of which I am a member, spotlights Louisiana writer Vicki Allen. She is the author of four books, two of which are on reading lists at local Louisiana high schools.
James R. Tate, a member of BWG, is in the Good Reads by Southern Writers column along with his book, Blood Bias, a thriller set in Texas.
Sherry Perkins, current president of the Bayou Writers, interviewed Viggo Mortensen about his poetry. Yes. Aragorn himself. When he's not running around Middle Earth he's writing beautiful poems. Check out the interview on page 22, where he dispenses advice for aspiring poets.
Several other articles caught my eye. There was advice on when to use the word "that" and when to leave it out. Something I've long struggled with. Book Proposal Boot Camp by W. Terry Whalin had excellent tips. C. Hope Clark tells you how to build your platform. Are you ready to start your memoir? Check out Kimberly Rae's piece, Your Story, on page 27.
There are quite a few other informative articles inside. I would say you need to get your own copy and look them over. You'll be glad you did.
Jessica Ferguson, past president of the Bayou Writers Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana, of which I am a member, spotlights Louisiana writer Vicki Allen. She is the author of four books, two of which are on reading lists at local Louisiana high schools.
James R. Tate, a member of BWG, is in the Good Reads by Southern Writers column along with his book, Blood Bias, a thriller set in Texas.
Sherry Perkins, current president of the Bayou Writers, interviewed Viggo Mortensen about his poetry. Yes. Aragorn himself. When he's not running around Middle Earth he's writing beautiful poems. Check out the interview on page 22, where he dispenses advice for aspiring poets.
Several other articles caught my eye. There was advice on when to use the word "that" and when to leave it out. Something I've long struggled with. Book Proposal Boot Camp by W. Terry Whalin had excellent tips. C. Hope Clark tells you how to build your platform. Are you ready to start your memoir? Check out Kimberly Rae's piece, Your Story, on page 27.
There are quite a few other informative articles inside. I would say you need to get your own copy and look them over. You'll be glad you did.
***
FLEX YOUR MUSCLES
Writing Prompts
Write a story or poem using these words:
Chimes
Thunderhead
Fade
Swirl
Winged
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