“I’m Ready to Write – Hand Me My Decoder Ring!”

If you've ever wondered if your writing work habits are weird, the answer is probably yes. The good news is that you’re not alone.

I think it’s safe to say that most writers are particular about the environment in and conditions under which they write. Can't put a pen to paper until you're wearing your lucky Notre Dame sweat pants and have a glass of Orange Lavaburst Hi-C at your side? That's understandable. No words will come until you're playing The Mamas & the Papas at a volume that endangers your ear drums? I can see that. Work will only begin once you’re seated in front of your 1961 Underwood Quiet Tab Portable with a beret on your head, a parrot on your shoulder and a decoder ring on your pinky finger? Whatever it takes to get the job done, man.

Writers need these kinds of routines to be productive, says Stephen King, who – regardless of your opinion on his writing – is nothing if not productive.

In this post on the blog Daily Routines, which chronicles the work habits of writers and other interesting sorts, King explains his process: He sits down between 8 and 8:30 a.m. with a glass of water and a vitamin. His music must be playing, he must be in the same seat he always uses, and his papers are in the same places they were the day before. It’s a physical routine that gets his mind into writing mode. It’s the body’s way of telling the mind it’s almost time to get to work.

Whether you write professionally or you’re working on your own material after your day job, it’s not always easy to make the words come. Or make them make sense. Or make them something worth reading. So if a parrot or a fluorescent orange drink or “Monday, Monday” make that process easier, embrace it. It’s what any self-respecting writer would do.

By Abbie Kiefer.

Elmore Leonard's Ten Rules Of Writing

Easy on the Adverbs, Exclamation Points and Especially Hooptedoodle

from the New York Times, Writers on Writing Series.

By Elmore Leonard

These are rules I’ve picked up along the way to help me remain invisible when I’m writing a book, to help me show rather than tell what’s taking place in the story. If you have a facility for language and imagery and the sound of your voice pleases you, invisibility is not what you are after, and you can skip the rules. Still, you might look them over.

1. Never open a book with weather. If it’s only to create atmosphere, and not a character’s reaction to the weather, you don’t want to go on too long. The reader is apt to leaf ahead looking for people. There are exceptions. If you happen to be Barry Lopez, who has more ways to describe ice and snow than an Eskimo, you can do all the weather reporting you want.

2. Avoid prologues.

They can be annoying, especially a prologue following an introduction that comes after a foreword. But these are ordinarily found in nonfiction. A prologue in a novel is backstory, and you can drop it in anywhere you want.

There is a prologue in John Steinbeck’s “Sweet Thursday,” but it’s O.K. because a character in the book makes the point of what my rules are all about. He says: “I like a lot of talk in a book and I don’t like to have nobody tell me what the guy that’s talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he talks. . . . figure out what the guy’s thinking from what he says. I like some description but not too much of that. . . . Sometimes I want a book to break loose with a bunch of hooptedoodle. . . . Spin up some pretty words maybe or sing a little song with language. That’s nice. But I wish it was set aside so I don’t have to read it. I don’t want hooptedoodle to get mixed up with the story.”

3. Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue.

The line of dialogue belongs to the character; the verb is the writer sticking his nose in. But said is far less intrusive than grumbled, gasped, cautioned, lied. I once noticed Mary McCarthy ending a line of dialogue with “she asseverated,” and had to stop reading to get the dictionary.

4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb “said” . . .

. . . he admonished gravely. To use an adverb this way (or almost any way) is a mortal sin. The writer is now exposing himself in earnest, using a word that distracts and can interrupt the rhythm of the exchange. I have a character in one of my books tell how she used to write historical romances “full of rape and adverbs.”

5. Keep your exclamation points under control.

You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. If you have the knack of playing with exclaimers the way Tom Wolfe does, you can throw them in by the handful.

6. Never use the words “suddenly” or “all hell broke loose.”

This rule doesn’t require an explanation. I have noticed that writers who use “suddenly” tend to exercise less control in the application of exclamation points.

7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.

Once you start spelling words in dialogue phonetically and loading the page with apostrophes, you won’t be able to stop. Notice the way Annie Proulx captures the flavor of Wyoming voices in her book of short stories “Close Range.”

8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.

Which Steinbeck covered. In Ernest Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants” what do the “American and the girl with him” look like? “She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.” That’s the only reference to a physical description in the story, and yet we see the couple and know them by their tones of voice, with not one adverb in sight.

9. Don’t go into great detail describing places and things.

Unless you’re Margaret Atwood and can paint scenes with language or write landscapes in the style of Jim Harrison. But even if you’re good at it, you don’t want descriptions that bring the action, the flow of the story, to a standstill.

And finally:

10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.

A rule that came to mind in 1983. Think of what you skip reading a novel: thick paragraphs of prose you can see have too many words in them. What the writer is doing, he’s writing, perpetrating hooptedoodle, perhaps taking another shot at the weather, or has gone into the character’s head, and the reader either knows what the guy’s thinking or doesn’t care. I’ll bet you don’t skip dialogue.

My most important rule is one that sums up the 10.

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.

Or, if proper usage gets in the way, it may have to go. I can’t allow what we learned in English composition to disrupt the sound and rhythm of the narrative. It’s my attempt to remain invisible, not distract the reader from the story with obvious writing. (Joseph Conrad said something about words getting in the way of what you want to say.)

If I write in scenes and always from the point of view of a particular character—the one whose view best brings the scene to life—I’m able to concentrate on the voices of the characters telling you who they are and how they feel about what they see and what’s going on, and I’m nowhere in sight.

What Steinbeck did in “Sweet Thursday” was title his chapters as an indication, though obscure, of what they cover. “Whom the Gods Love They Drive Nuts” is one, “Lousy Wednesday” another. The third chapter is titled “Hooptedoodle 1” and the 38th chapter “Hooptedoodle 2” as warnings to the reader, as if Steinbeck is saying: “Here’s where you’ll see me taking flights of fancy with my writing, and it won’t get in the way of the story. Skip them if you want.”

“Sweet Thursday” came out in 1954, when I was just beginning to be published, and I’ve never forgotten that prologue.

Did I read the hooptedoodle chapters? Every word.

AIGA Raleigh is pleased to bring you Town Square.

The monthly gatherings are completely informal, 100% free, and best of all, you get to shape the dialogue of design in the Triangle area.

You'll find a complete list of Town Squares here.


Writer's Block Party

February 17 6:30-8 pm, The Raleigh Times Bar

We meet the third Tuesday of each month. Writers and non-writers are welcome.

Hosted by Toby Roan

Come share a few words about, well, words. We'll hoist a glass as we discuss writing in general, in-depth, in theory, or in relation to some project you're working on. Feel free to bring something you're proud of, stuck on, or stuck with.

Welcome To Writers Block Party

AIGA Raleigh is pleased to bring you Town Square. Your opportunity to meet fellow creative professionals in the Triangle. Your time to discuss topics and themes of your choice. Your chance to create your own creative community in North Carolina.

The monthly gatherings are completely informal, 100% free, and best of all, you get to shape the dialogue of design in the Triangle area.

You'll find a complete list of Town Squares here.


Writer's Block Party

Jan. 20 6:30 pm, The Raleigh Times Bar

We meet the third Tuesday of each month. Writers and non-writers are welcome.

Hosted by Toby Roan

Come share a few words about, well, words. We'll hoist a glass as we discuss writing in general, in-depth, in theory, or in relation to some project you're working on. Feel free to bring something you're proud of, stuck on, or stuck with.