"If you want something done, ask a busy person," is a saying I've heard. It seems accurate. I certainly remember getting up at 5:00 a.m., teaching all day, then running, oh, say, five-ten errands, cooking/eating dinner, throwing in a load of laundry, and heading back out for a meeting. If something got added on, it was just another check-off on the list.
But now that I'm retired, things have changed. I'm lucky if I accomplish one thing a day. I. am. serious!
Nope, I have no problem acceding to the truth of that particular homily.
It was when I tried to extend it to other ideas that it entertained me.
I mean:
"If you want something cleaned, ask a messy person?"
"If you want some money, ask a broke person?"
"If you want something read or written, ask an illiterate person?"
You get my drift.
I love this stuff...
See what you come up with.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Kip's Pick
As a writer, I often take a look at what works for other writers. Take this excerpt, for example. It's from the book which made me fall in love with fantasy, The Little White Horse, by Elizabeth Goudge, originally published in 1946. I have read it over and over. By the way, it is J.K. Rowling's favorite book as well. Before I read that, no one I asked had ever heard of this novel.
The turret stairs ended at a door so small that a large grown-up could not possibly have got through it. But for a slim girl of thirteen it was exactly right. Maria stopped and gazed at it with a beating heart, for though this little narrow low door was obviously hundreds of years old yet she felt as though it had been made expecially for her. For if she had been able to choose her own door this was the door she would have chosen. It was more like a front door than a bedroom door, like the door of her very own house. It was of silvery grey oak studded with silver nails, and it had a knocker made of the smallest daintiest horseshoe Maria had ever seen, polished so brightly that it shone like silver. At sight of it Maria thoguth instantly of the little white horse she had thought she had seen in the park, and that she had pointed out to Miss Heliotrope...only Miss Heliotrope hadn't been able to see it. The door was opened by a silver latch that, when Maria lifted it, clicked in a friendly sort of way, as thought it was welcoming her.
So what works for me as the reader in this particular passage? Simple. EG allows the main character to feel that being a child is more special than being an adult. For the reader whose life is full of adult restrictions, that is blissful escape.
The turret stairs ended at a door so small that a large grown-up could not possibly have got through it. But for a slim girl of thirteen it was exactly right. Maria stopped and gazed at it with a beating heart, for though this little narrow low door was obviously hundreds of years old yet she felt as though it had been made expecially for her. For if she had been able to choose her own door this was the door she would have chosen. It was more like a front door than a bedroom door, like the door of her very own house. It was of silvery grey oak studded with silver nails, and it had a knocker made of the smallest daintiest horseshoe Maria had ever seen, polished so brightly that it shone like silver. At sight of it Maria thoguth instantly of the little white horse she had thought she had seen in the park, and that she had pointed out to Miss Heliotrope...only Miss Heliotrope hadn't been able to see it. The door was opened by a silver latch that, when Maria lifted it, clicked in a friendly sort of way, as thought it was welcoming her.
So what works for me as the reader in this particular passage? Simple. EG allows the main character to feel that being a child is more special than being an adult. For the reader whose life is full of adult restrictions, that is blissful escape.
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