Don't Waste One Word

Today in class, I repeat my new writing slogan: Don't Waste One Word.

As we finish all the lessons in How to Write with Flair, students know that every single word matters. Each word creates a precise mood and image.

Don't waste one word. Don't settle for a weak or imprecise word when you can select a vivid and deliciously specific one.

We juice the sentence down to its best parts. We invite the sentence to do what we know it was meant to do.

I ask students to transform the weak verb into an image and mood-producing verb, and they proceed with flair. Instead of:

The leaves are on the ground.

They write:

The leaves garnish the ground. They dance on the ground. They obscure the ground. They even grapple with the ground. And of course, they blanket the ground.

I actually perceive things differently when I don't waste the verb. This isn't just writing we're talking about; it's living. I want vivid and deliciously specific, right this very moment.

The words--when I don't waste them--change everything.

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How's your writing life going?

Beyond the Boo Platter: Now She Wants Spiders

We gather in the kitchen to make the annual Halloween Fruit Platter for the class party. It's tradition now.

"What if we did a spider shape?" she asks so innocently.

Why not?

I like it. She loves it. It's nothing but a foil blob with legs that divide the fruit, and still, she loves it.

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I never thought the fruit platter would be so important to my children. I love that the littlest things make a big difference in their lives.

"You Are Not Essential": Go Home and Be Safe

Today, the university shuts down. I receive an email telling me to go home and be safe. In this email, I read this line, "Although we are all important, no one is essential."

It's humbling and strange to think about how non-essential we actually are. Over the next few hours, blogs will shut down (not essential), teaching will stop (not essential), meetings won't happen (not essential), and all the hustle and bustle of downtown commerce will cease (not essential!).

The email communication reminds me we matter deeply, but our activities are simply not essential.

During storms, we pare down to essentials: Go home and be safe. Gather your loved ones in your arms.

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Is it hard to know you're not essential?