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Whatever the weather where you are, and your attitude about the holiday season…for me it means only three more months until Launch Month (not Launch Day, but Launch Month) for Kings of the North.
It also means only one month left before turning in Book III, which is ambling along towards the version the editor sees, still untitled. So unless there are major changes, I’ll be scarce on the blog while keeping the already abraded nose firmly on the relentlessly turning grindstone.
Along with some filling-in of gaps and moving-around of still unattached bits, the deep combing of early chapters is going ahead briskly. There’s been a lot of “I wrote that? How could I? DUH! That’s not the right word! Talk about dangling modifiers!! Wait–that’s impossible! Who said that?…” internal dialogue going on. This is not a promise that no such infelicities will exist in the finished version (they can slither through undetected, or creep back in via software conversion later) but it’s a statement that yes, yes, work is being done on this kind of thing, and what you get will be lots better than what was there before. (Writers, including me, feel unjustly accused when someone points out a typo or two and announces that the writer is obviously a careless hack who doesn’t bother to proofread the work.)
When I’m writing at a pretty good clip, I write it as it flows…which means things get out of order sometimes (more often than I like.) I find what should be the first sentence buried in the paragraph, or syntactic reversals within a sentence (“Far in the distance he saw a fleet approaching” v. “He saw a fleet approaching far in the distance” or “hill, tall and green” v. “tall green hill.”)
Sentence order in paragraphs must be sequential in terms of the action to keep the reader oriented (if a character whacks someone with a rock and then picks up the rock, readers will be either amused, confused, or annoyed.) Fast writing–full flow writing–means I’m “seeing/hearing/feeling” events happening so fast that I may skip an intermediate (and necessary step) to get something down, only to “catch up” in the next moment–so the sentence isn’t where it should be. Some out-of-sequence sentences are just clumsy, not confusing, but every paragraph must be checked for that, specifically, because it’s something I do wrong multiple times in every first draft.
Syntactic reversals are trickier. Reversing “normal” word order is both natural (we do it when talking and thinking our way through what we want to say, as well as in colloquial speech, slang–for instance in the current usage of placing “not” at the end of a sentence to negate it) and very powerful in writing if used thoughtfully, intentionally, to create an effect. It occurs in my first drafts in the “conversational” sense, but far too often to be useful in creating a deliberate effect (it has to be unusual for that purpose.) And so the sentences themselves must be looked over for such unintended reversals.
Then there’s word choice. For every fictional milieu, there’s a culture (or more), and making it come alive in printed (or heard) words means choosing words that (in whatever language the characters really speak) would be used. In Paksworld, that’s particularly important. The word-choices shift a little from the Gird/Luap books to the main group (DEED and the new ones) to reflect the history between, but the real difference is between what I can use in the space opera/space adventure books, and these. Yet I’m alive in the 21st century, exposed to current usage and slang, so first drafts acquire a sprinkling of words that don’t belong. Sometimes it’s easy to change them. Sometimes it takes longer and another troll through the Compact OED. (And that always means I get distracted and wander off down lovely meandering lanes of language.)
So…that’s what I’m doing this lovely cold clear day, rather than taking a walk out on the land. (Well, after doing some other writing-related business stuff first thing.) Have a good one yourselves.
Comment by Kip Colegrove — December 1, 2010 @ 12:00 pm
I easily get attached to the way I envision something and describe it initially, so that when it becomes clear it’s gotta change for the sake of clarity, it’s sometimes a bigger wrench than it should be to let it go. But reading something aloud, imagining (or actually having) an audience, is a good way to get my ego in the right position.
If the treasured infelicity makes it all the way to the pulpit version of a sermon, for example, it often becomes clear, as I’m standing in front of the microphone, that it has to be changed on the fly (and later in the text file).
Have a good December, busy as that month always is. We’re having our first serious snowfall up this way.
Comment by Adam Baker — December 1, 2010 @ 7:08 pm
Definitely looking forward to release day, the anticipation grows every day. Im hoping to get another gift card for Christmas this year, that I can use to pre-order the book.
Comment by David R Campbell — December 1, 2010 @ 9:50 pm
What would be an example of “words that don’t belong”? Modern phrases, or technology-based words?
Comment by elizabeth — December 1, 2010 @ 10:55 pm
That would include both individual words that are wrong in themselves (obvious things like computer and telephone; less obvious ones like church) and phrasing, which includes both the component words and the rhythm, the sound of the language.
Most of what we actually say, the casual phrases of greeting, parting, signalling conversational turns, are temporal cues as well. We know, for instance, that the average modern person doesn’t ask someone’s opinion with “What say you?” That belongs a few centuries back. We say “What d’you think?” or “How’s that grab you?” or more formally “What’s your opinion/thought on that?”
One of the things I noticed when we moved here was that the oldest people (who’ve since died) had developed their rhythms and habits of speech before radio arrived here–just from talking and listening to everyday people. There was a distinct difference from people in my generation and later, who had grown up hearing radio (and later, television.) Broadcast speech privileged a certain dialect, and an educated, standardized way of speaking, a limited set of metaphors with which to compare experiences. (Everyone now knows to say they were “devastated” by something unpleasant.)
Since I’m surrounded by 21st c. speakers speaking 21st c. American English, my first drafts naturally show that influence. But when you’re building an entire world out of words…the words have to fit with it, or you’ve got incongruities (a word that doesn’t belong.)
Comment by Dave Ring — December 2, 2010 @ 3:33 pm
I was pleasantly startled today when I asked for someone by name on the phone and got the reply, “This is she”. Correct now, as it was then, but you just don’t hear it anymore.
Vaguely within the bounds of cultural differences in the use of wordings, I’m curious whether any of the peoples of Paksworld use alliterative meters (as in Beowulf or as used by Tolkien’s Rohirrim).
Comment by elizabeth — December 3, 2010 @ 8:52 am
The Pargunese and the horsefolk both have an alliterative tradition in performance, but not in common speech.
And I just ran across another word I can’t use: kidnapping.
Comment by Kerry (aka Trouble) — December 3, 2010 @ 1:51 pm
@Dave: I learned to use that phrase at a very early age due to having a grandmother who had been an English teacher. What gets me is the stunned silence on the other end of the phone when I use that in reply to someone asking to speak with me.
Comment by Jenn — December 4, 2010 @ 10:09 am
Kidnapping?
Comment by elizabeth — December 4, 2010 @ 10:31 am
Involuntary removal and captivity, yes. Which, as well all know, happened to Kieri as a child, but also happens from time to time to others.
Ransom may or may not be asked or offered.
Comment by Kip Colegrove — December 4, 2010 @ 1:15 pm
I guess a term like abduction would do for kidnapping. Though it has a rather formal or legalistic ring to it, being of the Latin/Romance strain in English vocabulary.
Abduction of various sorts has gone on worldwide on over the centuries. So one needs a way to refer to it in any created world that makes sense in terms of human nature.
Comment by Jenn — December 5, 2010 @ 8:22 am
Thank you for the excellent definition of kidnapping and reteaching Orphelia’s lesson of how much more can be conveyed by the spoken word.
allow me to ask my question again:
Kidnapping?(eyebrows furrowed together in a look of confusion, voice intoning a note of incredulity and head tilted to the left and bobbed forward the lifted as if to ask “please explain further the reason that kidnapping is no longer a usable word”)
Comment by elizabeth — December 5, 2010 @ 9:49 am
Needed more unpacking? Sorry.
Kidnapping *in this universe* immediately brings to mind (to my mind, anyway) a 20th-21st c. set of images, laws, and conventions. From the famous Lindbergh case to those presented almost weekly in the various “crime” shows on network TV, and also on news programs when a child is taken away by a stranger or an estranged noncustodial parent…the word “kidnapping” reinforces “kid” for child (not a usage in Paksworld), and the sequence of events in our legal sytem for searches, ransom demands, negotiation with presumed kidnappers, etc., right down to campaigns for (and ads on milk cartons about) “missing and exploited children”, etc. Kidnapping is a crime with a (now) very specific legal meaning, as well. The word itself is relatively recent (late 17th c. according to the OED)and presumed to be of criminal origin. The original victims were stolen to become someone’s servants.
Abduction–though a more formal word–does not contain all those unwanted and inappropriate associations. Within abduction are included the involuntary capture and movement of adults, as well as children, and the use of the snatched person as a hostage as well as a source of ransom or a satisfaction of sexual perversion.
Certainly kidnapping continues to be a usable word in our world, and in stories set in a future attached to ours (i.e. science fiction stories that grow out of our culture.) But I’m not happy with it in the Paksworld universe, and that’s why.
Comment by Jenn — December 5, 2010 @ 11:43 am
Thank you for the unpacking.I would never have made the connection as the word kidnapping has never brought milk cartons to mind but I can see how if it did it would not be a welcome word.
Comment by elizabeth — December 5, 2010 @ 12:35 pm
I guess we each have our own set of connections for words. Milk cartons are fairly near the top of the historical stack for me, though the OED etymology is even later (odd when 17th & 18th c. usage feels newer, but it’s when I learned about it.) Beneath lie the Lindbergh kidnapping, then what I heard as a child about others, etc.
Comment by Genko — December 13, 2010 @ 12:37 pm
When I saw the initial objection to “kidnapping,” I thought about it and realized that both “kid” (to mean child) and “napping” (to mean abducting or stealing) sound more like present-day slang. I didn’t think about the milk carton thing or even the celebrity stories, the celebrity stories being pretty emblematic of what happened with Kieri too. I guess I figure that a lot of modern “kidnapping” is custody and/or family feud kinds of things. A true stranger kidnapping is fairly rare, though not unheard of, of course.
Comment by elizabeth — December 13, 2010 @ 12:45 pm
Words can be very slithery. Owen Barfield commented in the early 20th c. that language as humans have it starts with a fundamental lie–a metaphor, which claims that a sound = a thing. the word “book” = the physical object book…same for “window” and “tree” and so on. When we think about it, we know the word is not the thing (but the lure of that idea is so great that it’s common in considerations of magic–the “true name” gives power, words in the “old speech” or the “wizard’s tongue” give power over the things. And of course in part of the Genesis story, when the objects of creation get their names–which are, surely, True Names.
Words are a kind of magic, and thus have unexpected powers, whether used knowledgeably or not. And, being kind of magic and also kind of artificial, they change–sometimes rapidly, sometimes slowly–as they’re used by different speakers/writers and understood (well or poorly) by different hearers/readers.
Comment by Jenn — December 14, 2010 @ 8:25 pm
What you say about words is so true. I wonder how much of the magic of a word depends on whether a person thinks in word or in picture.
I am a picture thinker. so a word any word is amazing to me in the images it creates. If I try to see the word itself in my head it usually is visions of a hand writing out said word. this means I am a great pictionary player and yet can never seem to articulate what I really want to say with out great effort.
Comment by Sully — December 23, 2010 @ 10:22 pm
There’s been a lot written about the homogenization of sound in the world of classical music as well, violin specifically. Also blamed on radio and subsequent media. While technical standards have risen in the past century, if you listen to OLD recordings, individual soloists all had more personality and were more easily recognizable than the past couple generations. For instance, there were more great teachers and schools of playing. Somebody from Russia would have a different flavor to their sound than somebody in London or Berlin or Brussels, etc. Compare that to now, where probably 3/4 of the soloists playing today studied with Dorothy DeLay at Juillard.