TheWritersBag.com

Writing well is a finicky endeavor. You have to approach the process right or it will slip away from you no matter how much talent you have.

Ernest Hemingway struggled emotionally with the process of writing. He suffered when the words didn’t come the way he knew they should. He exulted when they did. Because he was first and foremost a writer, he designed his life around his literary output. For “Papa,” writing took precedence over being a husband, father or anything else.

Here’s what he said about when writers should quit writing for the day and what they should do when they put down their pen or take their fingers off the keyboard:

“The best way is always to stop when you are going good and when you know what will happen next. If you do that every day … you will never be stuck.

“Always stop while you are going good and don’t think about it or worry about it until you start to write the next day. That way your subconscious will work on it all the time. But if you think about it consciously or worry about it you will kill it and your brain will be tired before you start.”

In A Moveable Feast, Hemingway wrote:

“When I was writing, it was necessary for me to read after I had written. If you kept thinking about it, you would lose the thing that you were writing before you could go on with it the next day. It was necessary to get exercise, to be tired in the body, and it was very good to make love with whom you loved. That was better than anything. But afterwards, when you were empty, it was necessary to read in order not to think or worry about your work until you could do it again.

“I had learned already never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.”

So there you have it from a master. Don’t stop writing when you’re at a dead end. Stop when you know what the next step will be. Give your writing mind a rest after working. Don’t think or worry about your work during those times. Instead, let your subconscious mind play with it. It will. Between writing sessions, get physical exercise, read what others have written or are writing, and – if it’s appropriate and you’re lucky – make love.

You can read more writing tips from Ernest Hemingway in the fascinating book, Ernest Hemingway on Writing. It’s a wonderful compendium of what the great writer said about the art, taken from his interviews and works. In my opinion, it’s required reading for anyone who is serious about writing.

Someone who hadn’t yet read Hemingway recently asked me which of his books I thought he should read first. My suggestion was to start with The Sun Also Rises, and then move on to Short Stories – a collection of his first 49 stories. They are wonderful.

Once in a while I stumble across wonderful writing in places I would never have expected. Take, for instance, a gem my daughter and I read on the local online avalanche danger report before heading out for some high-mountain, backcountry snowshoeing yesterday. Here’s an excerpt, as it was written:

Salt Lake Avalanche Advisory

Forecaster: Drew Hardesty

We suffered another fatality yesterday…. There’s this idea going around that we’re out of the woods. That things are stabilizing. A few days ago, it was CERTAIN you would trigger an avalanche. Now, you might get away with it. It’s Russian Roulette, folks. Nothing more, nothing less. With the checkerboard out there, the lingering slopes are hanging in the balance, waiting for the trigger. The slopes that slid during the cycle have reloaded and many are likely to repeat. Even the savviest have used up all the tricks in the bag and are reduced to skipping along slopes in the mid-20 degree slope angle range or walking ridgelines.

If you look at avalanche sensitivity on a bell-curve, I’d argue that it’s most dangerous not at the apex but along the sides of the ‘bell’ where conditions are (1) starting to deteriorate and then (2) “starting to improve”. Because it’s not all about the snow. It’s about us. Here’s what I wrote as we were starting this mess: “These are the conditions that will catch and kill people. No, we are not having a widespread natural cycle. No, we are not seeing more snow and blow. BUT, it is where you and the snowpack intersects on a line of desire and instability that will produce the accident.” And now, word’s on the street that we’re out of the woods. You might get away with it. But, it’s more likely that you won’t.

That’s what I call powerful writing – words that do the job they’re intended to do, and do it with panache. The forecaster used words and phrases like “fatality,” “Russian roulette,” and “catch and kill” with chilling effect, together with the seemingly paradoxical concept of danger being found where conditions are starting to deteriorate and starting to improve. He even used a witty and appropriate cliché: “out of the woods.” Later in the report, Hardesty referred to our mountains as “the war zone that is the Wasatch Range.” Thanks to the forecaster’s engaging, punchy, persuasive prose, we decided to take our avalanche beacons, probes and shovels. No, we didn’t have to use them, but we might have. And we made sure we chose one of the safer backcountry destinations. Hats off to you, Mr. Hardesty.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: Clarity is crucially important when writing.

One of the most common enemies of clarity is the sinister (though often humorous) misplaced phrase. Here are a few examples:

• A bank was reported robbed by the police this morning.
• Fred staggered out of the cabin before sunrise and ran into a bear wearing his pajamas.
• After years of being buried in junk in the garage, I discovered my old high school yearbook.
• With an abundance of curly hair all over her body, Janet thought the new puppy was adorable.
• After coming to a boil, you should let the steel-cut oats simmer.

Okay, the police did not rob the bank. And the bear was not wearing Fred’s pajamas. Nor was I buried in junk in the garage for years before finding the yearbook. The puppy – not Janet – was covered in curly body hair. And you should not boil yourself before letting the oats simmer.

These sentences clearly contain misplaced phrases and few readers would be fooled by them. But you never know. It’s better to be safe than sorry. Here are clearer versions without misplaced phrases:

• The police reported that a bank was robbed this morning.
• Fred, wearing his pajamas, staggered out of the cabin before sunrise and ran into a bear.
• I discovered my old high school yearbook, which had been buried in the junk in the garage for years.
• Janet thought the new puppy, with an abundance of curly hair all over her body, was adorable.
• You should let the steel-cut oats simmer after bringing them to a boil.

Unfortunately, not all misplaced phrases are apparent. Some can lead to serious and even dangerous misunderstandings. So be vigilant. If you have to misplace things, misplace your keys, your cell phone or your pen. But don’t misplace your phrases!