TheWritersBag.com

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!

A few nights ago my wife and I were sitting at a café with friends having dinner. Our friend, Jim, was telling us about his bout with kidney stones. As I listened to the drama – and it was a drama – I became strangely caught up in it. Afterward, I found myself wondering why I was so intrigued by the long, involved account. After all, kidney stones are not the most exciting or romantic of subjects.

Then it hit me. It was, in fact, a story – not mere information. It had all the elements of a story: a protagonist (my friend Jim) who desperately wanted something (freedom from pain and a return to functional health), and an antagonist (the kidney stones) that were preventing him from achieving his need/desire.

Jim told his story well. When I analyzed it later that night, I realized it followed the tried-and-true three-act structure. The problem presented itself. The hero engaged in an up-and-down struggle to resolve it. There were turning points, a climax and a final resolution. The story had us on the edge of our seats.

It’s funny how people create stories from their experiences. Every day, people are battling health problems, getting fired, suffering accidents and having personal conflicts with family members, friends or work associates.

All these events – and many others – provide rich material for tales of human interest, and most humans are hard-wired to craft these events into fascinating personal stories, complete with embellishments, exaggerations and added dramatic flair.

The point is, people tell stories, and as a writer you should develop the habit of listening for them and to them. The stories people tell in everyday conversation can be valuable fodder for you, no matter what you write – whether you’re working on a novel or a magazine advertisement.

Plus, good stories are fun … or fascinating … or scary … or infuriating … or heartwarming. The point is, they pique our emotions, and as humans we love to have our emotions pumped.

As a writer, you’re in the story business. Listen for them. You’ll hear them everywhere.