Not Yet Famous Quotations About Writing

I experienced a startling epiphany yesterday morning. The only reason that I remain an unknown author is because I’ve never published any pithy quotations. Well, I intend to rectify this grievous omission today. I therefore present the following quotations, which I expect you will find both instructive and amusing at the same time.

“My greatest desire is to write a symphony. But that’s never going to happen so I wrote  a novel instead.”  Rich Ritter

“As a writer, one of my gifts is the ability to revise perfectly good prose into drivel.”  Rich Ritter 

Revising the third draft of Nor Things to Come: A Trilogy of the American West

“Because not one literary agent has expressed even the slightest interest to represent me, I enjoy the singular privilege of writing whatever I want whenever I want.”  Rich Ritter

“After finishing a novel, a novella, and an epic trilogy on the family computer, I should buy a laptop to prove to my friends that I’m serious about writing.”  Rich Ritter

“I cherish the characters I create. When they succeed, I rejoice. When they struggle, I ache. When they die, I grieve. A psychiatrist might see delusional behavior, but I prefer to imagine that my love of fictional beings is a symptom of genius.”  Rich Ritter

You may use these quotations without my permission, but only if you give me proper credit. Thank you.

And Now For Something Completely Different: A Modified Grip for the Thumbless Percussionist

I admit it. This post is not exactly about writing. And it is more of a pictorial essay than a written one. I should also explain that I'm an amateur percussionist, just so you don’t get the wrong idea.

After a bit of surgery in June 2012, I found it impractical to play the keyboard instruments (marimba, xylophone, vibraphone, glockenspiel) by gripping the mallet between thumb and index finger. This photo should clarify the issue:

A few months following the procedure, I began experimenting with alternate grips that did not require use of the thumb. Here is one example of something I tried, which is derived from the Stevens four-mallet grip:

Although a necessary part of four-mallet technique, I found this grip awkward when holding one mallet. After a few more failed attempts, I discovered the following grip:

 

This modified grip has worked for me, and I now use it with both hands to provide a more balanced sound. I should note that this grip has not worked on snare drum because a drumstick is much thicker than a keyboard mallet and does not ride comfortably between the index and second finger. I have therefore continued to use the traditional grip on snare. As a result, my long rolls—which were never anything to brag about—are rougher than before the surgery, and my right hand still lacks stamina more than a year later.

Fortunately, I can still hold a tambourine comfortably in my right hand. And since my thumb rolls always sucked, nothing has changed.

I’ll get back to you if I come up with something completely different for snare drum.

Nor Things to Come: A Novel of the West

I should have mentioned this weeks ago, but several important distractions prevented me from doing so. After 40 months (give or take a few days) of dedicated work, I finished the final chapter of Nor Things to Come: A Novel of the West on July 16, 2013. I completed the epilogue three days later. Two friends, and my wife, are currently proofreading the 783-page manuscript. I expect they will require several months to finish the job. Final tally: prologue, 63 chapters, epilogue, 3 parts, 265,833 words, seven primary characters, dozens of secondary characters, a fictional book-within-a-book, history, comedy, tragedy, romance, murder, betrayal, redemption, horses, two cats, and a mongrel of a dog. I plan to send the revised manuscript to the publisher by late November.

And because my son advised me to include more photographs in this blog, I offer you the following picturesque view of Silver City, Idaho:

A Few Things That Really Annoy Me

Most of the time I’m uncommonly patient. Some have even noted that my ability to remain calm in nearly any situation approaches the pathological. But I must confess that my natural patience is not as endless as others might perceive. There are a number of things that really annoy me. I offer the following list for your consideration:

·        Excessive use of contemporary clichés. While watching some inane reality show a few months back, I lost track of the program’s purpose because I began counting the number of times the participants used the phrase, “Oh my God!” I also counted the number of times people mouthed the phrase without actually speaking. I turned the channel after reaching 100. This phrase annoys me so much that I actually complemented someone this week when they exclaimed, “holy crap!”

·        Mispronouncing the word “moot.” The pronunciation should be obvious, but when the word pops up in casual discussion people often say “mute,” especially when using the contemporary cliché (see above), “That’s a mute [sic] point.” Now that I think of it, I suppose that if you mouth the phrase “Oh my God!” without actually speaking, someone could accuse you of making a mute point.

·        Don’t take it personally. This phrase usually follows a personal insult or attack. For example: “What were you thinking when you proposed such a dumb idea? Don’t take it personally.” The phrase relieves the user of accountability.

·        Don’t be so defensive: This phrase usually follows one’s response to a personal insult or attack. The phrase relieves the user of accountability. For example:

“What were you thinking when you proposed such a dumb idea?”

“What?”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Why do you think it was such a bad idea?”

“Don’t be so defensive.”

·        Excessive use of verbs of being by bestselling authors. Since I am not a bestselling author, I probably have no right to comment. I will anyway. Walk into a bookstore—any bookstore. Pick up the hottest new bestseller from the display that always confronts you the moment you enter the store. Open the book to a random page. Read. You will often find something like this: She was concerned that he was no longer interested in her proposition. She was not sure that he was to be trusted, but he was an expert in the field after all, and there was no reason not to be trusting. As she thought of these things, she noticed that the room was cold, and that she was not as comfortable as she would like to be. You get the idea. Yuck.

·        Excessive use of similes by bestselling authors. I won’t quibble about the subtle differences between metaphors and similes. I’m not sure that I care. Let’s just say that a writer creates a simile by comparing two essentially unlike things. The key words to look for are “like” and “as.” Somehow, most of us have come to believe that good writing is loaded with similes. I don’t mind a few similes, but sometimes they are truly ridiculous. I have fabricated the following examples from memory to make my point:

His tie flapped in the breeze like the leaves of a palm tree during a hurricane. (That could really hurt)

She flitted across the floor like a smooth rock skipping on the surface of a calm lake. (I hope she doesn’t sink when she stops flitting.)

They gathered around the table as lions gather around the kill. (If this is true, then the men should eat first while the women wait.)

He attacked his work like a platoon of soldiers making a frontal assault. (I hope his work survives the attack.)

·        Grammar snobs. As you may know, I study grammar as little as necessary—although I do find it unavoidable from time to time and have studied a number of books on the subject. It therefore annoys me when someone dominates a meeting or discussion with incessant grammar snobbery. Who cares if it’s a present participle or a gerund? So what if you’ve split an infinitive? I say that clarity and grace are the priorities, not grammar. Call me a graceandclarity snob if you will, but I promise that I’ll never think I’m better than you.

I could go on, but long bullet lists annoy me too. Please let me know if something annoys you, and I might write about it.

Kirkus Review of Toil Under the Sun

My first novel, Toil Under the Sun, recently received a terrific review from Kirkus. You can find the link to the review below. Because Toil Under the Sun is a self-published book, this review is truly significant. First, Kirkus advertises themselves as "The World's Toughest Book Critics." Second, David Carnoy states the following in an article published on cnet.com titled Self-Publishing a Book: 25 Things You Need to Know: "Because the barrier to entry is so low, the majority of self-published books are pretty bad. If I had to put a number on it, I'd say less than 5 percent are decent and less than 1 percent are really good." And third, I now have independent confirmation that I am not wasting my time on my current book, Nor Things to Come: A Novel of the West. I plan to dive back into Chapter 4 of Part 2 today...right after I replace the shower head in the downstairs bathroom.

Kirkus Review of Toil Under the Sun

A Comical Skit to Teach You About Parts of Speech Whether You Like it or Not

     NARRATOR (a bespectacled college professor dressed in tweed jacket and speaking in a soothing academic voice, each part of speech enters the room when cued): After another contentious disagreement between Verb and Noun concerning an unexpected shift from transitive to intransitive that left Noun perplexed and humiliated, Noun has convened a meeting of all the parts of speech to resolve the matter. As you can see, Noun is already sitting behind an ornately-carved wood table waiting for the parts of speech to arrive at the small windowless room illuminated by candles. (Narrator gestures around the classroom) A shimmering dress flowing across her graceful legs, feisty Verb is ready for action as she strolls to the front row and sits directly across from Noun. Pronoun, dressed in monotonous gray from head to toe and tired of standing in for Noun (and feeling a bit underappreciated), sits behind Verb and stares at the floor. Wearing colorful but clashing bow tie, shirt, pants, and a dapper porkpie hat, Adjective immediately searches for his best friend Noun when he enters the room, and then saves a seat for Adverb because he knows she is usually late. Preposition follows closely behind and upon arrival at one of the folding chairs appears confused: should he sit on it or under it? Conjunction, full of youth and verve, but not particularly interested in the meeting or its agenda, skips into the room and quickly glances around to see who is attending (or not) before snuggling next to Pronoun (who she has always admired). Interjection enters with crashing footsteps and a loud exclamation to announce his arrival, but no one pays him a bit of attention because they’ve all heard it before. Adverb finally appears a few minutes late: she would have made a special effort to arrive on time if Verb or Adjective had called the meeting, but she has never fostered a meaningful relationship with Noun. Shall we listen in as the meeting begins?

NOUN (pounding a varnished wood gavel repeatedly on the top of the wood table): First an announcement: I would like to remind the group that the Articles are attending a jazz festival in the city of New Orleans and do not return until the end of the month. I see that Adverb has finally arrived—late as usual I might add—so let us begin the meeting. Although I asked you all to call me “master” last week, and “Bob” yesterday, please refer to me as “president” today. Better yet, call me “President Bob,” if you don’t mind. Now, the reason that I—President Bob—have called this meeting, is to—

VERB (her voice quivering with anger, interrupts): What right do you have to call any meeting at all. Just because you are the subject of a sentence—and can change your name to Bob, Davenport, toaster, or psychology as you please—doesn’t give you the right to order the rest of us around. I would like to move that you change your name to “blockhead” or “fool,” or better yet, “ignoramus.”

Verb turns and addresses the other parts of speech

And furthermore, I would like to point out that he’s not the boss of us, even if he decides to change his name to “boss.” Who’s willing to support me and second the motion?

The other parts of speech sit quietly and do not respond

Anybody? Doesn’t anyone in the room have the guts to support me on this? Am I the only one who is willing to take action?

CONJUNCTION (raising her slender arm): I would like to point out that Verb could not have made that motion without my help, and…

PRONOUN (standing and waving his arms): I would like to point out that Verb, bless her heart, used me repeatedly without ever mentioning “Bob” or “president.” But as usual, I get no respect for the important role I often play in syntax.

ADJECTIVE (removing the dapper porkpie hat from his exquisite head and using it to gesture): Shut up you silly Pronoun. You don’t even exist unless the wonderful Noun, which I often modify into something truly wonderful, establishes the primary subject and therefore the primary purpose of the sentence. Without the all-important “Bob” there is no “he” whatsoever. And without magnificent me, sentences would become as dull as a lackluster pronoun.

PRONOUN (speaking to Noun but keeping the corner of his eye on Adjective): Adjective always takes your side of the argument no matter what you say and ignores the rest of us. I don’t care what you call yourself. Without me, things would get pretty repetitious around her. Can you imagine? Bob decided to take a walk. On the way Bob met John, and Bob invited John to lunch. As Bob and John continued to the restaurant Bob and John ran into Sally. Bob invited Sally to lunch as well, and Sally accepted. Bob and John and Sally then walked briskly to the restaurant, and when Bob and John and Sally arrived Bob and John and Sally asked the head waiter, whose name was Fred, for a table near the window. Fred directed Bob and John and Sally to a table, and then Fred handed menus to Bob and John and Sally, and after a while Bob and John and Sally ordered lunch.

ADVERB (speaking cautiously because she had never developed a direct working relationship with Noun): I frankly disagree. Although he is often flamboyant, I genuinely appreciate Adjective and truly enjoy chumming around with the remarkably colorful guy. I enjoy hanging around with amazingly supple Verb too, and, not surprisingly, sometimes I even hang around with myself.

NOUN (pounding the gavel on the table again in response to Verb’s earlier motion): Look at the mess you’ve created, Verb! I can’t even start the meeting because of your intemperate outburst! I swear, sometimes it’s impossible to figure you out. You dart around in the past, present, and future. You change your mood from indicative to imperative at the drop of a hat. You shift from transitive to intransitive and then back again whenever you feel like it. Your voice is never the same, sometimes active and sometimes passive. And don’t even get me started on your so-called subjunctive mood. Frankly my dear, working with you is absolutely maddening!

INTERJECTION (finally perking up): Yikes and gadzooks! Did someone say “outburst”? Holy crap!!—that’s my job!!!

PREPOSITION (still trying to find a comfortable position under the chair, and then rising and stepping on top of the chair to speak above the din): This whole discussion is flying over my head. If someone doesn’t get to the point fast, I’m heading through the door, down the stairs, and across the street to that quaint little pub on the boulevard, the one below that charming bed and breakfast on the second floor.

 VERB (the tempo of her words rising): Listen here, President Boob…do you think it’s any fun trying to keep up with you? First you’re singular, then you’re plural, then you’re a collective noun, and then you take a coffee break and turn the whole mess over to Pronoun to avoid any work at all, and I have to conjugate all over again.

NOUN (closing his eyes and shaking his head) The name’s Bob—President Bob—and I expect an immediate apology for calling me President Boob.

VERB (rolling her eyes): Read my lips, President Blob. I will not apologize. I have not apologized. I am not apologizing. I will not be apologizing anytime soon.

ADVERB (clapping her hands and smiling broadly): I sincerely love it when she conjugates.

NOUN (shaking the gavel at Adverb): Adverb, I can’t even remember a single time when you supported me on an issue. You always side with Verb! What is your problem?

CONJUNCTION (surprised and alarmed and speaking to both Noun and Verb): Can’t the two of you just work together and come to some sort of agreement and stop all this fighting? After all, can you really write a decent sentence with only a noun or only a verb? I think both of you are important and that you should stop arguing so that we can all go home and relax and enjoy the evening and get on with life.

Pausing to think before continuing

And if you really want a genuine problem to complain about, try the experience of some writer replacing you with a lowly semi-colon in the middle of a compound sentence and then you’ll know what true rejection feels like, or maybe you won’t, and this conversation will never end.

ADJECTIVE (waving the crisp, clean porkpie hat in the tense air of the stuffy little room): You think that’s bad. How do you think it feels when some thoughtless writer mistakenly uses you to modify a scandalous verb or another glittering adjective? Try that for a mortifying event.

Then turning to Adverb

No intentional offense, my humble friend. You probably feel the same when an insensitive writer uses you to modify a salacious noun, or even a lackluster pronoun.

PRONOUN (he stands, he sniffs, he wipes a tear from his eye): Here we go again. Lackluster pronoun. How come I never get to be the salacious one? Why does everybody always assume that I’m boring? I ask all of you: who ever thinks of me as salacious? Anybody? Any one of you? I would like to be thought of by someone in this room as salacious once in a while. Is this too much for me to expect?

NOUN (attempting to stifle a snigger): I, your president and leader, would be more sympathetic to your plight if you could ever come up with a decent gender-neutral personal pronoun. The other parts of speech and I, your president, have waited for years.

PRONOUN (his sad expression turning to a sneer): I’m working on it, but every time I throw something out for consideration everyone laughs at me. For example, “shim” was not well received by anybody. Neither was “herm.” Frankly, I’m running out of options.

VERB (leaning provocatively against the back of the chair and giggling): Well, you have to admit that both “shim” and “herm” are ridiculous, but not as ridiculous as your earlier attempts. I still remember the unfortunate day you announced “shis.” That surprised everyone, including the Articles. One false keystroke by a writer and who knows what kind of trouble she might get into with the editors.

NOUN (standing and pointing the gavel randomly around the room): Enough of gender-neutral personal pronouns. This meeting is turning into a chaotic event. Will someone please make a legitimate motion so that we can achieve a concrete result?

VERB (also standing and waving her arms): Sure, I don’t mind taking some action since everyone else is unwilling. I retract my earlier motion, since you found it offensive, and move that there is no point to this meeting and that we adjourn posthaste.

ADVERB (aggressively jumping to her feet): I happily second the motion—and what a wonderfully clever use of the adverb “posthaste.” Very few writers have properly appreciated that lovely word in my recent memory.

ADJECTIVE (throwing the now rumpled porkpie hat across the room just below the mottled ceiling in need of a fresh coat of pristine paint): And I third the astonishing motion by exquisite Verb. I can see now that I have made a serious mistake by not getting to know this lovely woman better, an unfortunate occurrence that I intend to rectify.

NOUN (his voice shaking and now pointing the gavel directly at Adjective): You can’t third a motion, Adjective. And stay away from Verb. The two of you have nothing in common. For starters, look at the clothes you wear. Look at that tie. Look at that shirt. Good grief!

INTERJECTION (exclaiming in a slow crescendo): Did someone say good grief! GOOD GRIEF!!!!

CONJUNCTION (dancing and clapping and smiling): I love it when someone uses “and” at the beginning of a sentence. I wish more writers would do that. It gives me chills.

PREPOSITION (crawling out from under the chair again): Can’t we just call an end to this meeting and all head through the door, down the stairs, and across the street to that nice little pub on the boulevard below the bed and breakfast on the second floor? That’s my recommendation.

NOUN (slamming the gavel on the table): Order! Order! Get your butts in those folding chairs immediately. Order!

NARRATOR (the parts of speed argue distantly in the background and follow the narrator’s cues to leave the room): And on it went for another seven minutes, when Preposition, who could not tolerate another moment under the chair, finally took matters into his own hands and headed through the door. And then Conjunction followed, and right behind too. Soon Verb—glad for the opportunity to taunt Noun once again—waved goodbye to Noun with a confrontational flip of her hand and dashed out of the room. Adverb closely followed verb. Adjective ignored the tedious hammering of the ponderous gavel and the chaotic shrieks of Noun and also followed Verb because he wanted to get to know her better (although this is a separate and quite heartrending story of a tragically doomed relationship). Then Interjection yelled several irreverent exclamations, but luckily most of the other parts of speech were out of earshot, and when he had bolted from the room only Noun and Pronoun remained.

Narrator pauses to glance first at Noun and then at Pronoun

But our story is not quite finished yet.

NOUN (slumping into his chair and tossing the gavel onto the table): I give up. There’s no way these unruly parts of speech will ever agree on anything. That’s it. I just give up.

Pronoun, the only one left in the room, stands and raises his hand

Yes Pronoun, what do you want now?

PRONOUN (glances at his shoes for several seconds before looking up at Noun): I’ve been considering something.

NOUN (obviously disillusioned with the collapse of the meeting): Yes, yes…what is it?

PRONOUN (suddenly brightening): What do you think of “heesh”?

THE END