Intro Forward
The Commando Grammar Guide is for anyone wishing to communicate effectively through writing and doesn't want all of the English grammar bullshit, rigid structure, and pinhead rules. The conventional methods didn't work; try the unconventional. The CCG IS unconventional warfare on illiteracy and poor literacy. The goal is to help you improve your writing so the rest of us can figure out WHAT THE HELL YOU ARE TRYING TO SAY!
So, what are we writing - pulp fiction, amusing anecdotes, opinions, gripes, Gothic romance, war stories, whore stories, erotica, pornography, obscene literature? The vast majority of e-trash writers are "into" sharing sex stories and sexual fantasies. Those who aren't should try adult fiction as a way to write about something you like and know well, something you can easily get your imagination wrapped around and enjoy doing, for to write well one must write a lot. That trash will find readers who can offer a fledgling writer feedback.
Getting published is as easy as posting to a story board such as alt.sex.stories or alt.whatever.turns.you.on.stories. Do keep in mind that negative feedback is how a guided missle finds the target. Unless the missle is being told it is veering off target, that dumb stack of hardware just keeps right on going, thinking it is doing a good job. If a reader only says, "Good job," you'll be like a dumb missle. The very worst reviewers of your material are those who love you. What you want is a large group of critical assholes. Best place to find those is in the adult fiction reader gallery of alt.whatever.story. They can guide a SCUD to a falling snowflake given enough material.
I can't tell you what to write. The material is up to you, but this tip goes to the root of effective writing:
KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE
Okay, so you know your audience. Now, you wanna rite reel good. Let's begin with punctuation. Good use of punctuation is key to effective communication, even in trash, or especially in trash. You may think trash is easy to write, but trash is the most difficult to write well. When you write about sex, passion, erotic feelings, and powerful emotions, you are taking on a major communication challenge. When you add scenery and a large cast of characters, you are taking on a writing challenge that makes "Moby Dick" look like a fishing trip to Lake Wannapoopoo. Melville hardly needed any punctuation until they caught up with the whale.
| Note: The following script tickled a group of Nam vet Green Berets on a very early discussion list when there were only a handful in cyberspace bullshitting on black screens with green phosper letters at modem speeds of 9.6 and 14.4kbps, way back in 1993 before AOL spilled out onto the information super highway looking for the surf. This imaginary boot camp for Remington Raiders forms the instructional backdrop for the Commando Grammar Guide. |
[CHAIRBORNE COMMANDOS, SERGEANT!]
Wrong, you are Chairborne Commando Wannabes. I'll tell you when you can call yourselves Chairborne Commandos.
"Uh...okay. Here goes. Da commander say:
[kerplunk]
[ka-plop]
Okay, that should do it. Henderson, Johnson, Kirby, and Little John--take Corporal Kelley and Private Mitchel to Batallion Aid. Put them on cots, then get back here on the double.
Men, I'm sorry I had to do that, but it was necessary to remove certain people from the ranks. The people I am referring to have a condition called Myopic Un-Mitigated Balance of biLateral Equilibrium (MUMBLE)--they move their lips when they read.
Actually, they silently speak what they read. They need punctuation in order to breathe properly. Long paragraphs of run-on sentences cause them to pass out. That one paragraph took those people out. I wanted to avoid embarrassing them. I am doing this mostly for Corporal Kelley, a man who saved my career in the Nam by taking a bullet meant for my Remington with his Smith Corona, a man who bravely suffers from this condition. Rest assured, he is not alone. Evidently, Mitchel is ate-up with it too.
Please consider these unfortunates when you write. Although writing without punctuation or proper capitalization is no reflection on a person's intelligence or education, punctuating is considerate of people who suffer from mumbleopia.
Mark Twain, in fact, used no punctuation. After his editor chastised him for this, he sent in a page full of periods, commas, colons, semi-colons and such with the following note:
"Here is the punctuation marks you wanted put them where you want them"
They knew nothing about mumbleopia in Twain's day. He had an excuse; we don't. MUMBLErs (as they prefer to be called) suffer in silent neglect. Kelley often passes out after reading a few lines of a punctuationless message. He then calls me in and asks that I translate the message. I don't mind doing this, but it is a hassle when we are under fire or have to meet a deadline. For those who want to help people like Corporal Kelley and Private Mitchel, I am passing out my guide to punctuation for the reading impaired.
By SSG Hoffman
ALL CAPS--is like shouting. Writing in all caps causes swelling of the inner ear which presses on the cerebral cortex, leading to a loss of bladder and rectal control. Avoid using all caps for more than two words in a row.
PERIODS--allow a MUMBLEr to breathe. Sprinkle a few in each paragraph. Mumbleopiacs don't care where, but after each complete thought is generally a good idea.
(Note: Follow a period with a sentence or paragraph that starts with a capital letter. MUMBLErs breathe out on the period and breathe in when they see the capital letter.)
COMMAS--don't give time to breathe, but do give the lips a rest. Severe lip injury can result from long sentences with no commas. On the other hand, overuse of commas is the leading cause of stuttering in mumbleopiacs.
SEMI-COLONS--are better than commas for easing lip fatigue but do not allow for the taking of a breath. Use them sparingly with short sentences.
DASHES--signal a pause, so mumbleopiacs take advantage and snatch a dash of oxygen.
ELIPSES MARKS(...)--are like speed bumps on a page. They signal omitted material, but they make a MUMBLEr's head rapidly bounce three times. Never get carried away with those dots as speed-reading mumbleopiacs have lost contact lenses and jarred filings loose when they hit multiple periods, ie: ....................
COLONS--introduce lists of stuff. MUMBLErs and proctologists know to take a deep breath when they see a colon.
EXCLAMATION POINTS--raise the eyebrows of mumbleopiacs but do no lasting harm unless repeated after every statement or used in multiples. Overuse of EPs can lead to nervous brow twitching. Multiple EPs (!!!!!!) have caused the eyebrows of some mumbleopiacs to migrate to the top of the head.
QUESTION MARKS--wrinkle the brow and bring the eyebrows down and in. Question marks should never be sandwiched between two EP sentences! Never leave a question unanswered. The answer allows the individual to slap the forehead and realign the eyebrows.
PARENTHESIS--If something isn't all that important (nice to know stuff, but you can live without it), put it inside a set of parenthesis. In long sentences, a MUMBLEr that is running out of breath knows he can jump over this in a pinch.
APOSTROPHIES--thrill a MUMBLEr as they know you are omitting letters, words; and sometimes, bunches of words. For instance, them can be shortened to 'em, and spitting can be spittin', and in words that show posession, ie: "Mary's ball" replaces "the ball that belongs to Mary." Thrill a mumbleopiac; use apostrophies.
QUOTATION MARKS--also thrill Mumbleopiacs as it signifies a speaker speaking. Very often, they are familiar with the speaker and can simply inject, "blah, blah, blah," or "yadah, yadah, yadah," and move right along.
And finally, a word on paragraphs. Try to keep paragraphs short and sweet. Lump all of your related thoughts into one paragraph and start a new one when you get another thought. Paragraph breaks allow MUMBLErs to go to the bathroom.
Thank you for your attention. Please do not mention this lesson to Corporal Kelley. He's very sensitive about his condition. When he wakes up and calls for an interpretation, I'll think of something.
ATTEN-SHUN!
All right, men, stand at ease. Today, we are going to cover the principle of showing without telling, especially when writing dialog. Take your seats.
What is it, Henderson?
"Sergeant, how we gonna show 'em if'n we don't tell 'em?"
SIT DOWN, HENDERSON! How did a character like you ever get in a combat writer's outfit like this? One more dumb question like that, and I will personally write you into a love scene with Lance Gargantuan. Now, where was I?
[Characters, Sergeant!]
Ah, yes--characters. Characters make a story, but characters that speak and interact make a story come alive.
History is all about characters, and history books tell us who did what to whom, when, where, and why. The question is, how many people curl up with a good history book?
[15...97...42...8...17...100...]
ENOUGH! That was a rhetorical question, you simpletons. I'll tell you how many. Not many. The best sellers are pulp fiction.
A good novel has characters, but the characters show who did what to whom, when, and where. It's up to you, the reader, to figure out why. A good novel is fun to read because you feel transported into the action.
The principle is to show, don't tell. Realistic dialog between characters is a great way to show the reader what's going on and can move a scene along much faster than a narrative description. Let me give an example of the tell method without dialog:
Abigail Binderbutt sat alone in the cavernous anteroom of her sprawling mansion, looking around at old paintings, old books, antique furnishings, breathing stale air. She was bored. She reached to her side table and rang a brass bell.
Moments later, Reginald, the English Butler, arrived. Reginald never hurried. He walked in measured steps so as not to slip on the highly polished marble floors and thereby appear undignified. His class and culture he cultivated himself; therefor, he guarded it carefully. Abigail's came with her birth certificate and she took it for granted as she did everything else she owned.
Reginald made his presence known, then waited. Abigail told him to bring the car around. She could tell by his expression that he found the request odd. He knew she had nowhere to go. He kept her schedule. She hated having her orders questioned, even by expression, and sternly added that she was bored and wanted to go for a drive in the country and that he'd be going along.
Reginald bowed and left the room with measured steps exactly as he'd entered, and this flustered Abigail more than his questioning expression had. When he stopped to ask if she'd need a driver, or would she be driving, or would he be driving her, she exploded. She told him she'd be driving him if he drove the way he walked, like a man with a croquet mallet up his ass.
He simply acknowledged her and went for the car.
Okay, that's not bad. You've seen scenes open like this a hundred times before. You get the picture, because I described the picture to you. You're getting my picture, a sketch, actually. You wouldn't get my picture if I spent all day describing minute details.
Lets try this another way. Here's the show method using dialog:
Abigail Binderbutt surveyed the ornate room for the last time, reached for the brass bell and tinkled hard, shouting, "Reginald! Come in here!"
The polished butler carefully negotiated the polished marble floor and stood at the proper distance before saying, "You tinkled, Madam?"
"Yes, I tinkled. Do all Englishmen move so slowly?" Dropping the bell on a seventeenth century inlaid table, she said, "Fetch the Bentley. We're going for a drive."
"Madam, if there is something you require, perhaps..."
"I require the damn car! I'm bored out of my skull. If I don't get out of this antebellum mausoleum in the next two minutes, I'll scream."
"As you wish, Madam." He gave an exiting bow and began the return trip. Pausing at the arched entryway, he turned and said, "Will we need a driver, or will you be driving, or shall I drive you?"
"If you drive the way you walk, like you have a croquet mallet up your ass, I'll drive you. Mush, Reggie!"
"Mushing, Madam."
What picture do you have of these characters, now?
[A MUCH FULLER ONE, SERGEANT!]
Right, because you are looking at your picture, and your own mental picture will always be a much fuller one than your impression of my mental picture sketch. If you picked up a novel that began this way, would you be inclined to keep reading?
[NO, SERGEANT!]
What do you mean, NO, you morons?
[WE MEANT, YES, SERGEANT]
Think! Which raised the most questions that you'd like answers to, and do you want to be told the answers or would you rather figure them out for yourself?
[WE WANT TO BE TOLD]
Shut up, you idiots. That was a rhetorical question. When I ask a rhetorical question, I'll give you the answer. The overwhelming majority of readers who read for pleasure want to be shown not told. The action must start right away and move quickly. They want the story shown to them in the active voice with realistic dialog. If you're writing for an audience of pleasure readers, you must develop this skill.
In the war writing games we've conducted, there's still a great deal of telling going on and far too much narration. If a scene needs describing, let your characters describe it. Let the scene unfold gradually. Clue the reader, don't tell 'em.
Readers also love surprises. By not telling all up front, you can lead with clues, then hit them with a big surprise. They'll be so excited, they can't wait for another surprise. They'll keep reading. When a read becomes predictable, readers quit reading. Are you with me?
[dead silence as the troop gives a look like a pack of hounds that thought they heard a gnat pass gas in a bell jar]
That was not a rhetorical question, you meat heads!
[Oh...YES, SERGEANT!]
Story tellers are predictable, but story showers are a surprise a minute. Be a story shower. I'm not wearing underwear--SURPRISE!
In our next lesson we'll talk about voice. I plan to wear underwear for that one, but you never know.
ATTEN--SHUN!
Fall out!
ATTEN-SHUN!
All right, maggots, stand at ease!
Today you will learn how to write like true Chairborne Commandos. You will learn, because I will teach you. Is that clear?
[YES, SERGEANT!]
Good. Take your seats.
We will begin with voice. In the writing world we have two kinds of voice--passive and active. Passive voice is for wimps, fairies, and limp-wristed momma's boys. Active voice is the voice of power, action, and drive. Active voice knocks you on your ass, kicks you in the testicles, rips out your heart, shows it to you, then spits in your face. Which voice will we be writing in?
[ACTIVE VOICE, SERGEANT!]
That's right. Active voice is direct, to the point, no nonsense, cut and dry. God speaks in the active voice. God didn't say, "Thy neighbors wife shall not be coveted by you." Hell no, he said, "Thou shalt not covet they neighbor's wife." If God wrote the Ten Commandments in the passive voice, they'd sound like the Ten Suggestions.
Is God a wimp?
[NO, SERGEANT!]
Why?
[BECAUSE HE WRITES IN THE ACTIVE VOICE, SERGEANT!]
That's right, and when He writes like that, you know you'd best not covert your neighbor's ass either.
[tee hee hee...]
At ease. Now listen closely. When you write in the active voice, the subject of your sentence does the acting. The subject preceeds an action verb. The English language is full of rich action verbs. We even have nouns that serve duty as action verbs--finger, for one.
You tell me. Which is stronger? Mary was fingered by John, or...
JOHN FINGERED MARY!
What is it, Henderson?
"Shun't we be askin' Mary?"
[tee hee hee...]
AT EASE! Take a lap, Henderson.
[TEE HEE HEE!]
AT EASE, DAMN IT! Now listen up! You can tell passive voice because it sounds like the minutes of a meeting. Check it out:
The minutes of the last meeting were read by Mr. Dudley. The chair was then turned over to his wife, Ann. The meeting hall was suddenly entered by a lion and all hell broke loose. Mr. Dudley's wife was pounced upon by the lion. She was dragged by the butt into a corner and was then eaten whole. The meeting was adjourned in short order.
Now, lets check out the Chairborne Commando's version:
Mr. Dudley read the minutes from the last meeting, then handed the chair over to his wife, Ann. A lion burst into the room. All hell broke loose. The lion pounced on Ann, bit her on the butt, dragged her ass to a corner and ate her hole. We adjourned the meeting, ASAP.
Now, which version do you think God would like?
[THE SECOND, SERGEANT!]
Why?
[BECAUSE, IT'S HIS LION]
No, you idiots. Think!
[BECAUSE IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE ACTIVE VOICE?]
You just answered using the passive voice, you morons. Try again!
[BECAUSE THE AUTHOR WROTE IN THE ACTIVE VOICE!]
Right! Very good. God is a busy diety. The active voice version had four lines, the passive had five. That's not the main reason God liked it. The active voice version conveyed the real excitement created by a large predator disturbing a boring meeting.
In almost all cases, active voice is better. In your corrected response, you replaced a vague "It" with a person, "the author." You replaced the wasteful "was written" with a single action verb, "wrote." The author wrote. Your second response was tight and clear. All writing should be tight and clear.
Passive voice sentences sneak into your writing like enemy agents infiltrating your AO, weakening your power, causing confusion, misdirection, and creating chaos. After you write something, you must go back and ferret-out those insidious, passive, godless commie bastards of the passive voice brigade.
Look for the "to be" verb--am, is, are, was, were. These verbs replace action verbs and usually travel with IT, THEY, THOSE, and THERE. Get 'em outta there. Kill 'em. Stomp the crap outta of 'em.
If you see something like this:
There are many enemy soldiers in my shorts.
Change it to something like this:
Enemy soldiers infest my shorts!
Isn't that better, tighter, clearer?
[uh, huh...]
I CAN'T HEAR YOU!
[UH, HUH!]
The first sounds like a simple observation; the second conveys urgency. The exclaimation point fits the second but not the first, and a situation like that which I just described should be followed by an exclamation point. Don't you agree?
[YES, SERGEANT!]
Remember, clearly identify your subject, then make the subject do the acting unless the subject is being acted upon.
"Ann was eaten by the lion" is passive, but so was Ann at the time. If the author tells Ann's story, passive voice fits. Now, if the lion is the subject of the story, that sentence would suck. We'd want the story from the lion's perspective. We don't care about old biddies in a lion story. "The lion ate Ann!" Far out. Eat da bitch! Am I right?
[YES, SERGEANT! EAT DA BITCH!]
Now, you're catching on. We want action, right?
[YES, SERGEANT!]
We don't want no panty-waist, mamby-pamby, beat-around-the-bush, word-wasting, bombastic verbosity, now do we?
[NO, SERGEANT!]
What are we?
[CHAIRBORNE COMMANDOS, SERGEANT!]
Chairborne Commandos are being infiltrated by the enemy. Am I right?
[UH...SERGEANT. WASN'T THAT PASSIVE VOICE?]
What...oh, uh, yes. That was just a test. Next, we'll deal with chicken-shit adverbs. TROOP! ATTEN--SHUN!
Fall out.
"Commando Grammar--Phase IV--Chicken-shit Adverbs"
All right, maggots, today we tackle chicken-shit adverbs. What is an adverb?
[CHICKEN-SHIT, SERGEANT!]
No, you morons. I'm asking for a definition.
[POULTRY POO POO, SERGEANT!]
Never mind. Just listen. An adverb modifies a verb, adjective, or another adverb by expressing time, place, manner, degree, etcetera. An adverb answers the how, where, when, or how much of an action:
He ran. (no adverb)
How did he run?
He ran swiftly. (Swiftly is an adverb)
He ran where?
He ran up. (Up is an adverb)
How much did he run?
He ran constantly. (Constantly is an adverb--a chicken-shit adverb)
Simple verbs--run, walk, spoke, threw, puked--don't tell much. They describe an action, but in general terms. Take run for example. How many "runs" can you think of? How about: jog, dash, sprint, dart, lope, canter, gallop, bolt, double-time, quick-step, chase, flee...
Run needs an adverb, as do most other generic action verbs. Lazy, shiftless, sloth creatures without spines use simple verbs and tack on an adverb to make sense--if they even bother doing that. Are we sloth creatures absent a spine?
[NO, SERGEANT!]
Damn right, we're not. We don't need no stinkin' adverbs. Do you know why?
[NO, SERGEANT, WHY?]
Because we are sentient beings with a brain, spinal cord, and opposing thumb, that's why. We have the ability to seek out and find the precise verb that best describes the action. We won't settle for run. Run is for wimps and pansies. Same goes for all those other verbs that need adverbs. We won't associate with those bastards, will we?
[NO, SERGEANT!]
Now, let's talk about those chicken-shit adverbs--the LY adverbs: slowly, quickly, softly, gently, lovely, greatly, swiftly, gingerly, doggedly, dastardly, stinkily, comically, etc., etc., etc..
Take any common adjective and tack on an LY, you got yourself a chicken-shit adverb. Why is it chicken-shit?
[BECAUSE IT PASSED THROUGH A CHICKEN, SERGEANT?]
No, you morons. Chickens don't eat adverbs, but if they did, they'd eat the LY brand. LY adverbs are chicken-shit because they waste words and are easy to come up with. Just take a simple verb, a simple modifier, tack on the LY, you got great literature--right?
[RIGHT, SERGEANT!]
Bullshit! Any pin-headed geek can do that. Why search for the perfect verb like sprint, when you can just write, "run swiftly?" Why think and work to come up with "castigate" when all you have to do is write, "berate harshly?"
Chairborne Commandos never take the well-traveled path, the easy trail, the freeway. We slug it out in the trenches, break trails, smash through obstacles, plow through barriers, and bowl over monoliths to accomplish our objective. And what is a Chairborne Commando's objective?
[TO FINISH FIRST, SERGEANT?]
No, our objective is to communicate effectively.
"Excuse me, Sergeant. Shouldn't that be expressed without relying on a chicken-shit adverb?"
Huh...oh, uh, absolutely. This was a test. Come up with one by next class when we tackle tired-assed cliches.
ATTEN--SHUN!
Fall out.
Commando Grammar Phase V--Tired Assed
Cliches
ATTEN-SHUN!
At ease, men. Smoke 'em if ya got 'em. Today, we get down to the nitty gritty of good writing. We're going to talk about metaphors, similes, and same-sames. When you leave this class today, you will be changed men.
What is it, Henderson?
"We ain't gettin' one of them sexualness flip-flop operations, are we, Sergeant?"
[tee hee hee]
Take a lap, Henderson! The rest of you giggling girls will need sexualness flip-flop operations in order to leave this class as men, changed or otherwise.
This is serious shit, and I expect you to take this serious shit seriously. If I hear another Shirley Temple giggle out of this pack , I will personally see that you leave here in panties that fit loose in the crotch. When you laugh in my class, laugh like you gotta pair or be quiet as church mice.
[HAR HAR HAR! YER A RIOT, SARGE! YER KILLIN' US! HAR HAR HARDY HAR HAR...]
SHUT UP! I was not trying to be funny. That last paragraph was instructive and should have made you cringe from all the tired assed cliches I used. I should have been booed and heckled off this platform.
"TRO DA BUM OUT!"
Take a lap, Jones. Catch Henderson or take two. The rest of you listen up. The lesson we have today gets to the real spice of writing. It is the garnish of the writing entre, the icing on the writing cake, the head on the mug of writing beer, the fruit in the written fruit cake. I'm talking about same-sames--metaphors and similes.
Let's first talk about metaphors. These are words or phrases that stand in place of other words or phrases. Shit is the most widely used metaphor in the English language, and because it is so widely used, it should be treated like the whore she is: used where no one can see you, and never put anything in writing when dealing with a widely-used whore.
The following passage is a perfect example of shit writing:
I set my shit next to Marty's shit, then we shot the shit until some shitbird stumbled through, the shit hit the fan, and I got the shit knocked out of me. I never said shit, but here I was taking shit off this dumb-shit talking shit about us leaving our shit where he could trip over the shit. No shit!
This is what should have been written:
I set my duffle bag next to Marty's rucksack and we engaged in small talk until an altercation ensued and I was acosted by a total stranger. I never said a word to this idiot that I was taking physical abuse from, and all because he blamed me because he doesn't look where he's walking. I'm serious!
Now, I know you're all saying you understood both, and some are, no doubt, thinking the first example is more colorful, more true to life, and more expressive. That's because the first draws heavily on metaphor, one metaphor, "shit."
In that passage, shit stood in place of duffle bag, rucksack, small talk, altercation, an injury, a nonverbal response, a physical reply, an idiot, an acusation, belongings, and a declaration. That's a lot of shit for one word to carry, but shit can carry that load in speech.
Even when written, we take clues and cues from the context in which the writer uses shit, but a speaker has the advantage of gesticulation and expression to help. We know that some shit is good and some shit is bad just by the look on the speaker's face or the inflection in the voice. Some people say "Shit" and look like they need to wipe their mouth. Others say "Shit" and make you wish you had some. When we speak, we all know our shit and never get our shit mixed up, because our shit is straight when we talk shit.
Writing shit, or any other over-used metaphor, is a whole nuther' can of squealie worms. The more representations a metaphore has, the greater are the chances for missed communication. If you write shit, and confuse your readers, they will stop reading your shit. If readers stop reading your shit, you'll be back in the Infantry getting shot at with real bullets. Do you understand that shit?
[YES, SERGEANT!]
I thought you might. So, what's the rule on used metaphors? Okay, Henderson, but before you answer, look at the track. Do you really want to run around that track again?
"But I know the answer, Sergeant."
All right, Henderson. What's the Chairborne Commando rule on tired assed metaphors?
"Leave them to the Infantry?"
Humm...not bad, Henderson. Take your seat.
Men, what Henderson said has merit. Leave tired metaphors to crude, casual bullshit sessions. The Infantry gets all the shit, they may as well get the tired assed metaphores that go with it. Good job, Henderson. Now take a lap for giggling.
Okay men, don't watch him, watch me. Now, let's talk about good metaphors, the spice that's so nice, the hallmark of excellent writing. A good metaphor is one that fits perfectly and is unfamiliar. A good metaphor is like a diamond in your shoe. It gives you pause, makes you stop, makes you look closer, then when you discover what you have--elation.
Like a found quarter, a new metaphor enriches you. Furthermore, you feel smart. You figured it out. You got it. You made the connection that others missed. You're a smart cookie--sharp, bright, quick, alert. Nothing gets past you, and you feel a kinship with the writer because you think alike.
Great writers plant gems in their writing the way great chefs place garnish on great dishes. We don't eat for garnish nor read for metaphorical gems, but when we notice them, we feel enriched. We are never too rich to quickly stoop and snatch a shiny quarter, nor too old to feel like a child again once we have it.
What is it, Gregorson?
"Who said that, Sergeant?"
I did. Pay attention. Now take a lap.
All right, men, now about similes and other same-sames. These, too, are metaphors. They stand in place of something else. They represent. A simile usually starts with the word, "Like," because similes represent by saying what something is like. Ie:
There is also the "Than" or "As" simile:
Most similes are very tired and in most writing, similes should be avoided like shit. If you can come up with a new simile, your reader will love you for it. A new simile is like a gem in the chewing gum beneath your seat.
Don't be looking under your seats, you morons. If you find gum, you put it there. Pay attention. What is the rule for writing similes? McIntyre!
"Uh...dance with her if she's a virgin?"
What the hell does that mean? That has got to be the stup...humm...hey! Not bad, McIntyre! Hey, not bad at all. Jerry, isn't it?
"Yes, Sergeant. Jerry McIntyre from San Diego."
You play golf...uh, never mind. Get with me after class. Now, all of you morons that don't understand Jerry's simile, go take a lap.
[a few seconds later]
Well, Jerry, now that we're alone. Do you play golf?
[ten minutes later]
Take your seats, men. We're going to watch a training film staring yours truly and our own Corporal Kelley. The film is called, "What's a META For?" Pay close attention. What you learn in this film can keep you out of the Infantry, and that can save your life.
Roll 'em Corporal:
"What's a META For?"
Corporal Jim Kelley poked his head in the CO's door and said, "Were you looking for me, Sir?"
Without looking up from his cluttered desk, Captain James Lynch said, "Get me the META, Kelley."
"Uh...did you say metal?"
"META, Kelley...M-E-T-A...META."
"Uh, yes Sir. Right away, Sir."
Kelley eased out, shutting the door. He stood against the wall of the bunker tunnel complex and glanced both ways down the corridor, looking for a friendly, knowledgeable face. The tunnel was a faceless void.
"META?"
He needed to find the NCOIC (Non-Commissioned Officer In Charge) and made straight for the Bunker Bar. He wasn't sure he'd find anyone at ten in the morning, but he found MO behind the bar polishing the nipple on a Hillary Clinton tittie mug.
"MO, you gotta help me. What's a META?"
"Nothing's the matter; what's a matter with you?"
"No, M-E-T-A, META. The Captain needs one right away, only I don't know what it is."
"Why didn't you ask?"
"Sonny said I have to stop looking and acting clueless. Are you sure you never heard of a META?"
"I'm sure. Sounds to me like one of those military thingies, like DEROS, FTA, and QTTMB."
"QTTMB?"
"Yeah--quit talking to my breasts."
"Oh, sorry....You're probably right, but what can it mean?"
"Beats me. Ask Sonny."
"Is he here?"
"Where else? In the corner behind the slot machines. He's briefing that new girl, Barbara. Look, take him aside and tell him to get a room, will ya."
Kelley smiled, gave her a Boy Scout salute, then made for the corner. He approached cautiously, coming on them from the rear. The NCOIC sat close with his bad arm resting on her good shoulder, trailing the chrome claw of his hook lightly up the nape of her neck to tease the ear, making her scrunch and giggle like a school girl with a steel claw pinching her earlobe.
Kelley also noticed Sonny's good hand sliding up a bare inner thigh, disappearing under the hem of a tight mini skirt. The diversion always worked; at least, in the early stages.
He heard Barbara say, "Sonny, you shouldn't touch me there. My husband wouldn't like this at all."
Sonny said, "That's understandable. Marines are built totally different."
Kelley cleared his throat. The briefer and the briefee sat up. Sonny turned, saying, "What is it Kelley? I'm very busy. If this is another dumb question, I'm going to rip your lips off."
"Well, it's a question."
"Look, Jimbro, save your lips. Whatever it is, take it elsewhere."
"But you said I shouldn't be looking clueless all the time."
"You don't have to if you handle it right. Instead of going around saying, 'What's this, and what's that?' try this technique. Act like you know what it is; you just want more information. That way, you'll look curious, not clueless. You do that by saying, 'What is this or that for? What does this or that do? How does this or that work?'"
"Yeah, but for this, I really don't have a clue."
"It doesn't matter. Do like you did for head-space. You asked what head-space was for. The answer clued you to the fact that it relates to a fifty caliber machine gun and the tuning of that gun to fire properly. See what I mean?"
"Yeah. That's great. Sonny, what's a META for?"
"Bring your lips over here."
Barbara said, "Here, allow me." She turned in her seat to face Kelley, smiled and said, "This is my favorite, Jim:
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
Barbara laughed, slugged Sonny's shoulder, and said, "Isn't that a hoot? Don't you just love that one?"
Sonny rubbed his shoulder and said, "Yeah, a hoot, but now Jim looks as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw.quid55328.com\aakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake. Besides, that was a simile."
"Okay, how 'bout jumbo shrimp?"
"Good one, Barbie Doll, but that is an oxymoron like sanitary landfill, plastic glasses, peace force, slightly pregnant, tight slacks and loose tights."
"Military intelligence?"
"And Virgin Mother. Speaking of virgins and mothers..."
Jim backed away from the table. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and "Jeopardy" comes on at 7 p.m. instead of 7:30. He smiled the way a basset hound does when he farts in mixed company, gave them his signature Boy Scout salute, then returned to the bar.
MO held another tittie mug up to catch the faint light coming in through the north firing port. A storm gathered steam outside, making her inspection more difficult. The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play. Hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease, but Kelley and MO couldn't see that.
MO set the mug down, saying, "So, what's a META?"
"Beats me, but that Barbara chick is one weird lady."
"Yeah, she has a vocabulary, like, whatever."
Karen made her entrance, wringing wet. She stood beside Jim and shook like a retriever. Her hair glistened from the rain like nose hair after a sneeze. Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center. She looked over and smiled.
MO said, "So, how'd your date with Lt. Singer go?"
"He was pleasant enough, but if my life were a movie, he'd be buried in the credits as something like 'Second Tall Man.' Besides that, he's married."
"That explains it, then. First Tall Man is single."
"You got that straight, sister."
Turning to Jim, MO said, "Lt. Singer and Karen had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met. You should have been here when those two saw each other. It was like a scene from a 'B' movie:
Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
Jim shook his head. As they'd been talking, recently promoted Warrent Officer, Richard White, entered the bar and went straight for the north firing port. There he stood, tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree stooping to peek through a five-foot aperture. As Jim approached, WO RW said, "The hailstones look just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease."
"Hey, Mister White. I was just wondering--what's a META for?"
Without looking over, WO RW said, "The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't."
Jim peered past the big man's shoulder but saw no boat and certainly no bowling ball. He shrugged like a man with a chip on each shoulder, then left the big guy to ponder the weather.
On the way out of this bar caught in the Twilight Zone, Jim met Bob Jack, Phil Knauth, Bob Crowell, and Kerry Minner on their way in. He followed them to a table, hoping these men hadn't been affected.
When they sat, he pulled up a chair. They ordered Hillaries (Texas Tornados in the First Lady's mug). Jim ordered a Chelsea. He was on duty, he explained, after they looked to him as though he were a smiling basset hound.
When the drinks came, the men toasted stormy weather. Jim downed a swig, then said, "You know, I was wondering, what's a META for?"
Bob Jack said, "She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again."
Jim looked around for her. Lt. Knauth said, "Bush, that's one."
Crowell offered, "Boonies, there's another."
Kerry said, "I like 'The World'. The World says it all, Bro. Hey, 'Bro', that's one, ain't it?"
Bob said, "No, Bro is an informal address, you oxy moron."
Crowell offered, "Commanding Officer is an oxymoron in this outfit...my Hillary tastes like whore piss. Here, taste this."
Jim eased away from the table leaving half an 'A'-cup of TT in the tiny mug. He marched directly to the CO's office. On the way, he encountered an apparition straight out of a puppy's nightmare--A near-naked Tommy Bass on a pogo stick.
Tommy came around a bend in the tunnel, bounding from one side to the other while making forward progress. His long hair was teased and flapping. He wore a genuine Arapaho loin cloth with Go Go boots. Peacock feathers stuck into the backs of each boot created a dance of color with every bounce. He boinged his way toward Jim then began marking time like a kangaroo drum major in a backed-up parade.
Tommy tucked the M-60 machinegun under his right arm and said, " [BOING] Wasup, Jim? [BOING]"
Jim was glad to finally encounter someone who was still their normal self. He said, "I think something is making everyone crazy."
"[BOING] No shit! [BOING]."
"What's with the Pogo, Tommy?"
"[BOING] It's my new [BOING] static offense invention [BOING]. This'll make 'em shit [BOING] and miss, dontcha think? [BOING]"
"I suppose?"
"The trick [BOING] is to fire when the stick [BOING] is in contact with the floor [BOING], otherwise, I spin [BOING] out of control from the recoil [BOING]."
"Yeah, I can see where that might be a problem. Say, Tommy, what's a META for?"
"Beats me [BOING], but if one [BOING] gets in the tunnels [BOING] his ass is grass [BOING] and I'm the lawn mower [BOING]. Later bro. [BOING]...[BOING]...[BOING]."
Jim watched Tommy bound down the tunnel, the back flap of his loin cloth waving goodbye and showing the punji scar he picked up in Nam after having sat on one. That was not a pretty sight.
Jim moved on to the captain's office. He cracked the door and poked his head in. When the CO acknowledged his presence, Jim timidly asked, "Sir, what's a META for?"
"A figure of speech in which one thing is spoken of as if it were another. Now, where's that damned Map Evaluation and Tactical Analysis report I asked for thirty minutes ago?"
"The META?"
"Yes, the META!"
"Right! I'm on it, Sir. Right away, Sir!"
Jim eased out, shut the door, leaned against the wall, and said, "Shit fuzzy."
The End
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
All right, men. Think about what you learned today, and be ready for phase VI--Tense, Person, & Perspective or Where are You Coming From?
ATTEN-SHUN!
Fall out
Tense, Person, & Perspective or Where are You Coming From?
All right, troopers, today we tackle person and perspective. Also tense as in past, present, or future. Also perspective as in how are you seeing this thing you are writing about. Lets break it all down.
First, second, or third-person writing. Pick one and stick with it. First person is easy. First person is you. I did this. I did that. I went here. I said. You are telling your story. You are in the story and are now writing about it.
Second person is he, she, or it did this, that, or the other. Most fiction is second person story telling as is history. You can start off writing in the second person and switch to first when you enter the picture. When you leave, you return to second person narration. If you come in and out often, you may want to treat yourself by name and stick with second person narration throughout. Pick one and stick with it is a good general rule, because you will confuse fewer readers.
Third person is pure shit, annoying, and presumptive as hell. You, the writer, refer to yourself by name or title and try to inject the reader by talking to the reader as in:
You ease into the room and you see your soulmate mating. You are beside yourself and mortified, so you cling to Mommy, and Mommy is there for you. Mommy told you not to marry that bitch, didn't Mommy?
Maybe you are and maybe you aren't. Maybe you do, or maybe you don't. If you can't relate, then the writer loses you. Odds are, at some point, you will lose your reader. You'll lose me as soon as I detect third-person writing.
Decide first or second and stick to it.
Now, as for the perspective. Decide on that and stick to it, too. Are you an observer like a peeping Tom. You only know what you sense or think, as baffled as the reader until more develops, OR are you God. You see all and know all, AND you know what everyone is thinking, feeling, and loving or hating.
Some Bozo writers will start off as God, then get dumb. Later on, they become God again. If there is anything more annoying than third-person writing, it is a god who can't make up his god damn mind. Decide what you are at the get-go and STICK WITH IT!
Now, on to tense. You all know how to speak in the proper tense. Before kids start school they know how to conjugate all of the common verbs. Little kids don't say, "I pee my pants yesterday," or "I walked to the playground tomorrow," or "I seen Mommy banging her other soulmate."
They all know this shit like they know how to turn perfectly good food into crap, but by the time they get into high school, they can't even spell conjugate, and aren't sure what a verb is. Why is that, you ask? I don't know about you, but I had sex on my mind.
Become as children and simply write like you talk. Writing in the proper tense is that easy. To be sure you got it right, read aloud what you just wrote. If it sounds funny, you very likely used the wrong verb tense.
Write in the past, the present, or about the future. Don't flip flop around unless you clearly inform the reader that you are making a time shift. Too many of those will annoy any reader. In general, pick one and stick with it.
Best advice is pick your most comfortable combo and perfect that as your style. Easiest is a favorite fantasy in the second-person, present tense, peeping-Tom. Most challenging is God telling a multi-time-shift in first and second person with many complex characters in multiple sub-plots woven into the story fabric that is all made up using human imagination.
Being Clear as Mud
The greatest fault I find in the writing of most writers is the plethora of ambiguities in sentence after sentence. Most can be figured out, but why make the reader work. If reading becomes too much work, or the reader keeps getting lost, confused, and disoriented, your creation will join crap and be thrown, not tossed.
Simple pronouns are the most common culprit: he, she, it, we, us, they, them. Give THEM a name. Give IT a name.
Here is a typical example where the author has four men in the scene and keeps using the pronoun, he. The men have discussed several objects: dicks, hands, twenty-dollar bills, beer. The author tosses this line out:
He took it out and slapped it on the table.
He who? It what? Slapped what? Why?
This is what he should have written:
Bill hauled his dick out and slapped that fat puppy on the table.
Now, we see the picture, a who-has-the-biggest-dick challenge. We also know Bill has to haul his out and IT is a fat puppy.
Yes, that took more words to write but added so much more color and clarity. You must see ambiguities as opportunities to add color and clarity. Seek out the ITs and the THATs, the THINGs. Change them where needed.
NEVER use whom. If you don't use the word in common speech to common folk, don't inject that old or fancy word into your writing, and be careful about using slang that might be local or generational.
When you have two or more same sex characters in a scene, be very careful with the he's and she's. Switch to names. At least refer to one by name.
In dialog, you can clear away some mud by using the name of the person being spoken to. Example:
"Look, Fred, I am not interested."
With just two people involved, you may now go several lines without any he-said she-saids.
NEVER drop a he-said she-said in the middle of a statement. Example:
"Look," She said, "I am not interested."
Dropping a he-said she-said at the tail end is almost as bad. Example:
"Look, I am not interested." She said.
If the speaker needs to be identified, clue the reader up front. Best of all, as much as possible, rid your writing of he-said she-saids. Someone may think you're an English teacher or head a journalism department - proof reader or editor. Good writers don't need he-said she-saids, nor do their readers.
E-writing
Writing in bits and bytes is all you can ever hope to do if you aspire to be a good writer of great trash. Nobody is going to waste good paper on this shit. Readers won't turn your pages or toss your book. They'll scroll and delete. If you don't grab your reader and hold 'em by the short and curlies, they're outta here.
If your writing is difficult to follow on a scrolling monitor, they're outta here. White space is your friend. Short paragraphs are good. Put white space between short paragraphs. Many authors like to put two spaces after each sentence.
Use good punctuation. Those little marks help readers make sense of what makes perfect sense to you.
Each new speaker gets his very own paragraph with white space above and below, even for a "Huh?"
Butt everything up against the left edge of the monitor. DO NOT INDENT the first line of a paragraph.
Write using a good text editor such as TextPad. Save in .txt format. Check the final draft on various readers such as Notepad, Wordpad, MSWord, Word Perfect. Zip it and ship it using Winzip. (This is dated advice that gets more dated with each passing day)
Write and then let the shit sit and age. Rewrite while seeing it anew. You'll go, "What was I thinking?"
Writing, even E-writing, is rewriting. Rewrite! Rewrite! Rewrite!
RUN SPEL CHEK! How hard is that?
Keep the writing tight. Don't ramble. If you find yourself describing too much, think of a better way.
Have someone proof your final draft. The more, the merrier.
Stay in one tense (present, past, or future) especially within one paragraph.
Above all, write. Just write. Write till you puke, wipe it up, and write some more, then rewrite what you wrote. Have fun with your writing and never make writing a chore or a bore.