RIP Mots Justes

Mots Justes is going on hiatus. “Going on hiatus?” you might ask. “You haven’t posted in three weeks!” You’re right. You’re absolutely right. And that’s why I have to take a break and reassess.

I’ve known I have to do this for a quite awhile now. I’m freelancing, with large swaths of “free” time that I feel like I have to fill up. So I start projects. This blog. Another blog. A nascent idea for yet another blog. A photo-a-day project and a cookie-a-week project. Meanwhile, I’m constantly behind—or flaking altogether—on my paid gigs, and worse, I’m not writing my fiction. I’m doing everything around writing but the actually writing itself.

I held out this long because there were legitimate reasons to continue. But frankly, my vision for the blog has been too ambitious, and I have to prioritize the activities that are going to serve my writing best.

I’ll be ceasing Mots Justes’ daily tweets as well, although I haven’t been able to keep on those for awhile either. I learned a lot and made a lot of connections through the research required for that news feed, but it was a giant time suck too hard to keep up with when I’m actually going into an office, even if it is just a couple of days a week.

I don’t plan to shut down Mots Justes the blog or the Twitter feed completely. I may post the occasional writing-related column and tweet my writing-related activities. (I tweet my personal and film-related stuff at @annleee.) But Mots Justes can no longer be a daily commitment. I’ve decided that rather than reading about writing or even writing about writing, the best thing I can do for my writing is … write.

That’s probably the single best piece of advice I’ve come across and that you’ll read here: log off and write.

***

Still here? Okay, then, let’s talk about writing.

What’s been occupying my thoughts on writing lately has been blogging. Not the how-to type of blogging I’ve been doing on Mots Justes—nor news blogging nor gossip blogging nor fan blogging nor theme blogging—but personal blogging in which writers record what they observe, what they’re thinking about, what inspires them. It’s in this type of blogging that the future of writing lies, multimedia storytelling that a platform like Tumblr especially facilitates—journals or scrapbooks in which bloggers not only write about their lives but illustrate them with photos and videos and music. If a text or image or piece of audio touches a blogger, chances are it will touch a reader, too.

(The work I’ve read is mostly autobiography at this point, but I just know that someone somewhere is doing something really cool on a blog with fiction. If you know who and where, please share!)

Writers have always kept diaries and written letters. It’s just that now those same instincts are available for instantaneous public consumption, simultaneously encouraging more thought and less. Fleeting insight can now be permanently recorded, but it’s also published without context, consideration, the guiding hand of an editor.

Lately I’ve felt I need both—more thought and less. My writing can only benefit from paying more attention to my surroundings, observing my environment more closely, thinking about it and analyzing it. But I also need to obsess less about the actual writing, not be so precious about, well, the mot juste. I’m stifled by that, that everything has to be polished, publication-ready, and it’s an area I want to work on: experimentation—trying to be less staid in my writing and my thought.

I suppose this is supposed to happen in a writers notebook, but the instant gratification of the web is so tempting and satisfying; even experimental work is somehow legitimized by its availability to be read by someone else.

I guess what it comes down to is I need to do the work where it feels most relevant, write the stuff that speaks to me, follow my bliss, as it were. For now, that’s not on Mots Justes. At least not in the same way.

Now, go write!

Rules Grammar Change

The Onion: Rules Grammar Change

How to Kill Off a Fictional Character

Basic Instructions: How to Kill Off a Fictional Character, by Scott Meyer

Usage: Farther Vs. Further

Historically, farther and further have been used interchangeably when referring to distance, but their definitions are diverging. Most usage guides, including Chicago and AP, distinguish between the two, reserving farther when referring to physical distances and further for figurative distances, measuring quantity or degree:

When I graduated from college, I moved from the Midwest to Los Angeles. My sister moved even farther, to Honolulu.

Although she is more than four years younger than me, for a while my sister was further along in her studies than I.

It’s easy to remember to use farther when referring to physical distances because it starts with the word far.

However, sometimes it can be unclear whether the distance being described is physical or figurative:

Tanya got to the stable before her brother and so is farther/further into her ride than he.

Whether to use farther or further depends on how you look at it: Is Tanya physically farther along the trail? Or figuratively further into her ride? In cases like these, where the distinction isn’t clear, farther and further can still be used interchangeably.

Further can also be used to modify an entire sentence:

Further, Tanya was riding at a brisk trot, so she returned to the stable long before her brother did.

In cases where you could just as easily use furthermore, use further, not farther.

Do you have a question about usage? Let me know, and I’ll include it in a future installment of Mots Justes’ ongoing series.

Resources

Chicago Manual of Style, The. 15th ed. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2003.

“farther.” Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary. 2010. Merriam-Webster Online. 18 February 2010
<http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/farther>

Fogarty, Mignon, Grammar Girl’s Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing. New York: Holt Paperbacks, 2008.

Goldstein, Norm, ed. The Associated Press Stylebook. 42nd ed. New York: Basic Books, a Member of the Perseus Books Group, 2007.

Hacker, Diana, The Bedford Handbook for Writers, 3rd ed. Boston: St. Martin’s Press: 1991.

Strunk Jr., William, and White, E.B. The Elements of Style. 4th ed. New York: Longman, 2000.

Writing Exercise: What the Donald Maass Literary Agency Is Looking For II

Every couple of months, the Donald Maass Literary Agency, which represents a roster of genre writers in science fiction, romance, mystery, and horror, posts to its website “what we’re looking for”—a handful of book ideas within a central theme. The agency hasn’t updated its suggestions since late last year, but they’re good ones: literary and science-fiction novels. The story starters aren’t meant to be prescriptive but to promote a creative spark:

In a cursed land where there are nothing but children (who do not age), an adult arrives, bringing with him a powerful magic that will change everyone’s luck but at a price: the children begin to grow up.

A hidden alien among us (he’s highly humanoid) has one chance to go home to repair the damage he caused there.  The problem is, he’s in love.

One true wizard lives in our world.  Her magic holds together a community of two opposite faiths.  One day her magic stops working.

A martyr gives his life to save his country.  Ten years later he comes back to life to find that the land he saved has lost the one thing about it that he held most dear.

A historical fantasy in which a young child with a miraculous talent has an effect on her family, and then her village, and then her entire country.

See where these prompts take you, and check back in to Donald Maass’s site next month for more ideas.

Punctuation: Commas, Part XX—Quotes

When direct quotations are cited in writing, usually they are introduced with a phrase such as he said or the like and set off with commas:

Presidents Day celebrates the birthday of George Washington, who said, “I hold the maxim no less applicable to public than to private affairs, that honesty is the best policy.”

The first president also wrote, “Associate with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation, for it is better to be alone than in bad company.”

(Longer or more formal quotations are introduced by a colon, which will be discussed in a later post.)

If a quotation is introduced by that, whether, or a similar conjunction, do not use a comma:

Washington urged that “A man’s intentions should be allowed in some respects to plead for his actions.”

A quotation that is functioning as an apposition or the direct object of a verb is also set off by a comma:

In today’s economic climate, I am reminded of Washington’s sage advice, “To contract new debts is not the way to pay old ones.”

Do you have a question about the comma? Let me know, and I’ll include it in a future installment of Mots Justes’ ongoing series.

The Mots Justes Series on Commas

Part I—To Serialize or Not to Serialize

Part II—Independent Thinking

Part III—Co-dependents

Part IV—Making Introductions

Part V—Interjections

Part VI—Parentheticals

Part VII—It’s All Relative

Part VIII—Adjectives

Part IX—Contrast

Part X—Adjectival Phrases and Appositives

Part XI—In Other Words

Part XII—Making the Transition

Part XIII—Confusion Busting

Part XIV—On One Condition

Part XV—Absolutely

Part XVI—As Well, Too

Part XVII—Dates

Part XVIII—Addresses

Part XIX—Names

Resources

Chicago Manual of Style, The. 15th ed. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2003.

Hacker, Diana, The Bedford Handbook for Writers, 3rd ed. Boston: St. Martin’s Press: 1991.

Strunk Jr., William, and White, E.B. The Elements of Style. 4th ed. New York: Longman, 2000.

Grammar: Pronouns Part XVI—Relative Antecedents

Like most pronouns, the relative pronouns who, which, and that have antecedents—nouns or pronouns to which they refer. Usually the antecedent to a relative pronoun appears in the main clause of the sentence. For clarity, the relative pronoun should immediately follow its antecedent:

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, a holiday that popular belief claims is named after a third-century priest who was executed for performing illegal marriage ceremonies.

Subject-Verb Agreement

Relative pronouns that are the subjects of subordinate clauses take verbs that agree with their antecedents:

Some argue that Valentine’s Day is a holiday that was invented—or at least heavily marketed—by Hallmark.

Questions arise with sentences that include the phrases one of the and only one of the. Chicago prescribes treating one of the constructions as plural and only one of the constructions as singular:

Due to these marketing efforts, Valentine’s Day is one of the few holidays that are celebrated throughout the world.

It is the only one of the myriad holidays that is dedicated to romantic love.

Don’t try applying this guideline on the SAT, though where one is always just that: one—i.e., singular.

Omitted Antecedents

If there isn’t an antecedent, however, what can be used to mean that which:

Is that what you meant by sending me a Valentine’s Day card?

The Mots Justes Series on Pronouns

Part I—The Basics

Part II—Location, Location, Location

Part III—Number

Part IV—Person

Part V—Gender, Plus “They” as a Gender-Neutral Singular Pronoun

Part VI—On the Case

Part VII—Something Personal Between You and Me

Part VIII—Infinitives

Part IX—Indeterminate Gender

Part X—Indefinitely (We, You, and They)

Part XI—Indefinitely (It)

Part XII—Possession

Part XIII—Demonstrative

Part XIV—Interrogative

Part XV—Relative

Resources

Chicago Manual of Style, The. 15th ed. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2003.

Hacker, Diana, The Bedford Handbook for Writers, 3rd ed. Boston: St. Martin’s Press: 1991.

Everyone’s a Critic

Last semester, my graduate alma mater hosted a panel discussion on arts criticism. The timing was apt, as I had just started to review films again for a new outlet. Until recently, with opportunities shrinking (for paid gigs, anyway), I had resigned myself to the reality that I may not write about film anymore. I had been seeing fewer movies, and watching those I did see as a fan, not a critic. “Critics Talk Shop: Writing Books, Music, Food, Film, and Why It Matters” served as a refresher course in the form—how and why I review.

These are important questions. With Facebook, Twitter, and, well, WordPress, anyone can write and publish their thoughts on anything—and do. Although I enjoy writing about film for its own sake, the way it engages me with the material, I have to ask myself what I’m adding to the conversation.

“There are too many critics and not enough people to read them,” said Kenneth Turan, film critic for the Los Angeles Times and National Public Radio. “Become a critic if someone wants to read what you write.”

After my last outlet folded, yet another victim of these tough economic times, I could have launched a blog and kept writing about film. But why? Who would want to read what I write? The backing of a publication, a corporation, a brand name lends credibility. So does a paycheck, however small.

But there’s more to it than that, argued Richard Schickel in an op-ed piece in the Los Angeles Times going on three years ago, around the time that the major papers started cutting back on book reviewing:

Criticism—and its humble cousin, reviewing—is not a democratic activity. It is, or should be, an elite enterprise, ideally undertaken by individuals who bring something to the party beyond their hasty, instinctive opinions of a book (or any other cultural object). It is work that requires disciplined taste, historical and theoretical knowledge and a fairly deep sense of the author’s (or filmmaker’s or painter’s) entire body of work, among other qualities.

Although Schickel’s admitted elitism rubs me the wrong way—I find the proliferation of the written word online liberating rather than threatening—I ripped the page out of the paper and it’s pinned, yellowing, to the corkboard in my office, a constant reminder that I have to “bring something to the party.”

To figure out what that was, I started to take note of what other writers I read and why. I can go see a movie and decide whether I like it or not for myself. In fact, while a rave review of a film I hadn’t considered watching might talk me into seeing it, a pan rarely will talk me out of it.

What I do appreciate is learning something new. That might be background information on the making of the film, a review of the filmmaker’s oeuvre, or the historical context of the movie’s setting. It might be thematic or technical insight. Whatever it is, it broadens my view of the film and, therefore, of the world.

Ever since I made this analysis, this is how I’ve approached my own film criticism: more than giving a movie thumbs up or thumbs down, I aim to impart some knowledge or insight to the reader—or, if that’s too lofty, to myself. What that requires, though, is research.

What sets the professional critic apart, said David Ulin, book editor of the Los Angeles Times, is that he or she reads the book on which the film being reviewed is based or reads a number of works by the author whose book is being reviewed “to understand the milieu of it.”

“When immersed in consuming, you do get a sophisticated palate,” added music critic Evelyn McDonnell. “You can eat/read/listen to what the general public can’t understand. The best part of job is to champion someone and explain why he or she is important.”

Turan agrees that imparting that wisdom is “one of the real pleasures of the job. … I can send people to a film. If I like something, anybody can like it. It’s my job to make the film accessible.”

So I watch previous titles in the director’s filmography. I read the book on which the film is based. It’s a lot of work. Too much work, often, for what I’m being paid. But if I’m a professional writer, if I’m going to convey some kind of authority in the field, I have to earn it—by building on my film studies degree, by watching 250 films a year, by reading about film, and by writing about it.

That’s the other part of the equation: the writing.

“In criticism, the writing is as important,” said Jonathan Gold, the Pulitzer Prize-winning food critic at the LA Weekly, “taking the work in question and using that as a jumping-off point” to create your own work.

It’s easy to fall back on formula when writing a review, particularly a film review, especially when you’re on deadline, churning out two or three or four a week. There isn’t enough time to watch all the films you should or read all the books you should. But if I’m going to write something that someone wants to read, bring something to the party, contribute to the conversation, I have to at least make the effort.

Usage: Beg the Question

You can beg for forgiveness. You can beg for mercy. You can beg for money, especially in these tough economic times. But whatever you do, don’t beg the question. And don’t use “beg the question” incorrectly in your writing, either.

Let me explain: The phrase “beg the question” refers to a logical fallacy in which a writer attempts to prove a claim by restating the claim itself, often in different language. For example, consider this hypothetical argument adapted from a practice prompt I use with my students preparing for the ACT:

Locker checks should not be allowed in high schools because authorities should not search students’ lockers.

In this (again, hypothetical) thesis, I haven’t offered a reason for my argument—what I call the “because clause”—but rather simply restated my stand, that locker checks should not be allowed. Avoid begging the question in your rhetorical writing.

Also avoid using the phrase “beg the question” incorrectly. Much too often, it is used in lieu of “raise the question”:

School administrators are determined to institute mandatory weekly locker checks, which begs raises the question, what right do they have?

Really, begging the question should be avoided at all costs, both as a rhetorical device and as a phrase in your writing, and at least one website is dedicated to ending BTQ abuse.

Resource

Hacker, Diana, The Bedford Handbook for Writers, 3rd ed. Boston: St. Martin’s Press: 1991.