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Tuesday, August 18, 2009
What Makes Quality Writing?
Monday, August 17, 2009
Auditions Post/ Answers to Dr. Wordwielder's Quiz
1. Hectic or Helpful Homonyms. THE CORRECT ANSWER WAS THE LETTER B. AND IT HAS NOTHING IN COMMON WITH INFESTATIONS THAT HOUSEHOLD PETS ACQUIRE, UNLESS YOU CONSIDER THAT THE MATERIALS BROUGHT TO SUCH A MARKET SEEM TO MULTIPLY LIKE FLEAS SCATTERED ACROSS THE GROUNDS. The magnificent model of feminine pulchritude made her way across the green to browse the tables at the ( a. flee, or b. flea) market.
2. Ideal or Idiotic Idioms. THE CORRECT ANSWER IS B. AGAIN. TO OVER-EGG THE PUDDING IS TO SPOIL SOMETHING BY USING TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING WHEREAS TO OVERPLAY ONE'S HAND DENOTES OVERESTIMATION OF ONE'S POSITION OR STRENGTH. When writing descriptive lines in poetry or prose, one must not ( a. overplay one's hand or b. over-egg the pudding). YES, IT WAS RATHER TRICKY, MY FRIENDS.
3. Wise or Wacky Words. THIS TIME THE ANSWER WAS THE LETTER A. The word is affable. Does it mean: a. easy to speak to and gracious OR b. the after effects of laughing.
4. Cute or Comical Coinage. Kiss gate. This term is used quite frequently in England where I lived as a young fellow in my preparatory school days. The Kiss Gate was designed to prevent animals from escaping or entering a location and it consisted of a half door that only one person at a time could pass through, usually, the gentleman would enter first and offer to help the ladies afterward. Often my chums would make their boast about preventing the young ladies from moseying through unless they had first offered a kiss. Of course, I never attempted this with the ladies as I ne'er wished to receive the brunt of their brolly upon my head but some chaps may have succeeded. IT COULD HAVE BEEN EITHER CUTE OR COMICAL. NOW IT IS YOUR TURN TO COIN A PHRASE. LEAVE A COMMENT OR POST A COINED WORD ON YOUR OWN WEBLOG. IF YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO COIN A WORD OR PHRASE, FEEL FREE TO SHARE THOSE YOU HAVE LEARNED FROM OTHERS.
5. Spelling Slips. Which spelling is correct for the following word: a. nucular OR b. nuclear ? THE ANSWER IS THE LETTER B.
6. Pun Fun. I had found my true soulmate. She and I were both wearing British shoes. WHAT PUNS HAVE YOU BECOME FOND OF HEARING? HAVE YOU USED ANY YOURSELF?
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Dr. Wordwielder Auditions
Why, a distinguished professor such as myself, must surely lend assistance to a young chap in his attempts to lead a fledgling flock into green pastures of refined music. At the very least, I wished to influence the clarity of annunciation as I have been noticing the lack thereof in music of a popular persuasion on the Christian radio networks and churches across the country (this chap's choir being much improved over the general public, but one can always improve one's craft, mind you.) It has been my opinion that the quality of music and the quantity of musical training has been gradually degrading itself here over the years since I first arrived here from England. Musicians and vocalists in this day and age do not proceed through the necessary educational rigors that musicians once endured for the quality of their craft. At times, it seems that any old chump might produce a recording and succeed at entering a competition such as the scandalous show on American Televisions which might make an idol out of an ignoramus. But alas, I am over-ruled by the general populace who passes over a musical genius to award recording contracts to a novice. But then again, what do I know? I'm merely a purveyor of prose with an acute aspiration for excellence in all functions of speech, whether they be spoken, musical or written.
A friend of Ms. BeckyJoie's is airing a chat show tomorrow upon the exact topic and desires that you join her and her debonair listeners to discuss the importance of communicating through the language of music. I do believe that our hostess has placed an advert on the side of her blog page so that we might click on it to arrive at the chat show destiny.
But first, I must say that I hope the readers will keep an astute mind about such a matter since so much sensitivity surely surrounds this volatile subject. For example, my very presence at the afore-mentioned audition was greeted with a cold shoulder and a bit of bossiness by the younger set this evening. I suppose that the pronunciation of vowels and consonants in that particular genre of music is quite uncommon these days. But it was my desire to set a sterling standard for symbolic citation by the supervisor of the ensemble for coming contestants over the course of time.
The choral director smiled like a Cheshire cat after I obliged him with a masterful performance of a melismatic segment of Handel's Messiah that I used to deliver to the masses in my voice studies in college. He seemed pleased to make my acquaintance and I have to admit that I've not met a young chap of his caliber in at least a decade or two. I suppose that I shall be called upon to aid him in polishing up the vocals in his Sunday ensemble, but if not, I had a dashing time of it, being back on stage.
I did have one minor problem, though, as my old bones climbed up the stairs to the platform. My trousers were a bit too stiff from all the starch that I had by error, dropped into my laundry last week, when my bifocals had become fogged up by the steam of the rising water in the washing machine. I had a mite of difficulty bending at the knee and began to loose my balance somewhat. Fortunately, I reached for a nearby microphone stand and righted myself pretty quickly, though it did coincide with some squeals and squeaks coming from one of the speakers. The modern conveniences have their advantages but oft can be a smidgen cantankerous from time to time. I do believe, though, that we ironed out the matter significantly by the time I recovered the microphone to sound my resonant tones. When the audition ended, I discovered that I had, in my haste to arrive at the house of worship, forgotten to imbibe a spot of iced tea and to ingest the cold cucumber sandwich that I had prepared to eat along the way. So, I strolled out on the grounds to find a shady limb under which to place myself. After devouring the delightful dinner, I rested for a while, and then climbed into my Mini Cooper and proceeded here for our weekly lesson. Along the drive, I admired the brilliant finish of the paint job I recently had re-touched, reflecting specks of the British racing green across the cabriolet and glistening like sparks of glitter in the setting sun rays. I arrived here safely and tucked my automobile under cover for the remainder of the night as the Oakes have generously offered the use of their guest room this week because of my previous mishaps late at night in the Florida rain storms.


I am grateful once again for your faithfulness to attend my online classes and for Ms. BeckyJoie who so graciously offers her blog every week. I could not imagine trying to circumnavigate the world wide web in order to create a blog for myself. I once attempted the evil feat and became maddeningly overwhelmed. Thus, I shall leave the technological triumphs to another more adept while I shall continue to bring the excellence in accelerated English eloquence.
Speaking of the art of eloquence, I have been unable to shake the impression of the English Rose whose voice attracted my attention last week. I was transported, whether in reality or my thoughts, from my presence at the Barnes and Noble Book Sellers Establishment to the celestial realms where she seemed to naturally find her place in a blanket of brilliant light. The sound of her voice echoed through it like an opera singer at Carnegie Hall. Though I never had the pleasure of viewing her angelic countenance, I am quite certain that her radiance must be of no equal comparison. Might I have known her from another realm or from my place of origin? Only time will tell but I have not been able to erase her memory from my mind. But I shall try, for it is only once in a lifetime that one meets a lady with such enchanting elocution and it is unlikely that I shall be able to be graced by her presence again, save some miraculous intervention. So, I shan't indulge in the monotony of the retelling of the saga but thus, proceed to this week's agenda at Rather Be Writing.
For today's lesson, we shall answer the following questions. Feel free to leave your own comments and suggestions in the box below marked "comments".
1. Hectic or Helpful Homonyms. The magnificent model of feminine pulchritude made her way across the green to browse the tables at the ( a. flee, or b. flea) market. Choose one.
2. Ideal or Idiotic Idioms. When writing descriptive lines in poetry or prose, one must not ( a. overplay one's hand or b. over-egg the pudding). Choose one.
3. Wise or Wacky Words. The word is affable. Does it mean: a. easy to speak to and gracious OR b. the after effects of laughing.
4. Cute or Comical Coinage. Kiss gate. This term is used quite frequently in England where I lived as a young fellow in my preparatory school days. The Kiss Gate was designed to prevent animals from escaping or entering a location and it consisted of a half door that only one person at a time could pass through, usually, the gentleman would enter first and offer to help the ladies afterward. Often my chums would make their boast about preventing the young ladies from moseying through unless they had first offered a kiss. Of course, I never attempted this with the ladies as I ne'er wished to receive the brunt of their brolly upon my head but some chaps may have succeeded.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Clean Your Plate, Mate!
Funny, though it is now upon looking back, there was a point to be made. Let nothing go to waste.
The truth is that in the American diet, much food goes to waste, one way or another. It either is wasted or goes to one's waist! Americans have an abundance of food. Just compare the serving sizes in local restaurants with the "daily recommended" portions and you will see a huge gap already, let alone seeing what people in other countries have to eat. And the leftover-food bins at fast food restaurants here are full of fare that could be better used (even just as compost) and not thrown away. Of course, in the southern states this might promote bug infestation issues BUT...I'm sure there is some way to use that leftover food and not waste it. Some college cafeterias used to give away the extra scrapings to local farmers for their pigs.
"Waste not" has been applied to food but what about words? Are there any old manuscripts just sitting around in a notebook wasting away because you either gave up on them or never submitted them in the first place? I know I have some. Those words took great amounts of time to accumulate and they aren't going anywhere on their own. Some of them, perhaps might not find any suitable place but the circular file (IE. rubbish can). Yet, other manuscripts could perhaps be re-written and sent to another publishing venue. But why let them all go to waste?
Christian writers, did you know that the Bible tells us that we shall give an account for every idle word? (Matthew 12:36). Wow, I have too many to account for. The word idle comes from the Greek word, ARGOS which means "not busy, idle, inactive, doing nothing, and sterile." OUCH!
The word account is derived from the Greek word, APODIOMI which means to "give an answer."
This is an intriguing revelation of the power of words. Other passages say that death and life are in the power of the tongue--meaning that our words are not just words. They need to serve a purpose and accomplish something. So, does this mean that it is a sin for someone to use humor in speech and writing? Some people might try to say that about comedy because "it serves no good purpose" and is full of silly words. Are these people right? Does comedy serve a purpose?
Proverbs 17:2 tells us, "A merry heart does good like a medicine but a broken spirit dries the bones." In other words, words of humor can bring healing to a person whether it be to a soul or the person's health. I am living proof. When deep in the throws of Systemic Lupus several years ago, I immersed myself in the Bible, praise music, healthy life choices and HUMOR! The last item was a HUGE part of my healing, I believe. I rented videos from the library (sending someone to get them for me) or watched them on Dish Network or the Internet. Here's a glimpse of the comedy I watched every day: I Love Lucy, Mark Lowry, Ken Davis, Chonda Pierce, Bananas Comedy, Dennis Swanburg, Bob Smiley and many other TV Comedy Classics. Humor uplifted me and brought me out of the "doldrums" as my dad used to call it.
So, if idle words are not referring to humor, then to what could they refer? I believe it refers, in part to words which are either said without thought and/or words that are not given the right venue to be heard and are thus wasted words. You may feel free to do your own research on what this means but for me, I take it as a warning to make use of the words that God allows me as a writer to use. I plan to think more before speaking and writing as well as to dig out my old manuscripts and see if I can salvage anything to be used for a good purpose.
As a person gifted with gab, I need to take more time to think before acting and to use the gift to the best of my ability so as not to have any idle words. In other words, I don't want to waste time talking about things that are not profitable to anyone but to write quality work with an intended purpose. Even if I have to ramble to find those words, the words I publish or speak aloud will be used to the fullest extent possible, with God's help. This is my prayer.
Well, perhaps it is reflective of the hour in which I wrote this (IE. late at night) or it may just be that the Lord is speaking to me louder through His Words so I will finally "get it". I know I will mess up here and there. That is inevitable. I just pray that I will make more of my words count than ever before, even the words that could sit in the "waste" basket. One man's junk is another man's treasure. So pull out that manuscript you have up trying to publish and find something salvageable in it. I aim to do the same. Let's come back in a few weeks and compare notes, okay?
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Song Writing
Last week, I posted the Greatest Interview for a Christian Writer (based on Peter's Interview with Jesus), not having seen the following video. How ironic that I should find a clip from one of my favorite worship songwriters this evening while looking for videos about writing for God.
It kind of packs a double whammy for me as one who grew up in the faith in a family that travelled performing on public stages with music, drama and puppetry. My brother is a singer/songwriter and seeing him take a journey of his own to Nashville recently, has stirred up long, lost desires to do something similar. This may not be the case for most writers, but for me, the musician and writer are somewhat interwoven. I've written and recorded two of my own songs while on a curriculum writing project for children. I've also sung on recordings with several groups in the past, either a solo or part of a group. I took classical voice but also sing a variety of musical styles. Deep in my heart, I've always loved worship music and have attempted to write some myself. So this next clip is a great find for me. I hope it is for you. Here is Phil Wickham on the topic of how he wrote the song, "Grace" taking inspiration from the Bible.
I know this affects me as a Christian writer in a way that means I will never be the same again.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Dr. Wordwielder's Mysterious Encounter
Greetings, my friends!
You see, I had completed my lessons and extra-curricular reading activities at the university library over an hour earlier than usual and so I had purposed in my heart to make an excursion to my local Barnes and Noble Booksellers establishment. The motivation for doing so was to acquire for myself a copy of the magazine, Etymology Today, where I had published an article called, “Colloquialism, The Root of Linguistic Morphology.”
When I arrived at my destination, I was delighted to hear that the public address system was alternating between selections of my most favored musicians, the classical composer, Mozart and the Big Band legend, Glen Miller. I felt at home, once again, with the enticing scent of fresh ink and new paper, which had comforted me from my early childhood visits to the library and bookstores. I began skimming the assortment of reading fare that lined up on the shelves as I passed through to the news department. I noted the 2010 volumes of the Writer's Market Guide and Poet's Market were freshly set in rows and still wrapped in plastic. I latched on to a copy of each and tucked them into my satchel, continuing toward the magazine rack.
There it was-of crisp copy of Etymology Today. I surveyed the pages until I found my article, wanting to make sure that the editor left my precious manuscript intact. I noted that there were no errors. The information in the document is vital to the maintenance of the English language. I oft chance to hear the deterioration of our distinguished lingua mater when a youngster verbalizes that he likes to stand around and be cold with his friends. He ought at least to put the 'g' in "chilling". And once, in the hallways of the university, a group of young men were running through like herds of cattle when one of them barged into me.
So I was pleased when the magazine editor accepted my query about writing an article on the dangers of using colloquialism in communication. I sent him a piece the next week after he replied to my letter. That reminds me, I need to address him with a note of extreme appreciation for his ability to publish my article. For it was no sooner said than done. (But I need to return to my explanation of last evening.)
The intense summer temperatures spawned my salivary glands to seek out satisfaction in the form of a refreshing libation. I promptly obeyed my inner urgings and approached the bistro where I took nary a minute to convey my directive to the clerk behind the counter. “Yes, Miss, I'm mighty fine, thank you. And I would like to order a triple iced caramel latte with a dash of fresh cream and hazelnut and a stick of cinnamon. Thank you. And how much will that be?”
The young woman announced the amount and while I awaited the delivery of my chilled potable, I paid the bill for it, for my books and the magazine. Then seated myself in a corner booth to attain some solitude . The drink was surely refreshing. The whipped cream was thicker than I had remembered it and I must have looked a fright while wiping it out of my mustache and off of my nose for a youngster passing by with his mother stopped to stare at me a moment. I didn't appreciate it much as I felt that children ought to be taught not to stare at their elders but I couldn't blame him for the way I must have appeared so I looked away and began to rummage through my satchel for a pen and my reading glasses.
I had been sitting there for somewhere about the period of ten minutes when I heard a voice that pierced through me as if it were a long, lost familiar connection from my birthplace in England. I could not quite place it but I listened, hoping to recall the exact tone of voice in order that I might make the acquaintance more sure in my mind.
As I couldn't recollect the sound, I raised my head to peer around behind me to where a group of ladies sat around a table, apparently discussing a book. One by one, I heard them critique a line or two and tell why the book meant so much to them. I thought to myself that this was quite the unusual gathering for women of this caliber as I had not seen a book club or a writer's association in this town in quite some time, unless of course, you would count the students in my after school study hall.
Then I heard the voice again. It was as lovely as a nightingale, sweet and sing-songy like that of none I had ever heard before. I startled slightly but then shook off the shivers that had risen up new goose bumps on my arms. Why was I feeling so out of the ordinary? Perhaps I had caught this chillin' bug with which the young men were so fond of claiming association. Whatever it was, I had to see who the voice emanated from like the music of a violin echoing through Carnegie Hall. I stole a furtive glance in the general direction of the table, but all I could see, sticking up above her book, was the brim of a purple velvet hat and a large, plum, silk ribbon which adorned it. I sighed and attempted to return my attention to my new market guides and for a few moments, I perused the pages when all of a sudden, I heard the voice again.
“Dahling, the coffee was simply a delectable treat and the ambrosial cheesecake was simply enchanting. Above all, I adored keeping company with you, Madeline. Charming, for certain, my dear.”
I turned and she was passing by my table. I tried to catch a glimpse but just as I gazed in her direction, her pocket book slipped from her shoulder and she scooted down in the opposite direction to retrieve it.
When she stood again, the other ladies had gathered around and they began to exit the store.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to alarm anyone, but I could have sworn by George that I had heard that voice once before. I didn't dare to follow her to the parking lot. I did not think it a wise nor ethical thing for a gentlemen of my stature to do, but I thought perhaps I could stand in the window and pretend to be looking at the Florida skies for signs of weather. Was she an angel from heaven or a long lost friend from my former country. I did not know and never could tell as she chatted from the midst of the women's circle all the way to her vehicle, which looked to be a rental but one could not tell. It was apparent that I would not be able to ascertain her identity but her voice has haunted me ever since. I think I heard them calling her something like Ms. Smith but I couldn't be quite certain. Anyway, I returned to my table and gathered up my belongings. I had to make sure that my lesson for Rather Be Writing was in order and ready to bring to you this evening.
Now, that I have gotten that off my chest, I shall turn my attention to the purpose for which I have arrived at Rather Be Writing. Here is this week's lesson:
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The Ultimate Interview for the Christian Writer
- Scenario--Jesus and The Writer exchange some heavy dialogue.
- Time- Between Midnight and 5 am Saturday morning.
- Place- At the Laptop, after prayer and Bible Study.
Jesus: Writer/Enterpreneur, do you care about Me more than these words?
Writer: Ya, I like you. You know that.
Jesus: Well, then, give my sheep some food.
(Writer opens the online thesaurus and selects a few words. Nothing seems to fit the sentence in the manuscript. Writer tries again and a word pops out like an epiphany. It's so much fun to write. Writer never felt more fulfilled. Silence.)
Jesus: Christian Author, do you care about me?
Writer: (Deep breath). Of course, you already know that I care about you.
(Writer glances at the New Testament that was part of morning devotions and then back to the computer screen. Silence again.)
Jesus: So you love me, huh? Then, tend and look after my sheep.
Writer: Sigh.
(Another Twenty minutes have passed. The paper is filled with notes. The Word document has ten paragraphs written. Writer is excited about the ideas but puzzled at Jesus' words. A still, small voice intrudes on Writer's thoughts.)
Jesus: Word-whittler, do you love me?
Writer: Yes, Jesus. Can't you tell that I'm fond of you? Don't you know by now?
Jesus: If you love me, then take my sheep to graze on the food I want them to have.
(Writer bites the end of the pencil then drops it with a thud onto the desk. What does this all mean?)
Jesus: Disciple, follow me.

