Blogger Blather

The latest diners at the Meow Mix front porch buffet:

This was taken through a window, sorry for all the glare.  I had already snapped a few pics before this one and Momma cat spied me, thus her angry “don’t be messing with my babies” stance.

When you recall a book you usually remember the development of the plot and characters.  But sometimes a writer will have a style that is so compelling it leaves a mark on the story (and on your memory).  In the literary world, this is called voice.

If you’ve ever taken a writing class, the importance of “finding your voice” is stressed over and over — but there is no way to teach someone how to discover their personal writing style.

Yesterday, I did a Google search on myself  because I’m planning a marketing push for new clients and I was wondering what would show up if someone searched my name.  One of the matches was the book How to Survive Freshman Year which displayed in Amazon’s “search inside” feature and on Google Books.

Years ago, a writer friend of mine, Jamie Allen, was hired by the publisher to solicit input for the book.  I remember sending him a few anecdotes, and then I pretty much forgot about it.  Well, the book is now on its third printing and I am quoted 4 times in the current edition (published in 2008).

I was able to read all four of my quotes online and while I recognized the stories I was referencing, the phrasing was totally foreign to me and I assumed they had reworked what I sent to match the book’s tone.  Here is part of the note I sent Jamie yesterday.

“although I can totally tell you guys edited me extensively … (I’m) listing myself as a ‘contributor’ on my writing credits. Ha! Just wanted to say thanks!”

So, then I got curious about my original submission so I did a search in my email for “llama” (which was part of one of the blurbs) and I found my original email — from June 24, 2002. I was horrified to see that I was hardly edited at all!  I really and truly did not even recognize my own writing. It’s become so stilted from all the “corporate communications” gigs that I no longer have a voice.

Check out what was published:

• When studying Far East religions don’t confuse a llama with the dalai lama, the spiritual leader of Tibet.
• Geology (aka Rocks and Jocks), is much harder than the course description would lead you to believe.
• Never attend a punk rock concert in a sundress and Keds sneakers.  I left a Ramones concert wearing only one shoe after getting caught in the middle of a group of overeager slam-dancers.  Doc Martin’s would have been a better choice.
• Be sweet as pie during your sorority pledge period and wait until after you’re active to tell off the snots who were mean to you.  Better yet, just steal their boyfriends.

Now, here is what I submitted (to help you compare I did strike throughs on what was cut and bolded words that were edited).  You’ll see that the edits are just your typical clean-up stuff.  They didn’t edit my style at all.

• When studying Far East religions don’t confuse a llama, the pack animal breed for its soft fleece, with the dalai lama, the spiritual leader of Tibet.
• Geology (aka Rocks and Jocks), is much harder than the course description would lead you to believe. What is plate techtonics again?
• Never attend a punk rock concert in a sundress and keds sneakers.  I left a Ramones concert only wearing one shoe after getting caught in the middle of a band of over-eager slam dancers.  Doc Martin’s would have been a better choice.
• Be sweet as pie during your sorority pledgeship and wait until after you’re active to tell off the snots who were bitches to you.  Or better yet, just steal their boyfriends.

If I were asked to contribute now, I don’t think I could be so pithy and funny.  My writing has become so, so… well, literal.  I’ve lost the innate sense of the absurd that I used to have.

Basically, I have writer’s laryngitis because I have no voice.  That’s what happens when you dive in to too much corporate writing.  You aren’t supposed to have a voice because you don’t exist, you are just there to mimic the tone already established by the company, brand, etc.

This has actually really upset me.  My writing career was going along pretty well for a while, but for the last couple of years I’ve felt stagnant and a huge part of it is because the creative writing I’ve attempted lately has not been well received.  Does anyone have advice on how to find your voice again?  I need help!

My freelance gigs picked up for a while, but things have gotten slow again.  As much as I used to complain (because I do love a good gripe), I miss the steady corporate work that I had for years and years.  The money was great, it wasn’t too stressful, and it was reliable.  Lately, it seems like every month I’m scrambling around to cobble together an income.

Got any leads on freelance or contract gigs in Atlanta?  If so, drop me a note.  (You’ll be rewarded with a dose of good cosmic karma.)

My area of specialty is copywriting, web content management and HTML emails.  Back in the day, this was all in demand, but now my writing portfolio is up against hundreds of former AJC and Creative Loafing employees who were recently axed in cutbacks.  I’m trying to think positive, they say the economy is improving.  Right?

Okay, gotta go.  My Chrysler needs an oil change (and a bail out).

My Dad, Louis Patrick Lamousin, Sr. during World War II.  He was a Marine – Semper Fi.  Happy Memorial Day, all.

I fill the outside cat bowl several times a day for the strays in the neighborhood.  I’ve seen a possum out there a few times, and I’ve also noticed a number of birds having a snack.  It doesn’t bother me.  If something’s hungry I let it eat.  I just thought a bird eating cat food was strange.

In this installment of “awful excerpt” I’ll share yet another writing exercise from the continuing education class I took at SCAD.  The class itself was nice, the work I produced… not so much.  I think the value of the class is in the fact that I wrote for almost two days straight.  Too bad none of it was very good!

In this exercise we randomly pulled two pieces of paper out of bag.  Each paper contained a word.  You had to make the two words you selected be the first two words of a paragraph.  Lucky me selected TABLE and ABOVE.  Here’s the paragraph:

Above, table, cat, word, read.  These were the words that the letter magnets spelled out on Diane’s refrigerator.  Chet drank milk out of the carton and tried to decide if there was deeper meaning in these seemingly unrelated words.  Was she just putting together any word she could spell with letters, or did they mean something?  He knew she was a writer so “word” and “read” made sense.  The Persian staring at him from the windowsill was surely the “cat” part.  But what of “above” and “table”?  Nonsense for sure.

Did anyone catch that what I wrote actually does double duty because it takes a little poke at the exercise itself?

I finished early, so I wrote another piece.  This time I used the words in the opposite order (not that it would have really mattered in the above entry).

“Table above, sofa below” Maria bellowed at the movers as she indicated for them to bring the dining room table up the stairs.  The townhouse she and Matt bought had an unusual layout.  On the main floor was their bedroom and bath, the living room and a foyer.  Up the stairs was the eat-in kitchen and an office/guest room.  Not ideal, but the price was right and in NYC price and location were key.

You know it’s interesting to look at these a couple of weeks after the class.  I have a strong urge to edit them before putting them online, but I think these improvisational versions are kind of interesting.  So, I’ve left them alone.

Last Friday I took a daytrip to New Orleans to visit my friend, John.  I didn’t recognize his house when I drove up because he got rid of his picket fence and cut down all the tropical plants.  John is in real estate and he said that the more groomed landscape, “lets people see the house architecture better.” But I have to admit I totally miss his wild garden.

Check out these pics taken in his front yard.  The first pic is from fall 2007 – the plants are long and my hair is short.  The second pic is from a few days ago – the plants are short and my hair is long(er).

Which do you like better?