The Mechanic & the Muse

Get the lead out--or the ink

Link: 50 THINGS EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW.

"The average lead pencil will draw a line 35 miles long or write approximately 50,000 English words."

This site doesn't explain who computed this factoid, tho it may explain why John Steinbeck and Ernest Hemingway drafted in pencil. True or false, tonight its imagery appeals to me.

Blocked on a project, (what's new?) I broke through today by turning from the computer keyboard and picking up a fountain pen, an Azure Blue Pearl Parker Vacumatic made before I was born. (Several years ago, I became a collector of vintage fountain pens because, frankly, old ones were a lot cheaper than the new ones you find in places like Levenger. Another story for another time.) My pen looks like this one advertised on ebay.

The ink flowed from this exquisite writing instrument, a dark blue river spreading tributaries--of thought, surmise, possibility--on the blank page. It felt like a transfusion--of hope.

Funny but wonderful how simply changing a writing tool can turn things around.

When "Best" Just Won't Do

‘Yours Truly,’ the E-Variations - New York Times

How do you sign your e-mail?

Money Matters

Who's the Minister of Finance in your family? I'd wager that if you're a reporter, that is one position filled by someone else. Why not? After all, didn't so many of us choose journalism for the same reason: "I can't count."

Innumeracy should be as fatal as illiteracy in today's newsrooms, so why do we tolerate a miscalculation more than a misspelling?

Writers are notorious money-manglers and many undervalue their work (why else pay agents 15 percent?). When I first met my wife, she noticed that my checkbook was riddled with blank entries. "Of course, " I told her. "If I knew how much (or little) I had, I couldn't write new ones."

Over the years, I've tried Quicken, Microsoft Money and other personal finance programs, but they either took too much time or were too frigging complicated.
That's not the case with Wesabe.com, a brand-new personal finance and social networking site I discovered the other day. For now it's free and you can even get the CEO on the phone.

Want to know how much you spend on books? Pizza? Godiva hot chocolate at Barnes & Noble?

Want to connect with others who've got good ideas about getting the most out of your money?

Just because we don't get into journalism for the money doesn't mean we shouldn't be smarter about it, whether it's the school board account or your ATM card.

For me, the most striking part about this blog item, besides the fact it's the first in a while, is that I had to create a new category. Words matter. So does money.

Feel free to weigh in on your money matters. Pin numbers not required.

Dropping out of the "Stick Figure School of Art"

Physical description is an essential way to put people on the page, to transform them from sources ("Goldilocks, 12, of 2200 Sylvan Way") into characters. Consider this example from yesterday's New York Times Magazine profile of an artist. Instead of referring to her as "Sculptor Kiki Smith, 52, Times arts critic Michael Kimmelman, provided readers with a detailed physical description that not only made it possible to see, but also understand her.

At 52, Smith has a thick halo of gray hair and porcelain skin liberally tattooed with turquoise rings and stars. They make rows on her fingers, arms and legs. She also wears strings of necklaces and bracelets stacked atop one another. You can hear when she’s coming because her jewelry jingles. She looks a little like the woman who runs the local candle shop. Her hands constantly fiddle: she’s always drawing or making things out of clay or whatever. Partly, it’s a way to distract her gaze. Mostly, for her, making art is like breathing.

Physical descriptions are often the most challenging task for newspaper writers. Putting people on the page requires rigorous reporting. It’s hard work, especially for reporters who are used to seeing people not as rounded characters, but as sources or subjects identified merely by title or status (official, voter, victim, criminal, survivor, etc.) I confess I sometimes shy away for fear of offending a source with an insensitive observation, or questioning my right to make subjective opinions about a person. The stick figure approach is less risky than presenting a rounded mini-portrait. And sometimes we just can’t find the words.

But the excuse that "the photographs" show the reader what she looks like doesn't fly. "My task," said novelist Joseph Conrad, "which I am trying to achieve, is -- by the power of the written word -- to make you hear, to make you feel. It is, before all, to make you see. (my emphasis added. cs) That -- and no more. And it is everything. If I succeed, you shall find there according to your deserts: encouragement, consolation, fear, charm -- all you demand -- and, perhaps, also that glimpse of truth for which you have forgotten to ask."

It takes a little more effort to zero in on the physical attributes that distinguish one person from another, but that’s one of the writer’s gifts that makes storytelling such a special experience.

• First you must report, collecting an overabundance of concrete details.
• The next step is focus. Sum up the subject's appearce, the single dominant impression, in one word.
• Then select the details that support that theme.
• Outline the paragraph, relying on the 3-2-1 structure, that moves, in reverse order, from details to meaning.
• Freewrite a description, writing or typing as quickly as possible.
• Print out what you write. Mark up the draft with additions, cuts, shifts in order.
• Return to the screen and make the changes.
• Repeat as necessary.

And don't forget the power of "modeling lessons," that is, copying out physical descriptions that impress you (Plagiarism alert: Remember to write the author's name and the source of the description at the top: "by Michael Kimmelman, "The Intutitonist," The New York Times Magazine, Nov. 6, 2006, http://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/05/magazine/05kiki.html)

When something strikes you, stop, hit the CAPS LOCKS key and record your observation.

"You can hear when she’s coming because her jewelry jingles." KIMMELMAN DOESN'T LIMIT THE SENSORY DETAILS. HERE HE USES SOUND. INTERESTING.

Or:
"She looks a little like the woman who runs the local candle shop."  NOW HE RELIES ON A SIMILE. IS THAT  GOOD? I MEAN WHAT ABOUT READERS WHO HAVE NEVER BEEN IN A CANDLE SHOP? WONDER HOW HE GOT PAST THE EDITORS WITH THAT ONE? MAYBE YOU CAN PUSH THE ELEMENT THAT WAY.

Make us see.

What Dick Cheney Really Wore

On display at Slate.com, "What Marie Antoinette Really Wore", a vivid example of status details, the literary device that is both descriptive and revelatory.  What strikes me is how much knowledge/or reporting it takes to get the details right.

It also brought to mind the work of Washington Post Fashion writer Robin Ghivan who won the 2006 Pulitzer Prize for criticism wields status details like a rapier.

Consider this Jan. 28, 2005  column about the attire of VP Dick Cheney at the ceremony commemorating the 60th anniversay of the liberation of Auschwitz.

(I'd happily link it to its presence on the Pulitzer site, but for some unfathomable reason the P-Board doesn't provide individual URLs any of the winning entries that have been posted online since 1994.)

Here's the piece in its entirety:

At yesterday's gathering of world leaders in southern Poland to mark the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, the United States was represented by Vice President Cheney. The ceremony at the Nazi death camp was outdoors, so those in attendance, such as French President Jacques Chirac and Russian President Vladimir Putin, were wearing dark, formal overcoats and dress shoes or boots. Because it was cold and snowing, they were also wearing gentlemen's hats. In short, they were dressed for the inclement weather as well as the sobriety and dignity of the event.

The vice president, however, was dressed in the kind of attire one typically wears to operate a snow blower.

Cheney stood out in a sea of black-coated world leaders because he was wearing an olive drab parka with a fur-trimmed hood. It is embroidered with his name. It reminded one of the way in which children's clothes are inscribed with their names before they are sent away to camp. And indeed, the vice president looked like an awkward boy amid the well-dressed adults.

Like other attendees, the vice president was wearing a hat. But it was not a fedora or a Stetson or a fur hat or any kind of hat that one might wear to a memorial service as the representative of one's country. Instead, it was a knit ski cap, embroidered with the words "Staff 2001." It was the kind of hat a conventioneer might find in a goodie bag.

It is also worth mentioning that Cheney was wearing hiking boots -- thick, brown, lace-up ones. Did he think he was going to have to hike the 44 miles from Krakow -- where he had made remarks earlier in the day -- to Auschwitz?

His wife, Lynne, was seated next to him. Her coat has a hood, too, and it is essentially a parka. But it is black and did not appear to be functioning as either a name tag or a billboard. One wonders if at some point the vice president turned to his wife, took in her attire and asked himself why they seemed to be dressed for two entirely different events.

Some might argue that Cheney was the only attendee with the smarts to dress for the cold and snowy weather. But sometimes, out of respect for the occasion, one must endure a little discomfort.

Just last week, in a frigid, snow-dusted Washington, Cheney sat outside through the entire inauguration without so much as a hat and without suffering frostbite. And clearly, Cheney owns a proper overcoat. The world saw it during his swearing-in as vice president. Cheney treated that ceremony with the dignity it deserved -- not simply through his demeanor, but also through his attire. Would he have dared to take the oath of office with a ski cap on? People would have justifiably considered that an insult to the office, the day, the country.

There is little doubt that intellectually Cheney approached the Auschwitz ceremony with thoughtfulness and respect. But symbolism is powerful. That's why the piercing cry of a train whistle marked the beginning of the ceremony and the glare of searchlights signaled its end. The vice president might have been warm in his parka, ski cap and hiking boots. But they had the unfortunate effect of suggesting that he was more concerned with his own comfort than the reason for braving the cold at all."

How many status details can you count?

(Photo credit: Herbert Knosowski, Associated Press)

What Marie Antoinette really wore. - By Anne Hollander - Slate Magazine

Link: What Marie Antoinette really wore. - By Anne Hollander - Slate Magazine.