The Writing Life
Day 27. The yard is gone. The yard is gone. I can’t see the grass for the weeds…Where did the grass go?
I sometimes think about writing in terms of grass and weeds. The grass is the good, essential content. The weeds are filler words: just, so, though, like, that, anyway. My own weeds usually are “just,” “though,” and “that.” I’m self-conscious about the words. I look for them, and, if I see them, I consider what actions I should take.
If you ever have tried to slice a tomato with a dull knife, you know the inevitable result: a smushed tomato and pulpy tomato innards all over the cutting board. You now have to choose whether to be content with the pulpiness or to try again. You know, though, that the results will be the same, so why try again? Doing so won’t make any impact on the flavor of the tomato, only on the presentation of the tomato.
Today’s post is courtesy of Nancy Davis.
There are many great writers out there that I am simply not a fan of for whatever reason. Sometimes it can be a style issue, or there could be something missing emotionally for me.
I’ve written about perspective previously, but it’s usually been in relation to seeing oneself correctly – to have the right amount of confidence or to act in a manner worthy of one’s business and calling. Perspective, though, has a wide variety of applications. In this instance, the application is to the writing life.