NVDT TOTALLY RANDOM –

Nabokov’s Favorite Color, Stephen King’s Adverb Bullshit, Language’s Value Only As A Measure of Time

I won’t go into all the random things that triggered a week’s worth of conversation about this topic except to mention they were as varied as getting a manufacturer approved Bosendorfer 280VC grand piano model on sale, adverbs, shitty literature, academic criticism, hero worship, Nabokov’s Favorite Color is Mauve, consumer passivity requirements and boundaries, art, surprise ingenuity, “value”, and negative space. Tying those together is a tome in itself. I’ll bypass most of them because they boil down to what’s a word worth.

 Original Argument – The old yes/no adverb debate. (For clarity, this discussion is only concerned with -ly adverbs.) On the naysayers’ side, we have (most) of our teachers, editors, shelves of writing guides preaching clarity. Spare is the obsession of Lanham, Strunk and White, Williams, Joseph and Joseph, Norton, Oxford, Edinburgh, Harvard, Zinsser, King and Leonard. From what I can tell, every scientific, academic, and business subculture has their own writing guides. Whether writing for science, government, car wash owners, consumers, the imperative is not on style or grace but CLARITY. According to “they” decent lit, tech writing, reports and correspondence don’t need the clutter of fluff and adverbs.

 The “Truth” – As exposed in Nabokov’s Favorite Color is Mauve shows the “best” literature, as defined by prestigious awards, consensus by critics and populace over decades, centuries, even millennia of an author’s contribution to the literary lexicon points to the “best” having fewer adverbs. Notice I did not append “sellers” to “best.” God knows everyone loves a hit, but Oneders are Oneders. I don’t recall anyone celebrating the 50 Shades of Gray author’s birthday. In fact, I don’t recall his name or age. But Shakespeare? 461 on April 23rd.

Hero Worship – Many of the prolific and vitriolic “I speak from the mountaintop of sales and wisdom,” either rich and/or famous, professorial, self-help or by claimed personal commitment adverb haters are all pretty much full of shit. A list from Nabokov’s of both award-winning and popular authors in the 20th Century claims 60% of books considered “great” had less than 50 adverbs per 10k words. The breakpoint between “great” and “bestseller” is 110, plus or minus. Hello, Stephen King. Still, 108 to 110 is respectable. Until you hit Nobel territory with Hemingway (52-67) and Faulkner (31-42) and Morrison (39-76), Steinbeck (79-87), Rushdie (104). Non-Nobel but badass anyway like Amy Tan (83), Mark Twain (81), Vonnegut (101), Updike (102). Even Dickens (110). Enough data. The “good” books contain fewer than 1% adverbs per 10k. The average Best Seller runs around 12 per 1,000. Road to Hell adverb hater King 10.8. Per 1,000. Don’t do as I do, do as I say. Elmore Leonard? Practicing what he preaches at .49 per 1,000. Gotta hit 2k to get a whole adverb out of the man.

Contrary Argument – Adverbs, adjectives and flowery prose not only infuse a work with sensory depth, but also a possibly a higher word count bullshit factor. However, adverbs properly used have a push – pull effect. They curtail the reader’s imagination investment, with the benefit of defining and refining the basic language. How? Picking out the weight, the resonance, a deeper meaning of the words they modify. Personal investment (active) may be lost to immersive (passive) participation in a work. Adverbs (and their kin) possess the power to accelerate, decelerate, open, or close. One article metaphorically described adverbs and their brethren as a wall, another likened them to soldiers, both resisting the modern view of language as a “bare conveyance of information.”

Does It Really Fucking Matter – “A bare conveyance of information.” Holy shit. How sad is that? The point of that line – We live in a data driven age that requires us to cram the most information into the smallest, most easily digested form. And that form has boiled over into what we consume for entertainment. Everything we read or watch or listen to comes with the digestion formula (Mature, YA, Language, Behavior) and a timestamp. Movies and music tell us up front what our time investment will be if we choose to watch or listen. Sites like Medium have done the same for language. X amount of words, X amount of time commitment. They promise depth and nuance, fewer words, more power words. Looks good on paper, (pun intended) but have you read any of it? Same old looking for a diamond in the cesspool. Outside of Medium’s noble aspirations, the same equations appear in webpages and eBooks/readers that also display word count and consumption time. My Kindle Paperwhite tells me percentage read, time to next chapter, time to end. Name your AI assistant that promises to save you more time and ask it to summarize already skeletal content. Who needs mauve? Or yellow or red. Or dark to light turquoise cascading into orange? No. These days even show don’t tell gets a haircut. The criticism is “sunrise/sunset is simpler” not Chekov’s “Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”

The most demeaning part of this tragedy? It’s based on a model that assumes all words have equal value. Nothing needs to be re-read (for joy or clarity). No reference/simile/metaphor/allusion needs research or understanding, no logic untangled.

Here’s the Rub – What is a word worth? A syllable? The measure of time required to consume it. Temporal value equivalent, time invested equivalent, depending on what sort of reader you are. As devil’s advocate, and let’s take the “ideal” of 750 + or – 100 word count. Words are still words. In any given 750 there might be 30% or more I shouldn’t have had to read. Redundant set ups, sterile dialog, stupid tropes. Compare the six important words in Chekov’s quote to “the moon was out and bright.” So what’s the “worth” of those six? What if the 750 words are brilliant and need swirling around our brain like a fine wine? What the algorithms can’t rate is the time investment being the same for a piece of shit as it is for 750 of brilliance. When “they” finally start pigeonholing content “if you are easily entertained”, “if you like being led around by the nose”, “if you liked the Hardy Boys”, “this is brilliant word painting by a postmodernist master” then this is for you! “They” will have gotten somewhere.

NVDT TOTALLY RANDOM – For a Good Cause – In More Ways Than One

This post supplants a post about writing germinating in the back of my mind at a slow idle. This one is much simpler. Want to support a great cause? Here it is. Worldreader. Can’t sell enough deathless prose to pay for the ISBN? Help create readers.

What do you get in return? 44 writing books.

That’s correct. 44. Yeah, I know. How fucking boring, right? Why learn to get better? I already know everything already, or I’m too old, or I don’t give a fuck I’ll write passive verb bullshit till the day I die, I like how I write (but does anyone else with a clue?), don’t have time, hate school, hate practice, I sold 67 books over the last two years and only had four ask for their money back…

It shows. In all of us. I can pull a writing book off the shelf, crack it open to where it decides, and holy shit – I learn something. Here are 44 opportunities to learn something. Don’t want to write like Hemingway? Fine. Crack the book and learn a skill applicable to your own style. Like editing one more time. Script writing from the pros, synonyms for look. Maybe even a way out of “was”. Or secondary characters as plot drivers. Hey, I hit on that yesterday and didn’t know I was doing it. Now I do🤣

Or, donate $25 to teach the world to read, like buying them a Coke these days, and give the treasure trove of writing advice to someone who might use it. Nothing to lose here, fellow writers. And an audience of millions to gain.

The Humble Bundle Essential Writing Guides from Adams Media

No, I do not receive any sort of reward for paying this forward. If you know writers and have a following, you can do the same. Everyone. Get. Better. Hey, let’s give sloganeering a face lift – Make Writing Great Again.

If you’re not getting better, you’re backing up.

NVDT TOTALLY RANDOM – Impressions of Two Novels and a Short from Indie Land

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Seriously, Murder? Monica Hoopes – I picked this up because the premise looked at least Hallmark-y. I reviewed this on Amazon. Because I logged into my Kindle and got asked to. I gave it three stars because it was an Indie without grammar errors. I thought, “Well hell, I’ll bet I’m the only person dogging this out.” But thankfully I wasn’t. In fact, a lot of the 3 Stars were harsher than I. For me, the content and dialog were often elliptical and redundant. The men were all assholes, the women well drawn laughable stereotypes. The kind I could use in a Podunk caper. I quit in the middle of chapter five because it was slow and busy coincidentally, and – Okay. If you don’t know how to write dialog, an ! after every introductory clause and elsewhere (636 times) doesn’t help. It reads like shit and screams “amateur.” And my biggest issue, and this has become epidemic – lots of shot looks. Looks exchanged, accompanied by adverbs or adjectives. Look as noun, verb…This book had the word look at least three times a page. For all you look shooters and face pullers out there, that’s the laziest writerly shit there is after constant passive voice. What look? Seriously. What look? Clownish, serious, appalled, confused, angry, challenging, shut the fuck up bitch, doe eyed – what? What. The. Fuck? What did looks ever do to anyone that they deserve to be shot in quantity by lazy writers? Find the “look”, a quick way to describe it or cop out on an adverb. They’re not illegal. Shooting looks and pulling faces isn’t cute, nor does it lend anything to the story. Failing all else get a body beats or 1,000 expressions bible. I mentioned Hallmark-y. I skipped to the end where what did I find but at least four pages of the protagonist and the bad guy trying to talk us all to death while the confession story comes out waiting for help to arrive at the last minute. Unlike Hallmark, the protag ends up with a black eye and a cracked rib. Plenty of stereotype gender reflections from cleavage to testosterone battles, thankfully no overkill on Danger Barbie’s closet. But damn, get a second set of eyes or an editor.

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On the Meter, David Styles – Or Cabbies go Cozy. I quit on this one about 25% through when I realized it wasn’t a novel so much as a love letter to London and its Cabbies. Along with the author giving the plot away on page 18. I mean not a hint of the plot, but the raw plot. There could have been multiple facets to the insidious new cab meter, but they were ruled out by page 18. Aside from cardboard dialog, I should have known better when the first few chapters were Meet the Cast and the author did that time wasting where a character is posh because the author offers a lengthy list of every designer’s name in the character’s closet. Something that, like too specific tech, time stamps a story forever when a closet full of custom fit expensive designer clothes, high end jewelry and watches and maybe some Italian shoes softer than a baby’s butt will do. Yes, dress is a factor in reader psychology, but well dressed, tailored, pressed, worth more money standing up than I make in three months, yeah. But listing out the shop signs on Rodeo Drive, Bond Street or Kings Road? Not to mention the interaction is so cardboard…a girl briefly meets a guy once. Before their first date, her mother knows she’s in love. Okay…Probably a good read if you’re into these geographically specific love letters, but don’t read it as a novel. Think Martin Clunes takes you around London through the eyes of a Cabbie, with all the insight and backstage and oh yeah, blackmail on a grand scale. Maybe. But it’s all secondary to Cabbie and London esoterica.

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The Conjurer’s Wife, Sarah Penner – Saved the jewel in the crown for last, and I still had one or two small issues with it. I haven’t read almost pure narration since I was a kid. Well, outside of tech manuals and academic criticism/persuasion. I enjoyed this one. The story is 99% a chronological recounting of events through the first-person narrator, with a (very) sparse spattering of dialog. Interiority abounds. But it was character productive, not psychobabble. And except for a few Swiss Cheese moments, it felt complete. The “hole” is in the “witches” of a seaside town that had a serious impact on the narrator. She appeared deeply drawn to them, however no basis, even ephemeral, was shown for this “lure.” Unless it was so sublime I missed it. Were all the “witches” conjurer’s “wives”? What? Conversation with some shallow women and a work of art at a party exposed the narrator to the witches’ story, but why did it move her so deeply or awaken her character? I get it as a mysterious muse, to a degree, but I wanted more out of this chunk of the story. Not a lot more, but a little more. Last note, for all authors everywhere, when a story is over, stop. Please don’t tie a ribbon around it with “she had all she needed.” Think cinematically. We get it, trust me. She has her cat and her magic box, and the train is pulling away. Stop already. We don’t need “And then the Lone Ranger rode off into the sunset” nonsense. This was a well-constructed, 99% fluff free, linear, logical story of discovery, deceit – revenge is too strong a word, but it works – as well as triumph over patriarchy, and the Stepford wife expectations without a sermon or agenda in sight. All story. Well done.

Thanks to D.G. Kaye for The Conjurer’s Wife tip