Words of Love I Remember

In honor of Valentine's Day, I will post the lyrics to the first love song I ever wrote for the love of my life, Barry K. Lipson:

Only This Will Do

by Susan L. Lipson

You are the sun and the rain and the sky;

I know it's cliche, but that's what comes to mind

Whenever I think of you,

Whenever I dream of you.

If I could give you the sparkling stars in the sky,

I'd mix them in a glass of black velvet night

Served on a silver tray--

Champagne to toast the day.

CHORUS:

There are many ways to tell you

How I feel for you;

Many love songs have been written, but…

Only this will do, 

Only this will do.

You are the roots and I am the tree,

So you're always supporting me,

Even when strong winds blow,

Making my branches bow.

If I could give you this wonderful day,

I'd wrap it up in grass and tie it with hay--

A gift of green and gold,

A gift of new and old.

CHORUS

You are the flower and I am the bee,

I give to you and you give to me,

Helping each other grow,

We meet after every snow.

If I could give you a mountain to call all your own,

I'd drape it with flowers like a royal throne,

With the sky as your canopy,

You'd be Nature's royalty.

CHORUS

       

                                      

Read To Build Memories; Write To Evoke Them

 The books we read build layers of memories, like sedimentary rocks, offering us new vantages from which to view the world and share our unique perspectives via our own grains of truth. Choose your literary foundations carefully.

          According to Samuel Johnson, "The two most engaging powers of an author are to make new things familiar and familiar things new." In other words, authors have the power to evoke déjà vu and to rejuvenate memories. I have never been in combat or survived horrific traumas, yet I feel empathy for such survivors partly because of the vivid words of authors (and screenwriters) who have brought me, safely, into battle zones as a fly on the wall. I have never lived a life of crime and drug abuse, except for when I lived in worlds that rose around me as I turned the pages of a novel set in that world. I did not lose my parents as a child, but I can now almost feel the pain of an orphan after reading a number of books narrated by endearing kids who are braving life on their own. The list of emotional memories I have compiled in my mind owes almost as much to books as it does to life experiences. (Movies do the same for me.) By making the unfamiliar familiar and pulling me into scenes, these authors evoke empathy, not just sympathy, via carefully chosen, multi-sensory details and characters who seem to have walked out, in 3-D clarity, from the author's private mental world. 

          Ask yourself what new "things" are now familiar because of your reading about them. Which books made them familiar? Then reread, or at least review, those books to see HOW they added experiences to your memories--experiences you never actually had, except through the lens of another writer's prose. 

          Also ask yourself what familiar "things" or experiences, as presented via an author's perspective, enlighten your own memories of things familiar. Was it your own first love, a powerful school memory, a trip to another state or country?  Again, reread or review the books that made you nod and say, "Oh I can relate to this--but I'd almost forgotten how it felt!" Do it before you forget those books and those feelings. Do it to add layers to your memory banks and enrich your writing.

     Coming-of-age books are a perfect example of how authors make "familiar things new." I love reading them because they reawaken my own memories and often make me forgive myself for my foibles of the past, for my immaturity as a teenager, and for my failure to apply those lessons today. In fact, they sometimes help me to see myself in a broader way that benefits me as a parent. Pick up one of your old favorite coming-of-age books and read it today for a very eye-opening experience. I have reread, for example, The Catcher in the Rye at various stages of life, and each rereading offers me a broader view of young adulthood and how I've become who I am today. I always advocate rereading those books you deemed "life-changing" in your late teens or early 20's as a method of self-examination. It also does wonders for your own writing. 

          Introspection elicited by the words of others will help you create words that elicit the same in your readers. Take the time to read, reread, and ponder in between typing. Your words, and your readers, will thank you. 

          I need to go read now.

THE GLINT ON BROKEN GLASS

     Anton Chekhov (not the guy from "Star Trek," but the renowned doctor-author-playwright) deeply enriched the old adage "Show, don't tell" with these awesome words:

 "Don't tell me the moon is shining, 

show me the glint of light on broken glass."

I reserve the adjective "awesome" to describe things that take my breath away, and that description of "showing" writing certainly awes me with its poetic prose. An image instantly appears like a photograph in my mind. A memorable image.

     This got me thinking about other memorable images that form a Pinterest-page-like collage in my mind, images that also color the way I write my own prose. I started looking through books I've read recently on my Kindle, specifically at the notes I appended with each reading. Here are a few indelible images I'd like to share with you now, to inspire your emulation in poetic prose. A heightened awareness of poetry leads to a deepened development of imagery.

• "It was the nicest thing she could imagine. It made her want to have his babies and give him both of her kidneys." --from Eleanor and Park, by Rainbow Rowell; these lines show the depth of her appreciation, joy, and love through her desire to return his kindness by literally giving him a piece of herself.
• "…they were all experts in the blank-face department. They should find some family poker tournament…." --also from Eleanor and Park; this line makes me laugh and envision this disinterested-looking family around a game table, giving away nothing that they are thinking.
• "The shelves were so very much taller than he could even dream of being, and Oscar firmly believed people shouldn't go any higher than they already were."--from The Real Boy, by Anne Ursu; what a visual way to show Oscar's sense of smallness, literally and figuratively, and his sense of the inevitable hierarchy of his world.
• "He didn't say that with a sneer. Edilio didn't own a sneer." --from Gone, by Michael Grant; a character description that sums up the innate kindness of Edilio, who has no sneer in his wardrobe of expressions. 
• "It used to be a perfectly ordinary day, but now it sticks up on the calendar like a rusty nail." --from The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt; I can see this image and imagine that nail on a number of significant dates in my own life. 
• "The streets were ruptured veins. Blood streamed till it was dried on the road, and the bodies were stuck there, like driftwood after the flood."--from The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak; the city becomes one with the bodies, and the people, as driftwood, blend with the destruction. The filmmakers had images to work with when they designed the sets from Zusak's descriptions.
• "I try to smile, but my lips seem to snap back down like tight rubber bands. They do that a lot lately."--from Just Act Normal, by S. L. Lipson (yes, I'm sneaking in my own work now); this is my depiction of depression's weight upon a teenager.

I added that last example from my own work to show that I find inspiration in the poetic prose of other authors--rather than to tell you that. This blog is meant to show.