The Dirty Pun Catcher

Face-wink

I had my poetry critique group this afternoon. We were reading one person’s poem, and one of my suggestions for her was a stronger title that better tied into the content of the poem. So the three of us started brainstorming out loud, saying things that came to mind. One of the phrases that popped out of my mouth was “Venus Comes.”

Now those of you who are really on my wavelength – thanks to the title of this post – might already be giggling. But in that context, it was harder to catch the dirty pun. Venus, in her poem, was not the goddess equivalent to Aphrodite, but the planet. Plus, it was a phrase lifted from the poem itself. But once I said it out loud, I heard it differently, and I knew I had to nix that because she expressed that she liked that option and I refused to be responsible for an un-caught dirty pun if I could help it.

Here comes the awkward: “Uh. Um. Well, actually. You might… want to… consider… not using that phrase. Because…” *looks around* “It sounds naughty.”

I get blank stares, but press on, because these women are my friends, dammit, and if I can’t point out dirty puns to them, I might as well throw in the towel now.

“So Venus is the goddess of sex, right? And if you say she comes…”

Thank goodness the light of understanding dawned in their eyes and we were able to laugh about it and move on. And, once I told them the reason I never hold back on expressing unintentional dirty puns in someone else’s writing, they were even grateful. They said, hey, someone’s got to be the dirty pun catcher.

And that’s how I finally decided what job title to put on my business card.

What It Is

But seriously, what the hell is a Dirty Pun Catcher? In essence, it’s the person with enough guts to tell a writer they’ve unintentionally flubbed up their serious scene/poem/chapter with a hilariously misplaced dirty phrase. This is more often than not the person who was constantly snickering in the back of the classroom in high school (guilty).

Said person might be a first reader, a member of the writer’s critique group, an online buddy, or even a last reader. They might circle the dirty pun and let the writer puzzle it out for herself, or they might voice the pun aloud to get a good laugh. Either way, this person is a good person to have around, because they catch things like…

My Real-Life Example

The very first time I ever brought anything in to my prose critique group (gosh, almost 3 ½ years ago!), I took a piece of flash fiction that I was pretty proud of. (Hell, I’m still proud of it – and I still believe it deserves to be published. So if anyone knows of a credible venue willing to consider very dark literary fantasy at flash lengths, by all means let me know.) I sat down with this group of friendly strangers and held my breath until they’d all read it. What would they think?

They loved it. Not in that I already know you and like you so I like what you do way, but in that You’re a complete stranger and I still like what you do way. I was thrilled. Ecstatic. In the clouds. And then, at the very last minute of my time, one man spoke up.

Turns out, at one point, I had the unfortunate phrasing of having my dragon “shifting on its jewels.” I laughed pretty hard, and the (very nice) man explained that the hilarity of that misfire really threw him out of the otherwise serious – even somber – tone of the piece. I suppose some people could have been offended or annoyed, but I was grateful. And I have been ever since, which is why I now wear the Dirty Pun Catcher hat myself.

Who Needs One

You. You. And you, too.

Everyone needs a Dirty Pun Catcher. Even if (maybe even especially if) you think you’re above such things. Yes, maybe you’re too mature to think accidental dirty phrasings are funny, but here’s the thing: your reader isn’t. Why would anyone risk potentially losing readers instead of just biting the bullet and making what’s usually a very easy fix?

Some Universals That Have to Stop

My favorite (least favorite) unintentionally dirty-sounding word?

  • finger

This is often an age thing, I’ve noticed, so maybe it has to do with changing lingo or something but… “fingered” means something pretty graphic to most of us. (No, I’m not spelling these out. Here: www.UrbanDictionary.com.) It used to primarily mean to meddle around with something, like to anxiously finger the zipper on a sweatshirt, for example. But now the primary (yes, primary) connotation is something that teenagers do in the back seats of cars. So unless your story takes place a few centuries ago or more, you’ve got to find a different word to use now please thank you.

Other words and phrases to be wary of, depending on the context:

  • jewels (see above)
  • the back door
  • pitching / catching
  • coming (see top)
  • the one-eyed anything

Please note that I’m not saying you can’t use these anymore. I’m just saying that a prudent writer will be aware that some of these, in the right/wrong context, will make your readers chuckle in a way you don’t want. The whole dirty-minded world will thank you for not knocking them out of your story; I promise.

A Word of Caution

Don’t become that person who constantly and relentlessly points out every phrase that can be feasibly construed to be something perverted despite the context.

Don’t be insensitive to people who are easily embarrassed. If you think their gaffe will make them uncomfortable, just write it on their paper instead of saying it out loud in front of a group.

And don’t point out dirty puns to authors of already published books. If they can’t change it, don’t bring it up. That’s just mean.

The Take-Away

So there you have it: my argument in favor of Dirty Pun Catchers. If you agree, I dub thee knighted. Go forth and help thy fellow man; catch those dirty puns before it’s too late.

Readers, do you have any experiences finding unintentional dirty puns? (If the book is *ahem* already out there, you might want to make it anonymous for the author’s sake.) Writers, have you ever had someone point out a dirty pun to you? Any universal ones you’d like to add to the list?

Any characters who come from Nantucket? 😉

Posted in Silly Stuff | Tagged | 27 Comments

10 Tips for Attending a Writers’ Conference

This weekend I attended the DFW Writers’ Conference. It was my second year, and this time I got some things right (that I learned last year) and some things wrong (that I experimented with this year). So I thought I’d share with you all some of my newfound tips, so that you can be more prepared at the next con you attend. And I totally recommend DFWcon, by the way. Great stuff.

Clockwise from the top: Addley Fannin, me, Kelsey Macke, and Febe Moss.

Without further ado, the top 10 things I learned:

1. Set your goals ahead of time. Choose 1-2 big ones and prioritize.

2. The first thing you should do is pick up your nametag, write your Twitter handle under your name, and put it on. I wish I could claim this idea as my own, but I totally snagged it from networking queen Kelsey Macke.

3. Be on Twitter. This is one I didn’t do, and I regret not doing it. I don’t have a smart phone (which, quite honestly, I greatly value for the rest of the year), so I definitely felt like I was missing out on all the #DFWcon hashtag conversations. Maybe next year I’ll borrow one or something.

4. Make yourself recognizable in person and online. This includes 1) Don’t forget your nametag when you change outfits that night or the next day. 2) Follow tip #2 above. 3) Make your actual name your Twitter handle. And 4) Make your Twitter picture look like you ahead of time, so we can make the name/face/Twitter connection.

5. Don’t be afraid to take risks. Sometimes they work; sometimes they don’t. You won’t know until you try.

6. Go with positive people who share similar goals. Like my all-time favorite wingwoman Febe Moss.

7. Find new friends (like the awesome Christine Arnold), and meet up with them more than once to reinforce the connection.

8. Follow up online with connections you made. Find them on Twitter, say hi, and give them a follow.

9. Now, some people will disagree with this. But I say don’t make it your goal to pitch to agents in social situations. Be ready, but don’t pitch unless they invite you to. Accepting that some interactions will just be for fun takes a lot of the pressure off and made my time a lot more enjoyable. Plus, just because you don’t pitch at the con doesn’t mean you can’t query them later and remind them how you met.

10. Leave classes that don’t do it for you. You’ve paid too much money to waste an hour in a class that isn’t what you need.

Those are the things I learned this year! Have you been to a writers’ conference before? Do you have any other tips to add?

Posted in Advice for Writers | Tagged , | 27 Comments

On Living With Regret

I’m going to be honest with you guys; I’ve never truly understood the whole “no regrets” life philosophy. I imagine it being spouted by the same people who say, “You only live once, right?” (a phrase so popular it’s been abbreviated for faster usage: YOLO).

In other words, you have some huge life decision to make and one of the choices is a little crazy. Maybe even a choice that will hurt someone you love, but it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so you say YOLO and go for it. And even if it doesn’t work out, you stand by your choice, because you want to live a life of no regrets.

That might not be what people actually mean when they say these things, but it’s certainly what I imagine. Doesn’t “you only live once” seem sort of like a free pass for being a jerk and/or making questionable decisions? That’s just not how I roll.

And it’s not even how I want to live. Judy Clement Wall blogged about that here, and she said it well. Long story short: if you care about your life and the people in it, and you’re human and therefore susceptible to making mistakes, how you could you possibly live a life with no regrets?

I have regrets.

Some of them are small but persistent, like using careless wording online or waiting too long to catch up with an old friend. Others are more substantial, like hurting someone I love — saying or doing things that I can’t take back.

In fact, for my own personal consumption, I just made a list of the biggest regrets that still haunt me. Almost every single one of them is a person’s name.

There are mistakes I’ve made that fill me with regret like cold rain that will never be warmed. I can’t un-make them, and that kills me. I hate knowing that someone I love carries around hurt because of me. I hate it.

They say we should forgive ourselves as readily as we forgive other people, and I guess I’m just not very good at that. A lot of (all of?) the people on my list have hurt me too, but I don’t carry that around nearly the way I do my own regret. Some of the people on my list have been apologized to, and others are long-gone. Strangely, I don’t feel much of a difference between those I’ve spoken to and those I haven’t.

So how do we live with the bad choices we’ve made?

Not thinking about them helps, but sometimes the ghosts start groaning and can’t be ignored. Asking for a person’s forgiveness sometimes helps, but often a regret is too old or too seemingly trivial to be dredged up. Time helps, but even the oldest regrets stick with me. I still feel bad for the one time I cheated on a test back in second grade, as silly as that may sound. As if me as an adult has any power over what second-grade me did. But still, I wish I wouldn’t have done it.

I don’t have the answer. Maybe some people are better at self-forgiveness than I am. Maybe it comes down to loving ourselves as much as we love others, and knowing that we, too, are human and liable to make mistakes. Maybe the wisest of us can massage regrets away.

Or maybe regret is something that we all need to keep. Maybe living with regret is our way of remembering the lessons we learned in making the wrong choices. The pain and sorrow we feel about one decision is there to remind us of the possible outcomes of the next decision. Maybe each mistake haunts us so we remember not to make it again.

What do you think? Do you live a life of no regrets? Do you think that’s something worth striving for?

And if not, how do you live with your regret?

Posted in Food for Thought | Tagged , , | 37 Comments

What Is Literary Fiction?

And why you should stop assuming you hate it.

Photo by shutterhacks.

  • Myth: Anything you read in school is literary fiction.
  • Myth: “Intellectual” works are automatically literary fiction.
  • Myth: Literary fiction is always boring/has no plot.
  • Myth: Literary fiction is always wordy.
  • Myth: Literary fiction is snobby.
  • Myth: Literary fiction is “better” than commercial fiction.

As you can see, there are a lot of misconceptions about literary fiction. And when you ask someone what literary fiction actually is–really try to pin down a definition–the answers get pretty vague. Even industry experts seem to disagree on what the requirements are for a piece of fiction to be called “literary.” What does it even mean? Isn’t all literature “literary”? Help!

I hear a lot of people slam literary fiction on a semi-regular basis, usually based on one of the myths above rather than a genuine knowledge of what it is. And as someone who is absolutely passionate about both reading and writing literary fiction, that makes me sad. Especially since, more often than not, there’s only one type of literary fiction that someone doesn’t enjoy.

*does Scooby Doo double-take grunt*

That’s right. I’m here with a theory.

Part of the reason there’s so much confusion and misunderstanding around literary fiction is that what we mean when we say “literary fiction” is actually three separate things: a style of writing, a genre of book, and a qualifier.

So I’m going to go through each type in hopes of clearing up some of the confusion and possibly nailing down exactly what you might not like about certain types of literary fiction.

1) Style

Sentence structure, vocabulary, metaphors, similes, and a generally “poetic” (or “stark”) quality.

Any genre in the world can be written in a literary style. There are two drastically opposite styles that most people identify as literary:

The Rambler– Those long, complex, lovely, and sometimes convoluted sentences that often seem to be more focused on the beauty of the language above the message they tell. If you can’t stand Herman Mellville’s Moby Dick or Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, you probably dislike verbose prose (which usually also means you won’t enjoy many things written before 1900.)

The So Tight It’s Cryptic– When an author makes nouns and adjectives into verbs for the sake of compact sentences, things can get confusing. If reading Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes or Don DeLillo’s The Names felt more like work than pleasure to you, you might not like your prose packed so tightly.

2) Genre

Established plot and character expectations just like any other genre (romance, mystery, horror, etc.).

In romance, it’s expected that there will be two characters in conflict who eventually get together. In mystery, it’s expected that a main character will be faced with a mysterious event he or she then has to uncover the explanation for. And in horror, the reader knows that there will be some version of a “monster” that the main character will have to beat to survive. Literary fiction, as a genre, also has certain expectations it must fulfill.

The Nothing Happens Plot– With the popularity of thrillers, apocalypse stories, and action-packed adventures, small-scale stories can seem plotless. The truth is that every story has a plot, but what people mean when they say a book “has no plot” is that the plot is mundane. The characters live slow, ordinary lives, often stuck in a rut, and no global safety is at stake. Stories of broken relationships, general discontent, and “I’m at the end of my life” stories often seem light on plot. If you couldn’t have been more bored by F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby or John Knowles’s A Separate Peace, the genre type of literary fiction might not be for you.

The Intentionally Unlikable Characters– Most commercial genres strive to make at least their main characters likable, relatable, and memorable. But Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita turns that tradition on its head with an unabashed child molester. And the most important part of that? Nabokov never intended for the reader to fall in love with Humbert Humbert (or Lolita, for that matter). But if adoring your main character is a must–books like Lolita and Philip Roth’s Goodbye, Columbus are absolutely intolerable to you–you’re less likely to find something in the literary genre that suits your taste.

3) Qualifier

Poses a larger question and answers it using methods other than plot and character.

Now this is where things get prickly… and where people get snobby. “Qualifier” inherently implies quality. So does that mean that all quality books are literary fiction? No. It really doesn’t. You can absolutely have commercial fiction of extraordinary quality. So if you think of literary fiction as snobby, please reconsider. And if you’re perpetuating that myth, please stop.

So what do I mean by qualifier? Quite simply, this type of literary fiction aims to answer “large” questions (such as difficult issues about morality, life, death, love, human nature, etc.) through devices other than character and plot. In other words, a character waxing poetic about betrayal doesn’t make a work this type of literary. But a literary device that aims to force the reader to come to their own conclusions about betrayal is.

It is such literary devices (and admittedly “buried” messages) that most often frustrate readers. And let’s be honest here: it is this type of literary that most draws the hyper-intellectual snoots who tend to give literary fiction a bad name among commercial fiction fans. Some authors revel in reaching only a very select readership. If you’re not that readership… just ignore those authors.

So if you’re reading a book that has an unusual or strange literary device in it (such as an unreliable narrator, a story told out of order, switching points of view, story within a story, satire, metafiction, and epistolary novels), there’s a good chance that device was chosen to make you think. The author is trying to tell you something more about the story through this unusual device.

The Unchronological Story– If a novel is told infuriatingly out of order, such as Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights or Penelope Lively’s Moon Tiger, there’s a good chance that was done for a reason. Is the author asking you a deep question about time, for example? If you don’t much care for drawing your own conclusions, this type of literary fiction probably won’t be your cup of tea.

The Strange Point(s) of View– In The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, Death (as in the Grim Reaper) is the narrator. In good literary fiction, this type of strange point of view is only done for a reason. In Zusak’s case, he’s trying to tell you something about his world, characters, or message that a different narrator couldn’t have told you. Similarly, William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying switches point of view between most of the characters. If you don’t enjoy puzzling out why these types of devices are used, you might avoid “qualifier” literary fiction.

The Takeaway

As you can see, it’s easy to have a literary book that is just one or two of these things, which means that if you don’t like one aspect, you shouldn’t necessarily discount all literary fiction.

If you dislike literary genre plots, for example, you could try “upmarket” fiction, which generally means commercial plot written in a literary style and with deeper messages (i.e. A book with an easy plot and likable characters that you can delve into if you want–but don’t have to in order to understand what’s happening, like Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire). Or if you dislike literary style writing, you could try Jandy Nelson’s The Sky is Everywhere, which has a literary plot and deeper themes, but is relatively straight-forward in style. And PS- If you love all three, I recently enjoyed Matt Bondurant’s The Night Swimmer.

My point is: now that you are aware that people mean three different things when they call something “literary,” you can figure out which types you don’t care for and avoid those–without automatically discounting all literary fiction.


So how about you? Do you like literary fiction? Loath it? Which type is your favorite, and which makes you want to throw a book against the wall?

Like this post? Check out all posts in the What is Genre? series!

Posted in Genres | Tagged , | 65 Comments

Sonnet Building Step 5: “Final Dress”

[If sonnets just aren’t your cup of tea, check out the related prose discussion below.]

Critique

Sonneteers! At this point, you’ve done everything you can on your own to make your sonnet shine. The next step, if you’re up to it, is getting outside feedback. Now if you’re like me, you have a poetry critique group to turn to. But I’ve found that to be pretty rare. So… I’m offering to be your critique group.

IF you want feedback, I will give it to you. If you’re really brave, you can post your sonnet in the comments and see what all of the sonneteers have to offer. If you’re a little more hesitant than that, you can email me privately at annie_07@alumni.utexas.net.

Scared? Worried that I’ll tear you apart? Well, I’m not that type of critiquer. And the best way to assure that you get only what you need is to ask. When you email me your poem, preface it with what you want. “This is my first sonnet, and I’m not concerned about meter so much as the overall concept. Does the story come across to you?” Or “I want to submit this to a sonnet contest but my meter isn’t perfect. Can you help me smooth it out?” Etc. I’m not going to give you feedback that you aren’t ready for.

And if you want to share your poem with me without asking for critique, I’d love that! I absolutely want to read your sonnets, whenever you finish them, and I completely understand if you don’t want critique! I understand that everyone is at their own level, and I’m not going to judge you in a negative way. I promise. =)

If you didn’t finish your sonnet, I’d love to hear why. You can be completely honest with me. And if you have suggestions or things I might think about if I ever teach this material again, please let me know.

For those of you wondering what’s involved in poetry critique, here are some of the things I hear a lot:

  • word choice (if a word or phrase gives the wrong tone)
  • meter
  • rhyme
  • title choice
  • factual accuracy
  • clarity of meaning
  • overall flow and rhythm
  • message of poem

React

So what do you do once you’ve received your critique? You absorb, evaluate, and implement.

There’s no reason to be afraid of feedback. It’s just someone else’s opinion. You are still the writer. If they say “this sounds bad,” and you disagree, you don’t have to change it. It’s your creative project, remember? Consider, decide, and act. No good critiquer is going to be insulted if you don’t agree with what they say.

Share

Not everyone shares my goals of publication. That’s perfectly fine. But I will admit that if you’ve spent so much effort on a poem… I can’t understand why you wouldn’t want to share it with someone. Whether it be me, your spouse, your cat, or at a local open mic night, I encourage you to show it to someone you trust.

And if you’re really brave, submit it for publication! I have tips on how to get started with that both here and here. Also, mention this to me in your email and I might be able to recommend a venue to you.

Posts in the Sonnet Building series:

Step 1: “Gathering DNA”

Step 2: “Structuring a Skeleton”

Step 3: “Filling out the Flesh”

Step 4: “Muscle Sculpting”

Step 5: “Final Dress”

* * *

Prosers: How do you decide when to listen to critique feedback, and when to let it wash over you? Have you ever had an experience that made you question your own judgment?

Sonneteers: Thanks so much for joining me! Writing a sonnet is no easy feat, and I really admire your courage in giving it a try. Hopefully it was a positive experience for you, even if you didn’t come out with quite what you expected. I wish you the best of luck in your future poetry endeavors.

In case you’ve missed it, here’s the whole series:

Intro to Sonnet Building 101
Sonnet Building Step 1: “Gathering DNA”
Sonnet Building Step 2: “Structuring a Skeleton”
Sonnet Building Step 3: “Filling out the Flesh”
Sonnet Building Step 4: “Muscle Sculpting”
Sonnet Building Step 5: “Final Dress” (above)

I hope you’ve all had a great National Poetry Month!

Posted in Advice for Poets | Tagged , | 6 Comments