Normally, around this time of the night, I'm doing useless things on the internet or finishing up homework assignments that I've lazily and continuously put off until the last minute. There are even some nights when my friend Ed and I will talk on Facebook chat into the ungodly hours of the morning, which result in some of the best, most insightful discussions that I can ever find myself diving into. But tonight is a different night. How so, you might ask? Because around midnight, I made the choice of peeking inside my creative writing portfolio that my teacher handed back to me on Tuesday. I pulled out my setting assignment that I had written two weeks ago to see her comments, and I was expecting a low A because I had put a lot of work into it. They say that writing is like art. You have to help people see it by painting a picture, only writing uses words instead of brushes. So that's what I did. I spent nearly two hours on this assignment so that people could envision what I was describing, and I was looking forward to positive comments. However, when I took a look at it, I noticed red pen EVERYWHERE. I was puzzled at all the markings, and as I looked through my paragraphs, I realized that she was taking all of my imagery out of it. She wrote to the side "a lot of modifiers - let's work on pruning a bit in future", and as I read it with the crossed-out words, I realized that my writing sounded more empty than it should have.
Let's back up a minute to my previous statement about writing and art being related. If you paint your canvas well, it's going to evoke certain emotions and reactions out of people with little to no trouble. Like a painting, I work extra hard to do the exact same thing to my writing. Imagery is extremely important to me, because without a definite picture, it's going to be too vague. Because of vagueness, my readers are going to aimlessly wander around wondering what kind of sick joke this is, and I'm not going to do that to them. My teacher's request to take my modifiers out is like requesting an artist to only paint half of his or her canvas. It's just not something that's done, and if it is, it shows lack of skill and/or imagination. Over the years that I've been writing, I've developed a definite style that seems to be favored amongst my close friends and my Facebook friends. So it is very disconcerting for me when I see all of those red markings on my paper after I've worked so hard to make a piece work.
I am going to provide for you my original setting assignment. Then I will show you how it would read with my teacher's revisions.
Original:
"The colorful leaves of autumn were floating down toward the ground of the moist forest soil. There had been a rainfall the night before, and the grass glistened with brilliance as the sun shone down on each single blade. Birds could be heard singing melodious tunes throughout the treetops, and every once in a while, a strong breeze would cradle the leaves in its arms, carrying them further into the brush. There was a distant trickling of water bubbling into the creek just down the fiery-colored pathway, where tiny fish swam together in schools of glistening silvers, oranges, and yellows. They didn’t seem to have any particular direction in which they were going, and yet, the movements looked rehearsed, as though they were dancing to the sweet twittering music that the birds were performing above them. In the middle of the creek, a turtle’s head emerged amongst the schools, peeking out at the bright sun that shone above him. Water drops rolled down the sides of his cheeks, and the few that rested on his head glistened in the light
Every now and then, a flurry of leaves would burst into the air as a pair of rabbits playfully chased each other around the trees, kicking the colored scraps up from under their feet. There were flowers of all kinds standing proudly above the soil with colors ranging from deep reds and bright yellows to dark blues and royal purples. Their soft petals glowed softly in the rays of the sun, always open for other animals to pass by and sniff with great pleasure. The bees hummed to and fro, pollinating each flower that awaited them, for they were the great gardeners of the forest. Outside the forest, a fiery red fox trotted about the landscape, stopping for a moment to prop its ears up to listen to the music being composed by the great elements of nature. It then gazed up at the sky with its deep, dark eyes and watched as two of the birds flew off into the distance together, traveling directly toward the bright yellow ball of light that hung high in the sky, as if another world awaited them.
A stray leaf fell from the darkened sky of a cold, quiet forest onto the surface of still creek water. The only movements that could be seen were the rings that expanded around the torn, broken piece of foliage that dipped silently into the icy liquid. A cold wind blew the brittle leaves around the naked branches of the shady trees, and the impenetrable, ashen clouds crawled along the dreary darkness of the night, as if beckoned to swallow the sky. A thick mist flowed like an intricate river throughout the wooded area, licking the dead, dry grass with its perspiration. The deep, haunted call of an owl could be heard echoing throughout the still of the air, fading into the enveloped sky, but the living creature itself could not be seen in the dense, mossy growth of the desolate area. The wind whistled through the lips of the woven twigs that had long been groped and dragged down by the dead plants that covered the cold, solid ground of the forest floor, coiling around anything that crossed their path.
Tree roots twisted and curled throughout the pathways of the deep undergrowth and weaved themselves into tight knots atop the forest floor. Any plant life that dared to grow in their way was decapitated, wilted flower heads and shriveled buds rotting along the tough ground. Darkness brooded within a nearby cave, its entrance closed off by a thick bed of thorns that had thrived within the harsh environment, and a pile of animal bones lined the base of the cave entrance where creatures had attempted to wiggle through the holes of the razor sharp plant growth. Every now and then, a deep growl could be heard inside the heart of the hollow structure, but what dwelled within its contents was unknown, and perhaps, would never be discovered. The forest was malicious, unforgiving, and whoever passed through it would never again see the light of day."
Revised:
"The colorful leaves of autumn were floating down toward the moist forest soil. There had been a rainfall the night before, and the grass glistened as the sun shone down on each single blade. Birds could be heard singing throughout the treetops, and every once in a while, a strong breeze would cradle the leaves in its arms, carrying them further into the brush. Just down the fiery colored pathway, there was a distant trickling of water bubbling into the creek where tiny fish swam together in schools of glistening silvers, oranges, and yellows. They didn’t seem to have any particular direction in which they were going, and yet, the movements looked rehearsed, as though they were dancing to the sweet twittering music that the birds were performing above them. In the middle of the creek, a turtle’s head emerged amongst the schools, peeking out at the bright sun that shone above him. Water drops rolled off his head, and the few that remained glistened in the light
Every now and then, a flurry of leaves would burst into the air as a pair of rabbits chased each other around the trees, kicking the colored scraps up from under their feet. Flowers of all kinds stood proudly above the soil, their colors ranging from deep reds and bright yellows to dark blues and royal purples. Their soft petals glowed softly, always open for the bees to hum to and fro, pollinating each flower that awaited them, the great gardeners of the forest. Outside the forest, a fiery red fox trotted about the landscape, stopping for a moment to prop its ears up to listen to the music being composed by the great elements of nature. It gazed up at the sky with its deep, dark eyes and watched as two of the birds flew off into the distance together, traveling directly toward the bright yellow ball of light that hung high in the sky, as if another world awaited them.
A leaf fell from the sky of a cold forest onto the surface of creek water. The only movements that could be seen were the rings that expanded around the piece of foliage that dipped silently into the icy liquid. A wind blew the leaves around the branches of the trees, and the clouds crawled along the darkness of the night, as if beckoned to swallow the sky. A mist flowed like a river throughout the area, licking the grass with its perspiration. The call of an owl could be heard echoing throughout the still of the air, fading into the sky, but the creature itself could not be seen in the growth of the area. The wind whistled through the lips of the twigs that had long been groped and dragged down by the plants that covered the ground of the forest floor, coiling around anything that crossed their path.
Tree roots twisted and curled throughout the pathways of the deep undergrowth and wove themselves into knots atop the forest floor. Any plant life that dared to grow in their way was decapitated; wilted flower heads and shriveled buds lay rotting along the ground. Darkness brooded within a nearby cave, its entrance closed off by a bed of thorns that had thrived within the harsh environment, and a pile of animal bones lined the base of the cave entrance where creatures had attempted to wiggle through the holes of the plant growth. Every now and then, a growl could be heard inside the heart of the hollow structure, but what dwelled inside was unknown, and perhaps would never be discovered. The forest was malicious and unforgiving, and whoever passed through it would never again see the light of day."
Now, the happy part of the scenery I don't mind. She left a lot of it there and made minor changes. But the dark part of the assignment lost a lot of great imagery because she deleted many of my modifiers. It was really upsetting to read through it and realize how empty it sounded. It had lost its color, in a way. As a writer, I think that if you have something that sounds great, evokes the emotion that you want it to evoke, and grabs the interest of people who are reading it, then let it be! Don't take out all of the imagery and expect the readers to paint the pictures themselves. That is not something that I believe in. It's almost like what I said in my previous blog, when writers who don't understand grammar hand you their pieces. They leave a lot of the work up to you, which is something you never want to make an audience suffer through! I want to be able to create pieces that can be easily read and that flow from sentence to sentence without having to stop a million times to correct something. It's painful, it's time consuming, and no one wants to deal with it!
Tonight, for one of my Facebook statuses, I wrote, "I'm going to fulfill my dream of being a well-known author someday, and I'm going to keep writing the way I do, no matter what my teacher says. I will not dilute my work and lower myself to a level of mediocrity for the sake of those who enjoy reading weak, cliche forms of literature. Sorry, but it's just not happening." It really isn't, guys. Why should I have to go through the trouble of dumbing my stories down just so readers who happen to enjoy the shitty end of the stick can enjoy my work as well? There are so many books that I shake my head at, and one of them happens to be this little easy read called Evermore. It's from a book series known as The Immortals, which I refuse to touch because the first book is just awful.
Play by play? It's about this girl who has a dead sister only she can see, and this sister of hers likes to pester her. She also meets this new guy at school who is instantly infatuated with her, and even though she doesn't like him all that much in the beginning, she continuously has romantic thoughts about him and can't seem to get enough of his presence. And whenever she happens to wish he was there with her, bam! There he is! And then they come close to having sex a few times, she gets jealous because he looks like he's flirting with another girl, and the book is so jumpy that you're going directly from one place to the next with no transitions. First they're at school, then at home, then at a party, then back at school, then Disney World, then a beach, then the dude's house, and you're sitting there going "What the fuck is happening?" At the end, her sister finds happiness and is set free, and then Evermore is going out with Damen.There is also little to no action in the book, which really sucks. The final chapter is probably the most eventful chapter in the book. I don't even remember at this point. The author seemed to borrow a lot of ideas from Twilight as well, and I kept getting that Bella Swan/Edward Cullen relationship sped up 10x faster. So, the author pretty much wrote all three books of the Twilight Saga into one using shitty writing skills. And the next book in the series? Blue Moon. Sound familiar to anything?
The sad part about this book series is that everyone fell in love with it. My friends read it after I told them how awful it was, and they liked it. They even went out and read Blue Moon, which they said was a really good book. All I could do was shake my head and wonder how my friends could settle for such a crappy book series. But then it occurred to me that they could never get themselves motivated enough to read the books that actually had substance to them. It just amazes me how many people settle for literature that lacks great character development, an intriguing, well thought-out story line, a killer climax, and a relieving ending that leaves you looking forward to the next book. And what the hell are these publishing companies thinking? They couldn't have possibly read through Evermore, thought, This is a great book! Let's sell it! and then put it out in stores. The only reasonable explanation that I can come up with is that the publisher probably thought "Omg this sounds like Twilight! Maybe if I put it out on the book shelves, tons of teenage girls will read it and it will become just as popular!" Sorry, but that's not the case with me. You fooled me once. Shame on you. But I will not be fooled twice.
The point of this blog is simply to state that I will not change my writing style just so it ends up sounding as horrible as Evermore. I never want to create empty characters just so people can put themselves in their shoes and feel like they're serving a purpose. My characters are going to be real people with real strengths and flaws, and I'm so sorry if you can't relate to them. But I refuse to make them shells for you to step into and to take over. My teacher may have told me that I used too many modifiers, but damn it, those modifiers painted a picture that I needed to see in my head so that I had something to work with when it came time to write my story. Now, I'm not saying that I'm God's gift to this Earth. And I don't mean to sound like some cocky, egotistic snob that knows everything there is to know about writing. I'm still learning as I go. But I do know that I've had enough practice to trust myself with my style and to be comfortable with what I write and revise. If someone is going to come around and tell me to change the way I've learned, thinking that they're doing me a favor, they have another thing coming.
I would like to leave you all with one of my favorite poems before I depart from this raging blog.
"Listen to the MUSTNT'S, child, listen to the DONT'S. Listen to the SHOULDN'TS, the IMPOSSIBLES, the WON'TS. Listen to the NEVER HAVES, then listen close to me— Anything can happen, child, ANYTHING can be.” -Shel Silverstein
Don't let anyone limit you from reaching your full potential. So long as you know it, believe it, and trust it, you are permitted to strive for it, and no one can tell you otherwise.
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