She sits, second row on the left side of the chapel. The pew in front of her remains empty, and so as she weaves her fingers together, apart, together again, she has an unobstructed view of the open casket and Silas, his forehead and nose bumping up past the line of the box.
Present tense. You are in the moment, yourself a spectator.
Now let's shift gears for a moment...
She sat, second row on the left side of the chapel. The pew in front of her remained empty, and so as she wove her fingers together, apart, together again, she had an unobstructed view of the open casket and Silas, his forehead and nose bumping up past the line of the box.
Past tense. Already done and gone, relayed to you by a first-hand observer.
Same excerpt, two tenses. Which stands out to you more? As writers and readers, each of us has a preference.
When reading, does one form put you off? I'm in the middle of The Nanny Diaries, written in the present tense. As a proponent of past tense, particularly in longer works, I find it stops me short at times.
When writing, how do you choose the tense you'll use? Is it intrinsic for you, something you don't even consider? Or do you weigh the options against the work, the ultimate output and the characters who live the story?
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
A Weekend of Women
A lone Janna
three states (okay, just the corner of one)
food aplenty
and antiques.
Priceless.
A couple Saturdays ago I left town, bags loaded with reading material and edible goodies, mind set on time away and important visits.
I put almost a couple hundred miles behind me and met fellow writer and bloggy buddy, Melissa from Grosvenor Square. (And I kick myself for not asking her to pronounce that G-word for me. I stumble over it every time.) We had lunch at a quaint little hole-in-the-wall, where we talked shop and life. Melissa, a doll in her own right, was accompanied by her daughter, a sweet, talented little thing. We had a great time!
Afterward, I continued on to see my grandma. She's been in a care facility of sorts, since a car accident left her slow to move and confined by a neck brace. She's doing well, and our visit was pleasant. I admit, we've never been close, and the warm fuzzies and bonding I'd hoped for didn't come to pass. Still, our one-on-one time was important, and I'm glad I went.
One of the highlights of my trip was visiting antique stores along the way and back: Most of you know it's one of my favorite pasttimes. Plenty caught my eye, but I seemed in a bookish mood. I bought two old texts, one called the Essentials of English Composition, published in 1912, and the other Journalism. Its moss green cover caught my eye first, but then I was endeared by cursive handwriting that claims the inside cover. And its date, 1916. When I scanned the table of contents and read the following passage from within, I had to have it:
Women in Journalism
It seems to be a mooted question whether the newspaper world has anything much to offer them. According to the best opinion only those who feel that they have special talent for the work, and who are willing to deprive themselves of home and social life to an extent not required in any other business, except that of acting, should think of taking up journalism as a means of livelihood. Unlike teaching or almost any other calling, the labor of news getting and news editing is, from its exacting and severely practical nature, essentially a man's work...
Ohhhh, I could go on, but that's a decent taste. Isn't it a hoot? I had to bring it home.
All in all, a worthwhile weekend of women.
Have you had any special weekends of late?
three states (okay, just the corner of one)
food aplenty
and antiques.
Priceless.
A couple Saturdays ago I left town, bags loaded with reading material and edible goodies, mind set on time away and important visits.
I put almost a couple hundred miles behind me and met fellow writer and bloggy buddy, Melissa from Grosvenor Square. (And I kick myself for not asking her to pronounce that G-word for me. I stumble over it every time.) We had lunch at a quaint little hole-in-the-wall, where we talked shop and life. Melissa, a doll in her own right, was accompanied by her daughter, a sweet, talented little thing. We had a great time!
Afterward, I continued on to see my grandma. She's been in a care facility of sorts, since a car accident left her slow to move and confined by a neck brace. She's doing well, and our visit was pleasant. I admit, we've never been close, and the warm fuzzies and bonding I'd hoped for didn't come to pass. Still, our one-on-one time was important, and I'm glad I went.
One of the highlights of my trip was visiting antique stores along the way and back: Most of you know it's one of my favorite pasttimes. Plenty caught my eye, but I seemed in a bookish mood. I bought two old texts, one called the Essentials of English Composition, published in 1912, and the other Journalism. Its moss green cover caught my eye first, but then I was endeared by cursive handwriting that claims the inside cover. And its date, 1916. When I scanned the table of contents and read the following passage from within, I had to have it:
Women in Journalism
It seems to be a mooted question whether the newspaper world has anything much to offer them. According to the best opinion only those who feel that they have special talent for the work, and who are willing to deprive themselves of home and social life to an extent not required in any other business, except that of acting, should think of taking up journalism as a means of livelihood. Unlike teaching or almost any other calling, the labor of news getting and news editing is, from its exacting and severely practical nature, essentially a man's work...
Ohhhh, I could go on, but that's a decent taste. Isn't it a hoot? I had to bring it home.
All in all, a worthwhile weekend of women.
Have you had any special weekends of late?
Friday, July 3, 2009
Which Would You Rather?
Imagination is more important than knowledge...
- Albert Einstein
`
So, imagination? Or knowledge?
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