Writing & Thinking About Dad

I no longer use lengthy runs on the treadmill as a laboratory for writing. Sweating on long runs has been replaced by my 52 minute drive from Woodbury to Norwalk and the 54 minute drive from Nowalk to Woodbury. Funny, since acquiring Shaina’s Suburu (oops, hummer!) I have my first car in a long, long time with a working quality radio… something absent in both the mercedes and the porsche. Also keep in mind that my Saturn also has a good radio; but Suzy only gives me infrequent permission to use it.

So here it is… the hummer with a terrific radio, and I have decided to drive in silence. I like the quiet. It is when I begin my writing process. I write sentences in my head… tinker with the sound of words or phrases, sift thru the emotions.

This morning it poured like holy hell as I made my way south along routes 25, 59 & 136. I wasn’t edgy, just tooled along behind two cars and a van. I was putting the finishing touches to a new piece that I was meant to get out today; but will probably delay ’til Monday.

But as I say, I was tinkering with a phrase… trying to improve its sound, when I thought of Dad.

I have written before of my writing influences. Mr. Hirata in 7th Grade put me to relying on my five senses when writing descriptively. Fowler Osburne in the 12th Grade let me write funny essays.

And then for inspiration… John Irving. None better in the creative imagination department.

M.F.K. Fisher… sensuality. Also, I admire her economical use of words. I try and include at least two sentences in every piece that I write that are Fisheresque.

And then, my single greatest influence to style… Calvin Trillin.

Lynn has also correctly pointed out that some of my pieces have an Andy Rooney feel. I would have to agree… not that it was my intent to sound like him, it’s just that all curmudgeons sound alike. It’s true, I love to put on that garb, from time to time. And I will give someone 50 cents if they say, “hell, that Rooney fellah sounds just like Jim Winston!”

Finally, there is my Dad. And as I say, that is who I was thinking about this morning.

Technically he was not a great writer. Sort of like a person who knows music… can create it; but just can’t write it down. But he gave me an early lesson in writing… he told me to reduce the number of prepositions in a sentence.

So here is an example from my next piece… My original draft had this: “He got this for bravery in the War in the Crimea.” I have changed the sentence to read, “He got this for bravery in the Crimean War.” Over use of prepositions creates a choppy sound and lengthens a sentence. Much like M.F.K. Fisher, Dad liked brevity in writing.

Dad also had the gift of turning a phrase. It would begin with an excellent word selection.

Dad was an avid reader, so it stands to reason that he had a decent vocabulary. But a good vocabulary only goes so far. He had a good ear for words… for how they played. Then combinations were used based on sound and rhythm… and then it was turned into a phrase.

Dad love a word that, while technically a word, was improperly used. For example, when describing Tartan Plaids from Scotland… he would say, “the beauty of Scotch plaids.” I would correct this, and tell him that it should be “the beauty of Scottish plaids.” I told him that the correct adjective was Scottish.

Then he said, “Jimmy, I don’t care… ‘Scotch’ sounds better, and not because you drink it… it just has a better sound.

Somewhere on 136 near the Easton/Fairfield line I heard it… Dad was always tuned into sound. That’s his imprint on my writing.

It took me a while to see it. Dad you were right. Rest easy, the next time I have need to describe something coming from Scotland… Scotch goes in.

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