...For they will never lack for a source of amusement...
Well, I rambled on for quite a while today...interesting anecdote though...if you've got the time, give it a read...I narrowly avoided a mortifying experience and my closest friend took the brunt of it for both of us...
One thing that is important to remember in life is that we simply should not take life, or ourselves, too serioulsy. To do so is to miss out on some great opportunities. I will elaborate.
I wrote the "mission statement" for my little blog yesterday. I launched the whole idea as a way for me to sort of present ideas and tips and links for other writers out there. I viewed myself more as a facilitator than an expert. I just thought a site detailing some experiences (good and bad) and some pointers (also probably good and bad) might help out those who were just getting started.
So, I gathered a few of my writing books and began browsing the web for sites of interest. One of the books I picked up from my personal collection was "The Elements of Style" by Strunk and White. If you don't have this book, and you want to write, do youself a favor and go pick it up. Don't take my word for it. It is also highly touted in Stephen King's "On Writing". Click Here...see for yourself
Anyway, as I thought about the elements of style, I decided to write a short piece on how important a well versed vocabulary can be in establishing the tone of a work. Well, as soon as I thought about this, a sadly humorus story from my high school days surfaced that I think emphasizes the need for appropriate word usage more than all of the preaching I could do on the subject.
The year was 1989 and my good friend Scott Greer and I had a painful crush on Mrs. (Yep...Mrs.) Richards, a young and attractive teacher who was probably not more than ten years older than we were as seniors. To this day, I have no idea what Mrs. Richards taught though it makes my story much more ironic to me if she was an English teacher. She may have been. I don't know.
In any event, we were hopelessly in love with her and for some reason, in a fit of high school egocentricity, we convinced ourselves she was flirting with us. We decided to approach her about it, confess our feelings and then let Mrs. Richards select one of us to subsequently launch into a tawdry affair the likes of which one might read about in the pages of Hustler magazine.
Now in my Senior year, I was doing allright with girls, mainly because I targeted those with egos more sorely bruised than my own. Even still, I was much to afraid to approach a teacher. Not so with my friend Scott Greer, class stud and Mr. self-confident. Even still, looking back, he must have been somewhat intimidated by the situation as we decided the best course of action would be to write a letter to Mrs. Richards. So, we sat in the cafeteria one afternoon and wrote the letter. We poured over every phrase and impressed ourselves with our own eloquence. We polished the letter until it was perfect. We though it nearly dripped with romanticism and naked sexual charisma. We left it on her desk and fled.
In some sort of adolescent wisdom, I had managed to inspire Greer into this action and I had been involved in drafting the (now infamous) letter, but I avoided having my name attached to it somehow. So it was little surprise when the very next afternoon, Scott Greer was summoned before the Assistant Principal. At SDHS, the Assistant Principal was Mrs. Young. Mrs. Young was a great Principal. She was friendly and fair and she was an unbelivable disciplinarian. We had always been on her good side. Her bad side was reserved for miscreants and malcontents. Now one of us, Scott, was about to see another side of Mrs. Young. We had become miscreants if even for a short time.
It seems our letter panicked poor Mrs. Richards as I had convinced Scott he should indicate how he had seen her looking at him. I thought perhaps she might have feelings for him of which even she was unaware. I thought if he pointed this out to her, she might find herself suddenyl ensnared in the bonds of lust. Man, was I wrong.
Now, I know at this point the story doesn't seem all that funny...but one of our best lines was where Scott implored Mrs. Richards to take the letter serioulsy and not to view it as a joke. In our desire to impress the young teacher we attempted to flex what little vocabulary adolescent boys being raised in southern Tennessee might possess. In the letter Scott had drafted, we had implored Mrs. Richards not to view his advances as a GESTATION. Of course what we meant was a GESTICULATION. Two words of quite different meanings. (And even the second wasn't used entirely properly - ah...young love)
What had started out as our attempt to have a sort of male-Lolita type affair, turned into something a bit more embarrassing. My friend, normally confident and unflappable to a fault, was laughed out of the Asst. Principal's office by both Mrs. Young and Mrs Richards. Our misuse of Gestation was not the only odd turn of phrase, but was perhaps the most humorous. Looking back, I can still imagine our heady sense of destiny as we crafted the letter. I don't think the outcome would ever have been any different than it was despite how well the letter might have been written, but I am certain that whatever wild romanticism we were attempting to conjure in Mrs. Richards was probably significantly deflated by our mention of a gestation. Not exactly a "sexy" word to say the least.
I guess knowing the craft, or at least knowing the words, is an important part of writing.
JG
Comments