Monthly Archives: January 2012

Writing and Editing

My Writing Has Gone to the Dogs

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I consider myself primarily an editor, but every once in a while, I cross over to the other side of the great divide and write. It’s seemingly for pleasure, if you can call fussing over your own words instead of someone else’s pleasurable. Mostly, I write blog posts, but I also write fiction. Part of the reason you haven’t seen a blog post from me over the last couple of weeks is that I have been absorbed in writing a short story for a contest. It has been a sort of exquisite agony for me.

Writing fiction when I’m much more accustomed to editing it is good for me because it deepens my appreciation of what my clients go through when they’re developing their plots, characters, and settings. I’ve always been in awe of those who seriously undertake the daunting process of creating fictional worlds, and when I struggle to create my own, it reinforces my respect for the process and reminds me to tread lightly and tactfully upon the manuscripts that writers submit to me for editing.

But of course, I don’t just write fiction because it’s good for me. Certain themes spark my imagination. When I discovered that there was a short story competition dedicated to dog-themed fiction, I knew I had to enter it. I puzzled over the challenge of creating my canine protagonist, who could express his thoughts and emotions only through body language, behaviour, and vocalizations (but as stated in the contest rules, he was not allowed to speak). I struggled over how to make the dog the engine that drives the plot and how to make him upstage his human companions and take the spotlight. I agonized over how to make my furry main character show the same depth of character and emotion that any human protagonist should have.

My inspiration for the character came, not surprisingly, from my own dog. I began observing Trinka’s body language and behaviours and thinking about them in relation to what she was trying to communicate. She’s an amazingly vocal dog who apparently wants to have conversations with me–if only she could figure out how to speak English. After this period of careful observation, my plot seemed to come effortlessly to me one night, a genuine bolt from the blue. But getting everything down on the page was, of course, another story.

I fussed and I fiddled for days; you know how it goes. I had the whole thing packaged up and ready to mail today when it occurred to me that I’d forgotten a small but crucial detail. So I opened the envelope, only to find that I was also missing an important word, right there in the first paragraph. Even though I had probably read the story fifteen times before, I sat down and read it out loud, determined to catch any other niggling little errors that remained.

The tweaking could have gone on forever, but it was time to put a stop to it. I was well and truly done and, I admit, rather pleased with my work. When I finally sealed the envelope for good, I experienced a rush–or rather, a fantastic big whoosh–of elation that made the thought of all that fussing and fiddling fade away into nothing.

Trinka, the inspiration for my recent foray into fiction
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Writing and Editing

Usage Misdemeanours: Palate and Palette

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Homophone duos and trios are notorious for creating confusion–witness there, their, and they’re, for example. People sometimes aren’t sure when to use which word, and unfortunate usage misdemeanours ensue, such as “Their going to have to learn to use there homophones properly.” Lately, I have noticed problems with using the duo palate and palette correctly.

Misuse of this pair is rampant in restaurant reviews, advertising, and websites. Palette is typically used when palate is meant. I found the most compellingly awful example of this misuse on a restaurant website that declared that they offered an “ecclectic [sic] menu to suit any pallette [sic].” What made this example particularly bad was that palette was misspelled and should have been palate anyway. (And the extra c in eclectic was a nice touch.) The error pile-up in this example takes it from the level of a misdemeanour to that of a crime.

In an effort to rid food writing of palate versus palette errors, I’ll do my best to eradicate the confusion. First, let’s consider palate. Anatomically speaking, your palate is the roof of your mouth, that structure, both hard and soft, that separates your oral cavity from your nasal cavity. Your palate is also your sense of taste, and the idea of taste extends from your taste buds to notions of aesthetic taste and appreciation in general. So it would be quite correct to say that “the exquisite wine satisfied Cynthia’s discriminating palate,” but you could also say that “the raucous sounds offended Ariel’s palate.” However, the word seems most often used in connection to the gustatory sense.

Then there’s palette. It is used to refer to an oval or oblong board with a thumb hole upon which an artist mixes paint, but it also refers to the colours that are arrayed on such a board. So an artist could be said to use “a rainbow palette of colours covering the entire spectrum.” Famous artists are said to have particular palettes, or characteristic ranges of colour, in their work. Palette needn’t be restricted to paint, of course, as fashion designers, interior decorators, and graphic designers using computers also have their colour palettes.

The definition of palette can also extend beyond visual art to describe a whole range of materials or techniques in other realms. For example, you could say that “the symphony consisted of a rich palette of evocative tones” or “the chef used a dazzling palette of exotic spices to season the stew.” The latter type of example could explain the current palate versus palette confusion, as the sense of taste is involved here.

I should note that there’s a third homophone, pallet, which most often refers to either a straw bed (from the old French word for straw, paille) or a wooden frame or skid upon which you’d stack goods in a warehouse. I found at least six other definitions for pallet as well, including a potter’s tool. And at least one source I consulted stated that you could use pallet when referring to a painter’s palette. But because pallet seems rarely confused with either palate or palette, I haven’t made it my focus here.

Sometimes when I read about usage, my head starts to swim when I uncover all the assorted meanings and subtle nuances of words. As I don’t want to leave you feeling similarly dazed, here’s a good rule of thumb for using palate versus palette: remember that palate contains the word ate and is most often used in connection to the taste buds. So unless you’re describing a palette of flavours, aromas, or colours, you’re most often going to be using palate if you’re writing about food. I hope you’ll find this rule of thumb more than–ahem–palatable.

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General Musing

Resolving to Enjoy Satisfying Purposelessness

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I don’t know about you, but I was relieved when 2012 swept in the other day. For one thing, I was overjoyed to finally be able to put up my new calendar, which features beautifully photographed antique teapots in lush settings. And if I happen to get tired of looking at teapots, I can always swap this calender for the tastefully arty Maxfield Parrish one that hangs in the hallway. I’m even enjoying my very businesslike Letts of London 2012 desk diary, with oodles of space for scribbling notes.

Fun and frivolous reasons for welcoming 2012 aside, I was happy to put 2011 behind me since it was not the best year I’ve ever had. But I’ll be quick to point out that it was not the worst year, either. Unlike some of my friends, I was lucky–no true disasters occurred, and I count my blessings for this. Nonetheless, 2011 seemed to weigh heavily on me, challenging me at every turn, to the point where by the end of the year, I was finding that the simplest things–even activities I usually enjoy, like baking cookies–required almost Herculean efforts on my behalf. Although I seemed to achieve a fair bit this past year, I’ve frankly been worried about the toll those accomplishments have taken on my body and my spirit recently.

I’ve always considered myself an introspective person, but despite this, I often haven’t stopped to analyze what role I play in my own well-being and simply push myself through low-energy periods, misguidedly assuming that determination alone will see me through. In years past, at the beginning of a new year, I would often throw in a few resolutions to theoretically strengthen my will, resolutions that inevitably fell by the wayside within a few short weeks (or sometimes even days). No amount of determination and resolve has ever made me feel any better when I feel physically and mentally deflated.

What has made me feel better lately is reflecting on the uselessness of most resolutions. I came to the conclusion that they are the last thing I need to be heaping on myself–now or at any other time of the year. Most resolutions just underscore a feeling of personal inadequacy; I make resolutions to do this, that, or the other thing when I don’t feel good enough. Yes, there’s always room for improvement–I could probably waste less time and be more productive if I really set my mind to it, and I’m sure that many of us fall into this category. But the pressure of trying to live up to an ideal of non-stop accomplishment exacts a cost. Do any of us really need to put that much more pressure on ourselves? Is life not already challenging enough for most people? Must we always be so focused on accomplishing things?

In 2011, my focus on accomplishment went far beyond what was healthy. In an effort to push my business to the next level, I developed a kind of tunnel vision: all my thoughts and activities seemed to be directed by the need to accomplish, and I felt utterly tyrannized by the word should. Where was fun, play, and relaxation? Like those poor souls who are incapable of taking a vacation, had I simply forgotten how to relax? The thought was horrifying. With such an imbalance in my life, no wonder I’ve felt so out of whack.

My last afternoon of the year was spent puttering–reading for pleasure instead of for work (a book about the history of handwriting, which was more entertaining than you might imagine), clipping mouth-watering recipes from magazines, watching the woodpeckers gorging themselves at the suet feeder, drinking my favourite Indian spice tea, and eating those orange double chocolate cookies I hadn’t much enjoyed making (since they were needed for Christmas Day). I wondered aloud when I had last had an afternoon of such satisfying purposelessness. This year, my only resolution is to allow myself to spend more time drifting in this way, free from the need for constant accomplishment. Happy new year.

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