Sinful Simile

I want to tackle one of my favorite editing targets – the simile. I have read this device belongs only in amateur writings, never to grace the pages of an actual published novel. As a reader I enjoy a well placed simile, and even one a page wouldn’t bother me inside a captivating plot. When reading agent and writer blogs calling for the elimination of similes in writing, it surprised me. The reason being, excessive use of similes is actually difficult to do. Any writer who edits… and that’s all of us… would have the eyes pop right out of our heads if we finished a manuscript with a multitude of similes. I wager if there were three in the first chapter, every simile for the rest of the manuscript would be poking us in the eye like a red hot poker… oops. :)

Writers normally use similes in a toned down manner. The one Stephen King used on the infamous page 194 of ‘Needful Things’ (“…Frasier had hustled a protesting Keeton over to the betting windows like a sheepdog nipping a wayward lamb back to the herd.”) would be considered a blatant one. The use of less obvious ones such as ham handed to denote large hands or clumsy actions have in many cases been reduced to cliché by overuse. Another simile being denounced in editing circles is the celebrity simile, where a writer describes a character as like a famous movie star. The attack on this whimsical usage targets laziness in the writer for not wanting to describe the physical attributes of their precious character. I’ve read it done both ways, with a character described in mind numbing detail, and I’ve read a character being referred to as looking like a particular celebrity. When I read a celebrity simile I immediately think that was the face the writer saw when writing the manuscript, and wanted readers to see the same person when reading. It’s normally never used for multiple characters because that would never survive an editing. A cast of fictional manuscript characters described in celebrity lookalike form one after another would be so silly as to be laughable even for the most amateur of story tellers.

I like similes. I liked King’s. Some are used to be laugh out loud funny and they are. Trying to come up with some rule where there can only be a particular number of them used in a novel borders on arrogance. In all this striving for bare bones writing it can actually change a writer’s voice. I read a number of authors in whose works you would be hard pressed to open and find a simile, adverb, or exotic dialogue tag. Dean Koontz, Michael Crichton, and Larry McMurtry are three writers I know of. I can’t do the Stephen King random test on any of their books and I have many of their novels. The thing is with King’s work there is a casualness in his writer’s voice that makes the words flow with a reader like me following along with no notice of rules. While the other writers I mentioned use the banned sins of simile and adverb rarely, they express their own writer’s voice through their characters’ thoughts and dialogue in other ways. None of it is wrong, and it all works because of the story being told. Next up on the hit list in the future – the dreaded POV police.  :)

Writing Advice

My sequel to DEMON is nearing 30,000 words so I’m thrilled with that progress. A few writing sites covered what has become popular again – the list of no-no’s for writers. It’s not that I get upset when I see this stuff. I find it amusing when agents and publishing houses collect this stuff to feed back to us in the editing rounds. The advice, supposedly to make our manuscripts into beauteous tightly wound editor’s triumphs, sends out waves of angst amongst the writers reading the no-no lists. I’ve decided to take a look at reality in bestselling novels, by a number of my favorites to illustrate some points I’d like to make. First up, Master Stephen King.

Let’s look at the dreaded adverb first. Nothing according to the experts makes a reader’s head spin on their shoulders like an adverb. On one page of the book ‘Needful Things’ by writing master Stephen King on page 194 of my hardbound first addition, which I opened at random, he incorporates three unnecessary but completely okay with me adverbs – happily, impatiently, and rarely. Then on the next page, Master King used ‘hardly’, and three instances of ‘barely’ – barely felt, barely heard, and barely speak. Oh… the pain. To add insult to injury, Master King had a monstrous simile on page 194. What’s the big deal you ask? Well, according to editors and writing experts today the simile should only make an appearance once or twice in an entire book. Lucky me, I popped open Master King’s ‘Needful Things’ to find one in the second paragraph of the very insightful page 194 – “…Frasier had hustled a protesting Keeton over to the betting windows like a sheepdog nipping a wayward lamb back o the herd.” What luck, 685 pages, and I picked the very page where Master King must have deposited his only simile. Ah contraire, my friends. I pop it open in my hands once more to page 476 and find another seething simile – “Holding a swatch of Slopey’s tee-shirt in a fist which was nearly the size of a daisy canned ham…” with a sprinkling of ‘hoarsely’ and ‘happily’ adverbial sins thrown in for good measure. You’d also need an adding machine to count up the master’s weak verbs in his tome. I’m not doing it.

I’m not writing this blog to make fun of anyone. I’m writing to point out the fact writing advice should not be taken in the form of holy gospel. Yes, if Master King had done a word find of happily and barely, he would probably have done a little more editing. I loved ‘Needful Things’. It was horrifying, nostalgic, and gripping. I like it just as it is. The agents and editors will of course laugh, claiming ‘yeah, well you ain’t Stephen King, Sparky’. No, but I’d like a little common sense and logic entering the debate of whether to strip a manuscript down to the point where it reads like a first grader’s prep book ‘Spot sees the ball’, ‘Jane throws the ball’. Rather than yanking the reader out of a paragraph, an adverb will flow as easily as ‘said’ in a dialogue tag, unless of course, you use one like ‘barely’ three times in the space of a few lines. Master King… really? :)  I will return to this subject a few more times.

2005 Smokin' Subaru

Since it has only been in the high fifties out here in weather wonderland, I’ve needed to keep my back door pulled down because it sets up a nice cooling breeze through the shop – great in summer… not so good in winter... or early spring. I was underneath a 2001 Ford Ranger attaching the last harness connector for one of the front oxygen sensors. I heard someone drive in, looked out from under toward the front and smoke is billowing in a cloud around my entrance way. I’ve had customers with overly rich, misfiring vehicles drive in with their catalytic converters on fire twice. I keep a fire extinguisher on the outside office wall location for just such an instance. Those folks got out of their vehicles with me pulling the pin on my extinguisher while shouting for them to turn off the engines. Very exciting. With that in mind I whipped my creeper out, banged my knee on Mr. Ranger’s frame and limped quickly to the front.

A young tattooed guy was standing in a cloud of smoke next to a late model Subaru. There weren’t any flames. It was all coming out of the tailpipe. He smiled at me, gesturing with one of his fully tatted arms toward the car. He rattled off a string of lingo I couldn’t understand, but by then I was by him and into his driver’s side door to turn off the engine. My eyes were watering while I’m wondering how the hell he could be oblivious to the cloud. I held up a hand, wheezing something about staying in place for a moment. I limped to the back door feeling a familiar wet spot inside my pants leg. Mr. Knee was missing some skin and leaking. After getting the roll up backdoor open, a nice April breeze cleared my eyes and nasal passages. It also began the task of clearing the shop of the ominous gray cloud of vehicular despair. Jimmy Tattoo was sitting partway on his hood with tattooed arms folded casually over his chest. His underwear was visible from under his pullover shirt to where the low hung pants started halfway down his butt. His shoes were invisible because of the pants. He’d have to get the pants cleaned after leaving. Although I do keep a clean shop, it’s not good to drag clothing across my shop floor.

“Sorry ‘bout ‘dat.”

I shrugged. “It happens. I bet they can see you moving around in this from space.”

Blank look. Never mind the witticisms, Bennie.

“How can I help you?”

He fires off another barrage of part mumble, part pieces of words, and all of it unintelligible to me. Yep, I know I’m old but my hearing is still very good. It’s my mind that can’t decipher either rap songs or street short hand. I gesture my confusion with a cautioning hand wave.

“Please, start over slowly. I’m a geezer so have a little compassion.”

Jimmy laughs, and nods his head, standing up away from the Subaru. At least he enjoyed my pulling the geezer card on him. “I bought this a couple months back. Couple days ago it started smokin’. Got a estimate for an engine. Man, it’s twice what I paid for the damn thing. Thought I’d get a second estimate. You do engines?”

“Yes.” I’m circling the Subaru by then, and gathering info while I pop the hood. It’s a 2005 Subaru Forester. I see it only has a little over 80,000 miles on it. “Did it pass smog?”

“Yeah… no problem with smog. It runs good.”

I nod and open up the hood. Checking it with my handy dandy Maglite, I see it has a turbocharged 2.5L four cylinder. Looking closer I see the telltale signs of a turbo leaking oil (when they go south as bad as this one they’re usually coated in oil residue like this one was). “I don’t think it’s the engine. I think your turbo went out. It’s oil cooled and when the seals go they’ll dump oil into the exhaust. Let me do a quick scan on it for codes and make sure the oil hasn’t wrecked the converters yet.”

“Okay by me… thanks.”

I scan the vehicle with engine off, ignition on. No codes. Jimmy may be able to avoid replacing the very expensive cats on his chariot. “Clear so far. Even after you get the turbo repaired it will smoke for a time until the exhaust burns out the oil.”

“How much?”

I gesture him into my office. “It won’t be the sticker shock of an engine but the turbo’s run around a thousand for these. Let me find out for sure.”

Jimmy didn’t even like the part price though, and he’s swearing to himself while twisting around in a little semi-circle. When I hand him a printed estimate copy, he’s really annoyed. “Man… can’t you cut me some slack on ‘dis.”

“No, but take it with you.” I hand him a business card. “See if you can get it done cheaper somewhere else. If not, give me a call. Don’t drive it anymore than is necessary though because that raw oil will burn out your very expensive catalytic converter.”

This news doesn’t help either. “You take credit cards?”

“Yes.”

Jimmy hesitates a moment longer before signing the estimate. “Just do it.” He hands the paper back to me and I give him a copy.

I lucked out and a rebuilt turbo was available on a Good Friday. It took less time than I figured to clear the exhaust too. A sullen Jimmy Tattoo arrived to pay and pick up his Subaru. I don’t blame him. I’d be upset about throwing a bunch more money into a vehicle I’d just bought too, but at least it wasn’t the engine. Mr. Knee did not hurt so bad once it was bandaged. Just another day in Bennie Geezer land.

On a good writing note, I’ll be passing 26,000 words on my YA novel DEMON sequel this weekend, and my buddy, Author RJParker, read my other YA Paranormal novel STORM. He gave me an excellent review on Amazon here. Please check it out and click on his helpful YES button for the review.

Chrysler Paifica Noise

Between shootings at the local Christian College and the new looting and pillaging by the ‘Occupy’ idiots marching in Oakland where only a few small businesses still remain, the OPD have their hands full. Unfortunately for the poor small business owners in Oakland getting looted, the ‘Occupy’ morons’ march drew most of the thugs to their area, which might be the reason the gang-bangers haven’t returned to our East Oakland demilitarized zone. I have gotten a few mornings now without any overnight graffiti, and the scouting parties have not reappeared.

A funny incident happened yesterday with a first time couple of older customers. Being a bit long in the tooth myself, I’m always patient with my peers. They usually just want their vehicles fixed and they like not being talked to as if they were children. I do get an attitude adjustment occasionally when after listening politely to five minutes of unrelated trivia I stick in an actual question concerning their vehicular problem. I’m certain I’m not the only one that’s gone into a bank nowadays with one or two tellers, a line full of patrons, and two gray haired fossils relating their life stories to the only available tellers. Doctors’ offices, banks, and grocery clerks are hit hardest by the ‘Fossil Force’. Their own kids and relatives won’t listen to them. They then go wherever they have a captive audience to spew everything from their latest ailments to uncaring offspring stories. I already have a pact with my kids that when I start showing signs of joining the ‘Fossil Force’ it will be time to put me on the ice floe for the polar bears to eat.

These two new customers drove in with a very nice looking 2004 Chrysler Pacifica, not your usual ‘Fossil Force’ vehicle. I waited in front of their vehicle for a few minutes during the debarkation. It does take us oldsters a bit more time to exit our chariots. The older lady approached me from the passenger side, smiling and pointing her cane at me, while her husband was still doing an exiting ritual, someone with back trouble must do if they don’t want to end up in traction. They’ll be known as Eddie and Neddie Chrysler for the blog today.

“You’re all gray,” Neddie informed me. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be 62 at the end of the month, ma’am.” Yeah, I am all gray.

Neddie cackles, tapping her cane on the garage floor. “Hell… you’re just a teenager. I’m eighty-nine. Eddie there’s a year younger than me.”

Eddie has one of those work worn faces. He’s a bit bent and peers up at me affably. “Our neighbor recommended you.”

That’s when the story of a noise in the Pacifica begins to meander back and forth between the two for the next ten minutes. Only about forty-five seconds has anything at all to do with the problem. The rest of the time is filled with tales of mistreatment, misdiagnosis, and disappointment. Neddie pauses to catch her breath, and I jump in.

“I’m pretty good with noises. How about I start your Pacifica and open the hood. You two can point out the noise to me.”

Neddie’s lips purse into what I used to recognize on my old first grade teacher, Mrs. Shaffer, as the prelude to an upbraiding. I was not disappointed. “If you’d give us a second, Bennie, we’re trying to explain what’s wrong with it. We need you to replace the power steering pump.”

I glance down at my jacket name tag. Damn it! That smudge turning Bernie into Bennie was still there after two washings. Okay, it’s Bennie and the Jets again at your service.

“Before I give you a price on a power steering pump, would it be okay if I listen to it?” See, from what I’d gathered listening to their story, they’d had the pump and numerous other pieces installed without correcting their noise. One of their relatives, a former mechanic, had told them there’s no question about it being the pump, and they must have had a faulty one installed. I have found something else these 3.5L engines get in the way of a noise that sounds like a whining power steering pump.

“I told you…” Neddie began again, but Eddie stops her.

“Hold on Ned, let Bennie hear it.”

“Fine.”

Eddie hands me the keys, I pop the hood, start it up, and sure enough it has a very strange yowl like sound. I look down the gullet of this beast with my mini-Maglite and find the culprit - the belt tensioner pulley is canted slightly. I shut off the engine.

“It’s the belt tensioner pulley assembly,” I inform them.

“But my-”

“Neddie,” Eddie waves her off. He’s made a decision. Eddie doesn’t seem to enjoy all the verbal sparring Neddie appears ready to embark on. “Write us up, Bennie. Can you do it now?”

“Probably not.” Most assuredly not. “What I can do is order the part and call you when it arrives. You can come back and wait in my office while I put it on.”

“That sounds great,” Eddie replies happily.

Neddie is not so enthusiastic, but she allows me to write up the invoice without further conversation. I get the VIN number too, because luckily my parts suppliers have an on-line presence where I can put in the VIN number and be assured to get the right part. They leave. I get the part and put it on upon their return. It’s quiet, and Neddie has enjoyed all my family pictures decorating my office walls. That costs me an extra half hour, but I had thankfully allowed for it, this being their first time in. Watching them leave I’m wondering if I’ll make it to their age without ending up a polar bear happy meal… probably not. Bennie out for now.  :)

April Fool's Anniversary

Today is not only April Fool’s Day. It’s the 29^th anniversary of when I bought Nilson Brothers Garage from my boss who was the older of the two original brothers. I’d worked for him since 1976 when my auto tech instructor at Chabot College, the younger Nilson brother, convinced him he needed me. Luckily after a quick interview he thought he needed me too. So, on April Fool’s Day of 1983, I became the owner of Nilson Brothers Garage. I’ve always thought it was the perfect day to have it happen on, because of the twists and turns of the automotive repair business. Tomorrow starts my 30^th year as owner, and I have a real simple wish for the day – that I won’t have to clean graffiti off my building.  :)

Writing this weekend went very well as I will definitely be over 22,000 words on my sequel to DEMON. I also finished scanning and fixing a bunch of old family photos from the 1930’s to the 1980’s for uploading to Facebook for my family. They’re spread out all over the country so that’s the place where we stay in touch. It also brings up another interesting trend I’ve noticed while querying my most recent two novels. Many of the agents now require in the submission guidelines on their sites that authors include the social networking sites they belong to. It makes sense to me since I see a lot of marketing and promotions going on in all the social venues. Facebook and Twitter have become avenues for readers to interact with the authors of the books they read. Goodreads is another venue which previously wasn’t a networking site as such. They’ve expanded with forums where readers can interact with authors along with posting reviews. Only time will tell if all this social site networking will be reduced to unending spam wherever you go.  :)

Happy April Fool's Day!