Christian Author Donna Dawson

He has discovered that he is a very spoiled pooch.  His bed cusion is filled with sawdust.  Plaster dust mixes with the tears in those bulging eyes to leave Duke the Chihuahua with more grey in his facial fur than he would like.  And the noise!  He's got big ears and those big ears pick up sounds that I and his pet human can't hear.  This leaves our champion of the quill cowering under the plastic draped sofa in anticipation of the day's end and the silence it brings.

Renovations are much like edits.  We tear out the old and put in the new.  In writing, this can come in the form of cliche awareness.  I am the queen of cliche.  I use them liberally in my manuscripts.  And yet I do so deliberately--because my characters like cliche and I am certainly not going to argue with them!  There does, however, come a time when I have to renovate my thinking--move beyond the lingo of my day into the lingo of today's readers.  Now having said that, I still notice that I use words like 'cool!' instead of 'sick!'.  I just can't bear to move that far into the present.  (I have the same reluctance with the use of the phrase 'shut! up!'  Thank you but no.)   This brings me to a very important awareness writers need to have--the awareness of their reader.  Into what age category does your reader fit?  If, like Duke and I, you are writing to middle age adults and up you certainly aren't going to want the bulk of your characters talking street jive.  In the same way, if you are trying to reach out to the local teen set you aren't going to want to use formal speech as your main voice. 

So how do you figure out your readership category?  With a bit of a challenge.  Read your manuscript out loud.  Not only will you find a multitude of mishaps in the editing department but you will hear whether your language is formal or slang.  That is your first clue.  Take note of your characters.  If they are all 18 years old you might want to make certain that you visit a high school or college to track the social linguistics there.  If your characters are in mid-20's and there is a faster clipped pace to the writing, assume you are writing to a business minded set.  If your characters are seniors, a more formal, precise language is a good idea. 

And then there is genre.  Each genre has its own linguistic style.  I prefer the fast-paced, abrupt script of a suspense or thriller.  Duke, on the other paw, seems to gravitate toward the flowery and longer phrased romance novel.  For such a manly pooch he is quite taken with the 'breathless anticipation' that comes in the 'heat of the moment'. (now you know what cliche is  I must admit, it has been quite amusing seeing him try to hide the fact that he has been crying his way through another Harlequin inspirational when the plaster dust leaves such obvious evidence.  There is nothing more heartbreaking than seeing a blubbering Chihuahua with globs of mortar packed against his cheeks.

I thought you might like to meet Duke the Chihuahua. While I would love to explain away his tendencies toward vocal hystrionics by saying that he got into the cat nip on New Year's Eve, I can't. Duke thinks he is human (an opinion that I am loathe to correct) and enjoys a tune alongside his pet human. I hope you enjoy.

Duke the Chihuahua has conquered the wrimo!  I must say he's not the most attractive pooch on the planet at this moment.  Those bug eyes are spidered with nasty little red veins making him look like a Picasso cast-off.  A caffeine twitch is making one bulging orb blink like a faulty Christmas tree light. Tufts of fur ride atop his head all askew and a few of those once pert whiskers are rather bent and worse for wear.  He has at least had the decency to keep clean and so we are not assaulted with the fragrance of canine musk.  But our little darling has done it!  His pet human next door isn't quite certain that this is a good thing but that's his point of view.  My point of view is that our Dukey has done the heroic.

Speaking of point of view, I do see that Duke has jumped about a bit in his writing of that great novel but it's nothing that he can't fix.  He's quite talented at staying in one character's head--unlike myself.  I have no aversions whatsoever to skipping from character to character as though I am all-seeing.  This is called the omniscient point of view and I'm rather fond of it in spite of the hue and cry that comes from reviewers and editors alike. 

Duke has just stuttered out the suggestion that I share a bit with you on point of view.  Poor Duke.  He is just beginning to understand the folly of living on too much coffee and not enough sleep and the withdrawal symptoms are making the few remaining teeth clack together in his mouth like unhinged castinettes.  Nevertheless, his idea is sound.

We have four main points of view:

First person is told using 'I'.  Often detective stories are told this way.  I walked down the street and turned into a drugstore (a veritable magician that one--he turned into a drugstore!).  This is a very limited point of view because we can never know what other characters are thinking unless they tell us.  I can't see the thoughts of the villain or the victims.  I can only follow the clues and hope to figure the plot out.

Second person is told using 'you'.  This is nasty in book form however quite acceptable for a non-fiction 'how-to' article.  If you go to the corner store and slip into the darkness beyond the glass doors you will see... It is a hideous thing--unless you are very talented--and I am not--to write a novel in second person.  It gets boring, tiring and downright annoying.  Yes, Duke, that does mean that I will deliberately spill a hearty portion of grape juice on your manuscript if you write it in second person.

Third person limited is told using 'he/she/it' and restricts itself to only one character's view.  You stay within the head of that one character through the whole tale telling.  That means that you only know what he or she is thinking and not anything thought by the other characters.  Romance novels are typically done this way.

And my all time favourite, much to the dismay of those who must read it, is third person omniscient!  This allows me to start in one character's head and, ever so carefully, maneuver around to another character's head.  I love to have my reader know what everyone is thinking.  It's just more fun that way don't you think? 

And now, if you'll excuse me, I think I will run a bath for our elderly and slightly burnt out canine friend.  He's in bad need of a bit of coddling.  Perhaps a can of gourmet dog food after the pedicure and updo.  Oh, sorry Duke, I forgot that you are much too dignified for an updo.  (He has just informed me that hairdo's are for girls--although he's not really complaining about the pedicure).

Duke the Chihuahua, in his desire to ease the loss of Sir Pugsley's passing, has poured himself into his writing.  He did the one thing that I am still working up the courage to do--he signed on to the nanowrimo website.  What is nanowrimo you may ask?  It is a shortened form of National November Writing Month.  Nanowrimo. 

I can understand Duke's thinking.  When a loved one is gone it is therapeutic to fill the minutes with tasks that will keep our minds busy.  I am of two thoughts on nanowrimo however.  I find it difficult enough as it is to learn all the nuances of writing and then equally difficult to pass them on to my students.  I don't need them going off willie-nillie and writing--as the website states--'kamikaze-style crap'.  And yet. 

National November Writing Month tends to do what few creative writing instructors can do.  It inspires a person to begin and end a book without thought of rewrite.  It keeps it as basic as possible--shouts to the world 'write that book!'.  The beauty of a program like this is in its support and encouragement.  No one, anywhere, on the site says the writing has to be good.  That gives a writer incredible freedom.  They can write parallel to the thought that 'it doesn't have to be good--it just has to be done.'  And so it gets done.  Sometimes we get so caught up in having to make the blessed thing perfect that we never actually finish our book.  Ergo the authors who take twenty years to finish their first book.

As I watch poor Duke tap away on the keyboard, pausing on occasion to dab at an errant tear with the handkerchief willed to him by Sir Pugsley, I am reminded that life is somewhat like writing.  Often times we waste far too much of it in the intsy-wintsy details that we forget to live it.  So what if we sail through the moment's task with a bit too much of a laissez-faire attitude.  There is always time later for the fine tuning. 

Duke is rounding the final bend in his 50,000 word nanowrimo novel and I shudder to think of the number of edits the silly thing will need.  But Duke is doing what so many don't do--he is writing that novel.  From beginning to end.  And he is sharing in an experience that is global.  Like Duke, thousands of other nanowrimo's are tearing toward the November 31st finish line.  He, too, is sacrificing those tasty bones and choice chunks of table scraps in order to get that word-count completed.  He, too, has abandoned his personal hygiene to the point where he's beginning to look a smell more like the dog he is and less like the refined gentlepooch.  He, too, groans with the seizing up of joints that have stayed too long in one position.  And when it is all said and done, Duke the Chihuahua will be able to celebrate with those thousands world wide.

And then my job will begin.  I will likely be given the task of editing my canine editor's work.

Look for Nanowrimo at http://www.nanowrimo.org/

It is with great sadness that Duke the Chihuahua and our family offer our condolences to the pet humans of Sir Pugsley.  Sir Pugsley passed away at the Royal Roads Animal Hospital on November 12th.  He was a regal old pup and will be missed by his internet bridge companions and their pet humans.  Duke is in mourning.

Duke the Chihuahua is all a-dither.  He has just received the alarming news that my brother did battle with an errant moose.  I would have taken the time to explain to Duke that the moose lost the battle--and my brother's SUV did as well--but my brother is quite fine.  Duke, however, couldn't wait to get on the phone with his cousin Pugsley and verify the condition of Pugsley's own pet human.  I'm sure that the word will spread quickly thereafter and the remaining members of Duke's online bridge foursome will be made aware of the event. Even a misplaced moose and an overzealous Chihuahua can teach us much about the writing industry.

Let's say that Duke represents the average newbie writer. (I dare say, Duke would be put out to have me call him a newbie anything but since his teeth are long gone, I'm not worried about the ever-threatened nip.)  Full of energy and ready to take on the world, he bounces through his manuscript. throwing phrases together, sauntering from scene to scene and then wham!  Along comes something that side swipes him.  What does our newbie do?  He runs off in a dither. 

How often have newbies received that rejection notice or had an editor hit them with a particularly hard piece of editing?  It hurts and the impulse is there to run away and commiserate with sympathetic peers.  But wait!  What would happen if the newbie stayed put and forced himself to listen to the whole message--even the underlying tones that aren't actually written down but subtly implied?  What if that newbie pulled out other critiques and edits and looked for the common mistakes?  They would save themselves much heartache in future submissions because they would repair those common flaws before sending that manuscript to the editor.

Duke eventually went to a good source to find out the details of the accident but he could have made things much simpler by waiting to hear me out.  He would have learned that all was well--with the exception of one very unhealthy--unliving--moose and a smashed vehicle.  He would have learned that Pugsley is maintaining a stoic attitude and that he had already contacted the other two of the bridge group and was just going to contact the venerable Duke. 

As writers, it is so very important to value the words of professional editors.  No, you don't want to lose your writing voice in the quagmire of extreme edits but you don't want to take on the process with your emotions on your sleeve either.  Editors don't hate you--unless you send them repeated emails begging them to take your manuscript and whining 'Is it done yet?  Is it done yet?'   They have a job to do.  That job is to make your work shine.  When the moose sideblinds you in your writing world, don't fly off in a panic.  Stop.  Listen.  Analyse carefully and apply the wisdom that you learn.

Duke is at it again.  His pet human returned home recently but he still insists that I need my own personal editor.  At every opportunity that shiny black nose pokes through my door, snuffles around my floor for stray crumbs (he makes a great vacuum) and then precedes the rodent-like body to my office.  There he parks and waits for me to fill him in on all the particulars of my latest writing project.  And from his place of importance beneath the protective legs of my computer desk, he pronounces judgement.  Today's words of wisdom were actually--well--wise. 

I poured my heart out to the silent Duke, telling him of the post to my site offering pornographic material.  I complained that this kind of stuff is sickening and people like that have something wrong with them.  I whined that this ill-minded reprobate was a woman no less and that something should be done. 

Duke pulled himself up to his full eight inch height, shook his dark shaggy coat, tipped that pert nose into the air and informed me that I should pray.  Pray!  I didn't want to pray.  I wanted to get very eloquent with this Girl_21.  I wanted to teach her that words could say so much more without the need for foul implecations.  I wanted to put her in her place. 

Pray.  With nothing more to say and no offer to cry on a fuzzy shoulder, imperious Duke strutted back to his royal abode leaving me with that one word.  Pray. 

I thought about it.  Why does a person become involved in pornography?  Why do they pass the illness on to others?  The answer came to me in two shakes of a Chihuahua tail and I was humbled.  They are hurting.  They don't value themselves and so can't see value in others.  They feel so much pain that they are uncaring toward the pain they inflict on others.  Duke was right.  Prayer is the best recourse against the foulness of the enemy and so, Girl_21, I will be praying for you.  Praying that God will bring you to the end of your pain.  Praying that he will bind you from hurting others with your trash.  Praying that he will undermine your computer skills so that you can't polute the web any longer.  Praying that you will see through your pain enough to know that he loves you dearly.

Thank you, Duke, for the reminder.

I still hesitate to admit that some of the choicest pearls of wisdom that I have gained have come from a toothless, four-legged rag mop.  Nevertheless, it is true.  One such lesson was learned this week.  Duke the Chihuahua has taught me the value of poor choices and yes, it can carry over to our writing.

Duke thought it was candy floss.  He was certain that he would get that sugary high that comes from hoovering down on the cast offs of some little kiddy's mishap.  But it wasn't candy floss.  It was fiberglass pink insulation.  I'm sure that his tastebuds received a bit of a shock but our canine friend threw caution to the wind and gulped it down anyway.  What followed was a day of discomfort and dose after dose of castor oil--and a number of trips to the outdoors.  By day's end, Duke had learned his lesson well--that not all candy floss is made of sugar.  As he recouped it got me to thinking.  How often do we do this kind of thing as writers?  Garbage in--much pain--and garbage out.

I began to ruminate over the books I read.  Light.  Fluffy.  Entertaining.  Some are adequate but few are actually nourishing to my writing.  Of late, I have been getting the equivalent of a tummy ache in the ideas portion of my brain and wondered why.  Maybe I was consuming too much fiberglass instead of true nourishment. 

As I petted pour Duke, his head nestled on my lap and the bug eyes possitively popping with a silent plea for sympathy, I came to the realization that I can be a coaster (no not the kind that sits on your coffee table and sops up droplets of spilled coffee).  I had become satisfied with letting someone else learn for me.  They were finding the true nutrients of life, processing them and giving me a condenced version--and I had been content with that.  I had learned to listen to teachers and believe their words to be true because they said so.  I had learned to read fiction and believed their 'facts' to be real because the author said so.  I had learned to sit in church and believe the interpretations to be from God's word because the pastor said so.  But Duke's gastronomical bout with the faux candy floss has slam dunked my lazy mind.  It is time to get real food.

As a Christian, this has meant the opening up of my purchased copy of the Qumran scrolls.  I have a sudden desire to find out what the Bible actually DOES say--not what other people say it says.  I have a sudden desire to pull my old school texts off the shelf and see if one plus one really does equal two (that part hasn't changed).  And I have dusted off my writing texts from university and begun to pick them apart again.  (who says I can't use 'ly' words and why?)  I have begun to read the works of pulitzer prize winners to find out how they got where they are.  I am no longer content to hear it from others who have studied them.

Duke has learned a lesson about sniffing before chewing and in his painful experience he has taught me much about the value of discernment in what I put into my mind and heart.  Garbage in--garbage out.