Quirks in the Works
I’m taking a break from all the science to tell you more about me. Trigger warning: it’s geeky in here. Here are some of my daily habits:
- I wake up and see how many of my phone alarms I’ve dismissed in my sleep. (I set 3)
- After an incoherent prayer, I do vocab flashcards in Anki or read some Arabic in Lingq while drowsing in bed, as a way to wake myself up. I don’t drink coffee.
- A glance outside tells me how many sticks and pinecones fell in the yard overnight–a preview of the cleanup to come.
- Now for a quick check of my front porch. Rainwater collects there, despite the big awning, and I don’t want to give porch pirates time to swipe my packages. And who knows, I might get to meet one in the act. If he takes my author copies, I should at least sign them for him, right? I’m not fully dressed when I crack the front door, so I do this thing where I hide behind the wall and lean sideways so my neighbors don’t get an eyeful. Guess I’m not ready to meet a porch pirate in this state.
- My email inbox calls to me. I tidy it so all that remains is a short todo list. You people with thousands of emails in your inbox are grinning, I’m sure.
- The members page of Scribophile.com stays open in my browser. I refresh the page and welcome the new folks.
- YouTube is next. I look for new engineering videos, most of which are in Arabic. My “Watch Later” list has 1,243 videos. Wait, here’s a documentary on oil rigs. Make that 1,244.
- Which language will I read my Bible in today? Anything but English will do.
- Events and characters from the Scribeverse drift through my head, snagging themselves on my thoughts at the oddest moments. I challenge assumptions I’ve made about my story. I ask “what if”? and “If this is true, what else is true?”
- Saps. I don’t know the etymology for some word. Must stop and google it. This is how I learned that “world” = “wer” + “ald”, or the “age of men”.
- I read Facebook in Greek, pasting unfamiliar words into google translate. I do a LOT of pasting. If we’re friends on there, I’ve probably read your name in Greek.
- Yardwork time. I pick up pinecones with a gripper stick and chuck them into a mid-sized can on wheels. Next come fallen branches, some of which I snap over my knee. I speak to them in Hebrew, saying things like, “My son arrived in Haifa yesterday.” and “Please give me 20 shekels.” Those cheapskate pinecones never give me money, no matter the currency I ask for. Pimsleur audio lessons are my constant yardwork buddies, and I cycle through languages every few months. Right now, it’s Hebrew. A glance at my oaks tell me they’re not a fall risk yet. And no dead animals on my lawn today–I’ve removed more than my share over the years. Animals must see my fluffy grass and think, “that seems a cozy place to die.”
- Ooh, a new worldbuilding idea! I put down the gripper stick and jot a note on my phone.
- After work, I play a video game in one of my languages. Lately, it’s Hollow Knight in Arabic. Half of my time is spent looking up words I don’t know. Okay, more than half.
- My Steam collection is organized by language. When I’m in the mood for Russian, I know which games to choose from:
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- I carry a backpack of author copies and wear my book t-shirts everywhere I go–always ready to sell my books. I even sold one in the restroom once. Well, I started the sale there.
- Before bed, I roam the house and turn off lights and fans left on by gremlins and family members. I lock doors and look for cat puke I didn’t step in earlier.
- When reading novels, I jot down clever one-liners for inspiration.
- I work out in my garage. My usual lifts are deadlifts, chin-ups, arm curls, overhead press, and standing barbell rows. Flat bench and squats, too, when my body allows it. I count reps in different languages, often changing languages mid-set. If you want to see me change colors, come watch me lift.
- My brain has a built-in spellchecker for English. Misspelled words leap off the page at me and blow raspberries.
- I still fold white undershirts the way I was taught in Navy boot camp.
- I live next to a middle school and its many, MANY football games. The national anthem will suddenly blast over my yard. I always wonder if I should stop and pledge right there in my driveway.
- When I pack for my daughter’s speech and debate tournaments, my suitcase is crammed with books to sell. I leave a tiny gap at the top for clothes.
- I make silly language mistakes and laugh at myself. Today I tried to say, “We have 3 children” in Hebrew and actually said, “We have 30 children.”
- After speaking in a foreign language for a few hours with a practice partner, it feels like cheating when I go back to speaking English later.
- I watch Peppa Pig in my target languages. I’ve come to realize I’m basically Daddy Pig. If you watch the show and spend time with me, you’ll see what I mean. I do snort much louder than the rest of my family, after all.
I’m starting to watch Bluey now, too. - When someone picks on me–usually a family member–my wife says I’ve been scratted. Here’s Scrat from Ice Age so you know what she means:
-CC BY 4.0 via www.heute.at
My writing and revising habits
- I remove ing words where I can, along with “to be” verbs. Those are easy to overuse.
- I look for ways to simplify sentences. My prose must feel effortless. I obsess over this, actually.
- My average sentence is 9 words long–far below average. And that sentence was 10 words long. Ugh.
- Every chapter goes through ProWritingAid before I post it on Scribophile.com to get critiqued. PWA helps me find word echoes, which are unintended, close repeats of words and phrases.
- I try to keep chapters under 3,000 words long. I don’t always succeed.
- It takes me 10 hours to craft the description on the back of each book. And I get feedback on it from at least 3 other authors.
- During beta editing, I listen to my whole book on kindle using text-to-speech about 3 to 5 time, noting all the typos I hear. I don’t trust my eyes to see them.
- The opening sentence of each book must be short. Scribes’ Descent has 11 words. Scribes Aflame has 13. Scribes Emerge has 7.
- I avoid commas where possible. Especially parenthetical phrases. I avoid adverbs, nominalizations, long noun clauses, and stringing many adjectives together in a row. I also don’t overload sentences with adjectives.
- In chapter 1, proper nouns and unfamiliar terms get highlighted. If too many of these are clustered in one place, I spread them out. If chapter 1 has more than 10, I move some to chapter 2. And I never introduce more than 2 new names in a single sentence. (Only 1, ideally)
I could go on, but this feels like plenty. If you want more personal stuff like this, let me know.
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