writing advice – The Writers in Residence

Retirement?

by Linda O Johnston

Do writers ever retire?

Oh, I know what retirement is. I used to be an attorney and practiced law for quite a few years. Most of that time, I was an in-house real estate attorney for Union Oil Company of California, but eventually Unocal wound down, selling off its assets. When I left, I continued to practice real estate law, primarily assisting other attorneys, but I never took on another actual job. And eventually, I allowed my law license to become officially inactive. Retirement of sorts.

I was writing all that time, and even before that. I started my first story as a kid and kept on going. Now, I’m no longer a kid, and I’m a retired attorney. But will I ever retire from writing?

Oh, I’ve slowed down some, but I still have a couple of deadlines to meet. And when I think about stopping, I remind myself that I’ve already been researching a new idea for quite a while and that keeps going. I kind of know where I’m going with it. And yes, it will require—what else?—more writing.

So, retirement? I doubt that will ever be on my schedule. I might get even slower, perhaps. Spend more time researching than writing. But there’s always a computer around, as well as my ideas.

How about you, other writers reading this? Are you slowing down? Will you ever retire?

Naming Characters

by Gayle Bartos-Pool

Sometimes the name of a character a writer uses just pops into their head. Other times they use the name of a friend or relative. There are also times when the writer changes the name they started with when they realize it doesn’t fit the character anymore. But how is that possible? The writer is just making up the name and the story.

Well, it’s like this…

When a writer is creating a story, they are creating a new world. It will be filled with things everyone will recognize or at least understand if the writer gives good descriptions. A space odyssey might be made-up, but there will be enough things explained so the reader can follow along. Hey, the people who wrote the Star Trek episodes imagined fantasy gadgets that were actually invented many years later by real scientists who used roughly the same concept and style for actual things we use today… “Scotty, beam me up!”

But character names can be tricky.

If one is writing a story that takes place a hundred years ago, names like Tiffany or Jaiden might not work. Watch an old movie and check out the names used. Or maybe read an old book. But something interesting is happening now in the first quarter of the 21^st Century. Names from fifty to seventy-five years ago are making a comeback. This will probably mean that you can use any name for a contemporary story. But there still is the problem of fitting the name to the character.

In most cases you wouldn’t want the “heavy” in a cops and robber tale to have a cutesy name like Willy or Felix. They would more likely be the comic relief characters in another story. The same is true with the hero’s name. It would have to be something a bit stronger like Max or Duke. Remember, studio executives and a director changed Marion Morrison’s name to John Wayne to fit the type of characters he would be playing in the movies. And that’s a fact.

Female names have the same concerns. The female lead in a romantic story could be called April or Amber, not Bertha or Myrtle. Wilhemina could definitely be the name of the amateur sleuth in a cozy mystery. She could be a librarian or maybe an older sleuth like a Miss Marple.

Names can do as much to define a character as what he or she does within those pages. If you start off by introducing your main character with his or her name linked to a strong action, it will help the reader understand the part they are playing. But that is only if you want the reader to know who they really are from the start.

If, for some reason, you wanted to gradually introduce your hero, you could peel away certain aspects of your lead character by letting him show the reader those special qualities a little at a time, but that method is usually meant for the villain who starts off as just one of the boys or maybe some influential person in the plot, but who knew he was actually the bad guy? The hero will finally see the real person under all that finery and expose him.

As for the hero, usually the reader knows who he is from the beginning, but the hero might have to discover that truth about himself by peeling away his own fears and finding his own strength when push comes to shove at the end of the book. The reader will be rooting for him, but he has to do the work.

But establishing the name for that character will still take some planning. Now that we have access to the Internet, you can type in the name that you have cleverly come up with. It fits the parameters of your story. It isn’t too quirky or too cumbersome. But “what if” there is some famous person with the same name out there? Just about every name I have come up with has two or twenty-two people with the same name on the Internet. I have a rule: If it isn’t some current name in the news and I like it, I’ll go with it.

I seldom use the actual name of a friend in my stories. If I only use their first name, I’ll do that, but I have added little changes to their names just for fun. The reason I do this is because I do want my characters to have a life of their own. After all, my friends have their own lives. But it’s fun to use their first name for a character who makes a “special guest appearance.” I even used a version of my dad’s name in my spy novels. Dad dealt with spy planes and did some rather interesting things that are still classified, so calling my character “Ralph Barton” instead of “Ralph Bartos” worked. And dad got a kick out of it.

I probably do keep the names of my characters fairly simple. If they are all wildly intricate with too many syllables, the reader might get lost in the multi-syllabic confusion. And several odd names might confuse the reader as well. They might think Henrietta is Hildegard and not understand why the wrong one riding in the taxi with the killer.

So, I keep the names a little simpler and do something else. I don’t have three or four characters in the same story with a name that begins with the same letter. This makes it easier for the reader to follow, and it actually makes writing the story easier, too. I don’t want to confuse my characters while I’m writing.

And I do try to fit the name to the character. One of the fun names I picked was for my second private detective series. It came about this way. I always liked the old detective shows on television back in the 50s, 60s, 70s and 80s. And the private eyes from the old black and white movies I watched on the movie channel. I wanted this new character to be a tribute to those guys. Too bad they don’t have good detective shows on TV anymore. Our loss.

I started with Sam Spade. That was the name of the character Humphrey Bogart played in The Maltese Falcon based on the 1930’s novel written by Dashiell Hammett. A classic. I also liked the television series, “Richard Diamond,” starring David Janssen, that ran from 1956 to1960. I was a fan of “Hart to Hart,” starring Robert Wagner that ran from 1979-1984.

So, I liked all these cool detectives. I noticed that their names were like the different suits in a deck of playing cards – Spade, Diamond, Heart. I needed a Club, but that name wouldn’t work. Sounded like a caveman or something.

Then I thought: what’s another word for “club”?

There’s gaming club, gambling club, and a gambling casino!

How about just casino?

And Johnny Casino was born.

The name fit this character who took a chance, changed his name from Cassini to Casino after he worked on a gambling ship near Maimi and had to leave in a hurry. He then took another chance and moved to Los Angeles and after getting his life together, he became a private investigator.

But I worked on getting his name and his life right…Three books later, I guess the “chance” I took paid off.

And you know what? There was one more chance in this story. Another character was working his way into my head. His name: Chance McCoy. He got a second chance in life himself. There are three books in his detective series.

You see, names do matter. If they fit the character you’re writing, they can lead you to many new places. Write On!

ANOTHER TOOL IN THE WRITER’S TOOLBOX

by Miko Johnston

In the course of a story, a character learns that someone important to him has just been killed. His reaction? We can easily imagine shock, grief, sadness, disbelief. A look of confusion as he tries to absorb the news, his face twisted in pain, tears flowing freely from his eyes. We can even picture him so overwhelmed by what’s happened he collapses. But what if his reaction is no reaction? Complete silence, his face devoid of expression. A cop-out? Or a way to rouse our interest as we wonder what’s going through his mind?

I often say writers have many tools in their toolbox to use, and I’ve written several posts about them over the years. Today, I’m focusing on one valuable tool that often gets overlooked – negative space writing.

By this, I don’t mean being critical. The term negative space refers to various techniques. In art, it’s the empty space around or between the primary subject or the background. In writing, using a white space to indicate the passage of time within a book chapter or story is a prime example. We utilize negative space to break up a lengthy section of dialogue with bits of physical action by the speaker (instead of “he said”) or to relieve long stretches of exposition with some dialogue or internal thoughts.

Negative space might focus on something unexpected in a scene, leaving the reader to wonder whether it’s direction or misdirection. It can be contrasting two opposites, like a calm character in a chaotic setting, or the other way around, the surprising reaction piquing our curiosity. It can be using subtext in dialogue, which leaves the reader thinking about what’s really going on beneath the surface.

A common method is to leave gaps or omissions – small but unimportant details out of a story, which allows the reader to fill in the rest. This can be as simple as allowing the reader to assume that if a phone rings, the character will answer it with “Hello”, or they’ll get up from their chair, walk to the door and turn the knob to open it when someone knocks. Negative space can also mean describing a person to a degree, but not down to the thickness of her hair, its precise shade of brown, or how many clips she’s used to pin it up if it’s not essential to the story. This creates a synergy between reader and writer, allowing the reader to participate in the story. It also keeps the pace moving.

Description is, to an extent, a matter of taste. Some prefer a brief sketch, just enough to get a sense of it, and then let the story move forward. Others like more details so they can fully picture what’s being described, down to the smells and tactile sensations. Leaving some negative space means you’re as conscious about what you leave out as what you put in. You never want to omit anything important to the story or limit the sensory details that make scenes come alive. Here, negative space gives some breathing room so the reader doesn’t feel overwhelmed with everything everywhere, all at once.

Another technique implies, rather than describes, an action, emotion or a setting. A classic example of this is by writing about the absence of something rather than what’s present. In my first novel, I wanted the reader to not only see, but feel the destruction of my character’s village. In addition to describing the wreckage, I also included what was missing – any signs of life…

…No birds chattered, no horses whinnied, no chickens screeched, no men shouted for their wives, no women screamed for their children, no babies cried for their mothers….

The positive space describing the destruction evokes sensory images – the wreckage and plumes of smoke, the smell of burning wood, which we can see. The negative space evokes a different response, one we feel. One provides visuals, the other, emotions. It creates a more complete picture. It also gives the appropriate weight to this important scene, one that will affect my character for her entire life, over the course of five novels.

Here’s another example of positive space vs negative space writing. Imagine a protagonist sitting down for a drink at a café or bar, when a huge explosion happens nearby. Positive space writing would show the scene post-explosion; the wreckage, the body count, the survivors, both injured and stunned. It would include the character’s reaction, physically and mentally. We learn immediately if she was seriously hurt, bloodied, dazed, or temporarily deafened. We’re there watching as she bolts from the scene, or runs toward the explosion to help.

With negative space writing, the character might act uncharacteristically; perhaps she remains seated to finish her drink, with the reader wondering why. Or you might cut to another scene, either one created in her unconscious mind, or set elsewhere with other characters who learn of the explosion, leaving the reader to ponder what happened before returning back to explore the aftermath. This would build interest, as the reader not only has to figure out what caused the explosion, but what happened to the protagonist. Or, you might skip ahead with a white space and leave it to the reader to figure out how many deaths and injuries resulted in the explosion, how scared she felt, or how she got away – if we eventually figure out what we need to know about what happened in that scene.

To use negative space writing successfully, you must do it deliberately and with purpose. You never want to leave out anything important to the story, or neglect to make your characters recognizable, your scenes intriguing, and your plot believable. The omissions and subtext must be apparent, as well as their meaning. When done properly, it engages the reader, playing to their curiosity, encouraging their involvement with the plot and attachment to the characters. It’s what we as writers want to accomplish, which makes negative space a useful tool in the writer’s toolbox.

Have you incorporated negative space writing in your work? If so, how do you use it?

Miko Johnston, a founding member of The Writers in Residence, is the author of the historical fiction series, “A Petal in the Wind”, and currently minutes away from completing the fifth and final book of the saga (whew!) She’s a contributor to several anthologies including the recently released “Whidbey Island: An Insider’s Guide”. Miko lives in Washington (the big one) with her rocket scientist husband. Contact her at mikojohnstonauthor@gmail.com

A Contrarian View of Cozies

by Miko Johnston

A diva actress infuriates everyone with her demands. A rich businessman takes pride, even joy, out of snookering his customers. A domineering tycoon sets ultimatums for his relatives lest they be cut out of the will. They’re spoiled, stingy, slick, or just plain mean, and the next thing you know, they’ve been murdered. News spreads, often through a small town filled with quirky folks, and soon a person with no experience in criminology (beyond, perhaps, reading or writing mystery novels, or selling them in their charming bookshop) takes an interest in the murder and decides to investigate. They may not have access to the minutiae of crime scene investigations or forensic reports, but thanks to a police force with little skill or interest in solving the mystery, they unmask the perpetrator.

Welcome to the world of cozy mysteries, where life can be pleasant, eccentric, and even humorous in the face of death. Where someone’s humdrum existence can be invigorated by a murder.

A sub-genre of cozies takes crime more seriously, dealing with social issues such as addiction, abuse, homelessness, and trafficking, however peripherally. Others feature amateur sleuths who partner with the real investigators – police detectives – sometimes literally; many have spouses on the force.

Bearing those exceptions in mind, please don’t hate me for what I’m about to say – I do not, and will not, read cozy mysteries that involve murder, for one simple reason: the punishment rarely fits the crime.

People kill or get killed for a variety of reasons. Some killings are justified, as in self-defense or on the battlefield. And don’t confuse the broader legal term, homicide, with murder, as the former includes the accidental and the justifiable killing of another. The law defines murder as a deliberate act, targeting a person with the “intent to kill,” “cause grievous bodily harm,” or “a depraved indifference to human life”. This does not sound very “cozy” to me. Nor does killing someone simply because they’re not nice, or did something mean-spirited or even ruinous (short of murder) sound justifiable.

Some cozy murders occur “off the page”. I’ll grant the more grisly details of murder can be the exception to the “show, don’t tell” rule, but even so a murder has been committed. I’ve also heard cozy murders described as bloodless, or even “painless”, but is there such a thing? Any police officer who’s been to a crime scene, or EMT who tried unsuccessfully to save the victim, will tell you NO. Most poisons cause pain, convulsions and organ collapse. And what about other methods, such as strangulation, drowning and suffocation? I feel miserable when I’m congested with a cold. I can’t accept being deprived of oxygen as anything less than cruel and unusual. Even if the crime is violent, such as a gunshot, the description sidesteps the gory details. Really? Please tell me how a gunshot wound wouldn’t be gruesome to an average person. And don’t get me started on humorous murder mysteries. I’ve seen farces that involve a dead body where the death occurred from natural causes, or an accident due to the victim’s stupidity, silly but harmless. However, a murder victim’s body crosses the line for me.

I have two other reasons for not reading cozies. I lived in New York during the crime-riddled seventies. I knew two people who had dear ones murdered. A co-worker’s boyfriend was shot to death in a case of mistaken identity, and a gang of robbers murdered my friend’s nineteen-year-old cousin as he was unloading a delivery truck. Fifty years may have passed, but I still recall the anguish in their faces, the tremble in their voices when they told me what happened. They never witnessed the crime in progress, nor saw the bloody crime scene, but from the moment the police notified them, their lives changed. Forever.

I get it. A mystery can be enjoyable without forensic-level descriptions of crime scenes, as is trying to put the clues together and solve the puzzle. Of course, if that’s what readers want, then there’s no reason to include murder, rape or kidnapping – a non-violent crime would allow the reader to solve the case along with the sleuth. Why does it have to be murder? Apparently, having a cozy revolve around a high crime raises the stakes, and the level of interest, beyond lesser crimes. Making the victim as unsympathetic as possible makes us feel less guilty as we focus on the clues and not on the tragedy.

This is just my opinion, and I don’t expect others to share it. Yet I can’t help but think no matter how horrible, difficult or mean the victim is, and even if the characters in your story aren’t upset by the murder, somewhere in the world beyond your pages is someone who will care, who’ll mourn the loss and be devastated by the cruelty of it.

Miko Johnston, a founding member of The Writers in Residence, is the author of the historical fiction series, “A Petal in the Wind”, as well as a contributor to several anthologies including the recently released “Whidbey Island: An Insider’s Guide”. Miko lives in Washington (the big one) with her rocket scientist husband. Contact her at mikojohnstonauthor@gmail.com

THE WEIGHT OF WORDS

by Miko Johnston

Words have become a frequent topic for my posts. I often say they’re a primary tool in the writer’s toolbox, and like all tools they need to be kept sharp as well as up-to-date.

When I read, I’ll occasionally come across a word I don’t know or might be unsure of its meaning, whether in English or another language. Whether plots or articles, writing that includes corporations or government agencies and bureaus often use acronyms, and thanks to texting, so does modern fiction. We all know FBI, CEO, LOL. If the mystery is set in the fictional Gotham City, we can figure out what GCPD stands for. When the unfamiliar term is foreign, an acronym or other modern slang I’ll search for it online. I don’t mind doing this, as I enjoy learning new words, terms and expressions to expand my vocabulary, even if I never use them.

I used to keep my dictionary and thesaurus handy when I write. Now, I prefer to look up words online when I’m not sure of the proper meaning, or if they’ve changed over time. I google “(language) to English” if I need a translation, or the reverse if I need the word or phrase in another language. If I’m uncertain if a word I want to use is best or if another would be clearer, I check the thesaurus. I often understand the meaning better from similar examples than dictionary descriptions. If the synonyms don’t relate to what I want to express I delete the word and find another. You could say the dictionary “tells” me the meaning while the thesaurus “shows” it.

My thesaurus also comes in handy when I need a substitute for an overused word, or if I can’t think of the right one to use. However, it’s old and doesn’t reflect modern speech. If I want the language to be au courant, I google the word, or the idea I want to express, and add synonym. The results help me decide whether to stick with my original word, choose a better one from the list, or pick a different word that more closely expresses what I want to say.

I also search for the etymology of words, phrases and expressions. As a writer of historical fiction, I must know when they came into usage to avoid anachronisms. The reverse is true as well. A word or phrase that brings authenticity to a period in history would sound ridiculous spoken out of time – who says 23 skidoo, groovy, or gag me with a spoon anymore? Then, I consider who will use the word. For example, I wouldn’t have a fusty old person use hipster (for the time) jargon, or vice versa.

Sometimes I must use an obscure word. When it’s foreign or an historical reference, I often describe it in the sentence following its usage. Sometimes the meaning can be gleaned by context, such as when my characters lit a yahrzeit candle to commemorate a loved one’s death. However, some terms can’t be explained without a dictionary-like entry – for example, plastron, which I used in my first novel, set in 1899. I expect most readers had to look that word up to find it meant “an ornamental front of a woman’s bodice or shirt consisting of colorful material with lace or embroidery, fashionable in the late 19^th century”. Hardly something that could evolve naturally in dialogue. Certain genres, such as historical fiction and hard sci-fi, as well as unique careers and hobbies of the characters, give the writer some leeway for the occasional obscure term. So does a post on a writer’s blog.

Even so, I sometimes question the use of vocabulary that may be unfamiliar to the average reader, like etymology or anachronisms. I don’t want to oversimplify the subject, nor do I want to write over the reader’s head. I wonder – should I find another way to express myself? Is there a better way that won’t send readers rushing for their dictionary? Or is that necessarily a bad thing?

Some believe using more complex terminology – what we used to call “hundred dollar words” – makes them sound smart, while others find it pompous and pretentious. A wise person can explain complex ideas in complex terms, but a wiser person can do the same using plain language. I wouldn’t consider that “dumbing down.” I’d call it making the information more accessible to more people. Even so, the best word may be foreign to some, including me. As a reader, I will look up a word I don’t know or am unsure of its meaning in the context of what’s on the page. If I have to do that once or twice, I will, but too many unfamiliar words put me off.

Some writers must use foreign words, terminology, slang, or acronyms related to the time period, profession, or avocations of their characters. How do you handle challenging vocabulary as a writer and as a reader?

Miko Johnston, a founding member of The Writers in Residence, is the author of the historical fiction series “A Petal in the Wind” as well as a contributor to several anthologies, including the about-t0-be-released “Whidbey Island: An Insider’s Guide”. Miko lives in Washington (the big one) with her rocket scientist husband. Contact her at mikojohnstonauthor@gmail.com

An Interesting Year Already

by Linda O. Johnston

Hey, it’s only the third week of January 2025, and a lot has happened that we writers in Los Angeles could use as subjects or backgrounds in our writing for the rest of the year.

What’s happened?

Well, those terrible fires that apparently made the news everywhere. Rosemary did a wonderful job of describing them last week. And I certainly identified with a lot she was saying. But with all that happened, I just found myself focusing on it when I started to do my post for this week. So here we are again.

I was one of the fortunate people who had fires start not too far away but not come very close. The winds were strong, and the air quality became terrible. But I didn’t even see any of the fires anywhere nearby.

Writers often take things that happen around us and make them subjects of our writing. Will I do that?

Maybe, and maybe not. I’m currently working on a new mini-series for Harlequin Romantic Suspense, and although I do have the stories set in the Los Angeles area, I’m not sure about working the fires into them.

I hope that all of you reading this remain safe, from fires and every other disaster that might occur wherever you are.

And I hope you all have a wonderful 2025.

Acting Class 101

By Gayle Bartos-Pool

If we’re lucky, we learn stuff everywhere we go in life. I did just that when I moved to California when I was twenty-five. I wanted to write for television and the movies. Me and five million other people. Since I didn’t know anything about the “business” of Hollywood, I thought it would be a good idea to take an acting class to see what writers needed to know when creating a screenplay character.

I happened to get a job working for a talent agent, and he got me in an acting class. This one was taught by Bruce Glover. You might have seen him in the James Bond movie Diamonds Are Forever. He played the sinister/funny character that was trying to kill off Bond.

What Bruce taught was when you’re playing a character, large part, small part, or walk-on, have your character do something that makes him stand out. Have a menacing smile or a delivery of your lines that has everybody notice you. Many famous actors started as bit players and went on to fame and fortune when they did something that stood out on the screen. And that doesn’t mean just having a pretty face.

As a writer, I figured that when I wrote characters, large or small, I would give them something that stood out. It might be their clothes that telegraphed what economic bracket they fell into or a whacky giggle to show that maybe their elevator didn’t go up too many floors. Maybe it’s the words they use that show their high-toned upbringing or their lack of education.

While taking that class, I had to do an improvised scene with another actor. We were to be boyfriend and girlfriend who were having problems. As the other actor and I were chatting on stage pretending we were seeing eye-to-eye while all the time pointing out the major problems we were having with the other character, I had a piece of paper in my hand that I said was the love letter he had written to another woman. I kept folding it in half, long-ways, until it looked like a knife. Obviously, my character was signaling what I wanted to do to my soon-to-be-ex boyfriend. Actions speak louder than words sometimes.
I try to give most of the characters I write that little bit extra to define them, too.

That acting class wasn’t the only one I took. I got lessons from Rudy Solari and Guy Stockwell. Both men had long careers in Hollywood. What Rudy had actors do was write a biography for the character they were playing so they knew exactly who they were when they stepped on the stage. It didn’t have to write pages and pages, just a brief background of that character, stating where he came from, how he was raised, his education, and what he wanted out of that scene.

What this did for the actor was let him know what motivates his character because in a screenplay, the writer usually just provides the dialogue, maybe how the line should be spoken like a whisper or yelling, and a few physical actions like running away or punching someone. Of course, the director will provide even more of those directions.

But the writer of a novel or short story needs to know who this character is, what motivates him, and things like his age, hair color, and stature, because when you’re writing a story, you don’t want to get to page 275 and have your twenty-five-year-old character with black hair all of a sudden be a thirty-six-year-old blond.

I write a short biography for all my main characters, adding to it as I think about what their past might have included that will help the current story angle. And I keep a Character List for everybody appearing in the story so I know who is who, and who they know, and why they’re there. It sure helps when I get to a spot and need to know all the previous things I wrote about that character like their age, hair color, or their role in the story.

And something else about those two acting classes, they gave me the confidence to get up in front of an audience when I’m talking about the books I wrote. I already know my motivation: get people to read.

Group Post #1 – How do you handle TECHNOLOGY?

Occasionally, we have an open spot on our blog schedule. One of our members suggested we all (or those able) could jump in for a group blog question. Our first was suggested by Miko Johnston.

How do you incorporate ever-changing technology in your writing, especially in a series that covers years?

Jackie Houchin — In my short stories, I use the technologies needed in the story’s time and place. I used GPS settings to find a long-buried stash in one mystery set in modern New York. In that story, the dates were firmly set by newspaper clippings. In my missionary kids’ series set in modern but rural Africa, cell service is spotty (indeed, you can’t even be sure of electricity), so I use these technologies but don’t depend on them. Actually, “no cell service” adds to the suspense of the moment when an emergency happens.

Gayle Bartos-Pool — If you write stories set in the Roaring Twenties, you might want to include a bunch of things to define that era, like telephone operators connecting you to whomever you are calling or a radio program providing music and some news. There were no televisions or cell phones back then. The automobile was new with the Ford Model T, and assembly lines were just gearing up.

Every era has its newfangled gadgets, but do they have to do more than set the stage in the story? Sometimes, too much detail distracts from the narrative unless there is one particular thing that plays a key role in your story, like the old typewriter with the damaged key and the ransom note with that same twisted letter. That’s been done before in several old movies, but it worked.

But if you are writing a contemporary tale, do you have to rely on the main character’s cell phone on every page? After a while, it gets old to have the characters pull out his or her phones rather than use their eyes and ears to see the problem at hand.

I do like gadgets, but I don’t depend on them totally in my books. My characters will use a computer, but they use their brains more.

Miko Johnston — Back in the 1990s, before I started my series of historical novels, I attempted to write a (then) present-day mystery thriller that centered around a secret high-tech device. The problem was that I knew nothing about the subject and figured what I’d made up would ring false with knowledgeable readers, so I put the manuscript aside. Twenty years later, I revisited the story and realized I knew enough about what had been developed back then to finish the story with authenticity.

I do incorporate technology in my modern work as it’s such an integral part of life now. For example, my short story, Senior High, comically follows three older women who travel to Washington, one of the first states to decriminalize marijuana. Although they haven’t “partied” since the seventies, they decide to get high one more time but can’t figure out how until Siri comes to their aid.

“She is going, you know, to…”

by Jill Amadio

“He fell down, you know, on that.. blah, blah blah…”

Bombarded with the words “you know” in person, on Zoom, on TV, and on the radio, I have this hollow feeling that if I do not know what I am supposed to know when someone says the phrase, what am I missing? How do we “get the drift” of what the speaker means, if we are told we already know it? What is the significance of their words if taken literally? I already know what I am being told?

In other words, how am I to know what the person talking means when it is assumed I know precisely what they mean? By slipping in those two words, often twice in a short sentence and more frequently in long ones, I am left feeling like an idiot because, like many writers, I take words not only seriously but by their true intent.

I am tempted to tell the next person who uses it out of context that, No, I do not know, or I shall ask them why they think I know what they assume I know. I shall also ask them what their intention is in telling me something they think I already know. If I already know it, why waste their time in re-telling it?

What is this innocuous but irritating manner of speaking doing to our psyche? Will our personalities change, or our memories be challenged? Will what we already need be thrown out with the bathwater? A dilemma indeed.

I have yet to read “you-know” used in any newly-published books, thank goodness, but there’s always tomorrow for the opportunity to chance upon this ultimate word-mystery.

I have not yet thrown my buttered scone at the television set as I assume, you know, that the pundit cannot hear me, but, you know, what do I know? With all this high-tech stuff circling the globe, maybe I am wrong, you know. Could I, you know, be behind the times?

Perhaps “you-know” is used to give the speaker a moment to collect their thoughts, to come up with a different statement they intended, or to end a sentence with a lilt of the voice to indicate a question.

There are, of course, plenty of ways to ask the you-know question, such as, “Do you know that…” or “You do know, of course, that he murdered her?” This dialogue sits so much more easily upon a writer’s shoulder, placing the you-know bit within its proper grammatical intention (I think).

Then there’s my gracious understanding of why people use it: to give themselves a break to think up their next statement, to find their place on the teleprompter, to allow them to sound “with-it.”

Intonation, when using “you-know,” is also important, I have observed. There is rarely a tonal upswing indicating it is a question.

If “you-know” is spoken to a young child, do we expect a cogent answer? Children tend to take what we say as dogma. We do not want to saddle kids with untruths.

Can we pronounce “you-know” as y’all know, or y’know? Perhaps this slide into dialect can remove some of its insidious, unnecessary sentiment. Or maybe to give it an inflection it does not deserve. Should we replace “you-know” with a different phrase? I’ve heard people slip in a “my dear” and “indeed, but “you-know” rules the roost – at present.

I have come to regard “you-know” as a target and have to constrain myself from counting how many times it is spoken and in what context. Frankly, I cannot think of any unless “you-know” is posed in a readable sentence such as, “Do you know that…” or “You do know, of course, he is…”

When used in this context, it is obvious that an answer is required, whereas thrown in higglety-pigglety, the phrase has no meaning, but at least it does not put the listener on the spot. However, who knows? I sure don’t.

A TRIBUTE TO WORDS AND WRITING

By Miko Johnston

My late father co-founded a non-profit organization dedicated to Scandinavian philately. In addition to translating and publishing educational books on the subject, the group held monthly meetings as well as annual exhibitions where members could present their best work. Dad served as their president for many years; his name and phone number appeared on all contact sources.

He wasn’t home the day a young man called for more information about the organization. I offered to answer as much as I could. His first question: “Can you join if you’re under eighteen?” Yes, I told him, there is no age limit. “Can I bring another guy to the meetings?” Sure, I said, but something told me he had something, um, different in mind. I then said, “You do realize that philately is stamp collecting.”

“Oh.” He promptly hung up.

We spend a great deal of time writing about words on this blog. If you hunt through our archives, you’ll find many posts on the topic, which should come as no surprise. Words are the most important tool in a writer’s toolbox. We think about them, which one to use in any situation, whether a particular word or one of its cousins (aka synonyms) would be more precise, more distinctive. Can we convert that verb/adverb pairing into one verb? How many descriptives can we edit out without losing the image, the rhythm, or the voice of a character?

Words convey and put into context images, thoughts and ideas, especially when they’re carefully selected. We have non-verbal ways of communicating as well, but unless there’s some established pattern to it, such as sign language or Morse code, their subtlety makes them less effective for interpretation – is she slouching because she’s humiliated, or her back hurts?

Whether spoken or written, signed or signaled, we rely on words as the basis of communication. Misinterpretations may cause embarrassment, as my earlier story shows, but in the right hands they surprise in an entertaining way. Writers can inform the reader without the character’s knowledge, a technique I relied upon in my first novel, when my protagonist was a child. Or they can make the reader wait – ideally with keen anticipation – for information the character already knows.

We can use words to assure clarity of thought, or to deliberately deceive. Red herrings in mysteries fall into the latter category, as do ambiguous phrases meant to mislead the reader into thinking something the author intends to prove wrong later. I’ve done this so often in my writing it might be a hallmark of my style.

Words have the power to calm and reassure, to encourage and inspire, or to agitate and inflame. Think of all the influential speeches you’ve heard or read, or the memorable phrases culled from them. Whether by actors reading from a script, politicians addressing their constituents, or activists crusading for their cause, their words, carefully chosen with deliberation, hold the power to move people. To bolster their spirits, or shock them. Convince them they’re right, or maybe, just maybe, they’re not.

All have one thing in common: Someone, or some ones, wrote those words.

Not to equate a frothy page-turner with The Gettysburg Address, but I celebrate writers who celebrate the written word. I commiserate with writers who agonize over the best way to express their or their characters’, thoughts. I respect writers for what they try to accomplish whenever they put pen to paper or fingers on the keyboard.

That’s why we deserve a formal representation for what we do.

The practice of medicine has a symbol – a caduceus with two snakes coiled around it. The symbol of law is the scales of justice. No formal symbol of writing exists, although if you Google it you’ll find cartoons of a hand holding a pencil or pen.

What do you think would make an apt symbol for writers?