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So my wife and I went out for supper last night and I asked her to elaborate on our previous nights discussion. She was suggesting a separation. I explained to her that I was very disappointed in her for giving up on us.
I’m not giving up. I’m going to grin till it hurts, then grin some more. I’ve deactivated my facebook account in an attempt to re-focus my attention and avoid distraction. Maybe I’ll say more tomorrow.
From the Master….
William Faulkner once said, “[Hemingway] has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary.”
Hemingway responded: “Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?”
No surprise here if you’ve read my review of The Sound And The Fury, but I stand in Hemingway’s camp on this one. To me, the best writing is clear, simple, and to the point.
That’s why I think anyone who writes web copy, whether it’s a blog, an article, and especially any form of marketing content, should look long and hard at Hemingway’s writing style.
As a guy who spends all day writing for the web, I’ve probably been subconsciously using Hemingway’s style for years. With that, here’s what I think Hemingway can teach you about writing for the internets.
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Though I try to duplicate the elegant melancholy I read in poetry I find myself writing always ends lackluster.
After reading a poem I am always compelled to pick up a pen, a mighty purveyor of
thought and dream
However the page in front of me teases and ridicules me
Staring at me, empty and foreboding
Trying to put pen to paper and not finish with something tawdry
Finish with something original
That does read like, it was written by an emotional high school boy
Caught up in his own torment and trials.
After 5 minutes of staring a the page, I give up
Duties and obligations call, so I put my pen down and get on with my day.
Knowing damn well that the words are still inside me trapped
Unable to gain their freedom
Due to a faulty synaptic connection, in my skull.
Which prevents me from verbalizing my feelings and concerns.
So I walk away, frustrated
Leaving a white piece of paper and a pen on a table.
Gleefully staring at me escape
Smug in it’s confirmation of my illiteracy.