Here’s a challenge: write something down as a gift for someone important to you.

Don’t do it on your phone.

A letter? A poem? A postcard? A description of a shared memory? A memoir?

It’s a dying art. Sure, it might feel weird and exposing… but it will be treasured. 

 

***

 

I once wrote a set

of haiku for some close friends

and gave it to them.

 

They were, I think, touched,

Not only by the gesture

And the effort made,

 

But by my act of

Vulnerable, courageous

Opening of self.

 

This is not that work.

(This is just me showing off. ?)

Here is what I wrote:

 

A more ornate frame

A series of haiku in honour of female friendship

 

 

Overshare

Have I said too much?

If so, there is forbearance –

They love, and listen.

 

 

Early Christmas Shopping, Brisbane

It shouldn’t be this

Easy – must be the tasteful

Shopping companions.

 

 

Sharing

Shared paintings grow more

Ornate frames; borrowed books teem

With more fertile words.

 

 

Philip Bacon Galleries, Brisbane

(In memory of Margaret Olley, 1923 – 2011)

 

Colourburst of bloom,

Old tables, chairs, bowls, vases,

Cloths and clutterblue.

 

Colourdrunk we swayed,

Our hushed respect out of step

With such profusion.

 

 

Female Conversation

Fine web cast out wide

Comes to meet earlier strands

With glue that binds them.

 

We can’t remember

Which threads came first, or which next:

The whole is wondrous.

 

Its form intricate,

A robust delicacy,

Scaffold for jewels.

 

If interrupted,

Anchored to its creators

It will form anew.

 

 

P.S. Here is my favourite stolen haiku and subject of internet meme and haiku copyright scandal (see here):

 

Haikus are easy

But sometimes they don’t make sense

Refrigerator

– attributed to Rolf Nelson, Dallas, Texas 

 

 

The word “colander” hasn’t been spoken in our house for years now.

Why?

Because a little person in our house, years ago, needed to say something about the colander in the kitchen but didn’t know the word. Not to be deterred by this, she simply invented one.

“Noodle bouncer.” The term has stuck.

What I love about her invention is not only that it was cute and funny, but that she absolutely nailed it in terms of descriptive accuracy.

What had she seen me do with that particular utensil over the years? Bounce noodles in it. To bounce them may not have been the actual functional reason, but it paints a mental picture and creates a point of view that is far more precise and descriptive than boring old ‘draining’ or ‘straining’.  

 

***

 

Good writing does the same thing.

It builds a sensory picture with precision, economy and originality. It makes you sit up and take notice; it encourages you to see an aspect of the everyday from a different angle. It tells it like it is, but in an interesting way.

And in its sometimes quirky innovation; in its avoidance of cliché; in its bending or even breaking of the rules, good writing like this can create humour, or pathos, or just that sharp intake of breath that all readers have had from time to time after reading a particularly beautifully turned phrase. 

 

***

 

You know, it has just struck me that the editing process is a lot like using a noodle bouncer.

The water surrounding the noodles is necessary at first. It does its job. The cooking could not happen without it. Much of it is absorbed and retained. It is seasoned and imparts its flavour.

But when the time comes, there is also the ‘run-off’ from the process – the extraneous, the dilute, the bits of the process that should not end up as part of the product … dare I say it, the dross (although, dear prospective clients, I would never describe your work in that way!).

The noodles go into the noodle bouncer, and whatever is no longer needed to make a flavoursome, satisfying and appropriately textured meal is discarded.

Okay. I think I have just about drained this metaphor of all possible meaning. (Sorry.)

 

***

 

Get in touch if you’d like me to be part of ensuring that your writing has flavour and texture and just the right water content! I promise not to ‘bounce’ your words too vigorously!  

Oh, and if you have a charming, cute or just impressively descriptive example of family vernacular, please feel free to share it in the comments!