The Muse

In today’s Dining In section of the New York Times, Sarah Kershaw writes about “menu psychology” — the science (or art?) of designing a menu that will most entice diners. So, really, someone does understand that the “99″ in just about every price (not limited to food items) does very little to promote quality.

One concept that strikes me is the similarities between a simple menu and a well-crafted manuscript. Kershaw brings up the analogy of music and lyrics, where one may be great but is utterly destroyed by the other (think of a ear-catching pop tune with absolutely horrendous lyrics), and the same may be said for a manuscript. Think carefully about the layout. If your story is about love and the human condition, you probably don’t want a font that is sharp-edged and bold. Or, if you’re going for an academic journal, you don’t want your tracking or leading so far apart that the page looks as though it’s mostly empty space.

A quarrel I have with the way some restaurants mentioned in this article do things is the melodramatic wording in the menu. Saying something is “slammed with flavor” is a turn-off for me, because I appreciate the nuances in food. (You’ll notice that places such as Applebee’s and Huddle House go for the thick wording, while higher-end places go for simple and pithy copy.) I can go to the local supermarket and pick up a Little Debbie cake that is “slammed with flavor,” or I can visit my local baker and get a blueberry scone that has many different flavorful, quality ingredients that work together. One is dominated with sugar and chocolate, the other allows me to experience many of the quality ingredients that the baker uses. I prefer nuance.

When creating your manuscript, I suppose you could ask yourself, “Do I want the equivalent of a laminated chain restaurant menu the size of a legal pad, or a simple, cogent menu from a quality independent place?”

        

fowlerjk life, style & usage, writing business, food, layout, menu, nyt, restaurant, typesetting, writing

Fall comes. We gently retreat. The sun hides behind the clouds, sometimes peeking out enough to remind us that it’s there, but usually is in retreat behind the gray veil, thin enough to just see the pale circle.

We become slightly more introspective. Our patios and back yards are carefully covered with tarps and strewn with leaves. We are inside, eating warm comfort food, thinking a lot about ourselves. The church year gently pushes this along–bright Spring music moves to more somber tunes of Advent and Lent. We wait. Gently.

When we venture out, we have retreated from our shorts & flip-flops, now nestled in jackets and clogs. The trees, once brilliant with buds and green leaves, pull life into themselves, leaving a dappled mark of death, celebrated by long drives and countless photos. Under the falling, speckled canopy, we contemplate home improvement, the crisp air flecked with coffee and sawdust.

        

fowlerjk life fall, life, weather, writing

I stopped on the way to work this morning for a Cinnamon ‘N’ Raisin biscuit from Hardee’s. (I still refuse to buy Thickburgers because of their ad campaigns, but the biscuits are hard to beat.) I haven’t had one of those for a very long time.

At first bite, I was immediately taken back to when my Dad and I would go to Hardee’s on our way to my elementary school. If I was dressed early enough, we would go and have breakfast there as a treat. I remember the smell of the dining room, the sweetness of the icing, the cold orange juice on my otherwise empty stomach, and the fact that I would wait for the icing to cool before I ate the biscuit. I preferred my icing a little thicker than it was served.

        

fowlerjk life family, memories, writing

I often find myself suggesting that clients use less words, adding that “one can say so much more without using so many words.” Although I tend to ramble when talking, I try to keep my writing pithy. It’s much more efficient and refrains from diluting the point.

One Sentence might be a terribly oversimplified example of this, but the site is nonetheless a wonderful showcase of just what can be contained in just a few short words. One Sentence also ties my editing advice to a quote from Roland Barthes’ The Pleasure of the Text: “Is not the most erotic portion of a body where the garment gapes?”

There’s much to be said for not spelling everything out. Think of these sentences as the glimpse you might catch of a bare calf or shoulder.

        

fowlerjk writing blogs, theory, writing

Here’s a handy list of misused words & phrases.

        

fowlerjk style & usage phrases, usage, writing

Have you ever wondered what that guy was doing about thirty minutes ago?

He’s on the news right now, his cap perched atop the crown of his head.
Slightly sweaty t-shirt, a bit stretched at the neck but tucked neatly into his pants.

We’re workin’ on it, he says–

It’s all he can say right now, for the reporter who looks at him with intent eyes, nodding, then back to the camera for what she hopes is a quick cutaway.

Her hair shimmers in the artificial light of the camera, and the flames,
and the trucks.

Perhaps this man was at home with his wife no more than thirty minutes ago.

Perhaps they were watching one of those crime dramas.
CSI, I think.

Then the tones sounded, and he knew–she knew–he might not come back.

But his most trying situation tonight is talking to the reporter, who makes him feel unkempt.

        

fowlerjk writing writing

Marc Trujillo’s 4504 Van Nuys Boulevard appeared in the November issue of Harper’s Magazine. This short piece is based on that reproduction. (Anyone may see the thumbnail but only Harper’s subscribers can see the larger page.)

“I’ll be glad when this shift is over,” Matt grumbled in his mind as he blip-blipped the ticket machine. Two tickets came gliding out of the counter like postage stamps out of the machine on the corner. The couple through the glass was, no doubt, on their war from an early-evening dinner. He wore shorts and sandals; she wore jeans and carried a cardigan. The theatre was alway cold. Anna always complained about that when she came. Would the woman on the other side of the glass? Matt felt a short sense of camaraderie with the man in sandals.

Matt was used to the cold on his arms. The standard-issue shortsleeve dress shirt gave them no protection. No matter, though – Anna never came that much anyway. It was difficult for him to enjoy date there. Why would he watch a movie for pleasure when he could only think of how filthy the floor underneath their feet really was?

Save their car, the couple were the only occupants of the space outside the theatre. Rows of small downlights under the marquee dimly lit the crowns of their heads and cast a glow across the sidewalk out onto the black asphalt of the parking lot. It was just past dusk. Normally busy, but their business had slowed over the past few months–the product of online rentals and video-on-demand, Matt knew. He found the task of coming to work only slightly more interesting than sitting at home with his roommate. Even at that, it was more about the idea of the theatre–the lights, carpet, mosaics, the smell of popcorn and whoosh of fountain drinks–than actually working there. He wanted better things, better means to entertain Anna, but he couldn’t overcome a sense of complacency for his routine.

        

fowlerjk writing short, writing

I love writing with my vintage fountain pens, and I’ve recently found the need for an ink blotter. In my search for a rocker blotter, I found a stack of promotional blotters from a local historical business.

Hunter’s Store operated (under the Hunter family) from 1870 to 1962. Craddock started production around the turn of the century, and the styles appear to be from up to about 1920. These cards have never touched ink. I bought two in order to save one and use the other to blot my fountain pen ink.

        

fowlerjk life life, local, vintage, writing