Tuesday, April 15, 2014

The Dictionary

My words appear to come easily when I speak, easily enough to always talk. Anyone who knows me knows that that is false.

Writing is my primary form of communication.

Even in school, I will write down anything I need to say. Nothing escapes my lips until it has already gone through my hands. By the time I get home, my hands are sore from how much my pencil has written.

When I am at home, I have a slightly more relaxed stance. I know that I don't have to watch my wording as strictly as in school, so I will use what I call my "dictionary:" my mental list of words I am confident I can pronounce and use in the correct context. This is one of my biggest secrets, and at times I call it my Magnussen library, after the man with the photographic memory in BBC Sherlock.

Over time, the dictionary's size has increased and decreased. It has two main sections, words and phrases being the conversational one. These sheets are like the phone book: you don't realize they're torn until they've fallen out. The back of the book has everything I have memorized, including poems, music, and facts. Each page is the highest quality vellum near the end, with countless items inked in with neat calligraphy.

Three-quarters of the book is memorized items.

One-quarter, no more than 200 pages of a trade paperback, is conversational material.

When I write, however, I use a separate dictionary. This one doesn't have long pieces of text waiting to be recited. This has a five hundred page, 11x8.5 inch dictionary of words and short phrases. It is something I could never say out loud. I have to be cautious to use simpler words if I ever intend on verbalizing what is on the page. Those kinds of things take me far longer to write. They require proofreading, something I very rarely do with anything else. I haven't proofread a single blog post, for that matter; I find it to be unnecessary.

Back when I first started writing stories, I had a single goal: teach myself to control words better. My life has become incredibly easy since then.

Writing is my life.

My attic gives me many things.
My attic gives me thoughts.
My attic gives me stories, too;
Of those it gives me lots.

P.S. I am in the final editing stage for my first novel, not Negative Infinity but another altogether. It is a dystopian with some fantasy elements, and it is the first of a trilogy. Raleigh will be published at some point this summer, and I will update you on the details once I know for sure.

2 comments:

  1. Thank you, Arianna, for this beautiful peek into your brain and your heart — and your process of communicating in a way that is true to both! This is so important! I just posted it on our clinic's Facebook page with this comment: "How often do folks we know do one of two things: mentally scan their encyclopedic brains for bits and pieces to glue together to vocally-express unique ideas — or say one of their intelligible, easy-to-access catch-phrases (a 'default,' if you will) to socially "get by." Not until an individual feels 'free' to experiment, and know the other person will 'hold their place' in conversation (much like a piece of paper), do true ideas come out vocally: maybe half-formed, maybe a little rough-around-the-edges, but better during the next conversational turn — or the next day.

    Thank you, Arianna, for this beautiful peek into your brain and your heart — and your process of communicating in a way that is true to both!"

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  2. This is amazing - the way the human brain can work like this . . . blew me away. You are so special, and I can't wait to read your books.

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