No title yet

Some writers fret over what to title their work. I say don't worry about it. It will come to you. In fact, titles that emerge while the work is in progress are the best ones. If you think of the title first, you tend to write everything to fit the title.
I wrote a biography of baseball pitcher Grover Cleveland Alexander who was known, among other things for his curve ball. A sports writer once commented on how often he pitched, saying "No rest for the wicked curve." A nice play on words. It occurred to me that my story was about all the unfortunate incidents that occurred in Alexander's life. I titled the book, Wicked Curve: The Life and Troubled Times of Grover Cleveland Alexander.
My favorite story about titles is about a young writer who approached novelist Somerset Maugham. He told Maugham he had written a novel and was having trouble coming up with a title. "Are there any drums in the book?" asked Maugham. "No," answered the young man. "Are there any trumpets?" asked Maugham. "No," said the young man. Maugham said, "Why don't you call it `No Drums, No Trumpets'?"
When I started writing this, I had no title. Having written it, I think I would now title it "Curve Balls, Drums and Trumpets."

The blind date

Were you ever on a blind date? Do you remember the sense of excitement or anticipation you had when you and your date met? Do you remember why the moments you spent together were meaningful, making you want more, or, the opposite, when you felt like the whole thing was a waste of time, a disappointment?
When a reader picks up your work, they have just accepted a blind date with you. They may have heard about you but they don't know you. It is up to you to make their experience exciting and memorable.
Think about that with each page that you write, with each paragraph, with each sentence.
But how, you ask. What is the secret?
The answer is the reader, like the date, needs to have a gratifying sense of fulfillment when the adventure is over. You must provide them with a satisfying experience so they'll want to be with you again.
It takes planning. It takes execution. It takes care.

Be careful of absolutes

Perhaps you've heard the old expression: All generalities are false, including this one.
Be careful of absolutes whether you're writing fiction or non-fiction. The problem in the example above is the word "all." All means everything, so if you use the word all, you better be certain there are no exceptions.
Other words to be careful of: every (and its partners - everybody, everything, every time), entirely, exclusively, without exception, peerless, best, worst...
If you are writing a narrative in which you say, "Everybody had a good time," I would wonder how you knew that. Did you ask everyone? You might reply, "Oh, no, that was just a generality" afterwhich I would refer you to the admonition at the start of this essay.
Have you ever watched a television news program where someone was the subject of an "exclusive" interview - and it's the same person you saw being interviewed a few hours ago on another station? How exclusive is that?
This is not being nit-picky. This is about being accurate. It's about intending every word you write.

Sometimes it's what you don't say

There is a saying familiar to most writers: Show me, don't tell me.
It means the writer shouldn't tell the reader that a character in a story is scared. Rather, the writer should paint a picture of the person cowering in the corner of a room or speaking in trembling voice or backing away from an encounter. If the description is good enough, the reader will figure out the character is scared - and readers like to figure things out - so show them, don't tell them.
A variation of this same principle is expressed through lack of description. There's a great example in Ernest Hemingway's short story, "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber." Macomber is on a hunting trip with his wife and a guide. His wife is behind him when she sees a buffalo start to charge him. She fires her rifle and shoots her husband in the head. The force of the blow knocks him face down on the ground. She and the guide run to the body. What an opportunity this would be for the writer to describe a really gory scene. Instead, Hemingway has the guide tell Mrs. Macomber, "I wouldn't turn him over." What a wonderful line, particularly in all that it doesn't say. Instead, the reader is left to imagine the scene. It is a classic line - and one that we can learn from.

Start your engine

If you are like me, you enjoy writing, you enjoy mingling with people who enjoy writing, you attend writing workshops - or wish you could, and you enjoy getting writing tips from time to time. Presumably, that is why you are reading this.
There's a story about a man we'll call Joe who purchased a new Nissan automobile. He loved cars, he loved his new Nissan and he loved reading all the tips in the owner's manual. He became so excited that he formed a Nissan owners club in which other enthusiasts got together and picked out different features in the owner's manual that they could talk about each week.
This was all well and good except for one vital piece of information that wasn't in the owner's manual: Sooner or later you have to drive the car. If you don't, all the other stuff you're doing doesn't have a point.
The same is true with writing. Workshops are great, reading what other people have written can be fascinating and tip sheets like the one you're reading now can be helpful and hopefully inspiring.
But sooner or later, you have to drive the car.
You want to be a writer? Write.