It’s no secret I’ve always loved the written word but I’m also a bit of a Broadway nerd. Give me a good showtune to belt out when nobody’s listening, and I’m a happy camper. And if I can have a one-person kitchen dance party, well, that’s even better.
Occasionally, those two loves come together. I was singing along to the soundtrack from Hamilton in the kitchen this morning when I was struck again by these words from Eliza, Alexander Hamilton’s wife, about the immense volume of writing he did over his life and how the language of his letters affected her:
You and your words flooded my senses. Your sentences left me defenceless. You built me palaces out of paragraphs. You built cathedrals.
Some songs make you laugh, some make you cry. But every time I hear this song, called Burn, it sends shivers up my neck. Especially the last two lines. It puts such vivid pictures in my mind. Palaces out of paragraphs. Cathedrals.
Of course it’s every writer’s dream to be able to conjure up images in the mind of readers. Some are more successful than others.
My own foray into fiction writing has been humbling. It’s not easy to paint vivid pictures with words! I’ve been voraciously reading all manner of books, from frothy modern romances to Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and lots in between, looking for inspiration, for the secret sauce that will help these images flow from my pen – well, from my computer keyboard. Some days, I do a little celebratory dance when I reread what I’ve written, or in many cases, rewritten. Through some yet-untamed magic, they have combined pleasingly into a pleasing, recognizable image. Other days, you’ll find me banging my head against the wall, as words come crashing down to the floor in a heap, refusing to stick to the canvas. Fortunately for my ego, early reviews of drafts one and two have been positive, so I think I’m winning more than I’m losing.
It occurs to me that it’s not just words in the written or musical form for which this artistry is important. I’m sure you know of orators who have the same facility with language. Their choice of words forms the outline of the picture they paint, but they have the added advantage of a few more tools at their disposal. Timing, pitch, stress, body movement – these all combine to create eloquent speeches that leave pictures dancing in your head.
I think everyone can point to particularly gifted speakers. Think back to charismatic politicians who can whip up a crowd. To activists, who use language with passion to gain supporters. Even broadcasters. I have several books of stories from the late Stuart McLean – essays of his radio stories of Dave and Morley. If you haven’t heard of them, google it. It will be worth your time, I promise. Sometimes, especially on cold winter weekends, I pull one of his books off the bookshelf and open at random. I find it impossible to read them without hearing his voice clearly.
In Burn, Eliza is angry at her husband for writing a pamphlet about an affair he had, as she burns his letters — the ones in which he built her palaces and cathedrals. I’m not sure my words will have that kind of impact. But if I’m lucky, and if I’ve done my job right, just maybe they will paint a simple picture that people appreciate. And that’s enough for me.
