Anyone familiar with the northeastern United States in general, and Vermont in particular, may find the idea of an ode to November puzzling. After all, November “up here” is one of the darkest months of the year. The mercury consistently dips below freezing, and the foliage that lit the hillsides with red, gold, burnt-orange, and copper has long since fallen, shedding the hardwoods of their leaves and turning the woodlands into a stark and barren landscape. And yet. And yet . . . it is that very starkness, that very lack, that gives November its austere and minimalist charm.
The lush undergrowth of July, the tangles and brambles and the seemingly limitless expanse of all the green, growing things that, not so long ago, overcrowded the natural landscape, have vanished, crumbling to dried organic matter that will merge with the soil, slumber awhile, and spring forth in the new year to come. For now, in this cold, quiet month of November, there are only the grays and the browns, the absence of, the empty spaces among the trees, the wind whispering through the gaps, the penetrating screech of a hoot owl under a dark and cloudy night sky.
And I love it. I am here for it. The deep frosts and snowdrifts of January have yet to overtake the land. The natural world seems almost in a state of limbo, of waiting, of transitioning away from one season and meandering, slowly, shyly, perhaps reticently, toward another. In this stripped-down landscape, I am reminded of some things. Things that deal with the craft of writing.
When I was a college student, back in the last, gasping years of the twentieth century, I was drawn to the ornate, flowery language of the Victorians. Bronte, Dickens, Hardy, Montgomery, and Eliot–I read them all. No one will dispute the brilliance of these literary titans. They rank among the best, without question. But it can also be stated that Victorian authors, to put it delicately, were rather liberal with the amount of words they used to convey a message. A modern-day editor very well might snip thousands of words from a Victorian-styled manuscript if said manuscript were submitted in 2019 by an aspiring author.
Don’t get me wrong. I am still as big a fan as ever when it comes to the classics. But over the years, I’ve learned the importance of snipping, cutting, pruning, and, as they say, killing your darlings. While it would be fun to write four-hundred-word sentences and pepper dialogue attributions with adverbs, it would be over-the-top for a twenty-first-century audience. Surely there is a middle ground for writers, like me, who enjoy compound-complex sentences, the occasional flowery turn of phrase, and who don’t always concern themselves with word count as they might!
This is why the month of November serves as a gentle reminder. Looking into the woods, swept clean of leaves and berries and bushes, I think of William J. Strunk’s directive in his Elements of Style: “Omit needless words.” To be sure, what words are needless and what words are needed is a subject ripe for debate. But the lesson is noted, nonetheless, and November serves as the natural world’s analogy.
All this to say . . . readers of this blog have probably observed that posts have been coming fewer and further between in recent months. This is, in part, due to the amount of freelance work I have undertaken as an editor and proofreader. What once was a “side gig” is rapidly becoming a full-time job! Not that I’m complaining. I enjoy the work, and relish the opportunity to provide a valuable service to fellow writers and content creators.
You will notice a new Page on this website: Freelance Editing and Proofreading Services. Please consider this post (and the concomitant new Page) an invitation, a call. If you would like a professional writer and editor, an old English major, and a proud grammar nerd to assist you with your work–be it a blog post, an article, a technical report, or a novel you are in the final stages of polishing for publication–I am here and eager to help.
Hopefully longtime readers of this site will know that I am uncomfortable soliciting work or sales of my novels. Self-promotion does not come easily for me. I thank you for your indulgence, and I do hope very much to work with many of you on your writing and publishing endeavors. More than anything, thank you for your years of support of The Eye-Dancers blog. I may not post as often as I once did, but I’m still here and intend to stick around for the long haul.
In this season of thanksgiving, I thank the month of November for its simple reminders. And I thank each and every one of you for your support over the years.
Thanks so much for reading!
–Mike
Eye-Dancers 