One of the reasons I decided to try this little blogging experiment was to share random ideas and samples of fine writing with students at Metropolitan State University of Denver. The sheer volume of writing we encounter each day can be overwhelming and it can help a busy student to have someone curate some of that deluge.
Here's a short passage from a sports column written by the Denver Post's Mark Kizla about Monday night's NCAA tournament game between Colorado and Florida State (which the Buffs lost):
"The state fairgrounds are firmly planted on the old northside of Indianapolis, and the yellow brick barn where the Buffs took the court for a Round of 32 game against Florida State feels as rooted in the Midwest as a John Mellencamp song. This gym is curmudgeonly and a little musty, but alive with the rich scents of history in every nook and cranny. Mel Daniels and the Pacers won ABA championships in this place. Way back in 1964, Paul McCartney and the Beatles made young fans twist and shout for joy until the walls shook.
"But in the first half, discombobulated CU players caused Boyle to roll eyes in disbelief and wonder where the magic of the team’s rousing victory against Georgetown two days earlier had gone. In a building that opened back in 1939 for local farmers to show cattle, the Buffs really stepped in it."
There are so many elements of this passage that deserve comment. Let's start with diction, one of the basic choices for any writer. The "yellow brick barn" is not only quite visual but contains a possibly inadvertent reference to the "yellow brick road" to the Final Four. There are few accidents in writing but this one might just result from the writer's familiarity with the Wizard of Oz.
"Curmudgeonly" is a striking choice, and an example of anthropomorphism, which applies human traits to, for instance, a building. The dictionary definition is "bad-tempered or negative," which might refer to both the age of the fieldhouse and the difficulty of winning.
That anthropomorphism continues when Kizla writes about the "rich scents of history," though we know that history does not emit odors. Yet we also know that smell is the sense that produces the most vivid memories. If you think of how your grandparents' home smelled when you first walked in, you know what I mean.
There is a basic writing rule that it is more powerful to place the key word or phrase at the END of a sentence. In rhetoric, we would call that a choice that has to do with syntax. That last sentence of the passage is a nice illustration. The team really "stepped in it," and that is a clear image for us, though no specific mention of cow excrement is included. Of course, that metaphor of "stepping in it" is quite well-known, which Kizla taps into.
I also admired the perhaps accidental connection between "the rich scents of history" and what the team stepped in.
Similes can be quite effective when your readers are familiar with your reference. There is a simile about a John Mellencamp song in the passage. That is a rich reference for a guy my age, but might be lost on young people who don't have that singer's music in their personal iTunes list.
There are many more rhetorical elements we might analyze, even in these two short paragraphs, but my general point is that we as writers need to immerse ourselves in lots of great writing to eventually be able make our own prose more compelling, descriptive, and satisfying.
As I keep repeating: analyzing HOW the diction, syntax, figures of speech and tone choices were cobbled together can lead to better writing.
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