me and the "R" word

Sorry - many apologies to Inner Minx, and to the House of Pants, and to the Shameless Lions Writing Circle, from whom the thing originates - but the word "roar" was spoiled for me utterly, at a very early stage of my life, by Helen Reddy.

That's all I want to say about that.

However, with that proviso, I am delighted to announce that the redoubtable House of Pants has awarded me a "Roar for Powerful Words!" award, and I'm not going to sneeze at it, no matter how churned up all my bookcase dust may be.

When Ms P said she had a gift for me over at House of Pants, I have to say I hoped she might be about to bequeath me her owly-cat, who has given me so many moments of joy, when she goes away to her new Antipodean life. Of course, she's had a thankless lot of hard work persuading the Owly one even to go with her, and I realise she probably doesn't want to waste all that effort; and who knows, perhaps she'll be glad of his company. They might have a bonding moment, though I'll believe that when I see it. Which I won't, because they'll be 10,000 miles away (sob!).

Well, but so Ms P has given me this award! For powerful writing! And all I'm doing is wittering on about Barney the Owly-cat! Thinking about it, I'm not sure that recounting the story of ex-Mr B's father's nine copies of Doctor Zhivago, or describing the horror of Allen Ginsberg's underpants flying around the room, or making fun of Boris Johnson's "poetry" (sic) could really be accurately described as powerful - but we'll go with it, shall we?

According to Ms P, the award comes with a task: to list three ingredients of powerful writing. This is hard, because of course there are so many more than three. I'll try to pick three interesting ones.

1. Love words. Love them for all the tricks they can do, the highwire routines and somersaults and riding with no hands, and dressing up in Great-Aunt Myrtle's hat, and popping out from behind the sideboard. Love them also for their plain beauty; for their clarity, like a mirror in a sunny room; for their honest wooden grain and sheen. "It's only words," you say; but I say, "words are all I have/ to take your heart away." And for God's sake punctuate properly.

2. Know roughly what you want to say. I'm not saying you have to know when you start writing: good heavens no! But by the time you type "Ends" or "finis" or "I'll be dead by the time you read this" you should have got the thing into a shape where it looks as if you did. This means reading over it and taking out everything that was just tacking, holding the bits together while you figured out what to do. It means learning to see what's helping and what isn't. It means learning to admit what other people will find interesting and what they won't. And of course it will greatly help if, in the course of writing whatever you are writing, you do manage to get a sense of what you're saying. If you can't, it might be a good idea to go make some biscuits instead.

3. Don't be afraid of overstatement. And don't be afraid of understatement. Don't be afraid of jokes. Don't be afraid to be yourself; in fact, if what you have written makes your skin crawl with embarrassment or chagrin, the punters will probably love it. We are la comédie humaine! But please, do me a favour: don't be too goddamned earnest. Contrary to what Maya Angelou and her cohorts think, that's not power: it's self-indulgence.

(Ms P: There, will that do?)

Oh, here's a bonus. This is actually really, really important. Listen to how your words sound. Even most poets seem not to do this - either that or they just have tin ears. And novelists are even worse. Just because it's prose doesn't mean it doesn't matter how it sounds! You should be able to roll good writing around your mouth, it should give physical delight. Rhythm is important. So are consonants, and so are your vowels. This is not an indulgence. It aids comprehension, as well as giving your reader a reason to live.

Oh, all right, one more. Be particular. Generalise all you like, but use examples. Learn to revere the concrete. Only in romance languages is the abstract credible, and I'm not even sure it is, anymore. Our earthy bastardised English, which is so multi-textured, requires things to rub against.

Oh. And I have to award the award to five peple whose writing I think is powerful and a tonic. Here's the hard part. Of course I love you all, you know that, but the Words must have their way. Winners collect your prize from my sidebar, or from the Shameless Lions Writing Circle site.

1. Chip Dale. Of course. I've been to Oz, and the wizard is mighty and powerful. I think there might be something he'd like to tell you.

2. Non-Working Monkey. She is the Only Person I Know Who Can Use Capital Initials Without It Being Cringeworthy, and she makes me laugh like no one else, except maybe Chip.

3. Charles Lambert. He's a novelist, editor and darling, with a fab blog. I loved his recent "Taxonomies" post.

4. Erin O'Brien. I'm not sure I like the way she keeps popping up, like Endorra, on Charles' & Chip's blogs and flirting with them when she thinks I'm not looking; but she did write the "how to make a cold meatloaf sandwich" guest post that changed my reader levels forever. One day I will by her novel, Harvey and Eck, and get her to sign it.

5. Linda Grant. It may be cheating slightly, as she is a professional writer whose work I have admired for years, but her new blog - The Thoughtful Dresser - is a powerful example of just the kind of stuff I go on about above. It's the kind of thing the poor old blogosphere could do with more of, and as such deserves an accolade.