I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate.
Roy Batty

h2g2ers have seen things you wouldn't believe. Just this week, they've seen a potato that looks like a fish, octopi glittering in the daylight in downtown London, people selling mac and cheese waffles across from a small-town courthouse, and a host of other weird sights. The world is a bit odder than the advertising folks would have you believe.

How does that affect your writing? Well, if you'll notice, I've been getting all of you to remember that due to the miracle of modern technology, you now have a picture-taking device practically welded to your fingertips. To wit, your mobile. You've begun pointing, shooting, and emailing to the Post. We thank and applaud you. Notice what else this has done for you: it's made you more observant of the oddity of daily life. Instead of thinking, 'Oh, that's weird. Why do people do these irritating things?' you now think, 'Quick! I have to get a photo! Galaxy Babe/2legs/Dmitri will love this one!'

A lot of what makes writing good is its individuality. Think about your favourite author. Don't you find yourself reading a particularly enjoyable passage and saying, 'Now, only Soandso would have thought of that'? That's what you want them to think. You want them to appreciate the way you notice things.

Telling a story, true as the newspaper or made up out of your own head, is a way to share your view of the world. And that starts with the details you pick up. Right now, as I sit here writing this, some of my relatives are sitting on Main Street in front of the local vintage department store. They're saving everybody a place for the noon parade. And you know what? My sister's noticing all the people she knows. Who are not always the same people I know. She's noticing things about the street that are informed by forty years of living nearby and attending this same annual parade. Soon, I'll go and join her – but I won't see the same things. That's what makes our storytelling so individual.

So, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get my camera and go watch the parade. I'll tell you all about it later, and show you a pic.

*******

Later: Wow. A town of 5,000 mounts a two-hour parade. Unbelievable. Highlights (for me): the bands, the middle-aged Shriner gents in their giant motorized tricycles solemnly saluting the lodge hall, the dogs in formal neckties, the dancing and martial arts classes, the clown with the invisible dog on a leash, the fact that the county coroner rode in the parade…all of it, really. I took over a hundred photos, which will show up in the Post eventually. Oh, and they all threw candy, just like at Karnival time. The kids had a ball.

At one point, I looked across the street and noticed a large dog looking out from his first-storey window. I snapped a picture. Obviously, everyone was watching the parade – and they each had a different vantage point.

Writing Right with Dmitri Archive

Dmitri Gheorgheni

17.10.16 Front Page

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