To get the most out of this series of posts on ways for writers to “find the best words,” you may want to give a read to Eric Bogle’s bush ballad, “The Band Played Waltzing Matilda.” The first four verses illustrate many points I’ll be making. Many versions of the song are on YouTube, but reading it is probably best at first, because it’s free of the singer’s interpretation. It’s just you and the words. Like your readers and your words.
Once you’ve read it, I hope you agree the songwriter chose words that effectively create a moving lyric. It’s full of descriptive language. Which individual words strike you? Here are two that particularly strike me:
- “tin hat”—doesn’t sound like it would give much protection does it? To me, “tin hat” immediately conjures an image like that above. Vulnerability.
- how about “corpses”? Most times we’d say “bodies” here, but corpses is so much more powerful. We all have a body, we think of our bodies, we don’t think of ourselves as a “corpse.”
Nouns Name the World
Chances are, some of the words you picked out from the song are powerful nouns. Picking the right noun is the first step in establishing a relationship with your readers. Think back to how nouns were described in elementary school: Nouns NAME THINGS. The right noun tells readers what you’re talking about.
You probably recognize “Waltzing Matilda”—it’s called the “unofficial national anthem of Australia.” But do you know what “Waltzing Matilda” actually means? It isn’t a ballroom dance. In Australian slang, “waltzing” means traveling on foot. Americans use “waltz” to signal an easy accomplishment, often one a person is rather smug about: You might write,
“The detective waltzed into the squad room, grinning. ‘I solved the case!’”
What about “Matilda”? – Not a girlfriend. A Matilda is a backpack and sleeping gear. So to go “waltzing Matilda” is to hike the country carrying your possessions with you.
We know what the “outback” is—thank you, Outback Steak House. What about Murray’s green basin? The Murray is Australia’s longest river. Since so much of the country is desert or semi-arid, the green along the river is precious. The Circular Quay, near the end of the song, is Sydney Harbor.
Now that we’re oriented, let’s examine some of the other things its nouns do. A number of words here serve as touchstones—or anchors—for the reader—particularly for an Australian hearer, but for anyone who knows a little history. Touchstones bring you and your reader onto the same page. They build rapport between you. They let you inside their heads, linking your story to things they already know and have feelings about.
Two of those touchstones provide the first signal of what’s coming: 1915, Gallipoli. Most people born in the 20th Century will know instantly the song is about World War I, even if Eric Bogle hadn’t then written “marched me away to the war.” The instant the verse lands on “Gallipoli,” we know tragedy looms. (And notice where this ominous word is strategically placed—at the end of the line for maximum impact.)
But even if you’ve forgotten that terrible battle, plenty of details fill you in. The songwriter pulls you in deep with “Johnny Turk was ready.” This reference is a little more esoteric, unless you’re a history buff. The ill-prepared Australian troops were ordered to march ashore with virtually no covering fire because their officers were overconfident. Plus their maps were wrong. Plus their intelligence was bad. They simply believed the Turks were no match for troops with British leadership. They believed the Turks would NOT be ready, but it was the British who weren’t prepared. So, that line is a little jab at the Brits.
In our song, many of the specific geographic touchstones—the outback, Murray’s green basin, Circular Quay—are well-known to Australian hearers. Eric Bogle could use them because he knew his hearers would understand what they were—and what they stood for.
Americans have significant touchstones too. If we mention any of them, we’re likely to evoke a particular feeling. We don’t need a lengthy explanation of certain times (9/11, D-Day), places (Pearl Harbor, Selma), events (the Kennedy assassination, Hurricane Katrina), mindsets (The Depression) or geography (The West, Martha’s Vineyard). You can make a connection with most Americans with just those words.
Obviously, you have to be judicious. You don’t want to evoke the wrong thing. Referring to Ruby Ridge could pull up a range of feelings. Readers might also have unpredictable reactions to Waco, Watts, Chicago 1968.
Do you use touchstones in your writing? Could you? In her book The Final Episode, Lori Roy uses a fictional touchstone to anchor her story: the kidnapping of a young girl twenty years earlier. Everyone in the book knows and remembers the details of the crime and has had their lives altered because of it.
I’d be interested in knowing what touchstones you may have used.Part 1:Introduction to “ Every Word’s a Choice”—finding the best words to tell your story. The series is based on a talk I recently gave at a writers’ conference. Find it here:https://vweisfeld.com/?p=11484