Go for the Gusto

One of my son's favorite shows is called "Dinosaur Train". The title is delightfully informative, because the show does indeed chronicle the exploits of dinosaurs who ride on a train. The only thing it is missing in order to be fully informative are the words "time-travelling" neatly inserted between the two words in the title. Essentially, a family of dinosaurs use a this time-machine to visit different parts of the dinosaur age, and meet the dinosaurs that live there. On the whole, it is a solid children's program. Jim Henson's son and his team produce it, and it continues to feed that time-honored bond (neigh obsession) between toddlers and dinosaurs.

This afternoon, I encountered my absolute favorite D.T. episode.

It bears the elegant sobriquet "Dinosaur Poop!"

I doubtless give you an insight into my childish character by sharing this, but I laughed at that title for a solid twenty minutes after reading it. It is such a wonderful piece of written humor. No, seriously, it is. Stay with me here. First, there is the obvious laugh: they went there. The writers trod on that most delicate topic of dung. Even more courageous, the episode actually focused on dinosaur droppings. The droppings were no mere set piece or carefully-buried sideline factoid. They were the main event.

What makes it absolutely perfect written humor? The exclamation point, of course. They've not just muttered "...dinosaur poop." The creators have shouted it from the rafters.

Dinosaur poop!

Admit it. You're smiling a little bit right now. This sort of humor, which vaults neatly over the head of the toddler audience, is one of those wonderful winks to the parents. It is the writer's way of saying, "Hey, I know this isn't what you want to be watching, Mom and Dad. Sometimes I get bored, too. In fact, so bored that I am writing an episode about dinosaur poop, just so I can find some light in this child-themed, profanity-lacking, educational hellhole!"

Okay, maybe they aren't saying it exactly like that, but that is how it rings in my head. It is amazing how the a couple of simple words and the right punctuation, placed just so can have you giggling for twenty minutes, creating a whole tableaux of amusing images.

The experience made me think about something that has been dogging me in my writing. All too often,  writers (myself included) ham-string themselves with the insecurity hiding in their writing. Doubt me? Let's take a look at a few examples.

Passive voice is a good place to start. Ask any writing teacher what the most foul affliction of the human soul is, and he will promptly respond, "Passive voice." Nearly every writer I've ever met has the same problem. If left unmonitored, these writers will quickly lapse into the passive voice. Doesn't matter if you've been at the craft for twenty years. Passive voice sneaks in to all of our stuff when we aren't quite sure of ourselves.

Examples:

The bat was carried by Ted.
The body was tossed into the pit by Steve.
The sex was had by Brandy and Tom.

It is as if the writers aren't quite sure how readers will interpret the action, so said actions are couched in the wordiest, weakest way possible. It's like walking up to a beautiful woman at a bar and starting out with, "Um, excuse me, ma'am, you're quite pretty, and, uh, if it is okay, I'd like to buy you a drink." Yuck! All that hesitancy kills the thing before it even starts. What makes it worse? Readers can tell instantly. They might not be able to articulate why it is weak, but enough passive voice and anything starts getting painful to read.

As creators, writers really struggle with putting their heart onto the page. Insecurity comes out, and if it controls enough, you get tripe like the examples above.  This is one of those areas where "Dinosaur Poop!" is so brilliant. It is fearless. No beating about the bush there. It is powerful and direct.

The above sentences could be, too.

Ted carried the bat.
Steve tossed the body into the pit.
Brandy and Tom had sex.

And that last example? That brings me up to another insecurity I see in writing. I call it "wrong word" syndrome. Everyone who writes has a little voice in their head... well, at least one. Sometimes more. But at least one voice that is telling them what they are really trying to say. This guy (or girl) tells it like it is. He hollers this truth from his dark little chamber in the human mind. The problem is that these very true words originate in the subconscious, and have to dash through the minefield of upper-brain insecurity before they escapes out and onto the paper.

Rarely do these poor words get to the other side of that minefield in one piece. Usually they is missing a limb or two. This is the sad story behind "Brandy and Tom had sex." Even as I wrote it, I realized that I had censored it. Allow me to properly state that sentence.

Brandy and Tom fucked.

(And most likely, it was much more satisfying than when they just "had sex". And it certainly beat the living shit out of the sex that was had by them... that was just a debacle.)

The beautiful thing about "Dinosaur Poop!" is that it uses the most direct words. It uses the right words, even if they are a bit childish. And it punches you in the face. And as you sit there on your ass, marveling at how someone got away yelling that at the start of a children's show, you inevitably find yourself laughing. (Or, if you are really bent and prone to written humor, you write an essay about it.) That is the problem with Brandy and Tom having sex. It isn't quite emphatic enough. To really capture the tone I was aiming for, I needed the "F-bomb" in all its glory. Too many times, writers use weaker words because they are worried about offending readers, or somehow ruining their narrative "personality", if you will.

"Faugh!" I say to that. The use of the exact right word (even if it seems a little edge or inappropriate) can be a brilliant ambush that delights the reader, if you have the guts and panache to do it. That is really why I thought this truly bizarre example was worth writing about.

The lesson "Dinosaur Poop!" teaches is that bold simplicity works. The trick is putting aside enough of your insecurities to embrace it and just go for it.