An Unusual Bar - Chapter 1

A person walks into a bar and makes an unusual request, setting the gauntlet for a tale that is way more serious than the conversations suggest

‘I want a Prairie Oyster!’ announced Vinay in a loud but not intimidating voice as soon as flinging the door open. It was like dragging a table on the floor; noticeable, but not demanding unflinching attention. Shiv wasn’t surprised by it and left his seat immediately to fulfil his demand. But Raju, one of the two other occupants of the bar, was suddenly confused.

‘Wait, what? A Prey Rehoister? Are you drunk or something?’ he asked as Vinay made his way towards the bar counter.

Budh was sitting on the corner table. He had liked the establishment the moment he’d seen it. A small wooden cabin set in the clearing around a bend in the road. The wooden exterior and the dark glass door had appealed to him. The fact that there were no vehicles in sight and no sound from within had attracted Budh even more.

He was amused by Raju’s expression and his remark. It was clear to him that he’d never heard of Prairie Oyster, but his guess was right on the money. He’d been watching Raju stealthily for a while, and his expression of befuddlement and annoyance had intrigued him. The bar wasn’t large or occupied enough to muffle Raju’s conversation with Shiv. They were having a plain conversation, but Raju’s countenance suggested otherwise. The writer’s eyes that Budh possessed were interested, given the mismatch between face and words. The sudden request from the newcomer bridged that gap.

‘A Prairie Oyster, you twit,’ corrected Vinay. ‘How do you know it’s a hangover remedy and not know its pronunciation?’

‘It’s a hangover remedy? But why do you need a hangover remedy? You never drink. And hey, how come you know about this and never suggested it to me?’ said Raju, turning to Shiv who had three eggs in his hand.

‘You have your own hangover remedy,’ said Shiv.

‘Drinking more?’ asked Vinay as he occupied a bar stool.

‘Drinking more,’ affirmed Shiv with a brief nod. Raju’s face bore a frown before regaining its confused and annoyed state. Budh realized it was his normal facial expression. It piqued his interest further.

‘You can come and sit here, too. You won’t have to try so hard to watch then. Besides, my area isn’t well lit,’ said Shiv looking at Budh before cracking the eggs open and dropping the yolk perfectly in the glass.

Budh was startled by Shiv’s sudden attention, but the others didn’t make it worse by turning towards him. He picked his glass and walked cautiously towards them, banging into a chair nonetheless. Raju joined Vinay on the counter, and Budh gave him a nervous smile before taking the stool next to Vinay.

He watched carefully as Shiv prepared the concoction with a veteran’s ease. He recalled his friends telling him he would see some interesting things and meet interesting people in the hills of Himachal. But it really surprised him that people there would know of Prairie Oyster. Shiv and Raju looked like locals, which made things all the more bizarre.

‘How come you know about it then?’ Raju asked Vinay.

‘I don’t know, I just do,’ said Vinay, putting his face in his hands.

‘But why do you need it? You’re not drunk, are you?’ asked Raju with a hint of concern.

‘No. I just want to feel miserable.’

Raju’s facial expression intensified while Budh replicated it to a small degree. Shiv merely raised an eyebrow and continued preparing the drink. Vinay looked up at him and smiled softly before turning to Raju. He liked Shiv because he seldom asked questions, no matter how strange a conversationalist he encountered.

‘I feel miserable…in here,’ said Vinay, tapping his chest with his fist. ‘I want my body to feel miserable as well.’ Shiv nodded while Raju and Budh waited for further explanation. ‘It’ll make my soul less miserable.’

‘But why do you feel so miserable?’ pressed Raju.

‘I don’t know. I just do, sometimes. Every few weeks or so, I get these days when I’m frustrated and miserable beyond measure for no reason.’

‘But what frustrates you?’

‘People asking questions and bothering me all the time!’ blurted Vinay in an irritated manner. Raju backed off and pursed his lips. He joined Shiv and Budh in watching Vinay gulp the drink in one swoop. Vinay placed the glass down hard and shook his head a couple of times, his face making countless convolutions in the meantime.

‘Ugh, that’s even worse than I thought it’d be! That’s another reason to not drink for me. Now then, who do we have here, what’s your name, lad?’ he said turning towards Budh.  

‘Buddhaditya…Budh, I mean,’ said Budh, closing his eyes and grimacing.

‘Why, that’s a good name! Not one you hear often, but good nevertheless. You don’t need to be ashamed. It makes me feel a little insignificant, though. Suddenly I find myself among heavenly beings. There’s Shiv, and now there’s Buddha!’ said Vinay, gesturing at Budh, who gave a tired and disinterested smile in response. He was used to this reaction whenever he gave his name.

‘It’s not that I’m ashamed of my name. It’s just that…’ Budh shut his eyes again.

‘What do you do?’ asked Raju. Budh grimaced again. He let a few seconds pass before sighing and opening his eyes.  

‘I’m a writer,’ he said. Raju and Vinay raised their eyebrows and uttered a stressed and elongated ‘Oh!’ each before exchanging glances.

‘Aha! A writer named Buddha in the hills! That’s a story for you, isn’t it? It’ll practically write itself!’ said Vinay.

‘Just Budh, not Buddha, please,’ he replied. It was the combination of his profession and his name that made him want to keep one of the two a secret whenever he talked to someone. People always jump to conclusions, and this combination worked against him in casting an incorrect impression. He loved being a writer and liked his name, but he’d rather have those things mutually exclusive. He’d ignored all the common cafes and bars for this very reason because he knew he would get chatting and there would be no escaping from this. Vinay’s last sentence was a typical cliché, and Budh hated clichés. He turned away and eyed his glass of rum with newfound interest.

Budh drained the remaining drink in one go and asked for a refill. Shiv was still chuckling at his discomfort. He had a tall, lanky frame with inebriated eyes and hung cheeks. His Himachali cap revealed a few strands of grey hair which were a shade darker than his patchy beard. His smile would have looked malicious on another face, but it only looked mischievous on him. It hinted at a childhood full of energy and adventure and a youth full of action and vigour. In the placid adult face, Budh saw a man who had conquered everything and had now turned off the ignition to glide peacefully for the remaining years.

 ‘What brings you here, Budh?’ asked Shiv, pouring him another drink.

‘I’m not here for a story or some inspiration, if that’s what you think,’ he said, grabbing his glass. Shiv chuckled again.

‘No, I mean what brings you to my bar. There aren’t many people who pass by this area. You’re clearly not a heavy drinker. You’re not an explorer, because you think people deliberately look for offbeat places to feel good about themselves for doing something different. You hate that pretentious attitude of not wanting to belong to the mainstream but wanting to belong somewhere nevertheless,  just the way you hate people who act weird just to be seen as weird and treated differently and to stand out from the usual crowd.’

Budh couldn’t help but smile at Shiv. He tried to hide it by bringing his glass to his lips, but his smile was too wide for the rim. ‘That obvious, eh?’

‘Nah, he’s just too wise,’ said Raju.

‘Yes. Besides, he’s the epitome of clichés, having Shiv as a name here in the hills,’ said Vinay, smiling at Budh. Like all troubled souls, his smile had a beauty that Budh appreciated. He instantly forgave him for his statement earlier.

‘I thought people in the hills gave their children such names quite commonly,’ said Budh.

‘True, but he isn’t from around here.’

‘It’s a miracle that he has a place like this here,’ said Raju.

‘I thought there were many bars and cafes operated by outsiders here in the hills,’ said Budh, drinking another mouthful of rum.

‘Yes, but they are usually set up in an area where there are others like them. These places are almost never owned and operated by an outsider; strict land ownership laws and what not. For an outsider to have a bar somewhere visitors don’t usually frequent but close to the local residences is rare; rare to the point of being a first,’ said Vinay.

‘A miracle, I tell you,’ repeated Raju. Vinay threw a brief glance at him before turning back to Budh.

‘Yes, it’s a miracle alright. The Shiv of religious stories had his powers, and our Shiv has his. That Shiv could move mountains and perform divine miracles, while our Shiv can move people and perform minor miracles, like setting up such a quaint little place deep in the hills. To Lord Shiv!’

‘To Lord Shiv!’ roared Raju.

‘To Lord Shiv!’ cried Budh, joining in. He took another sip from his drink and smiled. Shiv was looking out the window and nonchalantly gave them a lazy salute to acknowledge their merry mood.

‘So then, Budh, what brings you here?’ asked Shiv again.

Budh realized he hadn’t answered the question earlier. ‘Oh, I, uh...I don’t know. I was just taking my bike out for a spin and ended up here. I thought I’d get a nice sun-drenched view of the valley sitting in the bar.’ He realized he hadn’t seen a board or a hoarding with the name of the bar.

‘Is that it?’ asked Vinay.

Budh turned to him and smiled nervously. ‘Yes. I mean, isn’t that why anyone comes here? Isn’t that why you guys are here?’

‘I’m from around here,’ said Raju.

‘I’m here because of him,’ said Vinay, pointing at Shiv. Budh started to say something but decided against it. Raju’s reason for being there made complete sense, and having met Shiv, Vinay’s reason made some sense to him as well. Budh turned to Shiv but he didn’t have to ask him the question, for Shiv had read it in his eyes.

‘I like these hills. I came here to relax years ago and just didn’t want to do anything else again. I’ve been relaxing ever since.’

‘So what did you do before coming here?’ asked Budh.

‘A lot,’ answered Shiv.

‘Enough to drive you out here in the first place?’

‘Enough to be beyond your comprehension,’ replied Shiv, turning towards him and smiling. There was no ill intent behind his remark, and Budh decided against pursuing it any further. As a person with a reasoning mind he always wanted to know if his deductions were correct, and as a philosopher, he always wanted to see how wise he really was. But he also knew when to hold his silence. Besides, he didn’t want to sully his new and budding acquaintance with Shiv.

The bartender held his gaze. Budh wasn’t sure if he was looking for something in his eyes, or if he was waiting to see how Budh would further the conversation. His face had straightened and gone sombre for an instant as he stood there eyeing him. Budh felt a nervous chill run down his spine as the bartender watched him intently. Budh always found it difficult to look at someone unfamiliar in such fashion, but he thought that Shiv could manage it since he felt like a cut above him and the rest of them, as if he belonged to a different mould.

However, the impish smile returned the moment Budh noticed its absence. It was almost like an invitation to a duel, but he didn’t want to take Shiv up on it. It had been a while since he had last enjoyed a drink with newfound company, and he wanted to keep it going as long as possible without overthinking. 

Author's Note

Give me the bad, give me the good, and let me know if it makes you want to know how the conversations divulge more about the characters in next chapters

Reviews

[Renee Peace-Miller]

The dialogue at the beginning is a little distracting, it takes a couple paragraphs in for a reader to work out who is talking to who, but that can be fixed with a few small tweaks. I do like how you jumped right in with the dialogue though, it moves the story along nicely and you really feel like all these characters, except Budh, have known each other for some time without saying it outright. It can be a little wordy in places and throws of the natural flow of your sentences. There are some "had"s and "that"s that could be taken out. In this sentence: "The bar wasn’t large or occupied enough to muffle Raju’s conversation with Shiv sufficiently.", the word "sufficiently" doesn't need to be there.
On the whole I loved it, you have a great knack for story structure and for creating characters that feel real and dialogue that flows naturally and seems true to your characters. I can't wait to read the next chapter!

[Agyani]

Hi
Thank you for the review.
I get verbose at times, I agree. It's been something I have been working on for some time, but obviously there's a lot more work that I need to put in it. Thanks for bringing it to my notice.

The beginning....well, I understand that. Maybe it is distracting, and like JayG always mentions, it lacks context for the reader. I rather try to start my works with a dialogue or a line that gives the reader a jolt or maybe makes them shake their head and wrinkle their brows a bit. But I feel it gets their attention.
I'll do another round of editing to iron out the story a bit more. Thanks for your insight!
And I'd love to know what you think about the 2 other chapters of the story!

[Jacob Clifford]

I told you I'd get around to this story eventually! As others have mentioned, the dialogue in the beginning is a bit difficult to muddle through. What's happening and who is who isn't very clear, and it feels messy. It does get better, as things are less jumbled and we can relax into your writing voice, though I do feel you get a bit, as you put in in other review comments, a bit verbose in explaining the character's thoughts. Still, this story does what it needs to do and it gets to the point eventually. The story is fun to read, and it's a nice change of pace to have a non-action story. We just get to relax and watch some bar-time merriment.

[Agyani]

I never doubted you when you said you'd read my work soon! Good to have you back, Clifford.
As for your comment, yeah, it's one of those things I just couldn't see because of how I looked at the story. But as you can see, quite a few people have said the same thing, and it helped me see things that way as well.
I've tried to improve things to that effect as well as other things in my more recent works (hintedy hint hint). It's thanks to all the helpful people and passionate readers and writers here at the Cafe. :)

[barleygirl]

For starters, your writing construction & your storytelling are top-notch. This story is quite a bit "in the head" (or cerebral), as compared to a physical story with action, which can often be more dynamic. It's unusual for a cerebral story to be compelling as this, without some form of action in your storyline. Just sitting around in a bar, talking, basically. Your dialogue is well done, it's unusual/delightful, and it reveals a fair amount about your culture that's very interesting to me. The first few paragraphs, the dialogue felt a little slow, but I attribute it to the rambling, idle talk one hears in a bar . . . it was realistic in that way, even if a little sluggish as far as carrying the reader into your story at the start. The dialogue continues to be slow & rambling, but it just gets more interesting after the first few paragraphs. When the guy swigs the drink with a grimace, that's where your story feels a little more compelling & dynamic, to the end. The paragraph that starts with this: "No, I mean what brings you to my bar. There aren’t many people who pass by this area. You’re clearly not a heavy drinker. You’re not an explorer . . ." -- goes on & on, but in a delightful way, so funny, it's well-crafted lively realistic bar banter. I guess the Prairie Oyster is the drink with the eggyolk? Here in the USA, it's the testicles cut from a bull calf to make it into a steer. They throw these (prairie oysters) on the fire used to heat up the branding irons at cattle roundups & dare the ladies to eat them (I never would). All in all, interesting story & I'm eager to continue (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Agyani]

I understand what you're saying about the dialogue here, even though you really sugar coated it. :D
It is quite a cerebral story, I agree. Maybe I was wrong in thinking people will create the setting and atmosphere as per their own imagination. Even though JayG pointed this out and I made a few changes to make it more visible to the reader, I think it lacks in that department. I wonder if I should change it further. Not really keen to do so, to be honest.

And dear God, is that a prairie oyster in the US?!

[JayG]

• ‘I want a Prairie Oyster!’

Beginning with dialog is a bit iffy, because the reader has no idea of who’s speaking, or why, so they can’t tell how to read it. And given that many readers have no idea of what it is, and, that the term prairie oyster also means a bull’s testical on a platter to many, and a band to others, you begin line-one with a problem.

• Vinay’s voice was loud but not intimidating or startling.

Too generic to be meaningful. When you read this, you know who Vinay is, where he is, and what motivated him to speak. And that’s context that’s necessary if the reader is to get the meaning you intend. Without that, the reader has no reason to care how he said it. Think about how different a feeling the first line would have had they been preceeded with: Settling into his seat at the bar, Vinay pointed a finger at Shiv as he called, ‘I want a Prairie Oyster.’ we would know who’s calling, what he wants, that he’s at a bar, and what the bartender’s name is. The exclamation mark becomes unnecessary, and line two can be dropped.

• But Raju, one of the two other occupants of the bar, was suddenly confused about everything.

Here, I’m afraid, is where you run off the tracks. Instead of making the reader live the story you’re EXPLAINING it to them. But can we tell a story that way on the page? No. Have your computer read the opening aloud and you’ll hear the problem.

Only you know how you intend the story to be read. Only you can hear the emotion in the “voice” of the narrator as you read. Only you can know the facial expressions, the tone, cadence, and more in the narrator’s performance.

Of critical importance, you’re explainig the events to a reader who comes to you for a single purpose: to be entertained by being made to have an emotional, not an informational experience.

They don’t want to know how the protagonist feels. They want to be made to FEEL that emotion. And that’s impossible to do if we use the writing skills we learn in our school days because they were given us to make us useful to our future employer, not provide the tools of the professional fiction-writer. Think of how many reports and essays you wrote, as against stories. Think of how many of your teachers had sole their own writing.

It’s a problem you share with most hopeful writers, because no one tells us that the writing style we learn is fact-based and author-centric—designed to inform, while fiction is emotion-based, character-centric, and meant to entertain.

Not wjhat you were hopeing to hear, I know. But the good news is that the problem is simple to fix: add the skills of fiction to those we already know. It’s not easy, though, because you’re learning an entirely different approach, and to become as proficient with that as with your current skill takes time, study, and lots of practice (the average writer creates, edits, polished, and puts aside a half million words before selling one word). But it is possible, and time spent picking up the skills of the fiction writer is well worth the effort.

The library’s fiction-writing section is a great place to begin. And while you’re there, look for the names Dwight Swain, Jack Bickham, or Debra Dixon on the cover. They’re pure gold.

You might want to dig around in the writing articles in my writing blog for a kind of introduction to the issues involved. But whatever you do, hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/

[Agyani]

Hi
Thanks for the review.
I understand what you are saying about context, but don't you think it's weird giving the entire scene or context to the reader before you start with the dialogue and the plot? It does make sense most of the time, I agree, but I also feel the reader should have some freedom when reading the story.
It's the plot and what ideas are shared that are more important for me rather than making the reader see the exact thing that I see. This is just what I feel. I'd be glad to know what you think about it.

Apart from the context, what do you think of the plot and the general writing? Any comment on that as a reader would be really helpful!

[JayG]

• … but don't you think it's weird giving the entire scene or context to the reader before you start with the dialogue and the plot?

Not the entire scene, just the context necessary to understanding the action in progress. Suppose I open with: “I always will remember that time in Mexico with Charlie. I doubt that chicken was ever the same after what happened.” That makes perfect sense to me. It makes sense to anyone who was there. But…for you it’s just words that have no cpontext other than to say that some kind of incident occurred in some unknown part of Mexico, at an unknown time, with an unknown number of people. So I know the general facts, but as data. And who reads data for entertainment.

Your reader is with you to be entertained. They arrive with mild curiosity, which fades, word by word. You have a limited time to change that curiosity to interest by involving them emotionally. If they aren’t made to WANT to turn the page they will leave, because there are thousands of competing stories, all shouting, “Read me, I’m better.”

Studies have shown that the average reader makes their buy-or-leave decision within the first three pages. Or, as Sol Stein put it: “A novel is like a car—it won’t go anywhere until you turn on the engine. The “engine” of both fiction and nonfiction is the point at which the reader makes the decision not to put the book down. The engine should start in the first three pages, the closer to the top of page one the better.”

• I also feel the reader should have some freedom when reading the story.

The reader comes to us to borrow our imagination. They want us to make the story so real that they feel as if they are living it in real-time. They have no access to our intent as to the meaning of the words, and they cannot hear any emotion in the narrator’s words that are not inherent to the punctuation. So talking TO the reader, as in explaining events and backstory is dry, dull, boring reading that serves only to inform, not entertain.

Plot events? Who cares? It’s what those events mean to the protagonist, and what it motivates them to do that titillates the reader, and makes them care. If you can make your reader say, “Damn…what do we do now?” you have a happy reader. History books never makes us say that, because there is no uncertainty, just the flow of facts. But life, from your personal viewpoint is full of uncertainty. Can the protagonist’s life seem real, and immediate if there is none?

At the moment, like most hopeful writers your writing is fact-based and author-centric. You, the author, are explaining the story in a voice devoid of emotion. Worse yet, because the reader can’t see or hear your performance, they’re reading the words of a dispassionate external observer. In other words, a report of events, followed by an explanation of what they mean TO YOU.

Look at the flow of the story from a reader’s viewpoint—someone who knows only what the words HAVE said to any point:

Paragraph one: Someone unknown tells someone unknown, in an unknown place, that they want something that may be food, a drink, a hangover remedy, or for any given reader, something unknown. You read it and know, but you’re not there to explain.

Paragraph 2: A narrator, who can be neither seen nor heard explains how the line was spoken AFTER we read it. Isn’t that too late to help the reader? Wouldn’t they want to know how it’s spoken AS it’s read?

That’s followed by an explanation that someone unknown named Shiv left his seat in an unknown place to get whatever was requested. How can a reader create a mental picture from that? Then we learn that we’re in a bar (whould would have provided context if we knew it before the line was spoken, of he’s called, “Bartender, I want a…” Apparently, another unknown person is “suddenly” confused by EVERYTHING. What’s “everything?” Given all that was discussed was the drink, this doesn’t track. No hint of what’s meant in the words. And given the response can happen only after we hear something said, isn’t every understanding “sudden?”

Paragraph three: It appears that Raju is confused as to what was said. Given that his confusion is inherent in the question he asked, why did you have to tell the reader that he was confused, first?

And of most importance, there is no viewpoint character, no protagonist. All we have is the narrator. But the reader can’t get emotionally connected to someone being talked about. So why not give them a protagonist—an avatar they can identify with?

My point is that you’re using the report-writing skills we’re given in school to provide an overview of a scene you’re visualizing. Had you provided a character’s viewpoint, and provides what that character is focused on, the character would have noticed all the conflicts I pointed out. He would also relieve you of the necessity of stepping on stage and standing between the reader and the action.

It has nothing to do with talent. For all we know you ooze it from every pore. But it’s untrained talent, which is no more than potential. Doesn’t it make sense that if we want our reader to enjoy our words in the same way they enjoy the pros they read every day that we need to know what the pro knows? How can we provide a scene that sings to a reader if we don’t know what a scene is on the page?

It the words of several writers you might know:

“It’s none of their business that you have to learn how to write. Let them think you were born that way.”
~Ernest Hemingway

“Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader, not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.”
~ E. L. Doctorow

As I said in my post, the tricks of the trade are as close as your local library’s fiction-writing section, where you’ll find the views of teachers, publishing pros and successful writers. I suspect that were you to read a book like Dwight Swain’s, Techniques of the Selling Writer, my favorite, you would spend a lot of time slapping your forehead and saying, “That’s so simple. Why didn’t I see that, myself?”

• It's the plot and what ideas are shared that are more important for me rather than making the reader see the exact thing that I see

Were thay true we would be reading plots and enjoying them. But plots are easy. Writing so that the reader is moved to turn the page is a b***h.

Think about it. Half way through a book the reader had no idea of how it will end. Yet still they read. Why? Because the writing entertains, and keeps them interested. You might hear someone say, “The plot wasn’t all that good, but the writing was fantastic.” You will NEVER hear someone say, “The plot was fantastic but the writing wasn’t all that good because they will stop reading before the end of chapter one. In fact, most submissions are rejected on page one. Many before the end of paragraph one. How do I know? I’ve read slush-pile submissions, and owned a manuscript critiquing service.

Fully 75% of what’s submitted is called unreadable by the publishers because it was written with schooldays writing skills. Of the rest all but three are called unprofessional. And of the three, only one is right for that house. So unless you upgrade your skills to place you in the top three percent you have no chance. And, that applies to self-publishing, because publishers mirror the book buying public’s reaction, and before the reader you steer to your self-published book says yes they will read the excerpt. And unless that falls into the category of professional, and right for the kind of book they seek they leave without saying yes.

We all want to please our reader. That’s a given. But to do that, we need to know the tricks of the trade. There is no way around that.

• Apart from the context, what do you think of the plot

Plot can only be appreciated in retrospect. In this, you present 2000 words, or eight standard manuscript pages. What happens? Some people talk about hangovers and drinking. Then they’re joined by someone they don’t know and make casual conversation about why this person came there, plus learning that this person is a writer (but no one asks him what he writes? And no one discusses his work?)

We learn that the man isn’t happy, but in the end, nothing much happens but bar-talk by what amounts to talking heads. And the problem with talking heads is shown here:
http://movieline.com/2010/03/23/david-mamets-memo-to-the-writers-of-the-unit/

My point is that we’re eight pages in and nothing of note has happened but a conversation that takes a minute or two in life but ten minutes to read about. That’s why we provide the essense of the conversation, not a cinematic transcription of it. And remember, while we “hear” what’s said, we miss all the visuals, the expression changes, the glances, the tiny changes in HOW the words are spoken that give us the emotional part of it.

I really wish there were some easier way of providing such news. It hurts. I know because I’ve been there. And something like this feels like I’ve just called a favorite child worthless. 😢 And you did ask. But in reality, what I’ve said applies to most hopeful writers, so you have a lot of company—including me when I began recording my stories, because nonfiction writing skills are all we possess when we leave our school-days. And no one tells us we need more.

So dig into the tricks of the trade. You’ll be glad you did. And after you make those skills as automatic as those you now posses you’ll be amazed at the difference they make.

So hang in there. And keep-on-writing. With practice and study it doesn’t get easier. But it does change the gold to crap ratio for the better, and we do become confused on a higher level. And, if you get just a little better each day, and live long enough… 😁