Bird by Bird. By Anne Lamott.

I like to read Anne Lamott in small, measured doses. Her writing is like a very sharp cheddar, or a particularly piquant green olive -- a taste is enough. But what a taste! Funnily enough, I've never even read any of her fiction -- I'm talking about her essays, which are simply marvelous. I have a friend who, whenever she attends a baby shower, more or less automatically gives a copy of Lamott's Operating Instructions, a collection of essays on raising children. (The title alone should give you a sense of Lamott's quirky style.)

My favourite book of hers, however, is a book of advice about writing, called Bird by Bird. Among other merits, it shows how Lamott is one of the best -- and funniest -- metaphor-builders in the business.

Take a look at these:

"The first poem I wrote that got any attention was about John Glenn...The teacher read the poem to my second-grade class. It was a great moment; the other children looked at me as though I had learned to drive. (page xiv)

"My students are miserable when they are reading an otherwise terrific story to the class and then hit a patch of dialogue that is so purple and expositional that it reads like something from a childhood play by the Gabor sisters." (page 64).

"Writing is about hypnotizing yourself into believing in yourself, getting some work done, then unhypnotizing yourself and going over the material coldly." (page 114)

The book's title comes from an incident in Lamott's childhood. Her 10-year-old brother had had three months to write a report on birds for school but left it until the night before it was due. He came to the kitchen table in tears, overwhelmed by the amount of work. His father put his arm around the boy and said, "Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird."

Excellent advice. Even though Bird by Bird is ostensibly about fiction writing, Lamott's elaxed, informal style, and her message -- write, don't judge yourself -- make it an object lesson in how to write non-fiction.

DETAILS: Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. By Anne Lamott. Published by Anchor Books, 1995, 239 pages.

The Right to Write. By Julia Cameron.

I bet many of you have a copy of Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time sitting on your bookshelf. Unread. And perhaps you have Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way sitting beside it. Also unread.  Funnily enough, The Artist's Way was one of the few classic writing books I didn't own. I did, however, inherit it from my mother's bookshelves, after she died just over a year ago.

I must confess, the book seemed surrounded by a negative force-field. Every time I tried to pick it up, I became utterly enervated. The layout of the book (text too close to the spine), the dull chapter headings (e.g. "Recovering a sense of integrity") and the language of the book (very much in the 12-step genre) made me want to run screaming in the opposite direction. Still, I was curious to figure out why Julia Cameron was so popular and decided to dip into another of her books, The Right to Write.

Overcoming my native dislike for titles so relentlessly cute, I pressed on and was amply rewarded. This little book is wonderful. Even though it's intended more for those who wish to fall on the "creative" side of the writing equation, it has many tips that anyone who puts pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) can use. Each of the 43 very short chapters tackles one writing idea and offers an exercise, which you're free to ignore if you wish. The writing is bright and lively -- sprightly, almost. 

Most of all, Cameron provides a compelling argument for writing each morning -- a subject I'll be tackling in a future newsletter (make sure you're a subscriber -- the newsletter, which is free, isn't published on my site.)  I also like the way she argues for the importance of writing, even if it never goes further than your own private notebook. This book would be a terrific gift for anyone who is "afraid" of writing -- most especially for anyone who had an unwritten novel moldering away inside.

DETAILS: The Right to Write: An Invitation and Initiation into the Writing Life. By Julia Cameron. Published by Tarcher, 1999, 256 pages.

Sin and Syntax. By Constance Hale.

A grammar book that's hip -- how's that for an oxymoron? People frequently ask me to recommend books about grammar. In truth, I'm not a grammar fiend (as a proofreader I work with will readily confirm!) But I do enjoy reading about the subject which probably brands me as a loser. So if you're willing to take the advice of someone who wears a metaphorical pocket protector, let me heartily recommend Sin and Syntax by Constance Hale.

I like this book because it covers more than grammar -- and because it's funny and flexible. Hale is not the kind of gal who's going to get her knickers in knot over rules. In fact, she's all for breaking them (the catch is that you need to KNOW you're breaking them.) She's hip, at least as far as aging baby boomers are concerned: She parses Charlotte Bronte next to Muhammad Ali; she quotes Bob Dylan in her discussion of the verb "lay" and Dr. Seuss in her examination of rhyme and onomatopoeia. The book also has the best explanation of who vs. whom I've ever seen in print. (pages 163 to 164.)

Hale is a former editor of Wired Magazine (and also the author of Wired Style which Newsweek described as "The Chicago Manual of Style for the new Millennium").

I like the way the book is divided into three main parts with a set of chapters devoted to various parts of speech -- nouns, pronouns, verbs, etc. -- a set to sentences, and a set labeled "Music" covering voice, lyricism, melody, rhythm.

Now I have to tell you, back when I was in grade 6, Sister Mary Rosa never felt rules were made to be broken. Nor did she care to hear about "music" in grammar class. That Constance Hale does, makes her my hero.

DETAILS: Sin and Syntax: How to Craft Wickedly Effective Prose. By Constance Hale. Broadway Books, 2001, 320 pages.

Writing Well. By Donald Hall and Sven Birkerts.

Aimed more at the college student trying to produce a term paper than at the professional writer faced with a product profile, Writing Well concentrates on grammar, mechanics and style. But it does so with such precision and thoroughness that I have to recommend it. It also has one of the best and most detailed explanations of how to use transitions in writing that I've ever seen. 

As well as dissecting the mechanics of writing, the authors also argue passionately for reading well. I must confess that I'm a sucker for this line of reasoning. Reading well, of course, is the precursor to writing well, but Hall and Birkert make the point especially eloquently:  

When we are writing, our ears are perhaps our most delicate, and valuable, piece of equipment. We acquire a good ear by reading and rereading the great masters until their cadences become part of our minds. The stored memory of a hundred thousand sentences becomes the standard of our own ear, just as all the sentences we have ever heard pattern all the sentences we will speak. Craftsmanship comes from studying the accomplishment of the past and then practicing to equal it.
(page 160)

The book's slightly patronizing tone (a product, I think, of the authors' choice of  the second person plural) eventually wearied me. And the exercises at the end of each chapter lent it a schoolish air. But the book's content is so solid, I have to give it two thumbs up.

A final warning: Ifyou do an Amazon search on this title, be aware you will likely led to the more famous William Zinsser title, On Writing Well. This is a very different book. To make sure you go in the right direction, let me give you the ISBN. It's 0-321-01206-2. 

DETAILS: Writing Well. By Donald Hall and Sven Birkerts. Published by Longman, 1998. 382 pages.

Weinberg on Writing by Gerald M. Weinberg.

My friend Alice recommended this book. She'd discovered it accidentally, during one of those long and rambling Amazon searches where you click from one title to the next, lured on like a mouse following the scent of peanut butter through a maze.

On her advice, I bought the book and was absolutely charmed. Weinberg's argument is that good material lies all around us and that our job as writers is to collect it for future use. His central and oddly compelling metaphor is that writing is like building a fieldstone wall. That is, you collect "stones" (or stories) as you wander through life and you save them for when you might need them for building (writing). The trick, of course, is to remember to do the collecting and to have a decent retrieval system.

If you're the type of person who makes a habit of reading about writing, you'll know that many writing teachers are disciplinarians -- strict and authoritarian. Weinberg, on the other hand, is what I like to call a "generous" teacher. Here he is on fieldstones:

"...some of you might be saying to yourselves, ‘But the stones that are interesting to me are not worthy enough for others to read.' One of my students asked me what I would answer to that statement, probably expecting me to argue that it wasn't true. But I can't argue that way. It may well be true, but so what? Suppose you manage to produce an article or book that contains not a single stone that's of interest to anyone else. What's the worst thing that can happen? (Stop and think about it.)"

So, perhaps one question remains: Can a corporate writer use this method, which might seem a bit airy-fairy or perhaps better suited to fiction writing?

As I read the book, I recalled the time I had to write a speech for a certain nameless CEO. He was one of those impossibly "dry" individuals and much as I laboured to engage him and draw him out, I couldn't get anything other than platitudes. Speaking to him was like interviewing a brick. Ultimately, I realized that the man didn't have a single story in him (not even about his kids!) and so I peppered the speech with relevant business-related anecdotes I had gathered on my own.

I felt like a bit of a failure at the time, but now I realize I was DOING THE RIGHT THING! Without being conscious of it, I was using fieldstones. And I can testify that the system works -- especially when you're desperate. 

DETAILS: Weinberg on Writing: The Fieldstone Method. By Gerald M. Weinberg. Published by Dorset House, 2005, 194 pages.

The Transitive Vampire. By Karen Gordon.

If you thought the words "grammar" and "funny" were oxymorons, well, I have a book you simply must read. The Transitive Vampire is not only funny but substantive and well written -- a bit of a hat-trick when it comes to grammar. It's been one of my favourite reference books ever since I made my way through the grey streets of London one rainy August day in 1988 and entered the hallowed halls of Foyles, the famous bookstore. I'd never heard of the Transitive Vampire, but there it was, lying on a table, demanding to be picked up. I think it was the subtitle that grabbed me: An Adult Guide to Grammar.

The book has since been re-released in a "deluxe" edition, with a new subtitle, but it has retained its delightfully camp and quirky style. The design conceit is that it is illustrated with line drawings of dragons, gargoyles and, yes, vampires. The drawings are quite serious but the captions are just plain silly. For example, what looks like a woodcut of a young woman firing an arrow at a young man carries the caption: "She incorrigibly gave herself over to idle and lascivious pleasures."

But it's clear the author knows her stuff. See how eloquently she defines and describes verbs: "The verb is the heartthrob of a sentence. Without a verb, a group of words can never hope to be anything more than a fragment, a hopelessly incomplete sentence, a eunuch or dummy of grammatical expression. No verb can parade around without a subject, which can be stated openly or simply implied. Even if a sentence is only one word long, as in a command such as Scram!, the subject is understood to be you; here the verb holds the whole thing together, carrying the burden of the meaning all the way through to the exclamation point and into the reader's head."

Read, enjoy, learn.

DETAILS: The Deluxe Transitive Vampire : A Handbook of Grammar for the Innocent, the Eager and the Doomed. By Karen Gordon. Published by Pantheon, 1993 (updated edition), 192 pages.

If You Can Talk You Can Write. By Joel Saltzman.

I discovered this title on writing at my local library quite by accident when I was going through an I-need-to-get-more-exercise phase. I wanted to increase my walking time by listening to audio books and this one appeared almost magically before my half-glazed eyes. The book succeeded in improving my dedication to walking (although I must confess it also reduced my exercise intensity because I had to stop to laugh so frequently.) Author Joel Saltzman reads the work himself and if he ever loses his teaching gig at U.C.L.A., his quick wit, deadpan delivery and nasal voice might help him earn replacement work as a standup comedian.

I then bought the paperback, which isn't nearly as funny -- the translation to the page sucks out some of the humour. But it's a whole lot easier to use as a reference. The basic premise of the book is expressed in the title and Saltzman has lots of pithy little anecdotes and metaphors to reinforce the point. Here's my favourite, on the importance of writing quickly, without judging:

"Let me introduce you to the most empowering lesson this book has to offer:

Blah, blah, blah, Blah, blah, blah.
Blah, blah, blah.GOLD!

In other words, the more you "talk" on paper - without stopping to judge or criticize yourself - the better your chances of stumbling onto something good. Then you can go back and polish, or edit, it later - after you've found it. You're like a prospector panning for gold, diligent and methodical, sifting, perhaps through many pans of sand before you find your first spec of gold." (p 14).

This is an excellent little book for anyone who suffers from any sort of writer's block. I highly recommend it.

THE DETAILS: If You Can Talk You Can Write: A Proven Program to Get You Writing and Keep You Writing. By Joel Saltzman. Published by Warner Books, 1993. 190 pages.

Blink. By Malcom Gladwell.

Malcolm Gladwell is not a fancy writer. His sentences don't have complicated syntax. He doesn't bury you in metaphor. Nor does he rely on literary devices like onomatopoeia or alliteration. He does something far more difficult than that. He just explains things clearly and cleanly. When you read Malcolm Gladwell's books or articles in the New Yorker, you almost feel as though he's sitting over your shoulder, guiding you through the text. But he is also unobtrusive -- you don't tend to remember his writing, so much as the stories he tells. This is more remarkable and difficult than it looks.

If you've read his marvelous book The Tipping Point, you'll probably remember his story about 'six degrees of separation' -- and how some ingenious social scientists tested this theory (that we are all only six people away from being connected to everyone in the world) by simply sending out a series of letters.

I just finished Gladwell's new book, Blink, and was again dazzled by his ability to make the complicated easy to understand. This time he focuses on "thin slicing," that is, our ability to form snap judgments about human beings, products and situations. Once again he walks the reader through a maze of experiments ranging from the Pepsi Challenge, and why the "new" Coke failed, to how doctors at Cook County Hospital (the inspiration for the TV show ER) are now using a rigid protocol to handle patients with heart pain - instead of relying on doctors' considerable expertise.

I think Gladwell's great gift is his ability to synthesize. He takes wildly different ideas and finds the common thread that joins them. He sees patterns and connections where others see only isolated facts. I think he's a writing genius, not so much because of the way he writes, but because of the way he uses his brain. We are all drowning in information these days. Instead of just giving us more, he gives us a framework for understanding it.

THE DETAILS: Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking. By Malcolm Gladwell. Published by Little, Brown and Company, 2005, 288 pages.

Selling to Big Companies. By Jill Konrath.

“The rich are not like you or me.” And to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s famous dictum, I’ll add: “neither are big companies.” If you’ve ever have to sell to someone with the word “vice” in front of his or her name, you’ll know that you’ve entered a strange and murky parallel universe. It’s a world in which calls don’t get returned, six weeks morphs into six months and finding the “right” person is as difficult as finding your life’s mate. You need tools, baby, and this book offers them.

In clear, no-nonsense prose, Jill Konrath gives solid, practical advice on how to get your foot in the door at big companies without getting your toes crushed. I like many things about this book but I’m particularly impressed by her put-yourself-in-the-other-guy’s-shoes perspective. She doesn’t advise anything she hasn’t tried herself and her real life examples are easily the best parts of the book. (I love her suggestion that you practise your voicemail messages by leaving them for a friend or colleague who can evaluate their effectiveness for you.)

I also appreciate her brief forays into what I’d call “contrarian” thought. Nothing I like better than a good argument that goes against the popular grain. And when she argues that “most networking is a waste of time” (p 88) well, she wins my heart.

Even if you don’t ever need to sell to big companies, this book offers a compelling model for good non-fiction. The overall premise is crystal clear and the book is simply written without verbal pyrotechnics. Chapter titles are sensible and easy to understand. Lots of subheads and bulleted lists make skimming easy. And a “key points” list at the end of each chapter provides a useful summary.

Read to sell, or read to learn. It’s your choice.

DETAILS: Selling to Big Companies. By Jill Konrath. Published by Kaplan Business, 2006, 256 pages.