A Diatribe Said


It’s a vile, little word. Staid and unmoving, its utter complacency is an ill-timed burp to my writer’s constitution. I’ve spent most of the last five years of my professional novel-spinning life avoiding the four letter abomination like some leperous plague.

It disgusts my creative sensibilities.

It’s simply rather gauche.

That said, I’m here to apologize to the tiny word.

While its use in dialogue setting I still find to be trollsome, I have come to realize its utility. Sometimes a character truly does nothing more than “say” something. He doesn’t whisper it, or huff it out, or scream, or beg, or even inquire or demand. Sometimes things are just said.

Simple, short, concise.

Expediency in language is often overlooked in historical romances… and, um, writers’ blogs. And while I’m reluctantly learning to accept that simpler-is-better theory in the former, I refuse to even consider such crap in the latter. Yeah, so sorry.

Bottom line: Even old dogs can learn new tricks, but they’ll only do them when they darn-well feel like it.

Enough said.

Until tomorrow…



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