Having Fun with Jerome Kern

I’ve finished the paper I was writing about Bernard Shaw’s play Major Barbara. The next step will be submitting it to an editorial committee for possible publication.

I’ll be especially interested in the committee’s reaction to something unconventional I tried with this paper. Here’s some background: Major Barbara is an officer in the Salvation Army. Her father and her fiancé have just met, and they quickly hit it off. When Barbara experiences a spiritual crisis in the middle of the play, the two men go off together, leaving a weeping Barbara behind. Here’s the subheading I chose for this part of the play: “A Fine Bromance.”

Oops! “Bromance” (defined as a close but nonsexual relationship between two men) is a nonstandard word. When my paper is reviewed for publication, the powers-that-be may change “bromance” to something more conventional. I will, of course, accept their decision.

So why did I decide to try using “bromance”? Wouldn’t it have been better to just behave myself?

Maybe…maybe not. Your point of view depends on your philosophy about writing. Mine has taken a sharp swerve to the left in recent years. I used to believe that writing was a serious – even solemn – intellectual undertaking. But there’s another point of view that I think was best expressed by poet Robert Frost in a Paris Review article:

What do I want to communicate but what a hell of a good time I had writing it? The whole thing is performance and prowess and feats of association. Why don’t critics talk about those things—what a feat it was to turn that that way, and what a feat it was to remember that, to be reminded of that by this? Why don’t they talk about that? Scoring. You’ve got to score.

In recent years I’ve often found myself thinking about scoring when I write. It feels great to come up with a phrase or allusion that will surprise and delight my readers. (My husband sometimes interrupts a hockey game to ask what I’m chuckling about.)

I think “a fine bromance” – despite the nonstandard word – perfectly describes the relationship between the two men in Major Barbara’s life. It’s also a nod to the Jerome Kern song “A Fine Romance” from the 1936 Astaire and Rogers film Swing Time.

Having fun with your writing is tricky. Most of the time you can’t suddenly introduce a zinger into a serious writing task. (As I said, I won’t be at all surprised if the review committee nixes “bromance” when my paper is reviewed.)

But there’s a flip side. Writers should be taking delight in their work. We should be thrilled with a well-developed point, a smooth bit of phrasing, a clever transition. Our writing classes might be much more enjoyable – and the results might be better – if we encouraged students to celebrate their successes.

Do you celebrate? I don’t mean just having a glass of wine when you get something published. I mean standing up to cheer when you’ve pulled off an elegant sentence or a powerful paragraph.

Every writer needs a writing group – or at least an upbeat friend who’s willing to read what you’ve written. The first priority for that cheering section should be finding something to praise. Of course you want feedback about details that need changing. But the celebration should come first.

If you’re not having fun writing, why do it?

 

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