Old Love Letters

by

In the 1999 Baz Luhrmann song, Everybody’s Free (to Wear Sunscreen), the singer suggests, ‘Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.‘ Luhrmann’s song is the verbatim reading of a 1997 article written by Mary Schmich, Chicago Tribune columnist. The content of the article/song is a blend of home-grown wisdom and truisms that comprise the good advice that is typically wasted on the young.

If this advice was directed to young writers, it could be modified to the advice: keep your original drafts.

I say keep your original drafts because I genuinely believe such mementos from the past helps us writers to see how we’ve grown over the years. Styles tastes and approaches always differ. But sometimes the changes within ourselves are so subtle it’s like the shift between one season and another – and only possible to see in retrospect.

I mention this because I happened to be working through a manuscript that was originally produced somewhere between the time Mary Schmich was writing her article, and the time when Baz Luhrmann was contemplating reading it to a soundtrack. This is from the original text:

There were no fixed rules about what should be worn in the office. Jeans and T-shirts were virtually de rigueur for the copy staff. Short skirts and tight blouses were the norm for the typists, temps and secretaries. Trouser suits, lycra leggings and low cut tops were all accepted. Cleavage was allowed to be seen; some women thought it was a must to display the tops of their thighs; and some of the male staff wore jeans so tight you could see the denomination of their loose change. The unwritten rules of the office dress code were so lax that almost anything was permissible.

Walking down the main corridor, Becky came close to violating ever one of the unwritten rules. Her skirt was short enough to show off the gusset of her panties. The fact that her skirt was black pvc, as were her pants, helped to mask this fact. But anyone who gave her a passing glance could see how boldly she was dressed. There were a lot of passing glances as she walked down the corridor.

In the dozen years since this was written, my approach to writing has changed. I now follow the creative writing maxim of eschewing adverbs. I try to keep in tune with the belief that authors should show: not tell. And this is how I’ve amended the piece.

There were no fixed rules about what should be worn in the office. Jeans and T-shirts were de rigueur for most of the copy staff. Short skirts were the norm for the typists, temps and secretaries. Trouser suits, leggings and low cut tops were all accepted. Cleavage was allowed to be seen. S ome women thought it essential to display the tops of their thighs. S ome men wore jeans so tight you could see their loose change. The unwritten rules of the office dress code were lax and anything was permissible.

Walking down the main corridor, Becky violated all of the unwritten rules. Her skirt was short and showed off the gusset of her panties. That her skirt was black pvc, as were her pantie s, helped to mask this fact. But anyone who gave her a passing glance could see how boldly she was dressed. And there were many passing glances as she walked down the corridor.

It’s pleasing to note that the opening line remains the same in both pieces. This suggests I’ve always been writing to a similar level of quality. Similarly, all that’s changed in the second sentence is the loss of one of the aforementioned adverbs (virtually). In academic speak: as we already know we’re discussing unwritten rules, the suggestion that these standards are virtual does not need the reinforcement of the adverbial.

The third line has been trimmed to something more succinct. I’ve also addressed the punctuation in the first paragraph where the original version included a series of semicolons to separate listed clauses. The contemporary version doesn’t use semicolons.

Is this an improvement?

I think so, but I’m not exactly an impartial party. I prefer the second version but that’s only because I’ve seen the original and I’ve been able to pick at its faults and address them to suit my modern palate.

To strike an analogy – from around the same time I was wearing a goatee. I no longer wear one now. At the time, several people said to me, “Ashley – you look much more attractive with a beard.”

It doesn’t take a lot to win me over, and so I wore a beard for a decade.

Earlier this year, when trimming that same beard, and noticing that it was reminiscent of the one worn by Santa Claus, I realised the damned thing made me look ancient. I also wondered what people had meant a decade earlier when they said I look more attractive with a beard. Does this suggest, that the more I cover my face, the more attractive I appear? Would those same folks have gone on to suggest that I should slip a paper bag over my head to ensure I achieved maximum attractiveness given my repulsive facial condition? Probably not, but I do believe that, as times change, we change with those times.

Heraclitus of Ephesus observed: “You could not step twice into the same river; for other waters are ever flowing on to you.

And whilst I believe this is absolutely true, I do think that those writers who hold onto their original drafts can get a taste for how the flowing rivers of life have affected them, and how much different their contemporary responses have changed from their original reactions. Holding onto original drafts, and returning to them occasionally, can help to gauge some of these changes.

Ashley Lister
December 2011 – January 2012


“The Write Stuff” © 2011 Ashley Lister. All rights reserved.

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