03 February 2009

Georgia Ain't Louisiana, and It Sure Ain't Tennessee


I'm reading a section of Stephen King's On Writing where he talks about writing dialogue. In two of his examples, a southern-style accent seems to indicate ignorance. It's actually that style of speaking I like to refer to as "coun'ry," that slow rolling of words into one another that probably came about because southern humidity was far too oppressive to allow haste in anything, even speaking. Either way, such representations usually show the ignorance of the writer as well as the character. In my short life so far, I have lived in three southern states, four if you count Florida, but no one counts Florida. Each state has not just one version of a southern accent, but several. The great South is like Great Britain: when you're from there, you can tell where someone else is from simply by the way they speak.

In the countryside of Tennessee, you will find what may be the most typical country southern accent I've ever heard. In South Carolina, Charleston alone has the refined Charleston accent of the old south (click here to hear former Senator Ernest "Fritz" Hollings), the Gullah accent of its slave descendants (click here to hear examples), and the lack of an accent at all in its younger generation (actress Mena Suvari and comedian Stephen Colbert of "The Colbert Report" grew up there). The rest of the state has a much more common-sounding southern accent but not much of a country accent. Georgia, Atlanta not included, has a somewhat country accent pervasive throughout, although people speak faster in urban areas than Georgians from the actual countryside. Think of Paula Deen without the theatrical emphasis on her Southern-ness. In the mountains around Georgia and in some of the more rural areas, though, you'll find what some call a "hick" accent - see the comic strip above. That's the accent most used to represent ignorance in books because it represents people whom others assume aren't exposed to outside influences or a proper education. It's prevalent in many Appalachian areas, not because the people are ignorant, but because the people are geographically isolated and have developed their own dialects. In Atlanta, the diversity of its residents causes the southern accent to be less pervasive. The African American youth of Atlanta, though, have a way of speaking that is partly an accent, partly a colloquial vocabulary, and entirely their own.

The actresses in the movie "Steel Magnolias" did a fine job of their southern accents, even though Dolly Parton is from Tennessee and Julia Roberts is from Georgia. The playwright who originally penned "Steel Magnolias" for stage was from Louisiana, where the story takes place, and he knew how to write that Louisiana drawl. It's in the writing of the accent that the differences need to appear, and it's in the poor writing of accents where people get confused and begin to attach the stereotypes associated with the way people speak. Did Alice Walker get the accents right in The Color Purple? It wasn't until the movie came out that I even understood what half of the characters were supposed to be saying. Margaret Mitchell Marsh, though, thoroughly researched the history behind Gone With The Wind, and she represented a variety of different dialects as accurately as anyone can, I suppose, when writing phonetically.

North Carolina, Alabama, Mississipi, Texas, and Oklahoma all have their own accents, too. Perhaps authors who are going to write dialogue of someone in the South but aren't from the South should begin with a travel journal!

22 January 2009

Wellness Sure Is Time-Consuming!

This year I made several resolutions, which I don't always do because they so often fail. I was already underway with an attempt to exercise more regularly and meditate, though, so I simply added my resolve to write daily to the list. Well, I also wanted to be a better listener and get to work early every day, but those are separate from the wellness kick I'm on. With a new empty calendar on the wall, I began to track my resolution progress with little sparkly smiley-face stickers. The yellow stickers, which I have more of, signify the days or nights when I write for at least 15 minutes. The other colors signify at least 30 minutes of exercise. Meditating had, at the beginning of the year, become part of my evening routine, so I didn't keep track of it.

As with most resolutions, the first week was filled with success and sparkly smiley-faces. It filled me with child-like glee to get to stick another symbol of hard work on my calendar most nights. The second week, I exercised once. I was tired, and I didn't feel good most of the week. I also only wrote once. I found it difficult to pull myself away from my husband in the evenings, although I did make time to start reading Stephen King's book, On Writing. I was going to bed by 8:30 every night, so that in itself was an accomplishment. This week, I've written for four days in a row, but I didn't exercise at all. Meditating has become a source of composing myself only when I am the most stressed but not too tired. If I'm too tired, I just get antsy or fall asleep. Tonight I tried exercising again, hula hooping on my bed, but after 15 minutes my esophagus burned with indigestion from exercising too soon after eating.

This is quite a dilemma! I am, as the good Lord knows, not a morning person. Years, many years, of trying to wake up early to exercise has taught me that it will never happen. I can accept that. In the evenings, though, how do I fit it all in? If I exercise for 30 minutes, then I have to shower and dry my hair, which takes at least 30 minutes. If I write for 15 minutes, then I'm going to end up writing for half an hour because I enjoy it. Then I have to fit in eating, resting at least an hour after eating before exercising, spending quality time with my husband (I guess resting and quality time go together), and meditating -- another 10 to 30 minutes. With about four hours between the time I get home and the time I go to bed, I haven't quite learned how to make it all fit.

One solution shines brightly as a beacon to lead me toward freedom: I need to get rid of my day job! Clearly I must have been meant to be a career writer; it seems to be wired in my biorhythms. Only then will I have all the time I want to do the stuff I want. It's the writers, those damned self-help writers and columnists for magazines, who actually have the time to do all the stuff they keep telling us we need to do to be whole people. Therefore, all non-writers and aspiring writers take heart: those people telling you what to do clearly do not live in the real world. As for me, I'm going to set about figuring out how to make a living writing and create my own little world.