The Naked Lady and the Clothes Horse (Think about them.)

The Naked Lady: writing with strength, grace and clarity

Chapter 1-- The Naked Lady’s Attire is Deconstructed
Overwriting

Scene: The Café Glace. Brunch hour. The Naked Lady and The Clothes Horse (an equine) sit at an outdoor table. Proprietor Peter Page has placed Scotch Oats, Glazed Peach Cream Tarts and tea on the table and has returned inside the café.
The Naked Lady was feeling pretty for so early in the morning. Third-grade girls in Normal, Pennsylvania had dressed her as a princess. White stockings with peacock blue French knots adorned her slender legs. The billowing sleeves (stuffed with tissue paper) of her rosy gown gently undulated in the air. The sleeves contrasted nicely with her vest that stayed put with stays. It reminded one of a medieval breastplate. The vest obviously cinched The Lady’s tiny waist tinier. A fuchsia boa feathered the Lady’s neck; and, of course, a fit-for-a-princess tiara glittered atop her head. “Do I look presentable?” she asked the Clothes Horse.”
“The boa is too much,” he said, with a mild snort.
The Naked Lady slipped the offensive item off and laid it on the table.
“I feel fat with these billows.”
The Clothes Horse tossed his head a bit. “Billows to pillows! Mostly air, you know. Take the stuffing out. Unstuffing’s always fun, I think. When I use a feedbag, I always try to guess what’s at the bottom, and then take the stuffing out to see if I’m right.”
“You--with a feedbag, Dear C. H.? That is a rare occasion.”

Raising a hoof to smooth his tie (today a floral silk bow from Beau Ties, Limited that he had picked up while sleighing in Vermont). “Nevertheless, I have eaten from a feedbag in the past. Frightening! One never knows what is at the bottom.”
The lady smiled. “What a philosophic pony you are! Yet, there is truth in what you say. One never knows what really is on the plate until one removes the garnish, spoons the sauce aside, and forks into the substance of the thing. Even then, at times one isn’t sure.”
The Clothes Horse carefully tongued a bit of oats from the side of his mouth. “Yes, at times, I’ve found you have to eat the whole thing to decide what it’s about, and even then, at times, it’s mushy. I hate mush.”
The Naked Lady sipped the last of her Earl Grey with lemon. “I must be going soon. What are you plans for the day?” she asked.
“Oh, I haven’t decided. I’d like to trot by the shops on Lakeshore Boulevard. They say the boutiques are nearly as posh as Rodeo Drive.”
“Oh ho! You’re in the money!”
“Not enough really, I just want to try a little window grazing, you know.”
The Naked Lady rose, “Well, I must be going, Dear Horse. I promised that visiting countess that I would show her my diaries. And, how embarrassing! Here I am—dressed as a princess.
“Dear Lady, you’re shameless! Yes. Good-bye until tomorrow…and take off the vest, too. It’s over-dress.

Overwriting
To the delight of my students (and to the chagrin of my department head), The Naked Lady always accompanies me to the very first day of my writing classes. She is a device I use to illustrate overwriting, the turgid, stuffed sentences that students are apt to churn out in their enthusiasm. I ask them to envision a naked lady and then to imagine dressing her, item by item. For, example, as she is clothed, they envision her in underwear, then a dress, shoes, sweater, jewelry, a hat, gloves, more accessories and possibly a begonia behind an ear. But eventually, whether with the begonia or at the later the poodle-on-a-leash stage, the kids realize that the ensemble is over the top. The final touch causes the entire costume to crash into absurdity. So my students learn what overwriting is and how important lean work is to clarity.

Sally D. Ketchum www.ketchumwriter.com