Writing Lessons from Africa--Do You Really Need that Horn?

 

The word “rhinoceros” makes me think of a large animal with a horn in the center of its forehead, but that isn’t what we saw in Africa. The photo shows white rhinos at the Pilanesberg National Park and, although the bump is there, the horn is missing.

That’s the one exception to the Park’s mandate not to interfere with the natural order of things. The rangers remove the horns to protect the rhinos from their only natural predator—man.

Although it’s normal to think that a rhino’s horn is necessary to protect it from other wildlife, that apparently isn’t the case. And, if removed correctly, the absence of a horn doesn’t hurt the rhino. Unfortunately, poachers don’t care if they kill a rhino in the process of harvesting its horn. But if they know they won’t find horns on the rhinos in the Park, they won’t bother them. So it is actually the absence of a horn that protects the rhinos most.

As writers, we often have favorite phrases or passages that we believe are integral to the story. We might think a sentence or paragraph or chapter is our best art or that the story won’t work without it. But that might be akin to putting a rhino at risk by leaving it with its horn. Sometimes the section we can’t let go of is actually dragging down the story rather than helping it. Those favorite parts may need to be judged more harshly than the ones we don’t love as much because sometimes what looks like a help is actually a hinderance.

So cut off the horn if it hurts your story.

Writing Lessons from Africa--The Importance of Little Things

 

One of the coolest things I saw in Africa was small. Similarly, it’s often the little things that make a story work.

Less than six inches long, the Southern Masked Weaver is one of the most fascinating birds I’ve come across. First, there are the nests. Instead of building their homes on top of branches, masked weavers make them to hang down. A male weaves a grass nest and offers it to one of its many mates (or potential mates), who either accepts or rejects it. I don’t know whether rejecting a nest is the same as rejecting a suitor or whether the male keeps trying until the female is satisfied. Either way, it’s an interesting custom.

The birds themselves are also interesting. Females aren’t very colorful, but the males are. You can tell that the bird in the second photo is a male by his bright yellow body and—if you look closely enough—the black mask over his eyes. I don’t know if he is finishing up the nest or passing food to his mate inside, but the image is intriguing.

I took the first photo at approximately 8:00 a.m. in a South Africa parking lot. We were relatively close, so it’s unfortunate that there were no masked weavers in sight. I took the second photo around 5:30 p.m. along the banks of the Zambezi River while we were visiting Zimbabwe, and there were quite a few birds flying around or perched upside-down on their nests. These nests were in reeds quite a distance away, and I’m still surprised and pleased that my 300 mm lens picked up this kind of detail. Although none of my research addressed it, I’m guessing that the time of day rather than the location was the reason the birds were active during the second photo but not the first.

Small as they are, the masked weavers were one of the things that made my trip to Africa special. Similarly, it is often the little things that add spice to a story to make it unique or captivating. So when you write, play attention to the “little” incidents, scenes, and plot points and make them count.

Because the little things are important, too.

Writing Lessons from Africa--Every Writer is Different

 

Antelope roam everywhere in southern Africa. They even share hotel grounds with people (as do zebras). Here is a guide to identifying just a few of the many species of antelope.

The picture at the head of this post shows a waterbuck, and the one below is a kudu. If you are looking at males, the easiest way to tell them apart is by their horns, and the difference there is obvious.¹ But all of them—male and female—can be identified by their markings.

Waterbucks and kudus are similar in size, but kudus have noticeable white lines running from their sides over their backs, while waterbucks have a distinctive white circle around their rear.

Then there are the impala and the springbok. Smaller and sleeker than many antelope, they are both darker on top with a lighter belly. But impala make the color change in progression from dark to light (top to bottom), while springboks have a darker mark in between. That’s how you can tell the third photo shows impalas and the fourth is a springbok. There are also significant differences in the markings on the face, but at a distance they are easier to distinguish by looking at their sides.

Then there are the blue wildebeest, which have an entirely different look. They are often described as looking like cattle in the front and horses in the back. That’s the next photo.

In Africa, you can’t just say, “I see an antelope,” because someone is sure to ask what kind. There are all different kinds of writers, too. Some (called plotters) plan every scene out in advance, while others (called pantsers) discover the story as they write it. Some are sticklers for grammar rules, and others feel free to break them if they think the story calls for it. Some use big words and long sentences, while others keep both short. There is no right or wrong way as long as it works for the writer.

Actually, that’s still too much of a generalization. Even among types of writers, every one is different. I’m sure that’s true of antelope, too, but here I’ll make the comparison to zebras, instead. We were told that a zebra’s stripes are like our fingerprints, and no two patterns are alike. Writers are like that, too. And that’s good.

So whatever type of writer you are, embrace it.

__________

¹ The main difference between deer and antelope is that deer lose and regrow their antlers every year while an antelope’s antlers are permanent.

Writing Lessons from Africa--Chasing Elephants

 

Roland and I recently returned from a trip to Africa. Most of our time was spent on safari in the Republic of South Africa, where we saw dozens or perhaps hundreds of zebras, giraffes, and antelope. We also saw hippos, crocodiles, lions, leopards, cheetahs, wart hogs, and rhinos. But something was missing from the list.

Elephants.

Everyone told us we were sure to see elephants on safari. Our tour guide even “guaranteed” it. But everyone was wrong. On our morning and evening game drives at Songimvello Game Reserve, we saw evidence of elephants (primarily their droppings) but no elephants even though our safari guide tried to chase them down by taking us everywhere there had been a sighting in the last few days. Unfortunately, the elephants were no longer there.

We also spent a day driving through Pilanesberg National Park. Our tour guide had “guaranteed” we would see elephants and he passed asked our Pilanesberg driver to find some. But again, although we saw evidence of elephants (their dust in the distance), they were gone before we arrived.

After South Africa, Roland and I went to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. We were only there for one full day, during which we saw the Falls in the morning and took a cruise along the Zambezi River in the late afternoon. When the crew asked us how we liked Africa, we told them we loved it but were disappointed that we hadn’t seen elephants.

We were heading for the top of the Falls on the Zambia side when the captain suddenly turned the boat around. I was confused until he said he had heard of an elephant sighting and was taking us there. Roland and I were grateful to the captain when we saw our first pair of elephants. They were off in the distance on an island but recognizable by the naked eye and well within range of my 300 mm lens. After a while we turned around again and finished our trip to the top of the Falls, or at least as close as it was safe to go. And on the return trip we saw two more elephants. I’m not sure how you can tell one pair of elephants from another, but these were on a different island so we are pretty sure they weren’t the same ones.

So what does our chase after elephants have to teach about writing? I am getting ready to start looking for a publisher for the murder mystery I wrote as my pandemic project, and a writer’s search for a publisher can feel equally hopeless as we submit and submit and submit with no success. But persistence paid off in our search for an elephant, and that’s the writing lesson here. If you don’t give up, you’ll eventually find someone to publish your book.

In the meantime, keep chasing those elephants.