My brother-in-law’s white pickup roared ahead, leading me toward his cotton farm on a warm summer day. Though I’d never driven there before, following him was easy, that is, until we reached the traffic light on the edge of town.

Seconds after he passed beneath its green light, it flicked to red. I braked and waited, and assured myself that I’d catch up. But by the time it changed to green, he’d sped well out of sight. I clenched my steering wheel tighter. Narrow country road stretched for miles ahead. There were no trucks, no cars–nothing. I had no idea where I was. “Great. Now what am I going to do?” I muttered.

I suddenly breathed easier–I saw it– a distant white pickup racing past trees and cotton fields. I accelerated; the truck accelerated. I gained more speed; so did the truck. I fumed. Why is he going so fast? I can’t afford a speeding ticket. We’re only going to a picnic.

At an intersection, the pickup made a sharp left turn. My thoughts froze and my spirits sagged. I’d never been here before, not even with my sister. My gas gauge’s needle was approaching empty. I slowed., noticed a nice neighborhood on my left, and turned down a street where I parked.

Slumped against my steering wheel, I berated myself. I’d followed the wrong white pickup. The only thing I could figure was that while I waited at the red light, that white truck had turned in front of me from a side road. And while it looked like my brother-in-law’s vehicle, it wasn’t. I’d failed to keep close to him.

I called my sister on my cell phone. “Lynn, I have no idea what happened.”

“Where are you?” she said, her voice frantic. “We’re all waiting for you.”

“I’m fine. I just have no idea where I am.” I gave her the name of the street I’d turned onto and a brief description of what had happened.

“I’ll send Myles to get you.”

“Thanks.” Sighing, I clicked off my phone.

Minutes later, my nephew Myles arrived in his truck and led me in the right direction. While I followed him, my thoughts wandered back to Paul’s warning about false teachers and how that wrong white truck reminded me of them. Paul called them “false apostles, deceitful workers, masquerading as apostles of Christ” (2 Corinthians 11:13). On the outside, they look and sound like true Christians, but they preach another Jesus, a different gospel from the true one, and lead others astray.

I’d better be more careful, I thought, as I turned onto my brother-in-law’s property. As I got out of my car, I determined to walk even closer with my Savior, to be more diligent in prayer, Bible study, and obedience. I didn’t want a false teacher leading me astray as that white pickup had.

Originally published in Live: A Weekly Journal of Practical Christian Living, June 4, 2017, Gospel Publishing House, Springfield, Missouri.

Copyright 2017 Jack Cunningham

When we ponder definitions of words, we most often think about their denotative meaning–how the dictionary defines them.

However, words also have connotative (implied) definitions. For example, blue is, by strict definition a color. But if we say “Julie is blue,” we don’t literally mean she’s that color. Rather, we’re implying that she’s sad, maybe even depressed. We’d understand its meaning by its context.

Choose words that fit the story’s context, both connotative and denotative. By using the right words in the right context, by being precise., we can help readers visualize what we’ve written.

In today’s literary landscape, two writing styles dominate—minimalist and maximalist. What are they?

Minimalism

Minimalist writing is simple and direct with a tight focus on the literary subject. For the most part, it’s devoid of imagery such as similes, metaphors, and personification. Also, minimalist writing doesn’t use backstories. The idea behind such writing is to give readers just enough information to let their imaginations run wild. Minimalists look to write their prose as tightly as possible.

One of the most famous minimalist stories is Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. I read it in the sixth grade. It was easy to follow because of the language’s simplicity. No metaphors, no similes, just sparsely written prose.

Maximalist Writing

Maximalist writers use lots of fancy language that’s full of imagery, backstory, long descriptive passages, lengthy sections of dialogue, and long, complex sentences. They add detail after detail to enlarge their stories.

Interior designers use maximalism to tastefully decorate a home or room in excess. In literature, maximalist authors tastefully write prose in excess. For an example of maximalist prose, read William Faulkner’s book, Absalom, Absalom!

So, which style is right? Either one. It depends on which one an author’s most comfortable with.

How about you. Are you a minimalist or a maximalist?

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us…” Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities.

In this famous opening line to Dickens’s classic, we find that he used a literary device called juxtaposition. For example: best of time/worst of times, wisdom/foolishness, belief/incredulity, etc.

Juxtaposition uses opposites, or near opposites, to create special effects and evoke emotions in readers. We find this technique not just in writing, but in other art forms as well.  In writing, this technique can be used in both fiction and nonfiction, and poets use it a lot too.

How to Use Juxtaposition in Literature

Use it in sentences, such as Dickens used in the above example.

Use it with characters. For example, let one character be a constant worrier during a time of crisis and juxtapose him with a character who’s calm during this same crisis. In Mark Twain’s classic, The Prince and the Pauper, two lifestyles are contrasted—poor Tom Canty’s and wealthy Prince Edward’s. When we make our characters unique, it makes it easier to juxtapose them in different settings and situations.

Use it in settings. For maximum effect, don’t make the setting predictable. If Tom is in love with Carol and plans to propose to her, put them in an unpredictable place where he does this. Perhaps they’re attending a professional boxing match, and he proposes to Carol there. Fighting contrasted with romance. The boxing could be a metaphor, or foreshadowing, of future conflict in their marriage.

Using juxtapositions must be intentional, so they require some thought, but if used well, they’ll enhance your writing.

I’ll be back next year, friends. Have a great and a blessed Christmas and a Happy New Year!