Moon, June, Croon...Goon? Is that right?

Good writing consists, sadly, of more than good grammar and sheer volume of words.

The good writer should be able to dash off lovely, moving, accurate, pithy descriptions of persons, places, things, ideas and actions to give the reader that all important feeling of

VERISIMILITUDE.

Verisimilitude enables the reader to feel as though he sees what the author is describing, feels the action, etc., etc., etc., blah, blah, blah.

Take, for example, the following description of a moon coursing its way across the night:
The moon strolls at her leisure across the evening sky. She sheds the robe she wore on arising, because bright orange makes her look fat. She opts to slip into a cool, silver little number that emphasizes her remote and elegant figure.

The Prude struggles with descriptions. She chooses instead to drown every word picture in a plethora of nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs and leave the poor reader to struggle through it all on her own.

For instance, a beautiful rising moon emerging from a bank of clouds inspired The Prude to set the lovely scene to words.

Hey! Look at the moon! It looks like a wedge of pie. Maybe lemon meringue. No, more like orange meringue. But not a bright Valencia orange. More like a muted Mandarin orange. That’s it! The moon looks like a wedge of Mandarin Meringue pie with all the meringue scraped off because it got sort of moldy greenish gray, and it’s piled up all around the edge of the pie.

Oh yeah. Now that is beauty.

There you have it. Can you almost see that moon? No? You say you are feeling a bit nauseous? It’s OK. The Prude can help. She is working on her illustrating skills.

Fly Me to the Moon

 James Thurber wrote a delightful child's story called 'Many Moons' about a little princess who wasn't feeling well. All that would make her better was to hold the moon. Below is an excerpt:

"Nobody can do anything for me," said the king mournfully. "Princess Lenore wants the
moon, and she cannot be well till she gets it, but nobody can get it for her. Every time
I ask anybody for the moon, it gets larger and farther away. There is nothing you can do
for me except play on your lute. Something sad."

"How big do they say it is," asked the court jester, "and how far away?"

"The Lord High Chamberlain says it is 35,000 miles away, and bigger than princess
Lenore's room," said the king. "The Royal Wizard says it is 150,000 miles away, and
twice as big as this palace. The Royal Mathematician says it is 300,000 miles away
and half the size of this kingdom."

The court jester strummed on his lute for a little while. "They are all wise men," he
said, "and so they must all be right. If they are all right, then the moon must be just
as large and as far away as each person thinks it is. The thing to do is find out how
big princess Lenore thinks it is, and how far away."

"I never thought of that," said the king.

"I will go to her, your majesty," said the court jester. And he crept softly into
the little girl's room.

Princess Lenore was awake, and she was glad to see the court jester, but her face was
very pale and her voice very weak.

"Have you brought the moon to me?" she asked.

"Not yet," said the court jester, "but I will get it for you right away. How big do
you think it is?"

"It is a little smaller than my thumbnail," she said, "for when I hold my thumbnail
up at the moon, it covers it."

"And how far away is it?" asked the court jester.

"It is not as high as the big tree outside my window," said the princess, "for sometimes
it gets caught in the top branches."

"It will be very easy to get the moon for you," said the court jester. "I will climb
the tree tonight when it gets caught in the top branches and bring it to you."

Then he thought of something else. "What is the moon made of, princess?" he asked.

"Oh, " she said, "it's made of gold, of course, silly."
*********************************

Sometimes the moon is warm and large and golden, sometimes cold and small and silver. It dominates the night, stealing light from the sun to draw attention to itself and away from the stars. Or it turns its face gradually to the wall, ignoring the sun, the stars and us until the mood passes, and just as gradually pivots its full, plump countenance back, confident to be yet again the center of attention.

On July 20, 1969, the moon had a visit from the planet it had been surveying from time out of mind. A mortal took a small step and had a chance to see the universe from the moon's perspective.
And behold, it was very good.