As a writer, editor, and translator, I spend my days (and nights) surrounded by words.

I’m lucky: I love what I do and I’m regularly reminded why I love writing and why I think it’s important. Just today, for instance, I received a submission for Matador Travel from a writer whose opening lines read: “As the rooster announces the arrival of morning, Grandmaster Dai Kang’s slippers hit the concrete. It is 4am.”

It’s a perfect opening: the details are plentiful, yet the phrasing is tight. There’s an economy of language that confirms the writer’s skillfulness while successfully putting the reader in a specific place and time. The writer also introduces a character and provides just enough intrigue to engage the reader.

I knew the piece “worked”, but I sent it to a couple of other editors for their input. “Amazing,” one e-mailed. “I actually read it twice.” Another editor responded, “Fantastic.” Everything about the piece was well-crafted, and we look forward to publishing the piece so that other readers can enjoy it as much as we did.

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For every moving, entertaining, or informative piece I read, though, there are many that fail to impress, that fall flat and leave me wondering what can be salvaged and reworked. As an editor, I view my job as including the tasks of determining whether the piece is thematically and stylistically consistent with the format, vision, and interests of the publication for which it has been submitted; asking the question: Will this be meaningful to a large readership?; and nurturing the writer’s own voice and style while making sure the piece meets the preceding two criteria.

It’s not always an easy task, or a fun one–many writers are notoriously sensitive to criticism and rejection. But it’s through my own experiences as a writer that I’ve come to understand my work as an editor. It’s in that spirit, then, that I offer the following observations and tips for writers who are hoping to be published:

1. Trim the fat. I once heard a writer refer to revising and editing as “killing my babies.” As someone who writes long, Saramago-esque sentences myself, the metaphor resonated with me… it can be painful to cut the words we’ve worked so hard to birth onto the page. It’s true that some stories and subjects warrant 3,000 words. Many, however, do not. And in either case, even the most devoted, enthusiastic reader has a limited attention span.

When I say “trim the fat,” I don’t mean that you should force your piece into a word count (unless the publication requires that). Don’t kill rich details. Don’t omit a crucial character. But read through your piece before submitting it and ask yourself: Is every word absolutely necessary? Does every word advance the narrative? If the answer is yes, keep it. If the answer is no, start trimming.

2. Read with a critical eye. So how do you separate the lean from the fat? Simple. Get rid of filler words. So many words we use in everyday speech are unnecessarily imported into our writing: this, that, these, those, them, there are, there is, it, and etc. are just a few examples. Take a sentence with filler words and look at it critically: what can be eliminated without sacrificing detail? Try this tip consistently. I promise you’ll be surprised by how many words are simply unnecessary.

3. Write with precision…and passion. I recently landed a contract to write a guide to Mexico City for an online travel planning company. I was given a style guide to follow; though it was strict, it was not constraining. I was confident about my subject–I know my second home well–and I completed the guide with passion. I was satisfied with what I’d written and sent it off to the editor, sure it would be accepted immediately with praise and no requests for revisions.

I was wrong. “I just have a few revision requests,” the editor wrote. When I opened the document, I could see red marks all over my draft, the editor’s frustrated notes electronically penned into the margins. “WHY IS THIS PLACE GREAT?!!” she wrote with evident exasperation. “WHY IS THIS RESTAURANT ‘CELEBRATED’?!” I could almost see her, sighing and rolling her eyes, and I felt chastised by her feedback.

As I sat with the draft and reviewed it with fresh eyes and an open mind, I realized she was absolutely right. Words like “good,” “great,” “must-see,” and “celebrated” have no meaning for a reader who has never been to Mexico City. I knew the places I’d included in the guide were good, great, celebrated must-sees, but I hadn’t taken the reader there. I had to be more precise. The second draft–and the final product–were better because the editor pushed me to get rid of vague adjectives, forcing me to be precise.

So here’s the tip: Avoid “good,” “great,” and all other vague adjectives that mean nothing. Remember the 5 “Ws” of writing: Who, What, When, Where, and Why. WHY is the place great? Pushing yourself to be precise won’t just benefit the reader; you’ll become a better writer and you’ll fall in love with your subject all over again as you struggle (and succeed!) to articulate precisely why it’s so important to you.

If you find precision challenging, ask a trusted friend to read your draft. Can he or she understand the place or experience you want to convey? If not, what would the reader like to know that’s currently missing?

4. Be yourself. Recently, I had the painful experience of working with a writer who was simply trying too hard to channel her voice to fit the vibe of our publication. I could sense the talent underneath her words, but so much of her writing felt stilted. Something simply didn’t ring true, though it was difficult to express this to her.

Writers are constantly trying to fit their resumes and themselves into the varied visions and expectations of editors and the publications they represent. Don’t. Be yourself and always channel your authentic voice. When you force your writing to be something it’s not, the reader can sense the inauthenticity. And besides, you’ll be left with the yucky feeling of defeat and compromise. If the piece doesn’t fit, don’t force it. You’ll find your place. In the meantime, keep writing.

What tips do YOU have about improving as a writer? Please share your comments and experiences below!

Photo: thorinside (Flickr creative commons)

Text: Francisco Collazo
Photos & Translation: Julie Schwietert Collazo

[vease abajo para la version en espanol]

During our stay in Oaxaca, we meet a family of rug weavers from Teotitlan.

They approach us in a curious manner, offering their wares. First, they offer an introductory price and then lower the quote without determining whether we’re even interested.

It seems as though they understand that prices are connected to the consumer’s desire to buy. What is certain is that we really are looking for something to decorate our home in Mexico City. The rugs and weavings they show us have an exquisite design and craftsmanship.

Mexico has an excellent tradition of weaving and handcrafts that dates all the way back to the pre-Columbian era. Their products are recognized worldwide for their quality and artisanal elaboration.

The colors and themes visible in the weavings are intricate and complex, but sometimes simple and exquisite. What stands out in all the work, though, is the fact that from start to finish everything is done by hand and with natural materials. Each piece requires weeks of work, starting with the design and ending with the finishing touches, resulting in a product of absolute beauty and unparalleled quality.

The prices range from 900 pesos to several thousand pesos, even counting the reduction in price, which is quite common among the vendors.

The weavings and rugs are made of wool from sheep, and all of the colors are made from roots, flowers, and fruit: pomegranate, coffee, indigo, moss, and others, just as their ancestors have done for centuries. The technique has not changed much since its inception.

After a conversation with Constantino and his cousin, Orlando, we decide to buy a few weavings and rugs, but no on the street corner in Oaxaca. Instead, we are invited to their home in Teotitlan, a small town where the men live and work; it’s 25 minutes by car and an hour by bus.

The house of Constantino and his family is constructed of bricks and the floor is exposed clay. There’s nothing fancy about the home, nothing that speaks of prosperity, but nothing that speaks of economic despair, either. It’s the space where he lives, raises his children, and works. There, he raises birds, pigs, his herd, and the white, green, yellow, and blue chickens, whose feathers are tinted by dyes as they brush against the damp rugs and weavings that have been hung in the sun to dry. “They must be easy to identify if they’re stolen or lost,” I tell him jokingly, and everyone laughs heartily, with great enthusiasm.

In her rudimentary kitchen where she cooks with coal and wood, Francisca, Constantino’s mother, is making delicious gigantic tortillas for the family and to sell; it’s how she helps the family economically. Her work is welcome and useful for everyone. The tasks are hard and unending, but they do them each and every day of their lives. For this family, there is no weekend, no days off.

On the streets of Oaxaca, Constantino sells his wares Monday through Saturday. On Sunday, he goes to the other market near their house to sell the leftover merchandise.

His sister, Reina Lopez, lives and works in a small house right next to his, where she makes bags for women. In her house, Reina has erected an altar to the Virgin of Guadalupe; it dominates the center of the home. In the corner, there’s an old sewing machine that is Reina’s workhorse. There are also small statues depicting Christ’s crucifixion, and flowers made as offerings, that once dry, will be used for coloring the weavings and rugs. On the altar, besides the statues of the virgin, are family photos that were taken long ago.

“This is a picture of my grandfather,” says Constantino, pointing to the photograph—“God called him and he left. He was the one who taught us how to weave.” Reina lives in a sea of wool, surrounded by mountains of colors and purses. Every step in her room is like a walk through a labyrinth of finished bags, ready to sell, and family memories.

The work is intense, difficult, and coordinated; cooperation and patience are central to their tasks. Religiosity and belief also play a central role in daily life. The uncertainty of tomorrow has touched them many times: If there’s no rain, there’s no grass. If there’s no grass, there’s no sheep. No corn to make tortillas, nor seeds for making dyes. Nature and God are virtually the same. The human hand plays a secondary role. Everything the family consumes and sells comes from the land. Land is the mother of all, and corn is her gift.

The smell of tortillas fills the air of the family’s patio, and everyone takes part, including Constantino’s cousin, Orlando, his wife, and two of their daughters. There’s also a small house where another cousin works and lives, practicing the art of handcrafting enormous, colorful candles. These are used in the town’s churches to celebrate Sunday mass, and are also popular among young men going to ask for the hand of their girlfriends, consistent with tradition. All of the candles are made of beeswax, and their honeyed fragrance emanates a perfume that fills the air with its sweetness.

Their work starts early in the morning and extends late into the evening: At dawn, they take the sheep to graze, prepare a breakfast of tortillas for the kids who are going off to school, and prepare the goods that will be taken to the market. “At night, while we watch television,” Reina tells us, “the women prepare the yarn and get ready for the next day’s work.” Her voice is positive, and there’s pride in her face. It’s easy to imagine what day-to-day life is for Constantino and his family. The wool, the dyes, the birds, and the family comprise the center of their universe. Life is different here.

Constantino mentions that “in the town, everyone works hard, but you have to be careful talking about how much money you’ve made or how much you’re making, because if you make a lot, people start to envy you and don’t let you go to sell.” “They don’t let you sell?” I ask in surprise. “No, if you make a lot more money than others, you’ll be assigned a job in town for a month or more while others go out to sell and try to make as much money as you. That’s life here. We don’t have political parties or things like that here. That’s tradition.”

Dusk is falling, and the family speaks Zapoteca animatedly around the five weaving looms. They’re happy and in good spirits. Today they made a good sale: five rugs and two women’s purses. Cousin Orlando and his family invite us shyly to see their collection of rugs and weavings, and Constantino’s other cousin takes us to his workshop to see a candlemaking demonstration.

It’s already time for us to go when Francisca appears with her enormous and delicious tortillas, inviting us to eat. The meal is simple: tortillas accompanied by a tomato and meat sauce, served with a soft drink. The women and children eat with us and describe the ingredients once they learn of my interest in Mexican cooking. All of the ingredients are natural and made in the house. The meal is delicious, simple, and healthy. It’s an unforgettable experience for us.

Through Constantino and his family, the weavers of Teotitlan have opened their doors to us with great love and humility. They’ve shared their tortillas and their great spirit with us. The women in their traditional multicolored outfits make us feel special and well-received. We leave not only with their weavings and their work, but also with a millennium’s worth of Aztec craftsmanship and culinary art.

The spirit of Teotitlan is in its artisans, who every day give the world the gift of their exquisite art and a piece of Oaxacan culture. Their colors and their charm are jewels of this cultural patrimony, forming part of the mosaic of traditions and a piece of Mexico.

Good luck, friends!

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Durante nuestra estancia en la ciudad de Oaxaca encontramos a una familia de tejeros de mantas y alfombras de Teotitlan. Ellos se nos acercaron de una forma muy curiosa para ofrecernos sus mercancias. Primero nos ofrecen sus productos a precios de introducción, luego nos rebajan este sin haber dicho si los queremos o no. Parece ser que ellos entienden que los precios estan conectados al deseo de comprar de los consumidores. Lo cierto es que en realidad estabamos buscando algo para decorar nuestra habitación el la Ciudad de Mexico. Las alfombras y mantas que ellos nos mostraban eran de un diseno y de un terminado exquisito.

Mexico tiene una excelente tradición de tejedores y artesanos que se remontan a la epoca pre-colombina. Estas a su vez son reconocidas en el mundo por su calidad y su elaborado artesanal. Los colores y motivos que ellas presentan son intrincados y complejos, pero a veces muy simples y exquisitos. Lo que resalta de todo este trabajo es que desde su confeccion hasta su terminado todo es hecho a mano y con componentes naturales. Cada pieza lleva semanas de labor desde su diseno y confeccion hasta su acabado. Entregando asi de esta manera un producto de absoluta belleza y calidad inigualable.

Los precios oscilan entre 900 hasta miles de pesos mexicanos, todo esto contando con su rebaja que es muy usual entre los vendedores. Las mantas y alfombras son de lana de oveja o borregos, sus tintes estan elaborados de raices, flores y frutas: granada, cafe, planta de anil y otras, como lo hicieron sus antepasados en siglos pasados. Su tecnica no ha cambiado mucho desde su comienzo.

Despues de una conversación con Constantino y su primo Orlando decidimos comprarles algunas mantas y alfombras, pero no alli, sino en su casa en una pequena villa donde ellos viven y trabajan en Teotitlan, a 25 minutos en auto y a una hora en camion: como ellos les llaman al transporte publico en Mexico.

La casa de Constantino y su familia esta construida de ladrillos y piso de tierra apisonada. No hay nada de lujo en sus paredes ni nada que denote una vida de prosperidad o de desahogo economico, pero tampoco de desesperacion. Es su espacio para vivir, criar a sus hijos, y trabajar. Alli crian sus aves, cerdos, ganado y sus gallinas blancas, verdes, amarillas y azules que se tinen sus plumas al pasar por las alfombras y mantas todavía humedas y puestas al sol para que se curen o sequen. “Son muy faciles de identificar en caso de robo o extravio”- les digo- en forma de broma y todos rien con gran animo y entusiasmo.

En su cocina rudimentaria de carbon y lena, Francisca, la madre de Constantino, cose su delicioso manjar de tortillas gigantes para la casa y para la venta, agregando asi una entrada economica para la famila. Su ayuda es bienvenida y util para todos. El trabajo es duro y constante, pero ellos lo hacen todos los dias de su vida. Para ellos no hay fin de semanas ni dias festivos.

En las calles de Oaxaca de lunes a sabado Constantino vende su mercancia. Los domingos el se va al otro mercado que queda cerca de su casa para vender el resto que no vendio durante la semana. Por otra parte su hermana, Reina Lopez, que vive y trabaja en una casita adyacente a la de el, confecciona bolsas de mujer. En su casita, Reina tiene un altar de la virgen de Guadalupe que domina el centro de la vivienda y en la esquina una vieja maquina de coser que es su maquinaria principal. Tambien estan estatuillas del Cristo crucificado, flores que sirven para ofrenda y al secarse sus hojas esta se usan para tenir las mantas y alfombras. En el altar ademas de mas estatuillas de la virgen hay fotos de la familia que fueron tomadas en el pasado muy lejano: “Esta es la foto de mi abuelo” –nos dice Constantino mientras nos senala la foto—“a el lo llamo Dios y se fue. El fue quien nos enseno a tejer.” Reina vive en un mar de lanas con montanas de tintes y carteras. A cada paso en su habitacion es como un recorrido entre un laberinto de bolsas ya terminadas, listas para vender, y recuerdos de familia.

El trabajo es intenso, arduo y coordinado, donde cooperacion y paciencia son centrales para sus trabajos. Por otra parte la religiosidad y la creencia juegan un papel central y muy importante en sus vidas diarias. La incertidumbre del manana los han golpeado varias veces: Si no hay lluvia, no hay pasto. Si no hay pasto, no hay ovejas. No hay maiz para hacer tortilllas, ni creceran las semillas con que tinen sus tejidos. Al parecer para ellos la naturaleza y Dios son una misma cosa. La mano humana es papel secundario. De la tierra viene todo lo que ellos consumen y venden. La tierra para ellos es la madre de todos, y el maiz un regalo de ella.

El olor a tortilla llena todo el aire del patio familiar que todos comparten, incluyendo su primo Orlando, su esposa, y sus dos hijas. Mas adelante se encuentra una pequena casa donde su otro primo se dedica a la confeccion de velas inmensas y llenas de colores. Estas son usadas en las iglesias de la villa para la misa del domingo y muy populares tambien entre los jóvenes que van a pedir la mano de la novia como es la tradiccion. Todas ellas estan hechas de cera de abejas y su olor a miel emana su perfume contaminando el aire con su dulzor.

Su trabajo comienza muy temprano en la manana y se extiende hasta muy entrada a la noche: Sacan a pastar a sus ovejas al romper el dia, se prepara el desayuno de tortillas para los ninos que parten para la escuela y se arreglan los bultos que estan destinados para la venta. “En la noche mientras vemos la television”-Reina nos dice- “las mujeres tejemos el hilo y preparamos el trabajo para el dia siguiente.” Su voz es afirmativa y lleva orgullo en su rostro. Podemos imaginar vivamente como es el dia a dia para Constantino y su familia. La lana, los tintes, las aves y la familia es centro de su universo. La vida es muy diferente aqui.

Nos comenta Constantino que-“ en la villa todos trabajan muy fuerte, pero hay que tener cuidado con declarar cuanto dinero has hecho o estas haciendo en tu negocio porque si haces mucho, la gente te envidian y no te dejan ir a vender.” No te dejan vender? –le pregunto con asombro- “No, si haces mucho mas dinero que los demas entonces te asignan un trabajo en la villa por un mes o mas para que los otros salgan a vender y puedan hacer tanto dinero como tu. Aqui la vida es asi. Aqui no tenemos partidos politicos ni nada de eso. Esa es la costumbre.”

La tarde esta cayendo y la familia se reune animada a conversar en su lengua Zapoteca alrededor de las cinco maquinas de hilar. Se ven muy animados y en muy buen espiritu. Hoy se hizo una buena venta. Cinco alfombras y dos bolsas para mujer. Su primo Orlando y su familia nos invitan muy timidamente a ver su coleccion de alfombras y mantas y su otro primo nos lleva a su taller de velas para hacernos una demostracion de su trabajo.

Ya es la hora de irnos cuando Francisca aparece con sus tortillas enormes y deliciosas y nos invita a comer. La comida o cena es simple: tortillas acompanadas de una salsa de chorizo y un refresco. Mujeres y ninos nos acompanan y nos describen los ingredientes de la salsa de chorizo cuando se enteran de mi interes por la cocina mexicana.Todos los ingredientes son naturales y hecho en casa. Deliciosa, simple y saludable es la cena. Una experiencia inolvidable para nosotros.

Los tejedores de Teotitlan atraves de Constantino y su familia nos han abierto sus puertas con mucho amor y humildad. Con nosotros han compartido sus tortillas y su alegria. Las mujeres con sus trajes tipicos multicolores nos hacen sentir especial y bien recibido. Nos llevamos con nosotros no solo sus mantas y su trabajo, sino tambien un milenio de artesania y arte culinario Azteca.

El espiritu de Teotitlan esta en sus artesanos que dia a dia le regalan al mundo con su exquisita artesania un pedacito de la cultura Oaxaquena. Sus colores y encanto son joyas del patrimonio humano y universal que en forma colectiva forman un mozaico de tradiciones y un pedacito de Mexico.

Mucha suerte amigos!

I’m from upstate South Carolina, just an hour from the mountains. During a visit home this week, my family and I decided to take a trip up to the Blue Ridge Mountains. Although the Blue Ridge offers spectacular scenery any time of the year, the fall is particuarly special as the trees’ leaves flame out into a thousand colors, the air turns crisp but not cold yet, and you might-just might-see monarch butterflies making their way south.

Taking I-26 out of Spartanburg, we headed west towards Asheville, one of my favorite places in the Carolinas.

We took the exit for the Asheville Farmer’s Market and enjoyed wandering through the vendors’ stalls:

On display, stacks and rows of autumn fruit, vegetables, and homemade goodies: horseradish jelly, jalapeno pickled eggs, vidalia onion salad dressing, strawberry rhubarb jam, hot apple cider, boiled peanuts, muscadines, honey of at least a dozen varieties, and hot sauce in at least 100 varieties.

Back on the Blue Ridge, we pulled off at Cherry Cove, where we saw one of the last monarch butterflies fluttering southwards, making its way through a swarm of ladybugs. The East Fork Overlook had photo-worthy views, as did Graveyard Fields, where we had to jockey for parking. Despite its name, it was THE best place for leaf peeping. It also looks to be a great place for camping, judging by the handful of tents dotting the valley.

To head back home, we avoided the interstate and took Highway 276, a country road that’s less crowded but no less scenic. It runs parallel to a little creek that’s been running low since the last time I saw it, but there are lots of places to pull over to enjoy the view or have a picnic, my two favorites being Sliding Rock Falls and the Coontree Picnic Area.

For more stops, camping spots, and tips, check out this useful list. I’m willing to bet the leaves will be spectacular through next weekend, but if you can’t go, enjoy our views!

Practical Info:
-There are no tolls on this road.
-Gas has been scarce in the area in recent weeks, and prices vary widely from one station to another. You may want to check www.gasbuddy.com before taking off. There are no gas stations on the section of the Parkway mentioned in this article.

Earlier this week, an article by Audrey Scott that I edited for the MatadorNetwork–”5 Things a Post Office Can Tell You About a Country“–was published on Brave New Traveler.

Audrey’s interesting article reminded me about a scene we witnessed in Mexico City a few weeks ago.

The Mexican postal system just changed its image, doing away with the staid blue and white of their offices and uniforms, replacing the colors with pink and green.

As delivery men and women made their way toward the Zocalo on their postal motorcycles, we got a few shots of them showing off all their new gear:

In this video, Juan Antonio Picasso speaks about his inspiration and his art:

En este video, Juan Antonio Picasso habla sobre su inspiracion y su arte:

Filmed by Julie Schwietert Collazo in Havana, Cuba, May 2008