Joyce hath engraved:

I've been writing for a long time now, but there's still a lot I don't
know.  In fact, there will always be stuff I don't know.  Heck, there was
stuff that _Hemingway_ didn't know (and Hemingway was a superbeing!).
As I said at the beginning of this post, a lot of what I've said may be
wrong, though I think most of it is generally okay.  Any rule can be
broken, if a purpose is served by doing so.

   As a matter of fact, Hemingway's inability to write dialouge is almost 
legendary. His characters and sentences have a flat, stilted feel to 
them. Witness this submission to the 1995 Bad Hemingway Contest (no joke!)

   It was a cold day. I awoke. My hangover was killing me. The bottle of 
whiskey sat by my cot. I reached for it. It went down well. Whiskey 
starts the morning right. I stood up. The sun was bright. I went 
downstairs. The inn was old, yes, old, old and with a certain odor. I sat 
down. The waitress brought me coffee. The coffee was black. Then the 
shelling started. The waitress fell over. She had been hit by shrapnel. 
The blood mixed with the coffee. My hangover was getting worse.

   This rather interesting style of his was probably the result of his 
career. Just another pitfall we Journalists have to avoid. :-)

-Mike of No Particular Title or Handle

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