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The RULES — Can you ignore them?
Posted 3rd September 2011 at 04:39 AM by Teresa Edgerton
Updated 23rd December 2012 at 06:15 AM by Teresa Edgerton
Updated 23rd December 2012 at 06:15 AM by Teresa Edgerton
The following was written essentially to let off steam, and is not to be taken as an attempt to bring others around to share my opinions — excellent and worthy as those opinions may be. I look forward to discussion, even if that discussion should include violent (but civil, for we are always civil here) disagreement with the opinions expressed below.
When it comes to the rules of good writing, there are three different ideas that are likely to trip up the inexperienced writer.
1. You must learn the rules and religiously adhere to them.
2. Once you learn the rules you can throw them away and do whatever you want.
3. A true artist never pays any attention to rules.
Each of these is wrong. The first rule, the only rule that is truly a rule rather than a guideline, the only one you can never afford to ignore is, “Does it work? If not, you must do whatever is necessary to make it work.” If it does work, you can safely push all of the other rules to the back of your mind, right up to the time when something doesn’t.
This, in the end, is what agents and editors care about. They don’t go through a manuscript looking for excessive use of adverbs, adjectives, saidbookisms, passive verbs, head-hopping. If the writing grabs them, pulls them in, doesn’t let them go until the end, none of these things will matter.
Please bear with me, those of you who know what I am going to say next (because I’ve said it so many times before): The purpose of the guidelines that are sometimes known as rules is that when something doesn’t work they can help you identify the reason why. This is where passive verbs, saidbookisms, head-hopping, and the rest may come in. Once you have identified the problem, you have two options. You can change what you have already written to conform to the rules, or figure out what you can do to compensate for what you’ve lost by breaking them. This is why it is not enough to memorize the rules and be able to parrot them back. I would even venture to say that it is more important to understand the rules than to follow them.
The truth is, they are not much use even as guidelines unless you first comprehend the reasoning behind them. What is it that you are supposed to accomplish by following a particular rule? What are the problems that may arise when you don’t, and how can you compensate for them? This is what will free you from a too rigid adherence to the rules. It will also, if you have already elected not to follow one or more of them and it is not working out quite as you expected, help you to figure out what you need to do next to a) restore whatever it is you have sacrificed*, b) get creative and find alternative ways to make it all work, and/or c) drag yourself out of whatever mess you have created for yourself.
As an example I am going to use a book we have already been discussing, and I bet you can guess which one. There is a "rule" that major characters must change and grow. It has been noted (usually by those who don’t like the book) that in The Lord of the Rings — one of the most influential and highly regarded books of the twentieth century — some of the most important characters don’t do this. Aragorn is the one usually singled out. And it is is true that Aragorn is very much the same at the end of the book as he is at the beginning, yet he doesn’t come across as a static character. The reason is that while the character doesn’t change, our knowledge of him does. Throughout the book there is a gradual revelation of his identity, his character, his destiny, and his abilities. Tolkien did not follow this often quoted guideline, but the result is much the same as if he had.
Did Tolkien figure this out and do it exactly that way on purpose? Probably not. He never regarded himself as a professional writer. But the story went through numerous drafts and the character of Aragorn emerged through draft after draft, as Tolkien was constantly making changes to the characters and the story. Whether he hit on the right combination by constant experimentation, or because he had the rule in mind and figured out a way around it, doesn’t matter. The important thing is that he stayed with it until he made it work.
As another example, I’ll mention a book that is not so highly regarded: The Da Vinci Code. Plot holes abound; characterization is poor; the prose is uninspired. Yet the book is wildly popular, and even among those who are aware of its faults many say that they found it entertaining. So what did Dan Brown do to make up for these flaws? He played to his strengths, which is something every writer should do. (Only make sure that they really are your strengths, rather than your inclinations.) After a relatively slow beginning, the pace is relentless and the tension is high. Most readers race through the book eager to find out what happens next — they are at the end before they even have time to notice its faults. I know many people who dislike the book, but I have never heard anyone say that they didn’t finish reading it. Even I, who rarely read a book all the way to the end if I don’t like it, read this one to the last word.
Again, whether this was all done by design or whether the writer stumbled onto a winning formula, the fact is that he found it and made use of it.
Of course there are those who have no wish to be successful. They wish to create “high art” and to win accolades for doing so. Despite what some people like to think, it is neither clever nor creative simply to break the rules. Anyone can do that. If a writer does so, it is absurd to expect to get credit merely for trying something risky. That’s where the risk part comes in. If the result is an unfortunate one, others will criticize it. They will say that the work looks amateurish. And they will be right. If you want to be daring and break all the rules, you must do whatever you have to do to make it work, otherwise it’s just posturing. True artists are not content to stop with the job half done.
There remains the question of how to acquire an intimate understanding of the rules. Instinct and experience may carry you a long way. It is possible to teach oneself the rules by trial and error, and internalize them to the point where you know something is wrong without being able to cite the exact rule, though if called on to explain what is wrong and why it’s not working you would have no trouble doing so. But once you know the rules — however it was that you learned them, whether you are entirely self-taught or have honed your skills through participation in many workshops and writers groups — you ignore the rules at your peril. There is a difference between ignoring a rule out of inexperience or a mistaken idea of one’s own genius and deciding not to follow it in order to achieve a particular effect.
Yet those who follow the rules too closely are mistaken, too. There must be room for that spark of creativity, or your writing will only ever be competent. You can get by being merely competent if you have ideas that have wide appeal — there are writers who have made millions writing mediocre prose because they have the gift or good fortune to come up with ideas that are exactly what the public is looking for at the moment — but you will never do those ideas full justice. You may also become successful by doing two or three things exceptionally well (see The Da Vinci Code above), but this can also depend on passing trends and fads in writing, because those things you do so well may be seen as dated and quaint to a later generation. (Think of all the reasons that a writer like Bulwer-Lytton was popular in his own day, yet in the twentieth century his name became a byword for tortured prose.) In both of these cases, the appeal may be relatively short-lived — which may not matter in the least if the writer’s primary goal is transitory fame and a permanently healthy bank account. Twenty years, thirty years down the line, the books may be largely forgotten, or remembered only so that people may shake their heads at the questionable taste of their parents or grandparents.
But if you can join talent to a clear understanding of what you are doing — why, how, and when to do it, and when and how you can get away with not doing it — then mix in a good portion of creativity, you may, just possibly, write something for the ages.
________
*A good question to ask yourself at this time is, “Was it worth it?”
THE RULES — Love them? Or leave them?
When it comes to the rules of good writing, there are three different ideas that are likely to trip up the inexperienced writer.
1. You must learn the rules and religiously adhere to them.
2. Once you learn the rules you can throw them away and do whatever you want.
3. A true artist never pays any attention to rules.
Each of these is wrong. The first rule, the only rule that is truly a rule rather than a guideline, the only one you can never afford to ignore is, “Does it work? If not, you must do whatever is necessary to make it work.” If it does work, you can safely push all of the other rules to the back of your mind, right up to the time when something doesn’t.
This, in the end, is what agents and editors care about. They don’t go through a manuscript looking for excessive use of adverbs, adjectives, saidbookisms, passive verbs, head-hopping. If the writing grabs them, pulls them in, doesn’t let them go until the end, none of these things will matter.
Please bear with me, those of you who know what I am going to say next (because I’ve said it so many times before): The purpose of the guidelines that are sometimes known as rules is that when something doesn’t work they can help you identify the reason why. This is where passive verbs, saidbookisms, head-hopping, and the rest may come in. Once you have identified the problem, you have two options. You can change what you have already written to conform to the rules, or figure out what you can do to compensate for what you’ve lost by breaking them. This is why it is not enough to memorize the rules and be able to parrot them back. I would even venture to say that it is more important to understand the rules than to follow them.
The truth is, they are not much use even as guidelines unless you first comprehend the reasoning behind them. What is it that you are supposed to accomplish by following a particular rule? What are the problems that may arise when you don’t, and how can you compensate for them? This is what will free you from a too rigid adherence to the rules. It will also, if you have already elected not to follow one or more of them and it is not working out quite as you expected, help you to figure out what you need to do next to a) restore whatever it is you have sacrificed*, b) get creative and find alternative ways to make it all work, and/or c) drag yourself out of whatever mess you have created for yourself.
As an example I am going to use a book we have already been discussing, and I bet you can guess which one. There is a "rule" that major characters must change and grow. It has been noted (usually by those who don’t like the book) that in The Lord of the Rings — one of the most influential and highly regarded books of the twentieth century — some of the most important characters don’t do this. Aragorn is the one usually singled out. And it is is true that Aragorn is very much the same at the end of the book as he is at the beginning, yet he doesn’t come across as a static character. The reason is that while the character doesn’t change, our knowledge of him does. Throughout the book there is a gradual revelation of his identity, his character, his destiny, and his abilities. Tolkien did not follow this often quoted guideline, but the result is much the same as if he had.
Did Tolkien figure this out and do it exactly that way on purpose? Probably not. He never regarded himself as a professional writer. But the story went through numerous drafts and the character of Aragorn emerged through draft after draft, as Tolkien was constantly making changes to the characters and the story. Whether he hit on the right combination by constant experimentation, or because he had the rule in mind and figured out a way around it, doesn’t matter. The important thing is that he stayed with it until he made it work.
As another example, I’ll mention a book that is not so highly regarded: The Da Vinci Code. Plot holes abound; characterization is poor; the prose is uninspired. Yet the book is wildly popular, and even among those who are aware of its faults many say that they found it entertaining. So what did Dan Brown do to make up for these flaws? He played to his strengths, which is something every writer should do. (Only make sure that they really are your strengths, rather than your inclinations.) After a relatively slow beginning, the pace is relentless and the tension is high. Most readers race through the book eager to find out what happens next — they are at the end before they even have time to notice its faults. I know many people who dislike the book, but I have never heard anyone say that they didn’t finish reading it. Even I, who rarely read a book all the way to the end if I don’t like it, read this one to the last word.
Again, whether this was all done by design or whether the writer stumbled onto a winning formula, the fact is that he found it and made use of it.
Of course there are those who have no wish to be successful. They wish to create “high art” and to win accolades for doing so. Despite what some people like to think, it is neither clever nor creative simply to break the rules. Anyone can do that. If a writer does so, it is absurd to expect to get credit merely for trying something risky. That’s where the risk part comes in. If the result is an unfortunate one, others will criticize it. They will say that the work looks amateurish. And they will be right. If you want to be daring and break all the rules, you must do whatever you have to do to make it work, otherwise it’s just posturing. True artists are not content to stop with the job half done.
There remains the question of how to acquire an intimate understanding of the rules. Instinct and experience may carry you a long way. It is possible to teach oneself the rules by trial and error, and internalize them to the point where you know something is wrong without being able to cite the exact rule, though if called on to explain what is wrong and why it’s not working you would have no trouble doing so. But once you know the rules — however it was that you learned them, whether you are entirely self-taught or have honed your skills through participation in many workshops and writers groups — you ignore the rules at your peril. There is a difference between ignoring a rule out of inexperience or a mistaken idea of one’s own genius and deciding not to follow it in order to achieve a particular effect.
Yet those who follow the rules too closely are mistaken, too. There must be room for that spark of creativity, or your writing will only ever be competent. You can get by being merely competent if you have ideas that have wide appeal — there are writers who have made millions writing mediocre prose because they have the gift or good fortune to come up with ideas that are exactly what the public is looking for at the moment — but you will never do those ideas full justice. You may also become successful by doing two or three things exceptionally well (see The Da Vinci Code above), but this can also depend on passing trends and fads in writing, because those things you do so well may be seen as dated and quaint to a later generation. (Think of all the reasons that a writer like Bulwer-Lytton was popular in his own day, yet in the twentieth century his name became a byword for tortured prose.) In both of these cases, the appeal may be relatively short-lived — which may not matter in the least if the writer’s primary goal is transitory fame and a permanently healthy bank account. Twenty years, thirty years down the line, the books may be largely forgotten, or remembered only so that people may shake their heads at the questionable taste of their parents or grandparents.
But if you can join talent to a clear understanding of what you are doing — why, how, and when to do it, and when and how you can get away with not doing it — then mix in a good portion of creativity, you may, just possibly, write something for the ages.
________
*A good question to ask yourself at this time is, “Was it worth it?”
Total Comments 8
Comments
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This is interesting reading, especially as right now I'm trying to decide whether the first person plural of a 1000 word story I wrote is vital or mere affectation.
What you say about the 'rules' being helpful in identifying why something doesn't work is very true and that's the inherent neccesity of learning them. I know someone considering starting to write who refuses to read up on the craft at all, for fear it'll turn him into... I don't know... some type of writerly Borg. Go figure.Posted 3rd September 2011 at 04:43 PM by J-WO
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Actually, Jim, I'd probably suggest he just spend time writing first and read up on the non-rules after he's been doing it for a bit. I know that if I'd read a how-to write book when I was first setting out (instead of only 2 years ago after *mumble mumble* years of writing) I would have felt totally inhibited by the fear of doing something "wrong". Though, admittedly, his fear of being assimilated into the authorial hive-mind is a bit daft! Point him in the direction of Picasso -- his paintings were shocking because they were so different and broke the rules, but he had learned how to draw "properly" first.
I've always been a firm believer in understanding the rationale for a rule, and looking to meet that, rather than simple rote-learning and robotic obedience. It comes down, as ever, to thinking about what you are writing.
What I'd be interested in, Teresa, is how to learn to see when something is wrong and not working. Is it just something that comes with experience?Posted 3rd September 2011 at 08:03 PM by The Judge -
I can see how it would add a certain intimacy to the story — or be distracting enough ("Why is he doing this?") to be distancing. It could be an amazing story if you've pulled it off.Quote:Originally Posted by J-WOI'm trying to decide whether the first person plural of a 1000 word story I wrote is vital or mere affectation.
Sounds like a classic, "Was it worth it?" situation.
Yes, experience, and learning to read our own work critically, so that we can look past the stories we're carrying around inside our heads and see what's actually there on the page.Quote:Originally Posted by The Judge
What I'd be interested in, Teresa, is how to learn to see when something is wrong and not working. Is it just something that comes with experience?
But even with experience, even when our instincts are telling us something is wrong, we can still be in denial, because we don't want to make the necessary changes. I still struggle with that sometimes.Posted 4th September 2011 at 09:46 AM by Teresa Edgerton -
Again you've written about something that has been a problem for me recently. And again, thank you for making sense of something surprisingly confusing.
I'm still learning a lot of the rules. I think I have some of them sorted out, but others continue to mystify me. I suspect there are some I haven't encountered yet.
It occured to me when I was reading this post that it's sort of like cooking -- once you understand the purpose of e.g. eggs in a cake, you can mess about with the quantities and not stick to a printed recipe. I'm at the same stage in cooking as I am in writing -- I don't know enough to experiment safely, but that doesn't stop me. Although, maybe it's easier to tell when an experiment with a cake hasn't worked.Posted 4th September 2011 at 11:03 AM by Hex - Experimenting is how you learn what will work and what won't. It's how you learn period. Just so long as you don't go around acting like a misunderstood genius when somebody criticizes an experiment that didn't turn out quite the way you wanted it to.Quote:Originally Posted by Hex I don't know enough to experiment safely, but that doesn't stop me.
But that's not your style so I seriously doubt that you would ever do that.
And I think you are experienced enough by now to have at least a tiny twinge when something is wrong.Posted 4th September 2011 at 11:35 PM by Teresa Edgerton - I'm quite confident that my genius is often misunderstood.Quote:Originally Posted by Teresa Edgerton And I think you are experienced enough by now to have at least a tiny twinge when something is wrong.
I absolutely have twinges (or, well, whole body spasms). I find it hard to identify what is wrong, though, even when I know that something is.
I don't know -- for example -- if there are rules for changing sentence structures (I can't describe what I mean!). I start a lot of sentences with "I", and that jumps out at me. I've started trying to break up the sentence structure so it isn't the same all the time -- although when I do it deliberately it feels clunkier than if I just wrote it that way the first time round.
I'm wondering how to write deliberately so that the writing flows -- so that sentences are structured to work together. I can do it accidentally, I think, but I don't know what I'm doing and that makes me insecure because when I'm struggling I don't have anywhere to go except back to my own conviction that something isn't working (but I'm not sure why).
Do rules apply in that sort of situation?
And concerning the application of rules (I think) -- I've read a few books recently that came out of university writing courses, and maybe it was a coincidence but I felt as if I could identify a particular tone that they had in common. It was a tone I disliked very much.
I should say this doesn't seem to be a problem for everyone who has 'formally' trained as a creative writer. I'm reading an excellent book just now by someone who did such a course. Still, the last few books I read did make me wonder about rules and acceptable style versus personal style, and what the effect of teaching such courses may be. And also (sorry to go on) the need to produce a curriculum to formalise something that may not previously have been formal in your head.
There's a lovely bit in DWJ's Deep Secret where the writer (Ted Mallory?) dreads conventions -- he says he'll talk rubbish about the way he writes and he'll start believing what he says and won't be able to write anymore.Posted 5th September 2011 at 10:21 AM by Hex - I'm sorry not to have responded sooner. The twins had their birthday party yesterday, and last night my brain had turned to dust. I'm not entirely sure that my answer now will be altogether coherent, but I'll give it a try.
If you are having twinges (let along body spasms) you are more than halfway there. Once you recognize that you have a problem, even if you don't know the rules you can keep on trying things until, by trial and error, you come up with something that no longer makes you feel twitchy. Or, you can learn the "rules." Once you know them, and once you are able to identify a problem area, it is usually pretty easy to see where you've gone astray.Quote:Originally Posted by HexI absolutely have twinges (or, well, whole body spasms). I find it hard to identify what is wrong, though, even when I know that something is.
But beware, because a lot of people will pass on rules that don't exist, or garble those that do. You need to go to a source you can trust. I am sure that you are at the point where you can benefit from books on writing, workshops, or a good writers group.
Yes, it is a good idea not to structure all your sentences the same way. If you do, your writing will either come across as flat or (if the pattern to too obvious) your sentences will start jingling in the reader's mind. I can't tell you how many manuscripts I've read where the same sentence structure used over and over has made me want to scream.
You can go a long way toward fixing this if you divide some of your sentences. For instance:
Heart pounding, he started across the floor.
could become
He took a step and then another. His heart pounded frantically.
Or, if all your sentences are short, you could do the opposite and join some of them together.
He climbed the stairs. When he reached the top, he turned left.
could become
He climbed to the top of the stairs and turned left.
Just varying the length of your sentences can make a big difference.
I think people make too much use of the word "flow." They always want to know if their writing flows, often without having any idea of the reasons why it might not flow. They should be looking for sentences that sound awkward; for ideas that don't follow logically or naturally from what has come before; and of course for mistakes in grammar, or factual errors, or anything else that might distract readers or throw them out of the story.Quote:I'm wondering how to write deliberately so that the writing flows -- so that sentences are structured to work together. I can do it accidentally, I think, but I don't know what I'm doing
Besides, there are times when you should want to interrupt the flow: to alter the pace in a scene of furious action, to emphasize the importance of something, to convey a character's shock at a moment of revelation, or for dozens of other reasons.
There are quite a few things that people will recite to you as "rules" when they really come down to matters of personal style or personal tastes. This is one reason why it is a good idea to join a writers group, because eventually the other members will become accustomed to your style and will work with you to try to polish it, rather than try to change it into something else entirely.Quote:Still, the last few books I read did make me wonder about rules and acceptable style versus personal style
Keep in mind that there are various "schools" of writing: groups of writers who all write in much the same way and who think that their way is the one true way and everyone else is writing drivel. Their ways may indeed suit their material, but they won't apply to what everyone else is doing.
My own belief is that style should always be harmonious with the type of story that you are telling. If your story is cruel and tough and very modern, then a style that is spare and very direct may be exactly right. But if you are writing a story that is dreamlike and otherworldly, then something more lyrical may be appropriate.
This can be a problem when you are writing something in first person because it can make the character look self-centered, and yet it can be difficult to avoid if the story is all about what that character is feeling or doing. Besides, you don't want to twist your sentences out of shape to avoid this ... or twist them out of shape for any other reason, for that matter. If it's natural to begin the sentence with "I" then you should do it that way. I struggle with using the word "I" too often when writing critiques or expressing opinions, but what are we to do when the polite thing is to soften our statements with phrases like "I think" or "this is just my opinion but I could be wrong."Quote:I start a lot of sentences with "I", and that jumps out at me.
The thing I struggle with most often is a tendency to qualify everything I write. The number of sentences that start with "But, "However," or "Although" — before I go through and change some of them — is shocking.
*****
What this all comes down to is this: always work on improving your writing (this is a process that should never end), but don't be afraid to develop your own personal style.Posted 5th September 2011 at 11:33 PM by Teresa Edgerton - I hate to confess it, but it had never occured to me that this was an option. Thank you. The whole section made me go "ahh!" -- I could feel my brain expanding.Quote:Originally Posted by Teresa Edgerton I
You can go a long way toward fixing this if you divide some of your sentences. For instance:
Heart pounding, he started across the floor.
could become
He took a step and then another. His heart pounded frantically.Posted 6th September 2011 at 10:57 PM by Hex
