Amanda Frederickson's Blog: Musings - Posts Tagged "writing-advice"
He said, She said
Trying to figure out why your story is being rejected is the most disheartening and frustrating thing about starting a writing career. One of the first instincts is to read every book (or internet article) on writing that you can get your hands on in hopes that you’ll find the magical key that will unlock success. Then something else becomes clear.
There’s a lot of contradictory writing advice out there.
You’ll usually see it presented as ironclad rules, too. I’ve seen a LOT of lip service for the “no adverbs” “rule,” but if you crack open a book, guess what you’ll find. Adverbs. So what do you do when you see one bestselling author say to only use “said” as a speech tag, another says to cut speech tags altogether, while another advocates spicing it up with things like “hissed, whispered, bellowed,” fill in your –ed?
You take into account that all of these are simply preferences.
It may be the author’s own preferences, or the preferences of the editors they’re working with. It may be the preference of their genre. It doesn’t mean that it is the preference of your genre, or the preference of the editor you’ll end up working with.
So what do you do?
Semi-recently I’ve decided to, first of all, stop reading every book on writing. Not every book is relevant. A lot of books on publishing are now outdated because of the advent of ebooks and the upheaval they brought to the publishing world. Like a job hunter today doesn’t necessarily want to follow the advice of 20 years ago, the publishing advice may not be as solid as it once was. Then, also, not every book on writing is relevant to what I want to write.
I’ve figured out that somewhere along the line I got it stuck in my head that a lean, mean, get-to-the-point prose style was what I should be writing, because that was what it took to be published. I hate it. It’s made me miserable. I like rich, poetic description. I like vivid imagery. I like details.
He brushed the layers of magic with his mind. Magic had been melded into each block of granite from the moment it was quarried, through its cutting, finishing, and placement. The mortar had been inlaid with strengthening spells not only to ensure that the wall stood for all time, but to prevent magic from breaking it.
Oh, the spell songs the stonecutters must have sung as they hammered drills into the rock and refined the mortar mixture. The wall was magnificent, really. A great accomplishment that had taken generations of humans to complete. A pity it must be destroyed.
-Green Rider, Kristen Britain
She was still writing away at an intense pace, pausing every now and again to examine one of the assorted small things on the table before her, or to pluck a few strings of the shepherd’s harp resting on her lap beneath the table. She was glowing with quiet excitement, and despite her being tucked away at her favorite table near the back of the bar, that excitement was radiating through the crowd of regulars and generating quite a din. Generally the middle of the day was a dismally quiet time at the Hat and Feathers; today it was as loud as a holiday night. No wonder Dee loves her, Barney thought, chuckling to himself. She’s good for business.
-Rhapsody, Elizabeth Haydon
Ash fell from the sky.
Lord Tresting frowned, glancing up at the ruddy midday sky as his servants scuttled forward, opening a parasol over Tresting and his distinguished guest. Ashfalls weren’t that uncommon in the Final Empire, but Tresting had hoped to avoid getting soot stains on his fine new suit coat and red vest, which had just arrived via canal boat from Luthadel itself. Fortunately, there wasn’t much wind; the parasol would likely be effective.
- Mistborn, Brandon Sanderson
By the standards I was taught, these passages are wordy, unnecessary “darlings” that should have been slaughtered. To me, they’re the details that truly bring a story to life.
If these paragraphs were treated the way I was taught to treat my writing, they might look something like this:
The great wall had taken generations to complete and stood for generations more, but now it had to be destroyed.
She sat tucked away in a corner, but her presence alone livened up the room.
Ash fell from the sky, but it wouldn’t trouble Lord Tresting and his distinguished guest.
Boring, much?
A storm is coming. The cool air has turned a misty gray, blanketing Tirion’s Imperial City until I can no longer see the mountains on the other side of the valley. Lantern light begins to wink through the mist. From high in the Emperor’s Tower I see the rain runners closing the screens along the open causeways of the Imperial Palace. I can almost hear the click click click of the thin wood screens sliding into place, the young rain runners’ footfalls pounding the smoothly worn floor. My own adolescent days as a rain runner seem so far away.
I hear small footsteps on the stairs. The Tower’s rain runner has finished closing all the other screens. The only level that remains is mine. He pauses at the top of the stairs, kneeling respectfully. I wonder what he would think if he knew I once stood endless hours waiting for signs of rain. That I once knew how to catch the screens just so, to slide them into place without breaking stride. I think he would not believe me.
- The Emperor’s Servant, Amanda Frederickson
That’s a small slice of a piece I wrote in college. It almost makes me cry, because I don’t write that way anymore, and because these bad habits make me itch to trim it down, or out altogether. I’ve found that I need to re-train myself and my writing towards what I want it to be, rather what I’ve been told it should be.
Everyone who gives advice means well, but it doesn’t mean that their preferences are best for your writing.
There’s a lot of contradictory writing advice out there.
You’ll usually see it presented as ironclad rules, too. I’ve seen a LOT of lip service for the “no adverbs” “rule,” but if you crack open a book, guess what you’ll find. Adverbs. So what do you do when you see one bestselling author say to only use “said” as a speech tag, another says to cut speech tags altogether, while another advocates spicing it up with things like “hissed, whispered, bellowed,” fill in your –ed?
You take into account that all of these are simply preferences.
It may be the author’s own preferences, or the preferences of the editors they’re working with. It may be the preference of their genre. It doesn’t mean that it is the preference of your genre, or the preference of the editor you’ll end up working with.
So what do you do?
Semi-recently I’ve decided to, first of all, stop reading every book on writing. Not every book is relevant. A lot of books on publishing are now outdated because of the advent of ebooks and the upheaval they brought to the publishing world. Like a job hunter today doesn’t necessarily want to follow the advice of 20 years ago, the publishing advice may not be as solid as it once was. Then, also, not every book on writing is relevant to what I want to write.
I’ve figured out that somewhere along the line I got it stuck in my head that a lean, mean, get-to-the-point prose style was what I should be writing, because that was what it took to be published. I hate it. It’s made me miserable. I like rich, poetic description. I like vivid imagery. I like details.
He brushed the layers of magic with his mind. Magic had been melded into each block of granite from the moment it was quarried, through its cutting, finishing, and placement. The mortar had been inlaid with strengthening spells not only to ensure that the wall stood for all time, but to prevent magic from breaking it.
Oh, the spell songs the stonecutters must have sung as they hammered drills into the rock and refined the mortar mixture. The wall was magnificent, really. A great accomplishment that had taken generations of humans to complete. A pity it must be destroyed.
-Green Rider, Kristen Britain
She was still writing away at an intense pace, pausing every now and again to examine one of the assorted small things on the table before her, or to pluck a few strings of the shepherd’s harp resting on her lap beneath the table. She was glowing with quiet excitement, and despite her being tucked away at her favorite table near the back of the bar, that excitement was radiating through the crowd of regulars and generating quite a din. Generally the middle of the day was a dismally quiet time at the Hat and Feathers; today it was as loud as a holiday night. No wonder Dee loves her, Barney thought, chuckling to himself. She’s good for business.
-Rhapsody, Elizabeth Haydon
Ash fell from the sky.
Lord Tresting frowned, glancing up at the ruddy midday sky as his servants scuttled forward, opening a parasol over Tresting and his distinguished guest. Ashfalls weren’t that uncommon in the Final Empire, but Tresting had hoped to avoid getting soot stains on his fine new suit coat and red vest, which had just arrived via canal boat from Luthadel itself. Fortunately, there wasn’t much wind; the parasol would likely be effective.
- Mistborn, Brandon Sanderson
By the standards I was taught, these passages are wordy, unnecessary “darlings” that should have been slaughtered. To me, they’re the details that truly bring a story to life.
If these paragraphs were treated the way I was taught to treat my writing, they might look something like this:
The great wall had taken generations to complete and stood for generations more, but now it had to be destroyed.
She sat tucked away in a corner, but her presence alone livened up the room.
Ash fell from the sky, but it wouldn’t trouble Lord Tresting and his distinguished guest.
Boring, much?
A storm is coming. The cool air has turned a misty gray, blanketing Tirion’s Imperial City until I can no longer see the mountains on the other side of the valley. Lantern light begins to wink through the mist. From high in the Emperor’s Tower I see the rain runners closing the screens along the open causeways of the Imperial Palace. I can almost hear the click click click of the thin wood screens sliding into place, the young rain runners’ footfalls pounding the smoothly worn floor. My own adolescent days as a rain runner seem so far away.
I hear small footsteps on the stairs. The Tower’s rain runner has finished closing all the other screens. The only level that remains is mine. He pauses at the top of the stairs, kneeling respectfully. I wonder what he would think if he knew I once stood endless hours waiting for signs of rain. That I once knew how to catch the screens just so, to slide them into place without breaking stride. I think he would not believe me.
- The Emperor’s Servant, Amanda Frederickson
That’s a small slice of a piece I wrote in college. It almost makes me cry, because I don’t write that way anymore, and because these bad habits make me itch to trim it down, or out altogether. I’ve found that I need to re-train myself and my writing towards what I want it to be, rather what I’ve been told it should be.
Everyone who gives advice means well, but it doesn’t mean that their preferences are best for your writing.
Soap Box
There’s a lot, a lot of “follow your dreams” encouragement, which is great, but not actually practical. Hope is an essential flame to keep alive, but feeding it shouldn’t be the full time focus.
A lot of the writing career advice dished up wouldn’t hold up if it were applied to any other career, so why are writers expected to eat it? You wouldn’t feel very safe if a nursing school’s approach to patient care was to throw the students at the patients without any training. Yet in writing there seems to be a general attitude of “just submit to publications in your genre and eventually you’ll get in,” rather than teaching how to tell a story. In my own college experience, I learned more from one screenwriting class than all of my other creative writing classes together.
If someone is trying to learn a second language, they aren’t told, “just speak it.” They’re taught vocabulary and grammar. They’re given basics. They certainly aren’t fluent yet, and they shouldn’t be treated as such. There’s a lot of complexity in learning a new language, just as there are worlds of complexity in learning to write well in your own.
There is any number of articles on how to approach editors and agents and the traditional path to getting your work in print, but to find solid advice on honing your actual craftsmanship feels like searching for a white elephant. Worse, a lot of the advice selling itself as “craft improvement” is more about a personal pet peeve.
More and more, lately, I’ve been thinking there simply isn’t enough solid guidance for writers who want to build a career, not a rainbow.
(/rant)
A lot of the writing career advice dished up wouldn’t hold up if it were applied to any other career, so why are writers expected to eat it? You wouldn’t feel very safe if a nursing school’s approach to patient care was to throw the students at the patients without any training. Yet in writing there seems to be a general attitude of “just submit to publications in your genre and eventually you’ll get in,” rather than teaching how to tell a story. In my own college experience, I learned more from one screenwriting class than all of my other creative writing classes together.
If someone is trying to learn a second language, they aren’t told, “just speak it.” They’re taught vocabulary and grammar. They’re given basics. They certainly aren’t fluent yet, and they shouldn’t be treated as such. There’s a lot of complexity in learning a new language, just as there are worlds of complexity in learning to write well in your own.
There is any number of articles on how to approach editors and agents and the traditional path to getting your work in print, but to find solid advice on honing your actual craftsmanship feels like searching for a white elephant. Worse, a lot of the advice selling itself as “craft improvement” is more about a personal pet peeve.
More and more, lately, I’ve been thinking there simply isn’t enough solid guidance for writers who want to build a career, not a rainbow.
(/rant)
