When you study what editors are crying out for in the current publishing trends, it changes you. It changes how you read fiction. . . . And it isn’t always for the best. It can also change how you write, which is their objective to get you published. That can be for the best . . . or not.
In my studies and in my reading I have determined that some of the recent writing is coming across to me as trying too hard to meet a certain standard. I can almost see the writer with his dictionary, thesaurus, clever quotations, and other reference books stacked on the floor beside his desk or cluttering his work space so he can grab one of them every few sentences when he needs to show not tell, eliminate an adverb, or accommodate one of the other current instructions for making the novel publishable.
Sometimes plain language works. It “feels” right. Sounds natural. Doesn’t make the reader think they have to qualify for something to read the story. The literary crowd just heaved a collective sigh and simultaneously rolled their eyes, wondering why the masses want to remain “unintelligent”.
Think about it, though. All we hear about as writers is “serving the story”. Eliminate it if it doesn’t “serve the story”. Well . . . what the heck does that mean anyway? To me stories are a picture of life. Life isn’t cut and dried. It isn’t precise. Well, maybe for some of you obsessive compulsive types it can be at times, but still you can’t control every person, place, or thing that enters and exits your life. Some writers and editors have a very narrow view of story. They’ve been taught and instructed by professionals—either other writers, editors, scholars of literature—who insist a novel must be constructed and meted out a certain way. Yet if you read and examine some of the acclaimed novels, they are as diverse in telling a story as their authors' origins and lives were here on earth. Story is as story does. No box of chocolates here.
It goes back to the audience. If you’re writing to please those who enjoy elegant prose, conflicted characters, symbolism, obscure theme, then your language will suit your purpose. But don’t expect those who prefer a page-turner with thrills and chills to linger over writing that seems stilted and obtuse to them. And, of course, vice versa.
The great American novel, whatever it is, is the one that makes you, as the author of it, smile when it’s done. You accomplished what you wanted to do—told the story of your heart and found the language to do it just right. If you’re a Hemingway clone, so be it. If you’re a latent Daphne Du Maurier, so you are.
When the writing is done to satisfy a standard, the current rules of writing if you will, it doesn’t read right. Forced metaphors that make a reader pause and try to imagine them—guess what: they didn’t work. High-minded language where plain and simple verbs of the “was” nature will seem more real—it stops the reader who takes note of the words used instead of the character or action that’s happening around them—they aren’t working.
I’ve seen these efforts lately in a few novels I’ve read—and that’s exactly how they struck me: as efforts to make the writing “better”. The choices made by these authors didn’t make the story better, regardless of whether or not the editor or pub board was impressed with the final outcome.
If you’re serious about writing, I’ve said before and you’ve seen it all over writers’ blogs, you have to know the rules before you can break them. There is value and importance to understanding the craft of writing. However, at some point, you’re just going to have to write—from your heart if this is what God has given you to do. Because anyone can follow rules but not everyone can write a good story.
Father, you’ve given me the stories I’ve written. I’m far from perfect and will never be considered one of “the best”, but you know exactly who you had in mind for these novels I've written and why you had me write them. I’m trusting you to do as you wish with them, to point them to the places they need to be to bless, encourage, or minister in whatever way you choose for them. Thank you for each one, Lord. Thank you for trusting me with your stories, for giving me the words to tell them. Please use me, God, in the Name of Jesus, Amen.