Writing, by its very nature, requires a sort of delusion…one that convinces you that you have something to offer to the world. The levels of delusion vary, but I think it’s safe to say that writing is an ego-driven activity. There are many writers whose egos can rival a gun nut’s.
I met a lot of these writers when I was young and active in a writer’s forum that specialized in other people my age. There was a young man who tried to convince us that purple prose was a specialty of his, and then proceeded to try to convince us that this was good writing because he tried to keep it to a minimum. While we were attempting to guide him in the right direction and offering suggestions on how he could improve his prose, he broke down, telling me and my associates that we were the first people who voiced out criticism…that his work already had an editor and that about 200,000 people were already waiting for him to start pitching to publishers.
Now, this was back in the day, before the whole self-publishing and e-book craze (and around the heyday of that fantastic human being, Kenneth Eng). The idea of being picked up by a publisher, even a small press, was like the holy grail to writers. Telling people that one has an editor or an agent was a way to shut them up, stop them in their tracks. Anyway, this young man made extreme attempts to justify his writing by explaining the efforts he took in making sure his manuscript was well-written and free of errors.
There were others like him. You could usually tell how big of an ego investment they made by how badly they reacted to gentle criticism. These people were so in love with their words and the idea that they are a writer that it becomes their downfall.
Of course, writers, to get any work done, must love what they put out, or else they risk not producing any material at all. That’s understandable. Yet there remains a group of writers who become obsessed with seeing their own content. They meander about, taking two or three paragraphs when three words would suffice, showing off every chance they get.
These people are unaware of one simple fact: writing is about communication. The words and sentences are the means to an end. Good writing means never having to notice the tools in order to achieve an effect.
But wait, you tell me. What about classic writers and formal styles? What about poetry? I would invite you to look at work that have stood the test of time. Classic writers write like that because that was the language then. The best ones still do not trip over themselves in an attempt to show off their skill (or lack thereof) as a wordsmith. The best ones, also, take proper flow into account.
By the way, I don’t mean that one should write like Hemingway. I mean you shouldn’t use “translucent cabochons” if you can write “raindrop” (unless some purple-prose crazed maniac has a gun trained to your head). You also shouldn’t waste five minutes of my precious time telling me the nature of each of your character’s toenails unless you want me to throw your book against the wall.
While there has been a shift in the fantasy scene, where extremely human characters and simple prose like in the Lies of Locke Lamora (which is a definite must-read, by the way) are becoming the norm, there still remains a group of people who think that “good writing” has to be complicated. Good writing, they say, must be the sort that must be dissected and analyzed to be appreciated. It must show how sophisticated both writer and reader are, make noses bleed, and be the written equivalent of Ambien. I don’t know where these people get their ideas from, but every time I hear somebody argue about this, I die a little inside.
If you’re worried about your prose, don’t be. Good writing is easy. Can you tell me what a character is doing without making me vomit? You’re already halfway there! I think the best thing that writers can do for themselves is to remember that they are merely messengers who cannot control how a message is received. You do not own the reader’s thoughts or experience.
Loud and clear writing makes your ideas stand out and your world come alive. It also hopefully prevents you from becoming the next Internet purple-prose sensation.
Do you like sarcasm, drama, and lots of talking before sword fights? Do you sometimes wish your epic fantasy had more feelings? Then please support my hungry brood and give The Agartes Epilogues a try!
