- Feb 3, 2024
- LitBits
- 0
Bad advice by Jake Joy Who do you think you are?
I’ve been on X again.
I know, I know. I need to stop, but something keeps drawing me back. Maybe it’s the drama, or maybe it’s the dopamine addiction, but I find myself drifting back there quite regularly.
At least it gives me something to put on my blog.
This time, the writing rules are being discussed again. I’ve already given my take on that previously. You can read them here if you missed it: Dems the rulez – Litopia
This time, however, I want to talk about bad advice.
I see a lot of self-published authors on X giving out writing advice and, frankly, I’m not sure they’re in a position to do so. I don’t often offer advice on writing myself, because, honestly, who the fuck am I to tell another person how to write? I have no credentials, no accolades or awards, no following of any kind…
But then, neither do they.
At the moment, three rules are being bandied around on X as complete nonsense:
In my opinion, they are only partly correct.
You see, this whole railing against the rules comes from a fundamental misunderstanding of them. It’s not never use adverbs; it’s: most adverbs are unnecessary and make your writing jarring. Adverbs are a tool and should be used when the situation calls for it. Like adding salt to a dish, a little improves the taste, but too much and you spoil it.
The rules are nuanced. They are a rule of thumb. As Captain Barbosa says in Pirates of the Caribbean: The rules are more like guidelines.
Prologues are a bugbear of mine. I hate them honestly, because nine times out of ten they are a pointless waste of words. That doesn’t mean you must eliminate all prologues. I’ve read some fantastic ones, but that also doesn’t mean you should throw caution to the wind. A prologue is a tool. I’ve used one in Dragonomics to show how dangerous a dragon is and set the expectations of the story. It is short. To the point. And doesn’t overstay its welcome (hopefully).
Some use prologues to dump the whole history of the world on their reader, which is a pointless waste of time because by page five of the actual story they’ve forgotten most of it. Others use prologues to show a scene from further into the book, which is also pointless, because that too is forgotten by the time the reader gets there. Readers rarely read a book in one sitting, and something they read at the beginning, maybe several days ago – or weeks depending on the length of the book – is unlikely to remain in the front of their mind when they get to the point where it matters. Neil Gaiman does this in American Gods. The prologue is a shocking scene where a lady eats a man with her… well, eh hum. But by the time that character arrives – and she’s only in the book for a few pages – you’ve forgotten that even happened. I only recall it now because my wife started reading it this week and drew my attention to the prologue. Otherwise, I’d have forgotten it existed.
That brings me to ‘Write what you know,’ which is also constantly misunderstood. It does not mean you can’t write about magic and dragons because you’ve never seen them, or you can’t write about a car crash because you’ve never been in one. It means inserting emotions that you have experienced to enrich your writing. I’ve never been in front of a dragon, but I have been terrified of an unfamiliar dog. I’ve never been in a car crash, but I have been worried for the safety of a person who fell off a fence, and I’ve been in a bumper-car. I can use these experiences to get a close approximation of those situations and can use that.
It just seems to me that people are only capable of seeing black and white. Yes, and no. Do and don’t. The grey seems to be invisible.
And I don’t want to take advice from people like that.
J
Continue reading...
I know, I know. I need to stop, but something keeps drawing me back. Maybe it’s the drama, or maybe it’s the dopamine addiction, but I find myself drifting back there quite regularly.
At least it gives me something to put on my blog.
This time, the writing rules are being discussed again. I’ve already given my take on that previously. You can read them here if you missed it: Dems the rulez – Litopia
This time, however, I want to talk about bad advice.
I see a lot of self-published authors on X giving out writing advice and, frankly, I’m not sure they’re in a position to do so. I don’t often offer advice on writing myself, because, honestly, who the fuck am I to tell another person how to write? I have no credentials, no accolades or awards, no following of any kind…
But then, neither do they.
At the moment, three rules are being bandied around on X as complete nonsense:
- Never use adverbs.
- Eliminate prologues
- Write what you know.
In my opinion, they are only partly correct.
You see, this whole railing against the rules comes from a fundamental misunderstanding of them. It’s not never use adverbs; it’s: most adverbs are unnecessary and make your writing jarring. Adverbs are a tool and should be used when the situation calls for it. Like adding salt to a dish, a little improves the taste, but too much and you spoil it.
The rules are nuanced. They are a rule of thumb. As Captain Barbosa says in Pirates of the Caribbean: The rules are more like guidelines.
Prologues are a bugbear of mine. I hate them honestly, because nine times out of ten they are a pointless waste of words. That doesn’t mean you must eliminate all prologues. I’ve read some fantastic ones, but that also doesn’t mean you should throw caution to the wind. A prologue is a tool. I’ve used one in Dragonomics to show how dangerous a dragon is and set the expectations of the story. It is short. To the point. And doesn’t overstay its welcome (hopefully).
Some use prologues to dump the whole history of the world on their reader, which is a pointless waste of time because by page five of the actual story they’ve forgotten most of it. Others use prologues to show a scene from further into the book, which is also pointless, because that too is forgotten by the time the reader gets there. Readers rarely read a book in one sitting, and something they read at the beginning, maybe several days ago – or weeks depending on the length of the book – is unlikely to remain in the front of their mind when they get to the point where it matters. Neil Gaiman does this in American Gods. The prologue is a shocking scene where a lady eats a man with her… well, eh hum. But by the time that character arrives – and she’s only in the book for a few pages – you’ve forgotten that even happened. I only recall it now because my wife started reading it this week and drew my attention to the prologue. Otherwise, I’d have forgotten it existed.
That brings me to ‘Write what you know,’ which is also constantly misunderstood. It does not mean you can’t write about magic and dragons because you’ve never seen them, or you can’t write about a car crash because you’ve never been in one. It means inserting emotions that you have experienced to enrich your writing. I’ve never been in front of a dragon, but I have been terrified of an unfamiliar dog. I’ve never been in a car crash, but I have been worried for the safety of a person who fell off a fence, and I’ve been in a bumper-car. I can use these experiences to get a close approximation of those situations and can use that.
It just seems to me that people are only capable of seeing black and white. Yes, and no. Do and don’t. The grey seems to be invisible.
And I don’t want to take advice from people like that.
J
Get the discussion going!
Continue reading...
