Into the Fire

I am not a fan of or proponent for lean writing. I understand the necessity for applying the craft’s best rules in the overall and appropriate places in writing novels.

Tedium can result from too much rule bending. Bad habits can be formed. Excesses might be indulged.

Just don’t tell me because I enjoy some broken rules in reading and writing literature that it’s bad writing. Nearly every author when revisiting his book will find ways to change or improve it (referring to published pieces). However, who’s to say the changes will make it any better?

Almost all writers improve their work as they continue to write. Regardless of style, method and intent sharpen with the use of the skills applied in varying ways.

The interesting factor in the whole ordeal is that the average reader—with the exception of those who prefer the literary masterpieces—won’t even notice the presence or absence of passive verbs, speaker attributes, and the decorative adverbs. Not because they’re not intelligent or even that they’re uneducated, but because to them it’s all about the story. Had the author used more than his share of these foul tools, the reader would’ve taken them in stride if he was enthralled with the story. It seems we often overestimate as well as underestimate the readers of novels.

Have you ever heard a complaint from a reader about a novel declaring she didn’t like the book because there were too many “ly” adverbs? Usually the complaints range from “I didn’t like any of the characters” to “I couldn’t get into the plot”. And while it could be argued that the adverbs or SAs or passive verbs gave the story pacing problems, isn’t it really the guts of the story—its appeal and depth and captivating characters or its outrageous humor, irony, or drama that sustains a reader?

I realize it’s kind of like making a fine piece of clothing. When the inside of the piece is examined, every seam is neat and finished, no loose threads to unravel and fray. Some are hand sewn with meticulous, exacting strokes. This is an expensive piece of clothing where the workmanship is obvious and admirable. A writing craftsman wants to equal that kind of attention to detail and produce valuable results.

So what am I conceding, you ask? I’m conceding that the rules are important. I’m conceding that it’s worthwhile to write with them in the forefront of one’s mind, to be cautious and caring with words. If it’s crippling to do so in the first draft, write the story and then go back to clean up once you’ve got it all down. Some people revise as they go. Others prefer to get the story to the page first. Whatever works for you. I’m conceding that in some kinds of stories the rules matter more than in others. In suspense, mystery, thrillers— the pacing is more incumbent upon quick-hitting formats. I’m conceding that I made my share of mistakes in my early novels but have progressed with the later ones and have the opportunity to adjust words in books 3 through the current number 8 because they are not yet in print.

So there. Hope that works for ya.

Father, thank you for the craftsmen in any trade, for those who painstakingly tend to that which you’ve given them to do. May I be meticulous with the spiritual things, that those would flow into my earthly efforts because they’re all for you and should be given our full attention. Thank you for your patience—I’m sure the word “longsuffering” is used in my case. Please continue to direct my steps and help me to follow each one. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please don’t stop praying for Kristy Dykes.*