Writers sometimes forget it isn’t all about the writing. Of course it is to us when we’re working on a piece, but for many readers the writing is a sideshow to the main event of a novel.
For writers, it takes a rare and sterling story to cast aside what some view as inferior, mediocre, or merely passable writing. It’s the nature of the beast to cast aspersions on others’ writing, making mental notes of no-nos according to the favorite trends.
Nearly all the current “rules of writing” would erase “the classics” from publication. Yet patriots of these rules apply the mantra to just about everything they read while readers fail to notice the egregious “errors” and look dumbfounded if someone tries to explain to them why a book doesn’t work—because, hey, the readers liked the story so what else matters?
It’s much harder for writers and their editors to break outside the jail of whatever has been decided to be “poor” uses of technique, style, and the almost reverent use and application of the word “craft”. The big time, feverish defense of “good” writing inevitably produces major discussions involving snobbish arguments and/or reasonable breakdowns of what defines “good”. And, yes, there is a standard for both good and bad writing, but don’t ask readers what that standard might be because the qualifiers which apply to writers who are readers and for those who are just plain readers can differ as definitively as summer and winter.
Many writers cannot give up their day jobs. Even published writers realize how difficult it can be to reach readers with their stories. Finding a big enough and faithful audience for their work keeps them ever-pursuing, never relaxing. Juggling the trials of job, family, and writing/marketing create immense challenges especially when sales rise and dip. Yet a writer perseveres because it’s more than a hobby, it’s a compulsion or a calling.
I find it fascinating how many writers use the royalty method of publication to personally validate “good” writing and then proceed to tear down other authors who’ve jumped through all the grueling hoops to achieve it.
Writers are well aware that the popularity of a novel does not guarantee a high standard of writing. However, two things it does indicate are the publisher deemed it worthy of producing because they figured it would sell, and readers dug the story. The term “hack” has been applied to many best-selling novelists who probably chuckle about it all the way to their respective banks.
Authors presumably write for readers, not necessarily for other writers. Writers (and editors) are by far the harshest critics of themselves and others in their field. We tend to operate in tribes—or packs—supporting those who write similar prose to ours or who we grudgingly view as exceeding us. And then some of us attack those who don’t fit what we think writing should be. Some lord their standards over others, insisting that excellence is the key and goal—or should be—of every writer. They can identify precisely what they consider the optimum defining gold standard, the virtues of the craft, citing examples of their favorite wordsmiths or listing the perfect methods for achieving literary prowess. And it all has merit, although its value might be lost on readers.
Readers want a good story and many of them could care less how it’s told. No matter how much or how little the author has invested in the book, if the story resonates with the reader, the words used to tell it hardly matter.
Craftsmen (and women) argue that readers don’t like certain ill-written books because of the poor techniques used, but, really, most readers—or the average readers—will tell you why they didn’t like a story, and it will have nothing to do with how it’s written.
Don’t get me wrong here. If you’re a writer, give it your best. However you learn—whether it’s by reading and absorbing or studying and applying—keep on doing it. Don’t allow your writing to become stale and unimaginative—fight those inclinations to land in a rut. Don’t coast. Let others be their own judges.
As writers and readers, we certainly have the right, maybe even the obligation in certain instances, to share our observations and opinions of others’ works. It’s important to remember that many parts of writing, stripped down from all the high-falutin’ critiques, opinions, praises, and assaults, are merely a matter of taste. Some highbrow and some lowbrow. Some with intelligent assessment and some with gut-feeling. Some with a teacher’s mentality and some with a student’s appreciation. As writers or readers, we do not walk the same literary paths, but we all have the option to travel our favorites.
Assessing the writing of a story can be a rigorous exercise often lost on readers. There’s a certain beauty in just being a reader: story always trumps writing. It is what it is. And there’s freedom in that . . . for some of us.
Father, you’re the designer. You display your love of differences in creation, your flair for the unique and the sameness. You’re mysterious yet open. You appreciate beyond our capabilities. Help me to be the one you designed me to be. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Into the Fire 
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