There are tons of rules that even writers focused on telling fictional tales are told they must follow if they want to become successful authors. But which of these are set in stone, and which ones are a little more flexible?
“There are three rules for writing. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.” — Somerset Maugham
Writing fiction means having the freedom to explore a myriad of settings, characters, and what-if scenarios, all while weaving an immersive, memorable story. You can’t do all that without breaking a few rules; just ask Shakespeare, the guy credited with coining terms and phrases like “jaded” and “son of a bitch”. By all accounts, those sayings shouldn’t make any sense, and yet we don’t hesitate to let them roll off our tongues on a daily basis. In the same vein, we are inexplicably hardwired to associate snarky caterpillars with mushrooms that can take anyone down a peg after a single bite, and we consider crucifixes and holy water as go-to weapons against the undead. When concocting an entire world out of nothing, you get a lot of leeway on anything from vernacular to what color the sky is.
But writer beware; unlike in the case of the competition-ending math problem in Mean Girls, the limit does indeed exist. I’m talking about grammar, syntax, and edicts having to do with logic and continuity that hold true even when other aspects of storytelling stray into gray areas. And let’s face it; we all need the occasional reminder that we can’t have everything our way, especially those of us who like to play god in our spare time.
Fact: you’re either in the moment or you’re not.
With the exception of flashbacks or dreams woven into the plot and clearly established as such, you have to pick a tense and stick to it for the duration of the tale. Doing the opposite of that is not edgy or a surrealistic approach, and it’s most certainly not a unique take on storytelling (fun fact: most writers consider unique a “nothing” word to be avoided at all costs). It is confusing and off-putting, not to mention a sure way to make your readers tune out before they get even halfway through your narrative.
Fiction: you have to remove adverbs from your vocabulary.
I’m all for cutting down on fluff, but I do believe that there’s still a time and a place for a fitting adverb. Everything in moderation, right? Sure, rather than saying a character “stormed off angrily”, I would advise you let “storm off” speak for itself. On the other hand, occasionally giving some emphasis to a certain tone of voice or attitude with the use of a well-placed adverb (“she smiled wryly”) never hurt anybody. The key is to not go overboard and start spelling everything out for your readers when, with a little more thought and consideration, you could show them what’s going on instead.
Fact: active voice is usually better than passive voice.
While there will be times in which it’s impossible to avoid a passive expression or two, it is in fact always best to defer to the active voice when you can. I notice writers tend to take issue with this most when it comes to describing characters’ actions. Rather than “he’d been running himself ragged for the last week”, try “he ran himself ragged over the last week”. It’s still in past tense (see our very first fact of this post), but the action itself excludes any iteration of “to be”, which keeps it squarely in the active category. In most cases, all it takes is a small tweak or a slight rearranging of your words to make it work.
Fiction: incomplete sentences have no place outside dialogue.
Let’s call this one a half truth since short, punchy expressions can emphasize certain emotions or images. Granted, not only can it get old (quickly), but you run the risk of skimping on important details that will paint more vivid pictures for your audience to indulge in. So, like we established with our first statement of fiction above, writers have to exercise the fine art of moderation on this point as well. In dialogue (which can feasibly encompass direct internal thoughts, by the way), we can get away with the use of incomplete sentences when we argue that pretty much nobody speaks perfectly all the time (even nerds like yours truly). If you want to get away with including them in your exposition, you can make the same case if you’re telling the story in first-person point of view, or you can reserve them for the highly emotional or really intense moments of a story: gut-wrenching grief, near-death experiences, etc.
Fact: catering to your intended audience (at least to some degree) is crucial.
While you’re writing, it’s imperative that you always keep your audience in mind. If you don’t, that awesome, fantastical story you created probably won’t make sense to anyone but you; no one will read the whole befuddling thing, let alone share it, and what’s the point of storytelling if nobody can follow the damn story? So, try to center your thoughts on what happens next while peering through the lens of the people you’re most interested in writing for: certain age groups, specific social standings, those with experience in the given subject matter/event, those who know nothing about it but want to, etc.
Fiction: don’t read unsolicited reviews of your work.
As tempting as it might be to follow through on this half-baked chestnut, I would argue that reviews can help a writer grow even if they’re irrationally scathing or simply contain one word. And, if we’re being honest with ourselves, we’re basically asking for it the minute we release our words into the wild. Regardless, we’d like to think that all book reviewers, beta readers, and editors are created equal, but every so often you’ll get one of those hypercritical folks who seems impossible to please, even if you follow every rule in the book (pun very much intended). When that happens, don’t shut down; use it. Get pissed off if that’s your knee-jerk reaction, but my advice would be to take a breath before you reply, and so you don’t miss out on what that negative feedback can teach you about your writing and—because we know all writers infuse a piece of themselves in everything they create—yourself.
In short, there’s no right or wrong way to write, but there are ways to shoot yourself in the foot if you’re not careful. When in doubt, consult with other word nerds who know their stuff, even as you learn to trust your own gut.
K. Watkins 