Ten Rules I Don't Agree With

I picked up a book at the library today and read it in about ten minutes.  Considering that this book is 89 pages that might seem fantastical or impossible.  The book is Elmore Leonard's 10 Rules of Writing and while, just as I had suspected, I found that I already knew of these rules through various means, I learned something much more interesting through reading this book.  I learned of true pretentiousness.  Surely I am not alone in this assessment but even if I am, I stand by it.  This book is nothing if not a lesson in the snobbery of fiction writers.  On the very first page Leonard tells us: 

"These are rules I've picked up along the way to help me remain invisible when I'm writing a book, to help me show rather than tell what's taking place in the story.  If you have a facility for language and imagery and the sound of your voice pleases you, invisibility is not what you are after, and you can skip the rules.  Still, you might look them over."

This on its own would not strike me as overly condescending (perhaps a bit confrontational and accusing), but when combined with the rest of the book, I feel that, right there in the first blurb, he draws the line between what is wrong and what is his way.  The book continues on to list the ten rules while making extreme use of white space and drawings.  Sitting at the library and reading through it, I couldn't help but wonder why he didn't make it an essay or a pamphlet instead of a book.  The rules are terse and his thoughts and examples concerning them are just as terse.  But this does not annoy me as much as what he says after nearly every rule: don't do this unless you are (insert name of various authors whom Leonard respects).  If you are one of these people then the rule does not apply to you.  This is incredibly belittling.  What if I'm the next great Steinbeck, or Conrad, or Joyce Carol Oates?  What if I'm better than them?  What if my descriptions are paramount to anything Leonard has ever read?  Overall, I see the validity behind his rules but dislike greatly that he goes on to excuse others of these rules just because they are somehow better writers than I am.  

He speaks a good deal about removing himself from the writing and letting the characters do their job in showing and revealing the story at hand.  I agree with this, but I don't agree with him that we have to step back from describing places and things and even what the characters themselves look like.  My rule of thumb, forgive the cliche, is to make everything count.  When I describe the main character my aim is to give the reader some greater insight about him or her and not to 'listen to the sound of my own voice.'  

The Rules are as follows:

1. Never open a book with weather.  (Unless you're Barry Lopez)
2. Avoid Prologues.  (Excepting of course if you are John Steinbeck)  
3. Never use a verb other than "said" to carry dialogue. 
4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb "said"...
5. Keep your exclamation points under control.  (Unless you are Tom Wolfe)
6. Never use the words "suddenly" or "all hell breaks loose."
7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.  (Unless you are Annie Proulx)
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters. 
9. Don't go into great detail describing places and things.  (Unless you're Margaret Atwood or Jim Harrison)
10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.

Of these rules, the last is the one I actually do agree with, it also happens to be a suggestion that Monica Wood touched upon in The Pocket Muse.  It is important to cut the fat and keep the meat but why not make the meat as appealing or as mysterious as possible through use of adverbs and adjectives and clever turns of phrase and intriguing dialogue?  On the subject of adverbs, however, Leonard not only abhors the use of them to describe 'said' but considers any use of them to be a writing mortal sin.  I am confused by this.  I thought adverbs were a part of speech, modifiers which might facilitate understanding or add to the intensity of a scene.  Perhaps he had a bad experience with an adverb a long time ago and just hasn't let go of it yet.  It seems to me that these rules are not so much rules for writing, but a segregation tool attempting to place the principles of fiction on a pedestal over the lesser form of genre and bumbling genre writers, which is interesting since Leonard himself is a genre based writer.  It is important to remember, especially when looking at a list of rules such as this, that there is such a thing as 'bad' literary fiction and 'good' genre fiction.  The lines that divide the two forms can be blurred and even erased.  Rules are never absolute in writing.  Never.  You learn them to break them and then you break them as beautifully and startlingly as you can using the parts of speech that best serve to communicate the story.  Maybe that was his real goal behind this book.  Maybe he set out these rules hoping that we would break some of them, and, if that's the case, then I am more than happy to comply.

Reading Backwards

Perhaps it is because of my natural proclivity to look for other ways to accomplish rather obvious tasks, or perhaps I just like being difficult, no matter the wherefore, I have lately found that reading backwards is not only enjoyable, but preferable.  This does not work with novels, of course, but it works wonderfully for guides and reference books.  When I read through The Pocket Muse, I used two book marks, one indicating where I was in going from the beginning and one indicating where I was in reading segment by segment backwards from the end.  When I met at the middle, I was finished.  In reading Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones I read the foreword and the introduction, wherein Goldberg indicated that the book could be read in any order desired since each chapter is written as completely as possible, and then proceeded to skip merrily along to the epilogue.  I am a third in from the end now.

Earlier today I analyzed exactly why this reverse reading appeals to me and concluded that it all comes down to the bookmark.  When it is close to the end (or the beginning as the case may be) it makes it seem as if you are almost done with the book, and when it is near the beginning (or the end, you get it, I'm sure) it looks as if you're starting nice and fresh.  In the end it is nothing more than a mind trick that has, thus far, helped me to push forward (backward) with little heed to the logistics.  Something that I've picked up from reading these texts is that it is good to alter routine once in a while, find a new perspective, and shake things up and in reading backwards I am putting theory into practice in a small and tangible way.  In high school we were encouraged to edit for spelling by reading our own essays backwards thereby removing the context of each sentence and leaving the word naked and obvious in its errors.  Walking backwards works a completely different set of muscles, checking off the last item on a to-do list can make everything else seem more manageable, and starting a story at the end can free up a writer in ways they never imagined.

The Pocket Muse by Monica Wood

I recently came across a neat little book.  The Pocket Muse: Ideas and Inspiration for Writing by Monica Wood is everything that the title advertises.  In addition to having a variety of creative writing prompts, style suggestions, helpful quotes, relevant anecdotes and words of encouragement, it has a fun format that makes it accessible to someone as scatter brained as myself.  I will be sharing many of the writing exercises contained within the book through the Detangled Writers blog, but there was something I read tonight that I wanted to share here.

Don't write to hurt. Understand that a line exists between your story and somebody else' privacy. This line is zigzaggy at best, and it takes a clear eye to follow its path. Writers have the right to write. We know this. But there's a difference between writing to purge and writing to illuminate.

I have known a couple of people who wrote for revenge; as far as I can tell, publication didn't make them feel any better. Of course the worst part is that vengeful writing usually isn't good; that's what personal journals are for, to college that bad, small, narrow-eyed writing and keep it private.  

If you are embarking on a piece of writing you believe you'll have to shield from certain readers - a family member, a former friend, an erstwhile lover - think it through before beginning. My advice is to wait six months. There are so many other things to write!  If in six months the story is still lodged within your gut, that's probably a sign that the story needs writing. But be careful.

Wood, Monica. The Pocket Muse: Ideas and Inspirations for Writing. Cincinnati, Ohio, 2002

This got me to thinking mainly about Facebook and how it has become nothing more than a battleground of volatile mud slinging all under the guise of innocent social networking.  I don't like propaganda on Facebook.  I don't like the attacks on political beliefs, slams on sexual or gender orientations, and I loathe the volumes of religious and atheistic condemnations.  I don't like hate speech of any kind and I especially despise it on Facebook.  But it's not so much a personal preference as a deep founded belief that it does not belong there.  Put such content in private blogs and in personal journals, or talk to like minded people over the phone.  But please, do not write to hurt.  Even a simple status message.  And pressing 'share' is the same as writing it yourself.  It's tiresome and, just as Monica Wood stated, it's not good writing.