I believe that writers who have the sparkle suspect, but never know for certain, that they have it. In fact they’re more likely to have doubts about their work, for the simple reason that they experience glimpses of a perfection that no human pen can ever achieve.
—Jane Steen
This is fabulous material, folks. I love what you’re doing here.
Lady Glamis, please do not apologize for “babbling.” I’d be thrilled to see more of this from you.
Jeffrey, you’re hilarious. I know you’re working your butt off at your craft, and it shows in the stuff you send me.
Kathryn, I’m sorry about “glower.” It’s like “interpolate,” one of those weird, complex words writers used to be able to use with a liberal hand. Unfortunately, certain ones just got beat to death and have had to be retired, and even the ones that didn’t get beat to death became exceptional enough that they began drawing attention to themselves and also had to be retired. There’s a great deal of this kind of thing going on in the evolution of literature, reflecting in part the increasing invisibility of the writer—an improvement—and in part the simplification of the common reader’s vocabulary.
And Jane, you’re like a fountain of clarity. What a wonderful list of standards you have.
I’ve also received a couple of responses on Twitter:
Howard Freeman, @meadonmanhattan, offers the four qualities honest, succinct, funny, engaging, although he says he could live without succinct and funny so long as it’s honest and engaging.
While Debra Schubert, @dlschubert, says she just hopes there are periods at the ends of the sentences. Minimalist, indeed.
Now, one thing that’s come up is the possibility that great writing can be created through breaking all of our standards to smithereens. And, as Flannery O’Connor said, “You can do anything in fiction that you can get away with. Unfortunately, nobody’s ever gotten away with much.”
Jack Kerouac complained mightily in the Paris Review that his editor at Viking, the legendary Malcolm Cowley, insisted on putting commas into On the Road. Considering they spent an entire month on the manuscript—some of which was typed on sheets of paper taped together and some on other pieces of manuscript Kerouac had written in the San Francisco attic of Carolyn and Neal Cassady—I’m guessing there was more to it than wrangling over commas. Kerouac wanted to break the basic rules. Would he have succeeded? Well, he did produce a plethora of novels after On the Road, none of which I find as clear and compelling as the first one. I don’t know how much his editor had to do with how the others turned out, but considering that authors are commonly indulged, whether it’s a good idea or not, once they’ve made a name and a pile for their publisher, I’m going to guess On the Road got more editorial attention than the later works. I think it shows.
But the question is now: what’s the definition of bad writing? If you can break all the rules and still do well, can you follow all the rules and still produce CRAP?
How would you go about doing this, folks. . .if you were so inclined?
