The pen may be mightier than the sword, but is it mightier than apathy?
—Kathryn Estrada
You guys. You’re like balm to the editorial soul.
So let’s take this one step further. If good writing is writing that will last, what specifically does that mean?
We know from our discussion of the PW best seller list that a talented writer like Stephen King can still be a blockbuster. We also know that a writer who produces flabby characterization, cliche action and description, and shallow motivation like Mary Higgins Clark can also be a blockbuster. There is no reliable relationship between money and quality.
Jamie has given us a minimum requirement: “‘technically good’ writing – i.e., grammatically correct, proper punctuation.”
I will agree and add my minimum requirement: free of cliches. That means cliche exposition, in which we’re treated to the writer’s ideas, based upon what passes for “right thinking” in this culture at this moment in time, rather than the product of their senses and deeper understanding of their experience here in this mortal coil. It means cliche description, in which female protagonists are always sweet and girlish and male protagonists always tough and manly, all roses are perfumed, all sunsets are glorious, all hearts thrill, pound, and bleed. It also means cliche actions like “grab,” “flop,” stride,” “throb,” “glower,” and “tearing oneself from an embrace.” More than anything, though, it means cliche thinking, stories that guilelessly follow the lifestyle standards set by the advertising industry, telling us nothing new about humanity and, in fact, reinforcing two-dimensional stereotypes that marginalize the real, messy, contradictory, unattractive, insecure, puzzled humanity that lives inside every individual on this earth. Thinking that encourages prejudice against anything that varies from the status quo.
Thinking that pretends being human isn’t as unspeakably complicated as it really is.
What about the rest of you? What are your standards for good writing? You say, “Good writing is writing that lasts,” but since we can’t time-travel, we don’t know what that means for writing that’s being published today. Do you mean, “Writing my college literature professor would like?”
Or can you put it into more detailed terms?
(P.S. Lori, we live on the Redwood Coast. You know—where the housewives are loggers and the loggers are environmentalists and the environmentalists are freaking bonkers.)
That’s an interesting question – what lasts. I did an entire series of posts about this on my blog: the What Is Art? series. And, after all of that, I came to the conclusion that we can’t possibly know what will last; it cannot be pinned down into one explanation or guess. I can, however, speculate that it has to do with explaining the human experience in classic terms that somehow resonate with a large audience. Shakespeare did that, but who knew that his work would resonate for centuries? I’m watching Hamlet as we speak, and well, it’s not a story that others haven’t told a thousand times over and over, but it seems universal in the way Shakespeare told it. The version I am watching is edgy and modern and it works. The play works no matter what setting you put it in. That ability to conform to any setting says something about the story – and whatever that something is – that’s what makes it last.
I just babbled here. Forgive me. Great question, though. I’m interested to see what others say.
Writing Definitions:
Good – I don’t know. Ask Victoria.
Better – that which Victoria sends back to you when she’s done with it,
Best – see definition for “Good,”
OMG! I’ve been quoted!!! 🙂
I most definitely agree with Jeffrey re: better writing.
I would have to say becoming a parent gives you a specific perspective on what makes a great book. I remember my little brother could not wait for his son to learn to read so he could give him a certain dog book (Maybe Big Red?) It was a reading experience he could not wait to share with his son.
So, maybe the definition is that simple. Something within the story speaks so clearly to a reader that she is compelled to share it with others. I wanted my children to love the Black Stallion series. They did not. Those books saved my life, but didn’t have the resonance to survive a new generation’s taste – part two of establishing the definition of a great book – an appeal that spans time and a variety of tastes.
I like that word – glower. Darn it. When did it become cliche?
K
OK, I was guilty of the time machine argument so I’d better have another go.
Good fiction writing, in my opinion, has depth. There are currents of ideas underlying the surface of the words, so that at some point in the book you realize that there is much more to the text than meets the eye. I have been known to sit up straight and yell at this point.
It has meaning. It gives the reader something to think about, touches a deeper part of the brain than the one that’s just being entertained by the story.
It flows. The sentences are never awkward (or if they are, it’s for a reason), the characters are believable, the settings have solidity. It doesn’t make you pause and think: really? or stumble over a sentence and reread it to see if you have the sense right.
It is memorable. If a writer’s words or images are still in my brain years later, that’s usually a sign that they are truly well written. I can’t STAND Stephen King but I have to agree, reluctantly, that you’re right because those of his books that I have read are etched on my memory, as much as I’d like to get rid of them.
It sparkles. That’s really hard to define; it’s star quality, the thing that enables coaches to pick that one kid out of a whole group of five-year-olds. I truly believe that great writers HAVE to have this sparkle. The rest will still sell their books, because as we all know bestsellers are often not great books. I also 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.
I have read good writing in all sorts of genres and styles, and even seen cliche, bad grammar and offbeat punctuation done well. But that’s the tiny exception to the rule, and the rest of us need to strive not to offend the reader’s brain.
Well, thanks, Victoria, for forcing me into a corner and making me define my terms. And I should add that even great writers need a good editor!
That’s what I meant to say!
So we’ve got:
* technically good, i.e. proper grammar & punctuation
* cliche-free
* explains the human condition in terms that resonate
* conforms to any setting
* compels the reader to share it
* has underlying currents, more than meets the eye
* makes the reader think
* makes the reader remember it
* sparkles
And from Twitter comments:
* honest, succinct, funny, engaging
* has periods at the ends of sentences
I do believe we’ve come full circle!
Anybody want to add to this? Elaborate? Attempt a single, overriding, coherent definition that hits all points?
I think the ultimate fallacy is that we *can* define, in concrete terms, what “good writing” is. After more thought, I’ll even retract my own requirements of technically sound writing. I can’t stand Faulker in large part due to his writing style and grammatical disrespect, but I found James Joyce to be fascinating and enjoyable to read, and I wouldn’t consider either of those authors bound by technical “rules”. Victoria doesn’t like cliches using a very broad definition, but I love to read flowery, dramatic prose – A.S. Byatt (sp?) comes to mind (I don’t use it myself – doesn’t fit my voice). I don’t care for Stephen King’s writing style at all, aside from his memoir.
I think I’d agree with Kathryn. If there must be one, all-encompassing definition of “good writing”, I think it would be whatever speaks most clearly to the reader on a deeper level. I’ve experienced that with everything from classics to contemporary romance and even techno-thrillers. Which kind of goes full circle back to the argument that it’s the story that matters more than the actual words(would that be the “sparkly” effect Jane mentioned?).
And in that respect, it’s just like any other art. There’s no way to predict what will or won’t resonate with someone – even Mary Higgins Clark has probably touched a reader or two on a deeper level. It’s intensely personal, something we all have to define for ourselves. What “lasts” will be whatever resonates with the most people at any given time – and that’s constantly changing too, in my opinion.
Oh, you know us writers. We need a definition for everything….so we can copy it! 🙂
K