Philosophizing—drawing a line between good & bad

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?

5 thoughts on “Philosophizing—drawing a line between good & bad

  1. Lady Glamis says:

    Well, if you really want me to babble… more like rant, here I go!

    I’ve had about enough of people and blogs telling me what is GOOD and what is BAD and what is worth publishing. I think a lot of that has to do with the genre that is hot right now, and I suppose it’s just me diving into the blogosphere and finally seeing what the industry is really like and what people feel is good these days. I’ve seen people follow all the rules and produce crap, yes. Many times. In fact, I’ve done it myself.

    Right now I’m working on a novella that I’m writing the way I want to write it and I don’t care what other people say it should be. I’m going to make it the best thing for ME to have written, the best thing I have ever written up to date, and if it still doesn’t measure up to what everyone thinks is GOOD, well, whatever. I’ve never produced anything that I feel is truly great, but I keep aiming for it.

    I am getting so bitter, and that’s not a good thing, and I think it’s because I spend too much time reading too many blogs and too many opinions and too many rules that everyone keeps throwing around. Who’s making these rules, anyway?

    I do believe there are certain forms and standards that BASIC storytelling needs to follow, certain roles characters need to fill, etc., But beyond that it’s personal preference. Of course, if you’re not willing to do what it takes to produce work that a publishing house will love, then that’s something you’ll have to come to terms with. I do believe, however, that some of the best artists and writers and musicians out there are the ones who dance to their own beat and block out everyone telling them the beat is wrong. Until, of course, it’s time to dance with everyone else and then they are all ears and eyes. But I guess that’s the point, isn’t it? Or is it?

    Bad writing, to me, if I must give out a definition, is writing in which the author has (1) not been honest in content or effort, (2) not done homework on basic storytelling skills and use of grammar and applied those things in the writing, (3) not done enough writing practice in the past to produce sufficiently better work each time they sit down to tell a story

  2. Kathryn says:

    I happen to be an expert on bad writing, so this question is right up my alley. (please note cliche)

    I agree with Lady Glamis though – too many people telling too many other people what is good and bad. And the other blogger was right too – a good book is a personal thing. (Great really does sparkle!!)

    Most of us only read published work – so are we asking about poor writing or poor editing? The book I was fuming over yesterday (with two nearly identical sentences and anacrhonisms) could easily have been improved by an editor paying attention. This whole book was sunk for me because of a couple of little fixes.

    But here’s what I would add to LG’s list: dumbed down, predictable story line, ripped-off story line touted as original, children’s characters put in needlessly violent or sexual situations, a book that doesn’t live up to its cover (put the work in the story, please). Curse words in place of more descriptive language (please see Gregory Peck in 12 o’clock High), characters who make totally stupid decisions to further the plot. (Do not open the door when you hear something scratching against it!) Deus ex machina (please see War of the Worlds).

    That was a much easier question, Victoria. Thanks for the break.

  3. Jeffrey Russell says:

    Lady Glamis, thanks for bringing artists and musicians into the discussion. I often think of writing in terms of other creative mediums. I know stories ain’t songs, and songs ain’t sculptures. But you know what? Creativity is creativity. Passion is passion. Emotion expressed honestly is no less valid in one medium than another. I’ve chosen to work with the written word. But the sad and ridiculous state of the publishing industry flattens my hopes while fueling frustration and cynicism. In a music analogy writers everywhere are faced with a ridiculous “group-think” of agents and publishers who spend too much time saying “Yeah, it’s a good, but you can’t dance to it. We’re only looking for dance music.” Well, you know what? I like to dance as much as the next guy. And there certainly is a lot of other people who like to dance, too. But it’s a chicken and egg thing. Do people buy mostly dance music because that’s what is mostly available? Or is so much dance music produced because that’s what people mostly want?

    There was a time when Columbia Records, the biggest, baddest label on the planet, declared “Boy bands won’t ever sell.” Tiny EMI Records said “You know what? These guys have pretty good songs. Let’s sign ‘em.” Because of that the world got The Beatles. So much for “group-think,” or corporate men deciding what the public wants.

    Agent blogs everywhere swear they are all looking for good stories, good writers, good books. I don’t believe them. They are looking for something they can sell. Here’s something to think about. You don’t actually need a good song (or even good musicians) to dance. The most important thing is a good beat. The best selling authors generally have a really, really good beat. But not much else.

    Publishers are not looking for a writer with a better mousetrap so that they might profit by leading the world to that writer’s door. They’re looking for the same old mousetrap, but in a new color, with new packaging. How many people do you think there are in the publishing world right now who are willing to say “You know, this is a different kind of mousetrap from we’ve been selling, but I think it’s pretty good. Let’s find a way to sell this one.”

    I’m with you, Lady Glamis. I’m going to sit right here, at my cruddy little desk, with my old, out-of-date computer, and try to create the best fiction I can. Whatever happens after that, well, who knows? Doesn’t change a thing for me right now, though.

  4. Howard says:

    I resonate with Jeffrey: I find that writers with good cadence and rhythm–if that’s what he means by ‘beat’– are the ones I really enjoy. Anne Lamott has it, for instance. E.B. White. There’s a dance quality to their sentences.

  5. Lady Glamis says:

    Kathryn, Jeffrey, and Howard: I’m very happy to see I’m not alone in this. The publishing industry is frustrating. I do understand where it’s coming from, and I do think there are agents out there looking for something truly unique and literary that sings a different tune, even if it’s a super-hard sale and probably won’t get printed on anything but a small press. Still, the Pulitzer Prize winner in fiction this year went to a NOVELLA printed on a SMALL PRESS. I mean, that’s encouraging and hopeful, I think. So I try not to let the publishing industry get me down, and I do revel in the fact that there is still good fiction out there and it is recognized. I don’t know how good this little novella winner is, but I’ll definitely be reading it to find out.

    You know, the longer I write the more I see that it’s those who are in their corners quietly writing away that are producing the best work out there. Unfortunately the huge masses don’t usually like that best work. Oh, well. It will be what lasts in the long run, I think.

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