Remaking Style Guides – Draft #2 (Post Peer Review)
Do not end a sentence with a preposition.
Do not start a sentence with “but” or “and”.
Do not verbify nouns.
Or make up words.
Since the first hieroglyph was scratched on the wall of a pyramid, someone has been looking over the shoulders of writers everywhere in order to dictate the ways in which that writing could be better. 
The above mentioned rules are a few of the ones that people have encountered in various style guides, English and writing classes, and as angry red words on the margins of a paper. Rules that appear to be like the English language: arbitrary and contradictory. For instance, if you are making a rebuttal to a statement, yes – there are plenty of ways to make a rebuttal statement other than using the word but. But isn’t it more impactful to get right to the point of your response? And, to use another, prettier word looks good on paper, but goes away from plain speaking and can turn off a reader.
And that seems to be the point: to make writing as far removed from plain speaking as possible.
Writing has been thought of as many things over time. Phaedrus thought it to be untrue and lower than oration. Shakespeare loved language and writing so much that he made up words that are still used today. However, writing is both and neither of those things. Furthermore, writing is an extension of the spoken word. It is the physical manifestation of our thoughts, opinions, beliefs, and passions. Language and the style that we use to express them are ever-evolving. Style guides, while very helpful in general, seem to be stuck in a time where plain speaking is just not as valued as flowery prose or high-falutin’ education speak. What some writers need is help for the writing that is for neither. What some writers need, and hopefully that writer is you, this is a style guide for those who want to write popular fiction. Hopefully, that is what this will provide. If not, toss it up there with the other style guides you bought in college. Strunk and White could probably use a new friend.
Don’t Know It? Can’t Write It. Wrong.
In my first grade classroom, the students are often asked to do either prompted writing or freeform journal writing. For the most part, they are not corrected on spelling, grammar, or content, however we do have them fix basic punctuation and sentence structure as they begin to learn the rules. One of the things I find interesting about these writing exercises is how brutally honest and factual some of the entries are. Some kids will only write about the things they have done. They include all of the salient details – the where, who, how, etc. But the ones that write fantastical stories? Hoo boy are those some stories. Details so intricate, you would think that these were seasoned writers if it weren’t for the strictly phonetical spelling. These children are writing about things that they have no prior knowledge of and no practical use for: a princess tea party, housing 1000 butterflies in their bedroom, or flying to Jupiter. As teachers, we encourage their imagination. But eventually, these kids have it drummed into their head that they should write about things they know and only things they know. If that was strictly adhered to, there would be entire genres of literature – science and speculative fiction and fantasy, to name a few – that did not exist. Now, the argument is made that a lot of these books and stories are allegorical in their plots, themes, and messages, and that the settings are just the background and not as important as the meaning behind the words. But without the detailed backgrounds there would be no back world. Imagine Lord of the Rings set in Tolkien’s London instead of the Shire and Mordor. Writing what we know is, almost always, the basis on which we base our writing. But to limit ourselves to only that which we know is a waste of the possibilities that writing can provide. To spin wild tales in order to put off our grisly demise or to entertain millions with fictional characters so real that the readers relate to and sympathize with them is not something that can always be taught. Sometimes, it is inherently there in the mangled spelling of a six year old writing about the skeletons that come out to dance on her bed on Halloween night. Why should that talent and instinct be drummed out of her because she doesn’t REALLY know about dancing skeletons? We only diminish ourselves and our existence when we look to diminish budding writers’ imaginations.
Please, if You Will, in the Name of Being Concise, Make Better Use of Language and Keep Your Writing as Free from Wordiness as You Possibly Can. Unless Your Word Choice is Awesome.
As the cartoon implies, concision is not always good. You can not, nor should you try, to melt everything down into short phrases, just in the name of clarity. Clarity, above all, is ultimately the goal. If your readers can not understand what it is you are writing about, what theme you are trying to portray with your characters, settings, and plots, then there is no point to your story and you will not sell very many copies of your book. On the flip side, if you don’t use language that evokes emotion and empathy and really connects your reader to the character and plot, you probably won’t have many fans. Shakespeare, Carroll, the Brontes – these are all great examples of authors who used language to build and mold their Properos, Alices, and Janes into a rich and engaging existence. Using concision in your writing needs to be done with a careful hand, and needs to keep true to your character. Remember – show, don’t tell.
The basic rules I like to apply are these:
- Rich, descriptive language is for scenery and the painting of emotions and relationships. Save your verbosity for omniscient narration or internal soliloquy.
Example: “Eliza felt tired, hungry, and alone. Her bad day just seemed to never end.” Sure, it tells you what Eliza is feeling and what, generally, is the cause. But can you connect with her, just on these basic statements? Do you really feel her emotions as though they were your own? Probably not. Consider this revision:
“Eliza felt her day in the smallest bones in her body and the large hole where her stomach used to be. She ached with frustration and despair at the prospect of spending another night clutching a pillow. Sure, goose down held body heat better than polyfil, but at the end of the night, it wasn’t a substitute for a warm body. “Great”, she thought incredulously. “Another perfect ending to another perfect day. And seven more hours to go until tomorrow.”
2. Dialogue is where you really want to make sure to apply your editing hand – most dialogue is not filled with exposition and highly-detailed descriptions.
Example: “Sam, have you seen my letter jacket, which I earned in 12th grade for tennis and swimming? You know, the one that I placed the entirety of my personality in and would be utterly bereft if any ill were to befall it?”
“Sorry, Bill. I have not. Maybe check in mom’s attic? That is normally where she puts things to gather dust, much like your backhand.”
Ok, so you want to establish the importance of the letter jacket and the banter between the brothers. Instead of being concise and using two sentences, spread it out over a conversation. This kills both your exposition and banter in one fell swoop.
“Hey, Sam. Do you know where Mom put my letter jacket?”
“Dude, it’s probably in the attic gathering dust.”
“Really? Shoot. I need to wear it tomorrow.”
“Why? Trying to relive your Big Man on Campus days or seeing if that’s where you left your backhand?”
“Shut it, butthead. You’re just jealous I was more popular in 12th grade than you ever were in 12 years.”
“Yeah, I was jealous of a dude that shaved his legs for swim meets. Whatev. Look in the attic, Superstar.”
Ah, the split infinitive. To split an infinitive, a writer takes the adverb, and instead of putting it in front of the word “to” or after the verb it is referring to, to put it smack in between. I have no idea why this rule came to be. Some sources say that it came down from the fourteenth century. It sounds like a fourteenth century rule. However, I don’t buy into it. It goes against the rules of grammar. To modify a noun, you put the adjective right in front: the yellow bus, the red flower, the crappy paper. Why wouldn’t you do the same with a verb, regardless of the word “to”? Why is that word so powerful as to be able to dictate where my adverb goes? It provides description – to boldly go – as well as emphasis – to emphatically deny – to the verb. It is a way to use these different pieces of grammar in ways that make our writing more interesting to the reader. And really, readers are why most writers write: the audience.
Example: Let’s take the phrase: “to boldly go”. This phrase, used in the opening sequence of the Star Trek television show and movies, is memorable and one of the most famous uses of a split infinitive. The “proper” phrase, “to go boldly”, is clunky and not as elegant, even though it abides by the rule.
Aggression towards the Passive
Like split infinitives, writers are advised to avoid the passive voice for fear of the focus being placed where it should not be or is not intended to be. However, if the writing itself is clear and concise, then there should not be a question as to where the focus is.
Example: Let’s take this quote by Winston Churchill: “It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried.” To remove the passive voice and replace the verb, would change the sentence to “Democracy is the worst form of government except all the others.” More “correct”? Sure. But again, to use the passive voice lends style and impact to this sentence.
But don’t sweat it out all the time, especially for fiction. If you wrote it and you like it and it is getting your point across, then you should be passive. If it’s good enough for Churchill, it’s good enough for you.
Comma and Semicolon Usage is Very Important; Please, for the Love of all that is Holy, Figure This Out
I’m putting aside my verbosity and (bad) attempts at humor on this one. Learn your rules on comma and semicolon usage. Please. The rules, which should be considered concrete and permanent, are this:
Comma:
1. Use a comma to join two independent thoughts WITH a conjunction. Examples of conjunctions are: and, but, for, or, nor, so, yet.
Example: I have written this paper, and I will now go to bed.
2. Use a comma to separate items in a list.
Example: I need to buy soap, towels, and fruit.
Semicolon:
Use a semicolon to join two independent thoughts WITHOUT a conjunction.
Example: I have written this paper; I will now go to bed.
Capitalize the word AFTER the semicolon.
