Writing style
November 13th 2009 00:53
Dear PR,
It's difficult to tell you why I write in the way that I write. Everyone's words are shaped by their genes and personalities, and by their experiences -- the books they read, the TV they watch, the people they hang out with, the teachers that have shouted at them... All these things leave a mark. So I'm skeptical you'd be able to mimic me precisely. And I doubt there's a good reason for wanting to mimic me -- there's nothing valuable or out-of-the-ordinary in my style (or lack thereof).
But there have been things that I've told myself -- because there have been times when I've consciously tried to write in this or that way (just as there have been times when I've intentionally changed my handwriting -- a "7" with a stroke through the middle looks much more interesting to me than a "7" without).
Here's nine of them.
1. Try to capture the way you pre-reflectively speak -- the natural sounds and ryhthms, the natural progression of thought.
I remember this idea being liberating when I first encountered it: -- Don't worry about style, and don't tortuously try to analyze and copy other people. Instead, let yourself speak as you speak -- then write it all down. Work out the best way to use punctuation to transcribe yourself accurately.
Everyone has verbal mannerisms, linguistic quirks, vocal tics. Everyone has a distinctive style, though they might not realize it.
2. Aim for clarity of effect.
In acting, it's sometimes considered a virtue for "actions" to be unambiguous and specific, and I suppose I adopt a similar value in writing.
I delete a lot. If I can function without an extra word, I'll likely make the choice to crop it. If it doesn't add, it probably detracts. I prefer deserts to lush gardens.
Brevity is often the result, but not always, because clear communication sometimes requires more rather than fewer words, and because communication isn't the be-all and end-all.
You see, there's at least two clarities to aim for.
On the one hand, you can write for clarity of meaning.
On the other hand, you can write for clarity of "effect", which includes a hundred things -- mood, emotion, sound and musicality, suggested thoughts, progression of thought... There's question-and-answer patterns in the course of a sentence. There's suspense as you await grammatical completion. There's teasing. There's mental engagement.
I once spoke of searching for a key to fit many locks.
I try to create exactly what I want, neither more nor less (and I almost always fail).
3. Be sensitive to effect.
Ask yourself, for instance, what the difference is between saying a thing one way, and saying it another.
There's always a difference.
What difference does it make to lose a comma.
4. Keep polishing.
I read and reread.
Don't lie to yourself. Don't sweep anything under the carpet.
If there's an itch, scratch it. You'll often be surprised what you find.
This is not a case of being endlessly critical: when there are no more itches, you should stop scratching.
A danger, though, that I frequently succumb to is mannered overpolish and lack of spontaneity.
5. Brainstorm first, reason after.
Get it all down first, in bits and pieces, and only afterwards try to make sense of it. Don't polish and build before your brainstorming is complete.
After the initial period of free association, ideas will continue to occur to you. So be sure to grab those additional ideas before they escape, and mix them into your piece as it develops.
Composers often work this way.
There will always be a war in you between chaos and control, freedom and technique, spontaneity and polish, instinct and culture, consciousness and unconsciousness.
There is also a conflict between self and community. I pray for moments when the language itself takes over. It's boring to know exactly where you're going.
In creative collaboration, two people can dream up something that neither of them, individually, would have been capable of. But even when you're the sole creator, there is a dialogue between past and future self, and between the words in your head and the words on the page.
6. Be attentive to, sensitive to, and judgmental of words generally. Be particular and pedantic.
If you don't practise continuously, how would you learn?
7. Always carry a notepad and a pencil (pens sometimes leak).
8. Proceed from real life.
I find invention difficult: it's much easier, and produces better results, to describe what's already there.
Reality is always more complex, satisfying, and surprising.
The same seems true of other arts. In cinematography, you may find that some of your best shots, and some of the best lighting effects, can come from documentary, from perspectives you chance upon. Whereas, when you try to plan something -- "Put the 1000W fresnel here with a diffusion filter, put the 500W over there" -- sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't.
When you try to invent, you're often led back to the already-written -- you make copies of copies -- you journey towards cliche and sentimentality.
9. Proceed from the already-written. Use cliche when it's appropriate. Study the works of masters. Memorize passages you like.
Of course, "9" contradicts "8".
A final thought: all the above are personal preferences. They're my aesthetics for my own writing. All the "Do this" and "Don't do that" are addressed to myself.
I value different things in other people's writings, and I don't believe there is a best way to write.
It's difficult to tell you why I write in the way that I write. Everyone's words are shaped by their genes and personalities, and by their experiences -- the books they read, the TV they watch, the people they hang out with, the teachers that have shouted at them... All these things leave a mark. So I'm skeptical you'd be able to mimic me precisely. And I doubt there's a good reason for wanting to mimic me -- there's nothing valuable or out-of-the-ordinary in my style (or lack thereof).
But there have been things that I've told myself -- because there have been times when I've consciously tried to write in this or that way (just as there have been times when I've intentionally changed my handwriting -- a "7" with a stroke through the middle looks much more interesting to me than a "7" without).
Here's nine of them.
***
1. Try to capture the way you pre-reflectively speak -- the natural sounds and ryhthms, the natural progression of thought.
I remember this idea being liberating when I first encountered it: -- Don't worry about style, and don't tortuously try to analyze and copy other people. Instead, let yourself speak as you speak -- then write it all down. Work out the best way to use punctuation to transcribe yourself accurately.
Everyone has verbal mannerisms, linguistic quirks, vocal tics. Everyone has a distinctive style, though they might not realize it.
2. Aim for clarity of effect.
In acting, it's sometimes considered a virtue for "actions" to be unambiguous and specific, and I suppose I adopt a similar value in writing.
I delete a lot. If I can function without an extra word, I'll likely make the choice to crop it. If it doesn't add, it probably detracts. I prefer deserts to lush gardens.
Brevity is often the result, but not always, because clear communication sometimes requires more rather than fewer words, and because communication isn't the be-all and end-all.
You see, there's at least two clarities to aim for.
On the one hand, you can write for clarity of meaning.
On the other hand, you can write for clarity of "effect", which includes a hundred things -- mood, emotion, sound and musicality, suggested thoughts, progression of thought... There's question-and-answer patterns in the course of a sentence. There's suspense as you await grammatical completion. There's teasing. There's mental engagement.
I once spoke of searching for a key to fit many locks.
I try to create exactly what I want, neither more nor less (and I almost always fail).
3. Be sensitive to effect.
Ask yourself, for instance, what the difference is between saying a thing one way, and saying it another.
There's always a difference.
What difference does it make to lose a comma.
4. Keep polishing.
I read and reread.
Don't lie to yourself. Don't sweep anything under the carpet.
If there's an itch, scratch it. You'll often be surprised what you find.
This is not a case of being endlessly critical: when there are no more itches, you should stop scratching.
A danger, though, that I frequently succumb to is mannered overpolish and lack of spontaneity.
5. Brainstorm first, reason after.
Get it all down first, in bits and pieces, and only afterwards try to make sense of it. Don't polish and build before your brainstorming is complete.
After the initial period of free association, ideas will continue to occur to you. So be sure to grab those additional ideas before they escape, and mix them into your piece as it develops.
Composers often work this way.
There will always be a war in you between chaos and control, freedom and technique, spontaneity and polish, instinct and culture, consciousness and unconsciousness.
There is also a conflict between self and community. I pray for moments when the language itself takes over. It's boring to know exactly where you're going.
In creative collaboration, two people can dream up something that neither of them, individually, would have been capable of. But even when you're the sole creator, there is a dialogue between past and future self, and between the words in your head and the words on the page.
6. Be attentive to, sensitive to, and judgmental of words generally. Be particular and pedantic.
If you don't practise continuously, how would you learn?
7. Always carry a notepad and a pencil (pens sometimes leak).
8. Proceed from real life.
I find invention difficult: it's much easier, and produces better results, to describe what's already there.
Reality is always more complex, satisfying, and surprising.
The same seems true of other arts. In cinematography, you may find that some of your best shots, and some of the best lighting effects, can come from documentary, from perspectives you chance upon. Whereas, when you try to plan something -- "Put the 1000W fresnel here with a diffusion filter, put the 500W over there" -- sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't.
When you try to invent, you're often led back to the already-written -- you make copies of copies -- you journey towards cliche and sentimentality.
9. Proceed from the already-written. Use cliche when it's appropriate. Study the works of masters. Memorize passages you like.
Of course, "9" contradicts "8".
***
A final thought: all the above are personal preferences. They're my aesthetics for my own writing. All the "Do this" and "Don't do that" are addressed to myself.
I value different things in other people's writings, and I don't believe there is a best way to write.
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