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Are You A Writing Fashionista?

Posted in On Writing by Rachel on the August 13th, 2007

Or perhaps a Style Snob?  Are you so hung up on what’s marketable and “in” and what the acceptable “tags” are that you don’t pay attention to anything else in what’s being written and what’s being read? Do you poopoo past classical authors as being anachronistic simply because they don’t move fast enough for your post-modern 21st century gotta have the most recent technology and no attention span life? If so, you’ll probably be really irritated with this blog and should probably move on to something else.

When I was growing up and daydreaming about being a writer, the LAST thing I thought about was fashion or style. Well, maybe I thought a bit about what I would be wearing whilst signing books, or spent some consideration on what made up correct writer’s togs (sweater and jeans or tshirt and shorts were my two favorite choices) but that’s about it.  One of the reasons I was drawn to writing was because I wanted to create my own worlds in my own way without any inference from anyone else. And I also knew that it wouldn’t matter what I looked like or how old I was, because those things don’t matter in writing like they do in other professions.

I wanted that freedom to be me in my writing.  I still believe in that freedom, just as I still believe that I should be able to wear whatever I want to work. As long as I get the job done and I’m modestly covered and hygenically clean, it’s no one else’s business how I dress for work.

Recently, however, I’ve come to realize how much of a “high fashion” industry writing has become.  I’m not just talking how suddenly it’s very important whether or not a writer is attractive or young enough to spew out a best seller a year for their publishing house, I’m also talking about the style of writing now viewed as acceptable in the world.

In the introduction to George MacDonald’s Lilith, C.S. Lewis talks about the difference between how a story is written, and the story itself. What makes it a classic story? Lewis points out that MacDonald was a writer of his time. He was from the early 19th century and son of a Presbyterian minister and he had a particular florid style of writing that many people could not get through in Lewis’ time and most people can’t through in the 21st century.  However, the stories he wrote (The Light Princess, The Princess and Curdie, Lilith, At the Back of the North Wind) became classics.  What did people actually remember? Not the writing style, but the story itself.  As Mercedes Lackey once pointed out (and several other writers as well, I think) there is no such as “deathless prose.”

Louisa May Alcott is another writer who might get passed over when judged on style.  She wrote after the Civil War during the 19th century.  She could be viewed as too sentimental, too stuck in her transcendentalist 19th century view of the world, but people love her children’s stories (Little Women, Little Men, Jo’s Boys, The Eight Cousins, Rose in Bloom, The Old Fashioned Girl).  And she was considered a feminist in her time. Some of her finest tales were for adults (Work being her best).  But I’ve known people who turn up their noses at her because they just can’t get past her style.

Let’s see – who else could we put in that list: Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, William Shakespeare, William Congreve, Ben Jonson, Jonathon Swift, Emily Bronte, Charlotte Bronte, Aphra Behn, Ayn Rand, Mark Twain, Laura Ingalls Wilder, L.M. Montgomery…..HOMER, Dante Alighieri, Milan Kundera, Italo Calvino, Umberto Eco…..George Eliot, Thomas Hardy….

All shuffled under the rug because they “move too slow,” “just can’t stand that style of writing,” “too sentimental,” “too much description,” “too….”

You get the idea.

Each writer wrote according to the style and fashion of their times, some varying a bit ouside their norm.  I don’t know how many times I’ve heard (or read) people making disparaging remarks because of the above writer’s writing styles.  I’m not talking about the types of stories they wrote, but how they wrote it.  Yes, Thomas Hardy spends a lot of time on description. Too much for most people these days. But guess what, if it hadn’t been for that description his books couldn’t so easily have been made into movies.  They were cinematic in their description.  People didn’t have movies back then. They had books. Jane Austen may have spent a lot of time describing the manners of people in the drawing room, but in her world, that was where the real action happened. Every little thing in the drawing room meant something, or she wouldn’t have put it on the page.

It’s called an education, people.  You read what has been written before you. You learn how to decipher the style and find the story.  In so doing you learn history and how it works.  You learn to see the world through an alternate world view.  Why do you think Jules Verne wrote what he wrote? Or Philip K. Dick? And since humans have such a short attention span and memory, perhaps if time is taken to learn the different world views and history, maybe, just maybe, this once, history won’t repeat itself.

Let’s begin again – and I’ll try to be more straightforward.

These days the only way to begin the story is in the middle of the action. Draw the reader in as fast as you can.  Kill someone off in the first paragraph and have them gripped! Publishers want readers to be hooked by the first page and you’re competing for a spot in the sun, a slice of the pie and it’s all a zero sum equation and there’s no room for anyone else! Right?

Wrong. Writing (and getting published) is NOT a zero sum equation.  No, you will not be putting yourself behind if you bother to help other writers in their journey forward. And Yes, there are several ways to begin a story.  Sometimes it’s with dialogue between the characters (introducing the characters and how they interact with each other IS relevant to the story, don’t you agree?).  Sometimes the author can draw the reader into the story as they describe a trip down a long single lane road, describing the leaves in autumn as the car or carriage turns the bend and finds the house where the characters live (and before you know it, you know the setting and characters and are halfway through the first chapter).

Both of those two methods of beginning a story are perfectly acceptable, if not fashionable in the current writing climate.

In other words, if “It was a dark and stormy night” was relevant to the story and how it begins, then there’s nothing inherently wrong with using it. It may have gone out of “fashion” because it was used badly, but if used well, there’s nothing wrong with it.

Another fashion I’m tired of hearing about? The whole dialogue tag debate.   Some people will insist that the only tag needed, if needed at all, is “said.” And to use anything else is wrong, bad, horrible, awful, a disgrace and you obviously don’t know what you’re doing if you say use “grimaced” or “smirked” or “screeched” say as a dialogue tag. Others insist that the only tag needed is an action tag.

I beg to differ.

First page of Little Women, Alcott uses “sighed,” “grumbled,” “added,” and “said,” all to great effect as she introduces her characters.  Those tags helped describe the basic, fundamental characteristics of her characters (Jo grumbled, Meg sighed, Amy added, Beth (the sister with the least ego) said). In Old Fashioned Girl, on the first page, Alcott at first doesn’t use any tags at all, moves on to ”said” eventually, and “demanded” after that (and if you know Tom then you know that “demanded” would be the mode in which he spoke).

The first question you ask yourself when you write should NOT be what is fashionable, or what is marketable, or what is the current style! It should be what serves the scene? What serves the story? If you are writing a brother and sister bickering in rapid succession (the opening of Old Fashioned Girl) then you may not need any tags.  If you are introducing four very different young women in the first paragraph of a story (the opening of Little Women), then tags may exactly be what you need to help differentiate between them.  But of course, unless you bother to read something other than 21st century literature, you won’t know that.

A lot of that type of discussion is nothing more than discussing whether or not your nail polish should be brown or brownish red, really.  What if China Red is the best to go with what you have on? Or Velvet Black? Are you going to balk at using those colors because they aren’t in fashion? Or are going to go with your gut feeling, cut the restraints of the publishing/fashion industry, use what works best for you, and possibly create a new fashion trend?

12 Responses to 'Are You A Writing Fashionista?'

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  1. jim said,

    on August 13th, 2007 at 3:23 PM

    Uh, are you talking about me in the beginning?

    Look, I may have “poopoo”ed but it had nothing to do with classic authors.

    And just what were you doing in that bathroom with me?

  2. Rachel said,

    on August 13th, 2007 at 3:47 PM

    Are you using Shakespeare for bathroom reading material again?

  3. jim said,

    on August 13th, 2007 at 5:06 PM

    It was Donn Summer. It was the chorus of that song “Bad Girls” where I was supposed to go, “toot, toot. Hey, beep, beep.” I accidentally poopooed.

  4. Rachel said,

    on August 13th, 2007 at 7:30 PM

    XD!  ROFLMAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


  5. on August 14th, 2007 at 9:08 AM

    OMG, Rae. This is a bloody amazing post! I’m definitely linking to this one so some of the LJ peeps see it (I hope).

    You have really helped me here, thank you. I mean, I *do* fundamentally agree with SO MUCH of this already, but maybe I’d lost sight of it, what with all the agent’s blogs I read now. You know, all that stuff about trends, Opening! With! A! Bang!, and whatever else the publishing industry expects. I think what I’m trying to say is that you’ve given me a healthy reminder of what’s important – i.e. the STORY.

    And for the record, I’m a third of the way through re-reading Wilkie Collins’ THE WOMAN IN WHITE… one of my all-time favourite books. :)

  6. Rachel said,

    on August 14th, 2007 at 9:16 AM

    YAY!!!!!!!!! It’s good to hear from you. And you seem to have that “lilt” back in your “voice” again. That’s always good. I’m glad you like my rant. I’m not published in any large way yet, but I do know what I like. And the authors I like pay attention to their characters and their stories.

    I’ve never read Wilkie Collins, I confess. I’m going to have to try that one out.


  7. on August 14th, 2007 at 9:29 AM

    I do feel a bit ‘perkier’ at the moment. I’ve been feeling a bit lost, lately. I’ll post about it, maybe – get it out of my system once and for all…

    And, yes, you should try the great Mr Collins. THE WOMAN IN WHITE would be an excellent place to start. I also recommend THE MOONSTONE. He’s a wonderful example of 19th century ‘sensation’ literature. Very gothic, lots of mystery, eccentric characters… Also verrrry long! ;) But as you said yourself, that’s part of the charm!

  8. Rachel said,

    on August 14th, 2007 at 9:30 AM

    The Moonstone! What a good title!

  9. David Seigler said,

    on August 15th, 2007 at 6:30 AM

    I have a terrible confession to make: I really don’t read a lot of new fiction.
    I know, I know – the cardinal rule for anyone wanting to write is read, Read, READ. But I am a bit of an anachronism myself. Frankly, I like the older fiction better. Now, I have made a concerted effort recently to read more “new” fiction. For the most part, I’ve found it frustrating. Everyone seems so afraid of imitating Asimov or Clark or Heinlein that they go off in loops that make their fiction obtuse.

    I have to remind myself (often) of why I keep writing. Ultimately I’m not writing for anyone but myself. That doesn’t mean that I don’t at least consider the preferences of editors and the accepted rules of the genre. As much as I’d like to be a visionary, I realize that there is a certain form to follow, at least in the beginning. I am reminded of a passage in Bluebeard by Kurt Vonnegut. The main character was an artist who specialized in cutting edge art, the kind that garners praise from the high brow crowd, but puzzles and even angers the more common aficianodo. He’s in an old garage with a friend who basically tells him that anyone could do the kind of “art” that he does. Bluebeard kneels to the dirt floor and draws an immaculate, lifelike rendering of a bird with a stick. As the friend looks in amazement, Bluebeard tells him something to the effect of “you have to master the rules before you can deconstruct them.”

    Ultimately I think you’re right; at least in a void. Work that you create should reflect all that you have absorbed by not be specifically altered to fit the expectations of the “market”. However, if editors are going to throw my story back into the slush pile if they see too many substitutions for “said”, than I have to at least consider that fact as I write. I think an awareness of the accepted rules can only help and inform anyones work, as long as they don’t completely subjegate themselves to it.

  10. Rachel said,

    on August 15th, 2007 at 9:42 AM

    I don’t think you’re anachronistic. I think you’re well read and you understand what a good story is and you’re not afraid to use the tools at hand.

    I’m writing a story now and as I write it I can see Charles DeLint all over it and I keep thinking maybe I should stop writing it and try to make it different, but hell, he is one of my influences and my characters still haven’t finished telling me the story yet. The last thing I should do is second guess myself mid story or I’ll never figure out what the story really is because I’ll be too busy trying to come up with something “original.” And as Solomon tells us, there is nothing new under the sun.

  11. David Seigler said,

    on August 16th, 2007 at 6:47 AM

    Agreed.

    Another one of those “stories I wish I’d thought of myself” is Unaccompanied Sonata” by Orson Scott Card. In a state run future, anyone who is tested to have artistic abilities is immediately isolated so their art cannot be “corrupted” by outside influences. Of course, the point of the story concerns a composer who one day inadvertently hears some Beethoven and it ultimately comes out in his subsequent compositions, so the state executes him. Something of a downer, I know, but still gave me lots to think about concerning the nature of art and its perceived “purity”.

    A truly great composer such as Beethoven took a large number of influences which informed his work and ultimately took it into a completely different direction. I think that part of the process of finding your voice is giving free reign to the (admittedly imitative) voices that inevitably lurk inside you.

    In my very pompous days (as opposed to now, when I’m only somewhat pompous), I used to distinguish between music that was inspired and music that was simply “craft”. This opinion was cured when I worked in a recording studio for a few years and saw musicians painstakingly apply their craft to create music that I would have otherwise thought simply a product of inspiration. Without the “craft”, the attention to form and rules and other conventions, your voice is usually chaos. At its most basic, art should either enlighten or entertain. To do this it must communicate and without a common language there is little chance of that.

    hmmmm…
    I see I’ve jumped off on one of my usual tangents. My apologies, but it was because your post gave me some interesting things to think about.
    So…thanks.

  12. Rachel said,

    on August 16th, 2007 at 6:53 AM

    Hey, no worries here! I’m known as Ms. NonSequitur. Cool tangent and that must’ve been an interesting job!


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