I’ve heard some of my yet-to-be-published colleagues complain when they read a new release, saying, “This is so poorly written because (insert critique cliche here, from show-don’t-tell to overuse of adverbs, or what have you), I can’t believe this person got published and I can’t.” But flawed bestsellers are nothing new, and not just in recent history but going back to antiquity, which is a word that here means a time long, long ago (hello, Lemony Snicket).
I read more classic literature than I do new releases. Well, most of my reading is for critique or editing of colleagues, but for my own pleasure it’s the classics. None of my favorite-of-all-time classics are perfect. They all have certain flaws that, I’m convinced, wouldn’t pass muster in any of our critique groups today. Friends and I have joked about bringing in pages from a classic novel and passing them off as our own, just to see what sort of critiques we get. Not to humiliate the critiquers, but to make a certain point.
Jane Austen, for example, is a notorious teller, giving us things in narrative that would be more engaging as dialog. Mark Twain is an inconsistent dialect writer, giving us an explicit accent in one exchange that is less distinctive in a later conversation, only to have it return strong again yet later. Washington Irving was so enamored of his research that he rarely passed up the opportunity to stuff in history and backstory that is irrelevant to the narrative, almost always at the expense of pacing and plot flow.
Just my opinion, but as I come to love the story being told, I also come to love these flaws. Rather than jar me, bore me, or make me cringe, they make me smile with affection. I love my classic books, zits and all.
My point is that, while we should make all effort to write as well as we possibly can, observing to the best of our abilities all of the precepts of narrative, sentence structure, and mechanical dos and don’ts, story trumps framework. By that I mean, no matter how technically perfect your prose, formula, and writing scaffold, if you aren’t telling a compelling story, no one’s going to enjoy reading it.
This has been true throughout time. This is why, as poorly as they were written, Anne Rice’s Interview With a Vampire series sold like cocaine, why Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series was able to return to the same well to such massive success, and why James Dashner’sĀ The Maze Runner did so well but its sequels tanked. If you are spinning a rip-roaring yarn, readers (and, by extension, publishers) can be pretty darn forgiving of a flub or two.
If any wisdom is to be drawn from this article, it’s that as you work on your current novel, spend as much time as you feel necessary on your technical skills, but don’t sacrifice time spent on plotting, outlining, and crafting story to the gods of grammar and literary form.
I’d love to read your thoughts on this below in the comments.
This rings true in many of the reviews I’ve read, Kevin. The reviewers complain about errors or plot faults, or a particularly disappointing ending that didn’t hold true to prior characterizations, but if the story is good and they loved it, they’ll dock the novel points, but they’ll still recommend it.
BUT … I cringe when thinking about rating penalties and lost award competition points, and strive to improve punctuation along with plot. I want to entertain and enchant my readers, so I try to avoid substandard grammar and research in addition to good characterization and setting.
Yes, writing competitions can be quite anal about that sort of thing, and if that’s part of your process then vigilance it definitely called for. If it’s possible to publish the technically-perfect novel, by all means you should. Otherwise, I don’t fret if I find myself forced to violate some rote catechism staked out by a vague cabal of self-appointed writing police. Right?
Perfect timing. As a new writer, I am leaning on much of what is published, and on line edited packages, etc, and I am learning that I write too much. Okay- then I listen, as I do, on a long drive today- 11 hours in the car with a Dean Koontz, and began counting the multiple ‘like’, ‘as if”s , and other assorted no-nos from what I’ve read. Poor dean Koontz – he’ll never get a break and sell a book… especially if he doesn’t eidit all of that flowery prose out of his stories… LOL
I love Koontz. Yes he is a noted over-writer, but knowing that going in can actually make the experience even more enriching. As long as it’s tight, I actually happen to enjoy dense prose. But you’ll never get past the writing-puritans writing that way. š
Kevin, this is so true. I am one of those readers who is very forgiving of mistakes if the story and characters are interesting. As for writing, each book I write is the best I can do at the time and I focus on making each book the best it can be without beating myself up for a past book’s imperfection. Because they’re all imperfect in some way. I have yet to read a perfect book.
Agreed, thanks!
Bravo, Kevin! When I started writing years ago, I made a list of all the errors a writer should avoid. The list included overwrought troupe’s from SFWA, ways in which to never begin the first chapter, mechanical ticks, and the on and on. When I completed the list, I wrote my novel. It boiled down to two words: “The End.” Sometimes the workshop rules sap all the energy out of a good story. But the story is the thing, right?
Right! The Anne Rice books I mention above were particularly rambling and poorly structured, but there’s no denying the tale she was telling was compelling.
Sorry, didn’t mean to rhyme there…heheh
Great point! I’ve always wondered about this.
Thank you, Ms. Watts.