Why Write? Introduction

Yes... this is the Thursday section of the blog.


Did I mention anywhere that I'm an aspiring writer?  I also have a reputation as a "Grammar Hitler" (basically, the most ruthless possible type of grammar Nazi), but don't let that frighten you: after all, the name "Hitler" apparently means "somebody who lives in a hut".  That said, I don't actually live in a hut; I live in a--


But a true ninja never reveals their home location.


Now, obviously, what I say in this section of the posts (and pretty much everywhere else on the blog -- except perhaps when it comes to the grammar guide) is subjective and basically my opinion on things.  Please, whatever you do, don't take it as gospel truth, but feel free to take whatever you need as guidelines if you think it'll help you write.  Personally, I've always found that carrying out tough criticism on other people's work has improved mine far more than any advice offered to me does, but I've always learnt in weird ways and I don't think that'll ever change.


Nevertheless, critiquing other works, particularly those of your peers and of the market you're trying to break into, will help you more than you could ever imagine with your own writing.  And by this, I mean critiquing properly.  Not commenting.  I remember having a rant on inkpop about making the distinction between the two.  To be honest, considering that everybody on the website wanted to be an author, I was actually astonished at the number of people who failed to make the distinction between two words with obviously different roots.  On one occasion, I remember seeing somebody write that "one-line critiques" were some of the most useful criticism they'd ever received.


Hold on a second.  One-line critiques?  The very definition of "critique" (which is essentially a detailed analysis, or breaking down, of something) makes it impossible for anything as short as one line to bear the name of a critique, unless the one line is a sentence of several hundred words, in which case I would be both flabbergasted and in awe at the mutilation of grammar required to achieve something so spectacular.  Comments, on the other hand, can be very short.  Most often, they are simple observations, like "the sky is blue".


I digress.  Basically, my point is that, if you have to analyse something, the process of breaking it down and studying why it does or doesn't work is more likely to imprint on your mind the reasons as to why the way something's written is good or bad because you've figured out why it's good or bad.  (Note: this is harder for to do for good than for bad.)  Because you know the explanations for why something does or doesn't work, you're more likely to be able to avoid the things that don't work and aim for the things that do work when you're writing yourself.  Therefore, the more criticism you can do, the better your writing will get.  It's like playing the piano.


Ooh, analogy time!  By the way, I can do this quite a lot.  Considering that I can liken Edward Cullen to a zombie with relative ease, it's hardly surprising that I start using analogies at a moment's notice.  I'm also liable to start analysing whatever I can if I'm left to myself for longer than about three minutes.  And now I'm digressing totally from the analogy.  Where was I?  Oh yes, the piano.


Basically, when you play the piano, there are various different ways of practising to improve.  By far the most ineffective is to sit there with the same old piece day after day and bash through it from beginning to end.  After a while, you'll get bored of the piece, and if you're exceptionally unlucky, you'll go into over-kill on the piece and you will start to play it less and less well rather than better and better.  (I'm a victim of this.  I know what I'm talking about.)  This is like sitting there with a book and churning out draft after draft without looking through and seeing what might need changing and correcting.  Or like churning out book after book without ever going and editing a single one.  It might encourage you to write a lot, but it'll often be the slowest way to improve your writing.


Then there's looking through the piano piece to see what you got wrong, possibly comparing it to the way it's played by people who got it right (or by world-class pianists), getting your teacher to take you over the hard parts, and focussing on the parts you find difficult until they come out right and you can play the piece really well.  This is like editing your book effectively.  You look at the bits that are troublesome and don't work, and then you try to find a way to fix them.  Then you go over the whole book again to check that everything has been ironed out.


And then there are the Hanon Studies.


HOLD YOUR HORSES!


I'm not saying that thundering out the Hanon Studies for the rest of your life will automatically make you a good pianist.  But if you do them properly and really work at them, they will strengthen your fingers tremendously.  (They're not the only way to do it, but the Hanon Studies are the ones I was cursed with.)  With stronger fingers, it's easier to grasp difficult techniques and fingerings and to make all the notes sound when you want them to sound.  This in turn means that you have the techniques you need to play the piece well when you've sorted out how the melody goes, etc.


Criticism is to writing what the Hanon Studies are to playing the piano.  Criticism hones your techniques because of the way you make yourself analyse what's going on, which allows you to decide what will and won't work in your book and employ or avoid those things respectively, which will mean that the quality of your writing is better.


Not doing those studies properly means that you just won't improve as quickly.  Commenting on work rather than critiquing it (if you belong to a writing website) is exactly the same.


I hope that made sense. It did in my head.  I'm not sure I expressed it very well, though.


Anyway, after that lengthy detour, here we are back at the point of this set of posts.  Like I said, these will only really be guidelines as to what might constitute a good novel.  As far as I'm concerned, there are three main factors as to what makes a good book: grammar and syntax (yes, I'm obsessed), style/technique/execution, and plot.  I can't really give any advice on a plot as that would just be unoriginal and you'd probably end up writing a book that I want to write as I'd foist all my ideas onto you, but never mind.  If you have problems with a plot hole, I'm more than willing to help (just leave me a message in the comments), but really, I can't give you a plot to write.  However, I can help with grammar.  And to an extent, I can also give a few prods for style/technique/execution, although ultimately the style that you write in ought to be your own.  But don't let those three being lumped together fool you: they're actually different things.  Go and look them up in a dictionary.


Grammar will be dealt with on Monday's posts in a blog version of a book I was initially asked to do on Inkpop by various people with questions about grammar points.  This part, Why Write? will deal with style, technique and execution -- or rather, everything that doesn't directly relate to the syntax of a book and the construction of our language.  So, basically, you could call it "writing advice" (but I personally find that a dull, boring title).


I was originally planning to have an answer to the question "Why Write?", but I don't think there is one.  Oh, well.  I write because I find it fun.  What about you?


TBG