But When I Do It, It’s Really Stylish
By Jo Eberhardt | July 2, 2016 |
Photo by flickr user Nicola Preti
I grew up on 80s British comedy. (Which possibly explains everything you ever need to know about my writing style.) Yes, Minister taught me about politics. Blackadder taught me about history. Are You Being Served? taught me about… well, lots of things. And Red Dwarf taught me about science fiction.
In fact, Red Dwarf taught me a lot of lessons, and one of the ones I come back to time and time again is from the most feminist episode I’ve ever seen in any TV show ever: ‘Parallel Universe’.
For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of watching Red Dwarf, the two main characters are Arnold Rimmer, a socially awkward, sexually repressed hologram, and Dave Lister, a slobbish, easygoing lad’s lad whose skills include drinking lager and eating vindaloo spicy enough to melt through plastic. In ‘Parallel Universe’, they’re accidentally transported to a parallel dimension where everything is the same… except that women are the dominant gender. There, they meet their female equivalents who, obviously, try to get them into bed.
Hi-jinks ensue as the boys come to terms with being objectified and, in Lister’s words dealing with women who “think of men in the exact same way [we] think of women…. it’s disgusting.” But my favourite part of the episode is the conversation that takes place about female-Lister’s attempt to seduce male-Lister:
Lister: She tried to impress me by drinking six pints of lager and belching the whole of Yankee Doodle Dandy.
Rimmer: That’s your party piece, isn’t it?
Lister: Yeah, but when I do it, it’s really stylish, man.
That line often runs through my head when I find myself doing or saying something that I just know I would find annoying if someone else did it, and it’s a regular part of my internal dialogue when I’m teaching or talking about writing. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve made a statement about a writing convention or guideline, and received a version of that answer.
“First novels, especially contemporary fiction ones, tend to be closer to the 80K word mark. You may have trouble selling one that comes in at 140K words.”
“Yeah, but when I write 140K words, it’s really stylish, man.”
“Prologues were really popular back in the ’80s, but publishers don’t tend to like them these days. Maybe consider whether your prologue serves a story purpose.”
“Yeah, but when I include a prologue, it’s really stylish, man.”
“It was Stephen King who said that the road to hell is paved with adverbs. I think that’s a bit extreme, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t have any adverbs in your book, but maybe consider whether you need to qualify every single dialogue tag with one.”
“Yeah, but when I use adverbs, they’re really stylish, man.”
Regardless of how much I may disagree with them, there are three reasons I never argue with that answer.
1. Because maybe they’re right.
There’s an exception to every rule. Every rule. And, hey, maybe they’re the exception. I don’t know. Who am I to judge? I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt that they know what their own story needs.
2. Because I do it, too.
Yes, I know that no one’s buying vampire fiction anymore…. but when I write it, it’s really stylish, man. It would be more than a little hypocritical to call someone else out for something that I do as well. (Although, obviously, when I call people out, it’s really stylish, man.)
3. Because creativity.
Creativity means being inventive; imaginative; pushing the boundaries; transcending traditional ideas. To create something new and different and exciting, you have to be willing to go outside the bounds of “normal”. When you feel hedged in by rules and conventions, you stifle your creativity and censor your imagination. That’s true whether you’re forcing yourself to comply with genre expectations, publishing guidelines, or grammar rules. The best time to throw all of those out the window (or, at least, the ones that are holding you back). When you’re writing your first draft, let creativity be your guideline.
If you want to write 140K words from the perspective of a tree, go for it. Write a prologue. Hell, write a prologue for your prologue. Fill your prose with adverbs. Write all your dialogue in italics without dialogue tags. Have your characters speak in emoji. Use profanity in exposition. Describe every square inch of an ordinary dining table. Do whatever it takes to get your story out of your head and on to the page. Do it without doubt or censorship.
When your draft is finished, that’s when you look at what you have wrought with a critical eye and work out whether your rule-breaking truly is as stylish as it seemed at the time. Rules and guidelines and conventions are important — they really are — but not when they get in the way of your creativity. So, go. Let your imagination run free. Because, when you do it, it’s really stylish, man.
What have you done in your writing that’s traditionally frowned upon, but is really stylish when you do it?
Jo Eberhardt is a writer of speculative fiction, mother to two adorable boys, and lover of words and stories. She lives in rural Queensland, Australia, and spends her non-writing time worrying that the neighbor’s cows will one day succeed in sneaking into her yard and eating everything in her veggie garden.
Every time I see a list of the tropes some “authority figure” in the fantasy literature world deems unworthy or tired, the lists are filled with things like: the reluctant king; a nebulous prophecy that happens to fit the protagonist; kickass warrior women (women that fight as well as men); named swords that seem to have some mystical/magical quality; heroic horses, and so on. Aaaand, yep – I used ’em all.
My own brand of self-justification has less to do with style and more to do with purpose… um, I think. Maybe ‘intention’ is a better word. Take the nebulous prophecy, for example. I wanted to use it to put my protagonist through the wringer (so to speak). How would someone feel if everyone suddenly started telling them that they were not only supposed to save their people, but that in the process of saving them, they were doomed? Turns out it’s heady stuff (well, to me, anyway).
So yeah, I did everything that supposedly no one ever wants to see in an epic fantasy again. But the way I did it was with intention and purpose. Aren’t I stylish? ;-) Fun post, Jo!
Ah, you’re stylish in all the best ways, V. :)
What I like about your comment is that you’re AWARE that you’re breaking all the “rules”, so you’ve gone back and made sure that you’ve done it intentionally — and that it works. You’ve gone beyond justification and into looking at your story with a critical eye and making sure that you’ve made decisions intentionally, with purpose, and that they work.
I can’t wait to read your books!
Sometimes I gaze at myself in the mirror and describe my looks in gushy, glowing terms — but only in real life. Never in my writing. But it feels real stylish when I do it ;-)
Hahaha. Awesome, Nat-Nat.
Oh, what a perfect question, Jo: “What have you done in your writing that’s traditionally frowned upon, but is really stylish when you do it?”
One hundred and sixty-seven THOUSAND words; a prologue which I added after I’d finished it because it had to be (only 145 words, fortunately for everyone involved); a DIFFERENT main character; plus adverbs (lightly). For a mainstream story, now, not epic fantasy.
And the nerve to blog about style (https://prideschildren.wordpress.com/2016/04/20/you-like-a-writers-style-and-voice-or-you-dont/).
It has epigraphs for each of the twenty chapters, and quotations from the King James Version of the Bible. And chapter titles. All of which are part of the story, not decoration. A reviewer complained, “The number of quotations before each chapter was overkill – for the most part they only made sense to me after the chapter had been read.” And I did a fist pump – Yes! Feature, not bug.
But my favorite part is the reader reaction such as this, from an older gentleman in Saskatchewan, “I have never read a work of fiction that has touched me so powerfully! I love it and will be rereading many times.”
Thanks for a great prompt to start a Saturday’s writing session, reminding me how much I want to keep writing the next book in the trilogy – and how much fun it is to claim your own voice and tone and style.
It’s interesting to look at a reader’s response to a story vs. an editor’s response. They are often vastly different. I usually take readers’ (beta readers) responses as more emotional reaction whereas a professional editor’s comments are addressing quality of the writing and structure. Breaking rules here and there are good for creativity but if a writer does it too much or goes too far, it might come off amateurish instead of stylish. Mike Swift has the right idea: “Break those barriers. Then see what flys in the edit.” That is, of course, assuming you have a really good editor that you trust!
I absolutely agree, Paula. I think it’s important to let yourself be as “stylish” as you need to be when you’re writing, but you also have to make sure that you go back and make sure that you’ve made everything work — or cut it — in the revision process.
What a great story, Alicia. Happy writing, and best of luck with the next book!
I love writing in dialect and regional/cultural expressions. Usually, I keep it sparse and within the dialogue, but once, I pushed the envelope and wrote an epistolary short story from the POV of an old prospector who didn’t have no learning. Since it was his journal, it was full of slang, misspellings, and grammatical errors (like the double negative and the incorrect word in the previous sentence), but it was stylish, man, real stylish. I participated in a large writing group at the time and it received mixed reviews, but for the most part, went over well. I’ve also written shorts that included Yiddish (She Put the Sin in Synagogue) and one set in the 1920’s (‘Save Me!’ She Screamed) about a superhero who was fed up with rescuing the same woman time and time again. It was eggs in coffee, doll, eggs in coffee.
Loved the article. Push that envelope. Break those barriers. Then see what flys in the edit.
Well said. As always. :)
Great article, great points, and extra bonus for the reference to Red Dwarf. Now *that* is stylish.
And I’m not just saying that because draft 1 of my novel is creeping up to 200K (yes, yes, I’ll be cutting) and it has a prologue (which no, I will not be cutting). I’m thinking about adding more adverbs, just ‘cuz.
Hahahaha. Oh, you made me laugh, Joy. Just ‘cuz.
I’m glad to hear someone else in the community is a Red Dwarf fan. It’s one of my most oft-quotes series.
Now I’m trying to figure out what Red Dwarf quote I can squeeze into my medieval-ish fantasy world haunted house story without anyone noticing. ;-)
“Well thank you with a capital R.”
(Not sure it’s at all appropriate, but it’s another of my faves.)
Jo, you made me laugh on this hot, sultry day. I have my MC looking in the mirror; however, it is a mirror moment and Jim would say it’s stylish. Haha.
Ah, knowing I’ve made someone laugh makes my day, week, and month. Glad you enjoyed it.
Stylish mirror moments are the best. :)
Thoughts, so wooden. Rooted I feel. Sky, sky, sky—burning. I have to get up and leave. Or I’ll leaf.
OK, that’s the first 20 words of my 140K novel from the perspective of a tree. Jo, thanks for the inspiration. No, no—you don’t have to tell me how stylish this is, man; believe me, I know.
I’ll send you the other 139,980 words later today.
Ha! First laugh of the day (it’s been a bad day). Thanks. Oh, and I’ll be first in line for that tree book. It’s already stylin’.
Mark me down as second in line for the tree book. Or maybe you could go the other way and write a novella — too long for a short story, too short for a novel — but hey, I bet you could make it totally stylin’.
Wow, with this response, I’m going to branch out to books written from the perspective of bushes. Branch out, get it? (Yeah, I kill me.) Sorry Jo, couldn’t resist.
I’ll join you. We can call ourselves the Bush League.
It’s after dinner and I’m stuffed. Thought I’d lumber on down and see what all the barking was about. Eh, nothing much. I’m board. Think I’ll split. :)
So stylish, Tom. I look forward to reading the rest. :)
I remember my sister not giving a damn about clothing trends in high school. She wore what she wanted and with confidence. She became the most popular girl in her class with scads of followers who copied everything she did. Of course she had a bitchin’ bod and a face worthy of gracing a chocolate box, and her followers were clueless, years before “clueless”was an acknowledged condition… She remembers high school as her “wasted” years. Interpret that how you want to…
So yeah…do what we want…just make sure we really want it and have the equipment to do it the way we want it done. :)
“So yeah…do what we want…just make sure we really want it and have the equipment to do it the way we want it done. :) ”
I like that. I write the way I want, knowing the risk is all mine. But I don’t know how else I could write–I often read books that other people go ga-ga over and think to myself “I’m not seeing the big deal here….” So I already know what I like and what perhaps a large percent of the population likes are two different things.
I have also found when I bog myself down with other people’s ideas of what’s hot or appropriate, the writing shrivels up.
I just have to keep writing and practicing. That’s the only way I know to find my niche.
“I just have to keep writing and practicing. That’s the only way I know to find my niche.”
Truth.
Absolutely, Bee. :) One of the best things about writing is that it’s not brain surgery — after you’ve gone crazy stylish in the writing, you can fix everything that doesn’t work during revision.
Ha! What a fun post, Jo. I haven’t seen Red Dwarf, but am for sure appropriating that line.
Me, I mostly write about people living in poverty, a population (I’ve been told repeatedly) no one wants to read about. Now I know how to answer ;-)
Thanks, Barbara. It’s one of my most quoted lines from the show — useful in so many situations.
Writing about poverty is stylish when you do it. :)
This is a really fabulous piece, Jo! Thanks so much for writing it!
“Use profanity in exposition” really makes me want to start a story with “The tree was so f**king tall….” There are definitely voices that would fit with. Love it.
Thanks, Greer! I love that opening. I would absolutely read that book.
Wait, are you being ironic?
Ouch. This post bit me. I believe it was Keith Cronin who once pointed out this bit of writerly self-deception: “They’ll make an exception for me!”
Uh, no. Lousy writing is lousy writing. You’ve taken it deeper. Not am I only exceptional, I am stylish! Oh, how we fool ourselves.
That is why I take breaks from manuscripts. Nothing like a little distance to help one see the page as it truly is. So painful, sometimes.
Thanks, sort of.
Am I being ironic? Of course. Lousy writing IS lousy writing, no matter how much we tell ourselves that something is stylish when we do it.
On the other hand, muzzling your creativity while drafting can lead to stilted, wooden, formulaic stories. It’s valuable to let our imaginations have full reign during the first draft — without judgement or our internal editor shooting us down. But taking that break you mentioned before revision is vitally important so that we can take that “stylish” prose and hammer it into something wonderful — something that works without the self-delusion of exceptionality.
I think there were a few cases of irony along the comment section, too, Benjamin. I know mine was one. I do love using dialect to make dialogue sound more real, but I realize when too much is too much. When I wrote my prospector story, it was in a writing group. I wanted to see what worked and what didn’t. Did I write it for publication? No, nor were the others. Just exercises in letting the creative juices flow. And now I’m better at being Kathryn Stockett stylish. Am I there yet? No, but the process sure is fun.
One piece of advice that has always stuck with me and freed me from inhibited writing is from John Vorhaus’s How to Write Good: “Let whimsy rule the page.” To me, that’s letting go of all your cares and being as “stylish” as you want to be. At least in your first draft. Write stylish; edit in sweats.
I read a blog post once listing every way you should NOT begin a novel.
Unfortunately, I didn’t bookmark it, so I had to work from memory when I set out to use all of them for one story. And there was cursing, and a character waking up (and looking in a mirror), and a prologue, and it began “It was a dark and stormy night.”
I hope I had enough passive voice and filter words…