There’s a specific part about my line of work that I just don’t get sometimes. And it’s ironic, because there have already been a number of occasions where I have partaken in this confusing aspect of creativity myself—specifically when it comes to creative writing. But in spite of having my own small part to play, I still find myself questioning it often.
The problem is “writing advice.”
Everywhere you look within the writing community, people are telling you not to do X, or make a habit out of doing Y. And just to be clear, I’m certainly not saying to completely disregard advice. Advice is good. Advice gives you an outside perspective on things you might not have noticed otherwise.
But if I’ve learned anything from the various writer’s workshops, creative writing classes, and critique partners I’ve been through, it’s this: always take advice with a grain of salt. Because sometimes, if you really sit down and think about it for a while, a lot of advice for creative endeavors is kind of ridiculous.
As an immediate example, a while back I received a list of writing dos and don’ts from a well-meaning friend who knew I was hoping to cut down on the word count for my current novel. They noted in particular one of the first rules listed: “Avoid prologues.”
Now, I can understand to some degree where this piece of advice is coming from. I’ve read a prologue or two in my time that, honestly, didn’t really need to be there in the long run. I think some authors use a prologue as an excuse to do whatever is necessary to hook their readers without really giving much thought to what it provides for the overall story (like the ones where they just give you a glimpse of the climactic moment before taking you back in time to the actual beginning. Those can get old fast).
But here is what irks me about this rule to “avoid prologues.” If the prologue was written in order to set the scene, introduce the main character, and hint at what’s to come, then what difference would it make if it was labeled as a “prologue,” or “Chapter One?” As long as that is where the story begins, then why not start there? A good prologue example that immediately comes to mind is George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones opener. (It’s literally called: “Prologue.” He did not sugar-coat it at all.) Sure, it has nothing to do with any of our main characters…except for the fact that it sets up the world they live in and gives us a brief glimpse of the overhanging threat that they are all eventually going to have to face. Yes, Martin could have just opened with Bran’s perspective as he’s on his way to see a beheading. That’s a pretty solid hook. But it tells me nothing of the bigger picture—of why paying attention to these characters’ lives is important.
That’s what the prologue is for.
Now, one argument in favor of the “avoid prologues” advice is that everything established in the preface could be briefly glanced over in a flashback or conversation later. But there are two problems that immediately spring to my mind with this reasoning. Firstly, as mentioned before, this is where the story begins, which is why the author chose to begin it there. Secondly, briefly glancing over the information in a conversation is getting too close to the realm of As you know, Bob… for comfort.
But that’s just the tip on prologues. How about the constant urging to avoid adverbs like the plague? Again, this is one I totally understand in the grander scheme of things. Your writing tends to clog up with phrases like, “She ran hurriedly.” So, don’t tack on an adverb when you could just use a strong verb in the first place: “She dashed.” Much smoother, right?
On the other hand, sometimes an adverb is precisely what you need to get your point across. I myself am quite fond of the phrase: “They smiled sadly.” Why would I let that one slide? Because I have yet to find a single, satisfactory verb for “smiling sadly.” I’ve seen “grimace,” and “sneer” thrown out as suggestions, but neither of those—to me, at least—truly express the idea of smiling ironically in the midst of something grim. To me, “grimace” implies a level of disgust, and “sneer” implies a level of superiority. Not exactly what I have in mind when I want my characters to “smile sadly.” Therefore, I tend to use “smile sadly.”
Basically, what I’ve come to realize over the years is that even the advice of experts is subjective, and often depends upon the context of the situation. One other thing that kind of irks me when I think about it is the frequently heard phrase in literary circles: You are not the exception to the rule. In theory, this is correct. You can’t just break rules willy nilly because you can, because it’s “artsy,” because so-and-so did it; so-and-so did it effectively. So-and-so saw a way to subvert a trope or a rule that is commonplace and turn it into something meaningful.
But therein lies my problem with this phrase. When we say, “You are not the exception to the rule,” and then repeatedly praise the writers / creators who break the mold, aren’t we ultimately saying: “You are not the exception to the rule…until you are?” So-and-so found a way to do it correctly because they tried. Because they wanted to do something different. In other words, because they thought they could be the exception to the rule.
I guess this is my long-winded way of saying what I already mentioned earlier: take all advice with a grain of salt—even the advice of experts. Art holds different meanings to different people, and the ways we express art will come across differently to different people. Just do what feels right to you. Stop and listen to advice, for sure, but know in the end your art is your responsibility, and what you do with it and where it goes is always up to you. And maybe, one day, someone will come along who will point something out that makes a lot of sense to you, and you’ll feel inclined to tweak / change / rethink things. But, ultimately, you’ll make the decision on your own.
Night Owls, what writing advice do you gleefully ignore? What writing advice do you religiously follow?
