There aren’t any hard rules for writing, outside of grammar, but there are guidelines that help. In this series, I outline the most common axioms of writing. If you missed the first part of this article, you can read it here.
Here is the second set of guidelines for good writing:
Blogs, books and articles often tout the “best” ways to write, but I am sorry to tell you there are no rules for writing—no easy short cuts. There is grammar, which is essential. There are the various elements of craft. And there are some axioms that hold true, which, while I won’t go so far as to call them rules, are great guidelines.
These are what I want to share today—the Axioms of Writing:
This is the final installment in my three-part series on Setting. It’s time to share some great examples of setting in novels for inspiration.
Some authors excel at setting. You read them and can feel the wind on your face or get goose bumps from fear. These masters know how to use setting to increase tension, mood, characterization, anchoring and texture.
Setting is an essential part of any fictional work. It anchors your character in time and place, and allows your reader to see, hear, smell and touch the world you have created. This is not an easy task. It takes careful consideration and a deft touch.
Characters cannot live outside of time or place. Story demands setting to anchor characters in the world around them. You do this by using specific details. Anchoring requires specific details to firmly establish the what, where and when. But setting goes beyond that basic information. It also helps ground story in mood, texture and sense. It lets a writer reveal how a character feels about place, time and items around them. It also contributes to tension and pacing.
In the last blog, I shared the first five steps to effective client writing. Below are the final five steps to providing your clients work that fills their needs:
Effective writing can mean so many things, depending on the type of writing you are talking about. But when to comes to client work, effective writing means work that meets a goal and does its job. It’s that simple. And that hard.
In film, producers often use loglines to discuss the content of a film. A logline is a summary of the dramatic narrative in a story that makes it easier to encapsulate the idea and sell it. Basically, a logline is the core essence of your story in 25 words or less—the shortest form of narrative summary.
There is a reason we all sit down and pick up a pen or tap at the keys. We all have something pushing us to begin. While we may have our various reasons, what it comes down to is a love of words and writing, feeling that imperative to capture the human experience in written form. The problem is that so many people feel the only way to pursue a life as a writer is to pen the great American novel. Now I’m not going to say writing fiction isn’t a noble pursuit, I’m pursuing it myself after years of nonfiction work. The lure is strong. But what drives me isn’t the form my work takes, but the compulsion to wrangle 26 tiny letters into sentences that convey emotion, story and facts.
I am against censorship of any form. Even the idea of censorship makes me angry. I’ve shared about this before in a blog about Banned Books, which was a blog about external censorship. Today I want to talk about the more insidious form of internal, self-censorship.
They say imitation is the highest form of flattery, but I think they are wrong. Too often this sentiment leads to people trying to be someone they are not. In writing, it means imitating their writing style or voice to tragic ends. We’ve all seen it—copycat novels and writers trying to be the newest (insert famous author here).
It is conventional wisdom in the industry that all writers need a platform to succeed. While this isn’t necessarily the case, it is something that most writers will need to understand. The problem with this concept is that it suggests that having a platform is the most important part of publishing and it is not.