The Beauty of Unpredictable Writing
Your style is too unpredictable. This doesn’t make any sense. You should polish up on the essentials.
These are just a few of the bits of advice that I have come across. If you think those are brutal . . . believe me, I have heard much worse.
Writing styles (sometimes referred to as your “voice”) vary widely from writer to writer. I would even venture to say that there are as many writing styles as there are personality types. Each writer has their own unique style. Don’t worry about failing the pop quiz. There are no wrong answers.
Other than making sure that your grasp of grammar and punctuation is strong, or that you have access to helpful tools (Grammarly is one great option), the sky is the limit as far as your individual voice goes.
One of my favorite authors, Mario Vargas Llosa, says in Letters to a Young Novelist that there is an important “quality of essentiality” that every writer must possess to be successful. That quality refers to “the perfect integration of style and content”.
In other words, each piece of writing must precariously balance the contents of the story and the style in which it is told. Together, these tools make up the perfect harmony that is a good story.
One of my favorite words is genuine. I apply it to everything I do, especially my writing. In college, I received one of the above comments as feedback on an essay (I’ll let you guess which one), and it angered me to my core. The audacity of a writing instructor to tell me to change my writing style pushed me to make a radical decision.
I learned early on that if I were communicating clearly and efficiently with my readers (going back to the grasp of grammar and punctuation), my unique voice could tell any story.
As a young writer, I was determined to never change my style or compromise my artistic voice. The concept of altering my work to get an A infuriated me (a slightly dramatic reaction, but you get the idea).
I made a promise to myself after receiving that feedback: whatever I wrote from that moment on would be genuine and authentic—even at the risk of losing readers or gaining critics. For the sake of authenticity, I would urge you to do the same.
Like Vargas Llosa says, writers who lack the quality of essentiality required to tell a good story risk becoming impersonators. They risk making what was once “original” and “authentic” into something “caricaturish, ugly, and insincere.”
Whatever story you’ve got rattling around in your head, put it down on paper or on-screen. When you do . . . make sure to tell it your way. Your future readers will thank you.
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