HOME The Road To Writing

Writing is - I will have no argument here! - the transfer of spoken words to paper.   Suppose you have explained something complicated to someone - call him joe (I am using lower-case letters here, because these are lower-case characters) - and joe goes away and tries to explain it to jack, but jack doesn't get it. So joe says "Go and see The Brain - he'll explain it." So jack comes to you and you explain it again, using slightly different words, because you didn't know you'd have to memorise the thing. Then jack goes away and confers with joe and neither can understand what the other is talking about. So they both come back to you and say, "That wasn't the way you explained it to me." So you write it all down on paper - in words of one or two syllables, as far as possible - and you make a copy of it, word for word and you give them one copy each, and you are never bothered by them again.   That is the simplicity of writing. It is also one of its characteristics. What you have written down doesn't change, after you have made your final corrections. Unlike the spoken story, the written story will always be the same, word for word, exactly as you wrote it, until the paper disintegrates, or the ink evaporates. It is you; it is your essence, and no one else's words can misrepresent it, or wash away the soul of you that is in it.   Words are universal, of course, and everyone may use them in their own way. Unfortunately, much standardization creeps in on our journey through life, and to save time and prevent confusion, we will, most times, use the standard form, the set collection of words that gives us the standard picture, the often-used phrases, the dreaded clichés. This is fine in conversation, for no one is going to stand around waiting while you try to think of a reply to the observation, "Isn't it a lovely sunset?" So, of course you say, "Gorgeous!", a word that means nothing to them, nothing to you - apart from "lovely" to the power of ten - but allows you to make meaningless amiable noises.   Such conversations are forgotten as soon as ended and, even if the person you were talking to has said something important or interesting, the details soon become blurred by the other trivialities of life. If he had written it down, he would have cemented it and held it for the future, when you might have had the time and the inclination for it.   Most talking is done without thought, for thought gets in the way of talk. With writing, it is the other way round. You have to think of the words you are going to put down on paper, what words you will use and in what sequence you will put them. Given the effort used in all that, if you are going to write, you may as well write in the best way that you can.   Writing, like everything else, is best begun by observing and learning from others. If you start reading with an interest in the structure of the writing, you will see that there are no two ways about it - there are about a thousand ways. Some people write short and simple, while others write long and complicated. Some will write "The cat sat on the mat". Others will write "The feline reposed upon the spond-woven Telkuhiten carpet". People with mobile phones will write "T ct st n t mt".   You have two considerations to make at this point: to choose the style you feel most comfortable with, and to compose in a way that 99 percent of people will understand. If the two things are incompatible, you may have to settle for 50 percent of the people.   The human spirit rebels against rules and yet, if it wasn't for rules, the world would be an incomprehensible chaos. Without rules, everything falls apart. It would be a strange world in which everyone had their own word for everything and no one could understand anyone else. Rules are actually there to help and not to chafe. (That is not, of course, to say that all rules are sensible or helpful, only that all rules should be sensible and helpful.)   Rules in writing are essentially, guidelines; they are made of elastic, rather than steel and give you room for maneuverability. If they were too restrictive, there would be no innovation: if they were too loose, there would be no comprehension.   It is important, therefore, to know the rules. The general theory of the rules is that whatever you are writing should have an attention-grabbing opening sentence, it should have one central idea, which should be explored in the course of the writing, and it should have a firm ending. (It may not always be possible to reach a firm conclusion.)   You want people to understand what you are saying: you want to touch that common chord. So. Don't baffle them. People are under no obligation to read your stuff. They look upon reading as a form of mental relaxation. They don't want conundrums. They don't want prose that jumps up and hits them in the temporal lobe. Keep it simple, keep it smooth, keep it interesting.   Use ordinary words to describe extraordinary things. The contrast actually increases impact. 'Johnny McGrath strapped the wings to his shoulders and flew to the top of the Town Hall clock.' It works just as well with ordinary things: 'Polly put the kettle on and made herself a cup of tea.' It is not the words themselves, but your choice of them and the way you arrange them that makes the difference. Let's try the last one again: 'Polly preferred Ginseng for her afternoon cup of tea, so she put the kettle on and brewed herself a pot of it.' The words are always subservient to the writing. It is not a good idea to use long, unpronounceable words unlikely to be known by the reader. The reader is more likely to reach for another book than reach for a dictionary.   If you can get the reader interested, you are ninety-nine percent of the way there. But if you want them to come back for more, you must deliver something that will satisfy them at the end. You do not want them to sit there, looking blank and saying, "What - ?" Or, in more extreme cases, hurling the book across the room and then making a football out of it. None of us likes having our expectations dashed. A balloon that is inflated to gigantic proportions and, having a pin stuck in it, simply goes Hiss! or Floop! is a disappointment to everyone. 'What was the point of all that huffing and puffing?' you will say. 'I was promised a big BANG. Where is it?' It is the same with writing. If your item ends with a hiss or a floop, you may still be a writer, but you will only be writing for yourself.   Of course, if you are happy to write for yourself alone, that is fine and no one will take away the right, But most people have the very human and very commendable urge to communicate, to share. (Or to say, "Look how clever I am!")   One more thing. You must love writing. There is absolutely no point in torturing yourself doing something you dislike, unless you are a masochist. But if you find yourself juggling with words while you are stuffing a tomato, or trying to work out how to hide the ending until the end, as you are lying on your back after being run over by a car, then you are obviously a writer, and it doesn't need me to tell you that you are your own best critic, to write it your own way and not in the Someone Else's School Of Writing way, and to put the value of what you have written far above money or praise.   You are a Writer! Go forth and multiply words.