Tongue In Face, Part 7

Here's part seven of my essay, "How to Write: A Guide."

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Step Seven: Develop a Style

It’s odd to think of, but you can tell who wrote some books without looking at the name on the spine. That’s because of the style in which the books were written. It’s a fading trend, but you may want to play the retro card at the beginning of your literary career. It could get you some attention.

Often, writing is not what you write about – it’s how you write about it. A boring story written in plain English will almost always go unnoticed, while a boring story written in some fancy-pants way will be hailed as a triumph nine times out of ten.

Let’s start with a simple sentence, and go from there:

“The wet dog crossed the street.”

Boring, right? It’s simple, declarative. It’s not evoking much, except possible sympathy for the dog, as he is wet. Let’s fancy it up a bit:

“Tired and lonely, the wet dog crossed the street.”

More effective, isn’t it? And with only three more words. Imagine what twenty-five or forty more words would do. Let’s go just a little bit further:

“Tired, lonely and bleeding from both ends, the wet dog crossed the street.”

That’s poetry. But maybe you don’t want to alienate your audience. (They’re known to be suckers when it comes to animals.) They might get too sad after reading that sentence to finish your story. And who could blame them? People don’t want to read about nice dogs in peril. So let’s twist it:

“Tired, wet, angry and bleeding from both ends, the meanest dog in the world crossed the street.”

By taking away the dog’s feeling of loneliness, replacing it with a feeling of anger and an assertion I couldn’t possibly prove, the dog has gone from being a sad, terrorized puppy to being the ultimate canine badass. And we haven’t even gotten truly fancy yet!

Here’s a final, fancied-up version:

“Tired from a fresh kill, wet and angry and bleeding from both ends, the meanest dog in the world licked his lips, savoring the blood-taste and growling a contented growl, his yellow eyes illuminated by the headlights of a passing car, as he crossed the dark, rain-slicked city street.”

Did you notice how repetitive it was? How many unnecessary words it contained? There were forty-nine words in that sucker, and that was just one sentence. Imagine how quickly you could write a book-full of those! So what if it was hard to read? That just means the author (you) is smarter than the critics. Hell, you’re smarter than most people! If you’re really smart, you’ll leave out all punctuation but the periods. Then you’ll look really smart – just like a real writer.

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Part eight tomorrow.

- TJG