That, is the understatement of the century.
And it applies to almost everything.
But what I’m talking about is writing.
And I guess the other thing I’m talking about is a rather common topic for me … “Why aren’t you writing?”
Well …?
Okay, here’s another thing that I suspect might be holding some folks back. They write a sentence, maybe several sentences, perhaps even a few dozen paragraphs, and then they read them over to themselves.
And they realize that it isn’t pretty. I mean to say that they got caught up in the story telling and when they reread the words they weren’t stunned by the sublime beauty of their work.
Welcome to the club
Do you read much? When was the last time you were reading a book and you were struck by the beauty of each word?
Oh sure, I know you have books that you consider to be the epitome of sheer elegance, that transcend mere words, that rise above the mundane verbiage of magazine articles and web content. But go back and read any single paragraph of one of those books and tell me if that paragraph sings to you. It’s pretty rare that you will find such a paragraph. Rarer still that you would find two or three in a row.
Why is that?
Let’s grab a quick analogy. Have you ever seen a house that you think is beautiful? And have you ever seen it torn apart for maintenance or renovations, or better yet, did you get to see it being built?
Yeah, stud walls may look beautiful to the builder (I know, I’ve done that), but they are not the beauty you’re looking for when you are looking for a home.
And here’s the lesson …
Beautiful words, poetic prose, mean little if they have no framework to hang on. The story has to be told in clear and concise terms. And when you write that story, and then go back and edit it for clarity, you’re building the frame, putting in the stud walls, roughing in the electrical and the plumbing.
And yes, every now and then you get the opportunity to install a beautiful vanity or a swanky swap light fixture. You get to choose the colour for the walls, the texture of the carpet, the finish on the hardwood.
Now think about it …
You can go to the building supply store and buy all the frilly things that you want to be surrounded by, and you can stack them up around you, but you haven’t got a home, you’ve got a very disorganized warehouse.
As a writer, your job is to do some landscaping and earth moving, put in a foundation, build a frame and then close it in. And yes, it’s not always pretty, and yes, it you’ll be frustrated trying to fit the fixtures and finished parts together on that frame.
But if you don’t build it from the ground up, it’s never going to stand up to being lived in, never going to stand up to being read.
So …
The next time you write something and then reread it to see what it turned out like, don’t ask yourself if this is the next bestseller, ask yourself if what you’ve written is a solid frame for your story.
In the end, the best books are beautiful because the frame is there and the utilities are in place. The beauty is cumulative. It isn’t dripping from every word, it’s building from the solidly written sentences and paragraphs that you’ve used to do that boring old task of telling the story.
It’s not always pretty, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t good.
