Forget Everything You Thought You Knew About Strunk and White’s Elements of Style

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If you’ve taken any sort of writing class or ever gotten any professional writing advice, there’s a good chance you’ve been referred to Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style. Here’s a 2009 review of the classic that takes a decidedly different view:

“50 Years of Stupid Grammar Advice.”

This article is a thorough vivisection of The Elements of Style. I just don’t know what to think anymore. One of the sacred icons of my little world has been desecrated!

Read this article if you’re a grammar geek. The author, linguist Geoffrey K. Pullum, is not afraid of getting too esoteric with his arguments. But you’ll also enjoy it if you’re not a grammar geek. Pullum mostly manages to subdue his grammar wonk urges. Generally, he just bashes the world’s most beloved pocket style manual. He cites example after example of Strunk and White breaking their own rules on the very same pages where they’ve stated them.

It’s both horrifying and immensely entertaining to follow along as he systematically shreds it. Don’t be ashamed to find this interesting. Embrace your inner writer geek and read 50 Years of Stupid Grammar Advice by Geoffrey K. Pullum

Pixar’s Rules of Storytelling

It’s hard to argue the fact that the folks at Pixar know how to tell a good story. Here are some storytelling rules-of-thumb that they have been kind enough to share online:

Pixar’s 22 Rules of Storytelling

Don’t worry if you’re not a screenwriter; there’s something here for every kind of storyteller. Our current favorite is number two:

“You gotta keep in mind what’s interesting to you as an audience, not what’s fun to do as a writer. They can be very different.”

Which one speaks to you? Post a comment with your favorite and a little explanation about why.

Looking for a middle grade book topic? Project Middle Grade Mayhem has the answer

http://project-middle-grade-mayhem.blogspot.com/2013/05/what-do-middle-schoolers-really-want-to.html?showComment=1368466626882#c7089129283011236009

Are you trying to figure out what your next middle grade book should be about? Here’s a link to a great interview with a middle school librarian in Ohio with some interesting insights into the pre-teen/tween mind. One of my critique partners discovered the Project Middle Grade Mayhem blog and guided me to this interview. Even if, like me, you’re not a middle grade writer, you’ll probably find something interesting and educational on their website. Their archive goes back three years and the topics range from interviews to book reviews to discussions on writing craft.

And, if you are a middle grade writer, then you might be interested in applying to join the Mayhem team. They’re taking applications for two new members until November. Here’s the link to the application page:

http://project-middle-grade-mayhem.blogspot.com/p/apply.html

Good luck!

 

Sweeping Past Writer’s Block

Stuck? Can’t get past a prickly plot point? Or maybe your hero has gotten everything she wants and it’s only chapter four? Do you have writer’s block?

Sweep that Block Away

Sweep that Block Away

Pick up a broom. Dust some shelves. Good chance they’re your books, anyway. Such not-quite-mindless activity is perfect for letting your brain immerse itself in the problem. It gets your hands moving and your eyes watching without really seeing while that pesky plot point problem percolates away inside your head. And the next thing you know, the house is a little cleaner and you’ve come up with a brilliant solution to your dilemma.

Sweeping and dusting are good writer’s block fighting tasks for two non-writing reasons, as well. First, they’re never ending. They always need doing. Around my house we get about a five minute window of hairlessness when the place actually looks clean and shiny (two dogs and a long haired cat). So, no matter how many times you get stuck in a revision, chances are there’s some dusty corner somewhere in your house that you can go after. And, even if it doesn’t really need cleaning, you’re not hurting anything.

Which leads me to the second reason: sweeping and dusting are good because they promote domestic bliss. Instead of bouncing a ball (or your head) against a wall, or simply wandering through the house muttering angry nonsense at your feet – both of which activities can be a bit annoying to the people you live with – incorporating a broom or dust cloth into your writing struggle allows you to be a contributing member of the household, even as you solve your manuscript’s problem. That is satisfying both for you and for that person in your life who loves you and supports but probably entertains regular, secret doubts about having chosen to live with a writer. You know what I mean. I don’t care if you’ve got a roommate or a spouse or something in between, he or she will find you easier to live with as you wade through your seventh revision if he/she sees you carrying a little extra weight around the house. It lends you a noble air: as far as your significant other can tell you’re digging down deep and forcing yourself to help the team, even in the midst of your darkest writerly despair.

Doesn’t that sound good? Doesn’t it sound just like the person you want to be? I know it sounds like who I want to be. And any day now I’m confident that I actually will become that selfless, broom wielding writer. I know I will. Someday soon, instead of munching on candy and staring out the window, I’ll drag myself out of from in front of my computer and pick up that broom, and I’ll sweep all that pet hair right into the same trashcan as my writer’s block. It’ll be glorious and satisfying. And it’ll happen soon. I can feel it stirring inside of me.

But, if you happen to do it first, let me know how it goes.

Save Me, Save the Cat: Part Two

We left our hypothetical hero on the horns of a massive dilemma.  [If you’re confused, I’m showing how easily Chapter Four of Blake Snyder’s screenwriting manualSave the Cat can be made to work as a novel outlining template. Read Part One.]  Let’s see what happens with our three act hero next:

6. Break into Two (25):  This is what we’ve been building to.  This is the cataclysmic moment that pushes the hero to decide, once and for all, to undertake the quest, to leave all that he or she knows behind.  Note that the hero does the deciding.

7. B Story (30):  Snyder describes this part as a small breather for the audience.  The B story often covers the hero’s love interest.  But it can also be an aside with a mentor or a trickster that attacks the novel’s hero on a spiritual level.  It’s a good place for the writer to explore the themes of the story.

8. Fun and Games (30-55):  This is tough section of the novel for me.  It’s the muddle in the middle where I always despair.  Snyder says to give the audience a little something of what they came to see, a scene that might not have a lot to do with the main story line but that completes “the promise of the premise.” (Snyder 81)  The book’s cover art may very well come from this section of the book.

9. Midpoint (55):  This is where the hero either hits what feels like their highpoint (but it turns out to be a lie), or the moment that his or her world collapses.  Everything changes for the hero and nothing can ever be the same. Snyder’s very clear about this happening dead center in a screenplay.  As I said in Part One, I don’t know that a novelist needs to be so rigid with the order and size of each Beat.

10. Bad Guys Close In (55-75):  Trusted allies turn out to be traitors in this part.  The enemy “regroups” (Snyder 85).  Things may still appear okay, but the veneer is cracking.

11. All Is Lost (75): “All aspects of the hero’s life are in a shambles.  Wreckage abounds.  No hope.” (Snyder 86) If any of the hero’s allies are going to die they’ll do it in this part of the story.

12. Dark Night of the Soul (75-85):  The hero digs down deep and finds a way to press on.  He or she miraculously digs up out of the despair that the audience has seen almost kill them.

13. Break into Three (85):  A and B stories meet and join up.  The B story proves to have been a useful classroom or laboratory for the hero. In both story lines he or she has learned what’s needed to win.  It’s time to apply that knowledge.

14. Finale (85-110):  This is the plot of every first-person-shooter video game, ever.  The hero takes out the bad guys “in ascending order” (Snyder 90) of difficulty until he or she beats the big boss.  All is saved, the hero has changed in a fundamental way directly related to the ordeals he or she just went through.

15. Final Image (110):  This “is the opposite of the opening image. It is your proof that change has occurred and that it’s real.” (Snyder 90)

These excerpts and notes only touch on small part of Snyder’s book.  No matter what kind of story you’re telling, he’s got an insight into how to do it in a more appealing and satisfying way.  Is it a formula? Maybe.  Or maybe it’s a useful framework for getting out of a hole.  Either way, it’s just one chapter in one book.  If Snyder could read what I’ve done here, he would probably say I’m wrong, you can’t skip or rearrange any of these steps or interpret them as broadly as I have.  Of course he’d probably also point out that he wrote his book for screenwriters, not novelists.  Not to hypothetically speak ill of the dead, but I think he’d be mistaken if said either of those things.  Storytelling is storytelling, no matter how you choose to do it.  The basic rules don’t change. Even when I ignore them they remain.