A few weeks ago, a fellow Kernelist received this feedback from a critique partner: your protagonist should only cry if your reader would cry too. After thinking it over and discovering that she did not wholly agree, she brought it to us and asked for our opinions on this purported “rule.” Someone pointed out that they’d recently read a book with a lot of crying, which didn’t evoke the same feeling in them as a reader, but they’d nonetheless enjoyed it. Someone else pointed out that the anxiety of a character (and therefore their physical reactions, i.e. crying) might be different from a reader’s. We noted a singular occurrence might make one reader cry but not another. We had a good discussion that eventually gravitated toward sentiment.
Why had this critique partner, someone with an impressive résumé and solid prose to back it, offered this rule? What were they really saying? My opinion is that they were implying the protagonist’s tears were not yet earned in the draft. It makes sense, no? If your reader is crying or can picture themselves crying, the writer has certainly earned the character's sadness. And yet, the way the critique partner delivered this advice, as though it was a writing truism, lacks necessary positioning. All of our immediate thoughts regarding this rule exemplified other ways a writer could earn a character’s tears.
This sort of advice is in line with a plethora of uncontextualized rules that writers, especially emerging writers, are often given. Consider “show don’t tell,” “never open a story with a dream/dialogue,” “write what you know,” or “cut all adverbs.” How many writers have taken these rules as absolutes and never questioned why they exist in the first place?
I have often heard writers describe long lulls in their writing life occurring after a single rule was wielded like a weapon to destroy their confidence in their work. It makes me angry—at the person who offered uncontextualized critique, yes, but also at the writer for not pausing to examine what they had been given.
Here is one of my favorite tweets from Matt Bell: “Idly thinking tonight about how often what is at first insufferable about a writer’s work turns out to be directly related to the most durable part of their genius.” What defines that insufferableness? Probably, for many writers, it is a defiance of expectations and rules. So much of becoming a writer, of finding your literary voice, is learning to reject the rules and patterns that don’t serve your work, otherwise we would all be writing the same story the same way.
By no means am I suggesting you ignore all of the writing rules you are told, instead I implore you to think deeply about a rule’s context, and ask yourself if following that rule is the best way to serve your narrative. Not “show don’t tell,” but, is my prose grounded in the reality and experiences that I want my reader to have? Not “never open a story with a dream/dialogue,” but, am I causing my reader disorientation and if so is that intentional? Not “write what you know,” but, am I doing a disservice to the context of my story? Not “cut all adverbs,” but, am I closing the gap between description and the object of my description and if not is that intentional?
My kernel of advice: Never take a rule at face value.
Inspiration, Information, & Insight
Neidy just finished reading Yellowface by R. F. Kuang, and she suggests you read it too. The book is compelling for its impressive storytelling elements—an unlikeable protagonist who makes increasingly despicable choices, an insider’s view of the publishing world, and a powerful hook—but also for its craft elements. Kuang illustrates how telling (as opposed to showing), flashbacks, and interiority can be as compelling as the most propulsive, plotty books. Neidy also signed up for Cecilia Lyra’s Writing Tension webinar which takes place this Thursday.
Natalia hasn’t been taking much in this week as she tries to get through the busy season at work and prepare for a pilgrimage to France next week. She’s hopeful about a novel-y summer just on the horizon.
Shelby is back at work after a novel-writing staycation and has been enjoying talking to customers about her favorite books! She’s also gearing up to read Fruit of the Dead by Rachel Lyon for her book club next week. (Shelby is notorious for reading her book club books last minute, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.)
Sarah’s dance card was filled up this week thanks to her local literary festival: the Oxford Conference for the Book. She attended panels and readings by Kaveh Akbar (Martyr!), Sheila Sundar (Habitations), Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah (Chain-Gang All-Stars), José Olivarez (Promises of Gold), Andre Dubus III (Townie), and others, and went to a few too many parties.