9 of 12
The Year End look back at the the top posts of 2013 continues with installment number 9 – “Words pt. 1″ – originally published on July 2, 2013, and inspired by the birthday of William Strunk, Jr.
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Anyone who’s made a serious attempt at writing, or can at least remember something about that college composition course they once took, probably recognizes the names Strunk and White as the authors of the most concise writing guide ever – “The Elements of Style.”
For no good reason, I have three copies of this little book by my desk. Two are older third editions (one in a larger size and print), and one is a fourth edition with a fancy silver cover. I’ve had one copy since high school. This one is quite literally “dog eared” – the scars of a West Highland Terrier attack years ago.
The book’s best page is 23 (in both the third and fourth editions). This page contains the book’s finest advice, found in the 17th “Principle of Composition” – “Omit Needless Words.” I’ve always felt the authors could’ve followed their own advice there and shortened the rule to “Omit Words,” but I can’t fault them. It is tough advice to follow for a writer. We tend to guard our words. We don’t like to admit any of our them are “needless.” I fight this battle daily and fail. Omitting needless words is perhaps, like golf and life, a game that can only be played but never won.
Page 23 of Strunk and White also features the best illustration of a writing principle in the book. The authors reprint George Orwell’s demonstration of the difference between good and bad writing from his essay “Politics and the English Language.”
Orwell updated a famous passage from Ecclesiastes into bad contemporary writing. This was the result:
“Objective considerations of contemporary phenomena compel the conclusion that success or failure in competitive activities exhibits no tendency to be commensurate with innate capacity, but that a considerable element of the unpredictable must invariably be taken into account.”
The original, read:
“I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.”
Without giving a single “do” or “don’t” Orwell shows the clear difference between good writing and dreck.
All-in-all “The Elements of Style” is a good and useful book, which is what accounts for it’s enduring popularity. It helped me when I was young and green and learning how to write, and it still has much to offer anyone at any writing level. But I must admit, it now sits, mostly unused, on my bookshelf. It spends more time catching dust than being read for two reasons. First I have an aversion to any kind of “manual” – whether on how to put together an entertainment center or how to write. I prefer to dig around and figure things out myself. Second, I’ve come to believe that if you’re not careful, rules and guidelines can be hazardous to your creative health.
Some of the greatest writers in the world ignore the advice of Strunk and White. (Some of the worst writers in the world do too, of course, but in different ways.) Guidelines and rules can be useful, but they can also become a burden and a creativity killer. Yes, learning the basics is important when cultivating any skill, but once you’ve learned them, you need to be free to rise above them. Or at least nudge them out of your way.
But when it comes to writing, storytelling, painting, cinema or any kind of artistic expression, focusing on a set of rules or some fixed template will lead to bland, cookie cutter results. If everybody’s art looks and sounds the same, it’s pointless. Being a slave to rules and methods means essentially being a hack.
To me, the best way to study words and learn how to write comes from reading good writers, and writing a lot – everyday – all the time. Once you’ve read a few hundred books and filled up a few hundred note pads, and you still can’t get enough, you might be on your way. If you really want to know how to use words. Discover them in action and practice, practice, practice. Once you’ve practiced your craft enough, you’ll understand why the old cliche is true (with apologies to Mr. the late Mr. Strunk) – rules were made to be broken.
