by Connie Berry reprinted with permission, first appeared in Writers Who Kill blog.
Aspiring authors usually seek advice from those who have achieved success. Ten years ago my big question was, “What do I need to fix? JUST TELL ME, AND I’LL DO IT!” Sorry for shouting. The point is, I was open to advice. Too open. Since then, I’ve become a bit more discerning. All advice isn’t good advice. Here are five examples of terrible advice (or potentially terrible advice) new writers often receive:
Just Write—Your Editor Will Correct Your Mistakes
Two things are wrong here. First, unless you’re the next Shakespeare (or the next Lee Child, who claims to write only one draft), you will need to learn a thing or two. Like all skills, novel-writing has a rather steep learning curve. Give yourself time. Second, even if you are a naturally gifted storyteller, submitting a manuscript full of errors will probably earn you a quick “thanks but no thanks.” Why shoot yourself in the foot?
Don’t Use Fancy Words When Plain Ones Will Do
There is a point here: purposely scrolling through the dictionary for words you hope will make you sound intelligent is a terrible idea. If you’re not familiar with a word, chances are you’ll misuse it and embarrass yourself. On the other hand, word choice shouldn’t be based on length but on appropriateness in context. No two words mean exactly the same thing, and some long words are more precise or evocative in their connotation than an almost-equivalent short word. Evocative is a good example. It doesn’t mean the same thing as its synonym moving.
Always Start In Medias Res
The idea here is to hook your reader from the get-go. That’s good. Skip pages and pages of backstory and get right into the conflict. But starting a book with a car chase on a Los Angeles freeway or with someone teetering on the parapet of a thirty-story building in downtown Chicago when the reader has no clue what’s going on is confusing. Why should they care? The idea isn’t to grab readers by the throat and yank them stumbling into the action but to draw them in by giving them someone to care about. Conflict can be internal.
Eliminate All Adverbs
Stephen King said, “The road to hell is paved with adverbs.” Catchy and mostly true. Overusing adverbs is a lazy way to write. It’s better to use strong, precise verbs. But every part of speech has its uses, and adverbs are no exception. Your POV character, for example, might pick up on the way someone says something, not just the words. Or you might want to say, “The trees were nearly bare,” instead of the convoluted, “Only a few leaves still clung to the trees.” And people do use adverbs in speech all the time. Wouldn’t some characters say simply, “She’s really beautiful” rather than “She is resplendent in face and form?”
Write to Please Yourself
Writing to the market usually fails because by the time your story actually gets out there, the market has moved on. However, writing purely to please yourself without regard for modern tastes is fruitless. I’m an English major. I love reading the classics. But few agents today, not to speak of readers, will entertain a modern version of the near-million-word Clarissa. Modern readers have little patience for a long build-up and paragraphs upon paragraphs of description like Leo Tolstoy. You can certainly write to please yourself, but you may be your only reader. Tastes change, and authors who keep up with current trends are smart.
There’s only one more thing to say: no so-called “rules” are absolute. Nevertheless, you have been warned!
Connie Berry’s dream of becoming an archaeologist ended when she learned there was more to it than discovering the tombs of lost pharaohs. Instead, she created the Kate Hamilton Mystery series, set in the U.K. and featuring an American antiques dealer with a gift for solving crimes. Her debut mystery, A Dream of Death, won the IPPY Gold Medal for Mystery and was a finalist for the Silver Falchion and Agatha awards. She lives in Ohio with her husband and adorable puppy, Emmie. The Shadow of Memory becomes available on May 10.
