A Plea To Books on Writing: Please, Shut Up about the Writing, Already

If there's one thing the Grumpy Buddha can't stand, it's ... well, the spectre of mortality that hangs over him like a lumpy, moldy shroud. (Nothing special there, I guess.)

But if there's two things, it's that, plus books on Writing that make his Grumpiness feel like a bad person.

Seriously, guys -- and by "guys" I'm pointing at you, Jack Bickham, Sol Stein, Nancy Kress, and a bunch of other muckety-mucks -- stop getting in my face about how important it is to write when you want to be a writer.

If I wanted to write, why would I read your goddamn books? Your books do not exist to help me write, they exist to teach me the craft without having to go through all the fuss and bother of writing. That's the point. And, you know, give me the illusion of doing something constructive writing-wise without having to put words down on virtual paper. This is not rocket science, people.

But they're all the same. I get it already, adverbs modifying speech tags are incredibly horribly stupendously bad, except when they're not, and show, don't tell, unless you're Elmore Leonard, and be consistent in your point-of-view, leaning towards first person or third-person limited, unless you're Charles Stross and under the illusion that shit like multiple 2nd person POV won't annoy the living fuck out of me, seriously, whoever got farther than the fifth page of Halting State deserves a goddamn medal, and where was I again?

Oh, right. Whining. So anyway, they give all this advice that is heavily rehashed -- except for the stuff that isn't, like Kress's distinction between 3rd person limited close, middle, and distant, huge piles of Bickham's scene and sequel stuff, Stein's chapter on building suspense -- and then they have the nerve to throw in exercises!

If I wanted to write mini-bios or "a brief scene involving taking [a] puppy outside in the middle of the night" don't you think I'd have done so already, Ms. Kress? My magnum opus, How My Puppy Started The Apocalypse, would be resting comfortably at the top of the New York Times bestseller list right now. Here's a hint: it's not. I checked.

Bickham is another story altogether. He doesn't just want me to write, he wants me to do crazy-ass analysis of what I'm reading! This is an exact quote from Writing and Selling Your Novel (p. 55):

Take a contemporary novel. Pick one chapter. Go through it and underline in RED every word that absolutely specifies the viewpoint with a phrase such as "she thought," "he heard," or whatever. Then, with BLUE, underline all those portions which you assume are in the same viewpoint, even if there is no specific viewpoint pointer ... If you spot a place where the viewpoint character speculates about another's internal processes, or draws conclusions from evidence about same, bracket those in GREEN. Put an ORANGE X in the margin every time viewpoint is reinforced with another direct statement such as "She saw." Circle "warm" adjectives with PURPLE. If you see a verb that suggests motion, circle it in YELLOW. If an adverb modifies that verb, outline it in FUCHSIA. If a sentence alludes to one of the five senses, circle it in AQUAMARINE, but if it seems like the author is trying too hard to squeeze in the allusion, draw a squiggle over it in LAVENDER. If a sentence, when spoken aloud, would be a good setup for someone saying "That's what she said!" underline it in BLACK. . Finally, if the sentence has the kind of footnote that you found amusing in the author's previous works, but at this point it's just annoying, scratch it out in OCTARINE.

He concludes (p. 56) by saying

I wish I could face you as you read these words, and give you a shake for emphasis. If you rolled your eyes at me, I would follow by smacking you around a little, and if you still refused to take my advice, I would resort to mild application of electric shock. Please don't make me go there. 

His entire book is like this -- exercise upon exercise of analyzing book chapters and/or what you've written. Clearly, there is something seriously wrong with this man.

HOWEVER ... it just occurred to me, there may be a method to his madness.

I now realize that Bickham & company have given me an out -- if reading books on writing fails to please, but actual writing must still be avoided, I can still take The Middle Way*: analyzing what I'm reading! I'll get all the tasty benefits of feeling like I'm making progress in learning to become a writer, while continuing to avoid the messy act of writing. Well played, sir!

I shall begin immediately. Or, you know, tomorrow.

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*Interestingly, The Middle Way is a term Buddha used to describe the Eightfold Path -- the way between belief in an eternal self and belief that the self is completely annihilated upon death. So, you know, I also have that going for me.