Tell, don’t show.

Show, don’t tell.

That’s a popular critical writing advice.

I receive this feedback whenever I have my work assessed by beta readers.

Instead of saying, “X was a tall person,” show how he had to bend his head down to get into his car.

No, thanks. I’ll stick with “X was a tall person”.

There’s virtue in showing. There’s virtue in telling. Use both and ignore neither.

Here I have adapted Alan Cohen’s words:

“There is virtue in work and there is virtue in rest. Use both and overlook neither.”

I am reading Stephen King’s On Writing (part autobiography, part writing advice book). And while reading the book I disagree so often with Steve.

He talked about how “ludicrous” (his word) use of passive voice in fiction is. Again I disagree. I think in some cases passive voice gives a character or a passage an air that it suits it right.

Stephen King would assert (or say, as he hates anything besides “he said” and “she said” as dialogue markers) that instead of “A lot had been on her mind,” write “She had been thinking a lot.” Now I’m making up these examples here to illustrate my point (or Steven’s point).

I think “A lot had been on her mind” is unique and can serve a certain piece of narrative passage just fine. It carries a weight that nicely shows how she preoccupied the said character had been.

“She been thinking a lot,” on the other hand feels too light and too active-voicey. See, the passive voice above aptly sums up my imaginary character’s loaded mind. In my opinion, it shows how passive the character has been. Maybe she’s been too busy. Maybe she’s been too unaware.

You know what? My character could start with “a lot on her mind” and end up as a form of character arc with “thinking a lot.” In other words, she could become more proactive.

The point being: Passive voice is unique and a gift that can be carefully used to illustrate states of minds and situation that cannot be summarized otherwise. Or to please Steven: Passive voice is unique and a gift that you can use to illustrate states of minds and situations that you cannot summarize otherwise. I hope Steve is happy now.

I respect Steven Kings as a writer. No I don’t read his book but I know he’s done great stuff and his fame is a proof that he knows his stuff. But that doesn’t mean that’s the only way to do it right.

You have to follow rules, yes. So you can please editors and publishers and eventually reviewers. Otherwise they will tear your books to pieces and it will not sell any copies.

Now are all rules nonsense? Not at all. I simply think that some of the rules are nonsensical like not using passive voice in your fiction writing or not using adverbs (Steven Kings has got a problem with that too). In On Writing he also admits that he does the whole “Do as I say not as I do” thing from time to time by not following his own rules. His honesty is well-received (by me). Again I respect that amazing, experienced writer.

But. But there are no rules that work 100% of the time. Someone has to break the rules from time to time. Someone has to break them all the time. I am reading (or trying to read) Lionel Shriver’s much talked-about book We Need to Talk About Kevin and it’s giving me a hard time (because it’s full of recall-style diary format where nothing happens) but hats-off to Shriver for nailing a prose that is full of not-so-often-used-words especially in fiction.

Shriver is a non-fiction writer as well (writes columns, Ed-Ops etc. in big newspapers) so it’s understandable where she’s learned that formal vocabulary (words like “precarious” and “furtive”). No the book is not interesting, in my opinion. It’s literary fiction which in any way is often tough on reader unless they are really into all that deep character-driven stories where nothing in happening. But I do admire the quality of that formal-ish prose.

I think the formal style (rarely used vocabulary and long sentences) give the character an air that’s unique. Admirable. Shriver’s book is published by Serpent’s Tail, a publisher known be “one of the most unique and important voices in British publishing” (Mark Billingham — quote from back pages of the book). I’m not an expert on what voice there’s normally in a literally novel. But I’m guessing many mainstream writers could criticize this book. Was it criticized? I guess not. I hope not.

Writers need to experiment, just like painters. In painting there’s a lot of free space to do whatever you want. In writing there isn’t. I feel writing in the Western English speaking world (Anglo-Saxon I mean) is pretty much confined by how fiction books are supposed to be. Writing published in India for example (read anything by Chetan Bhaghat, famous Indian novelist) is totally different from what’s available in the Western markets. The rules of telling, showing, adverbs-usage will be broken.

That’s the beauty and value of diversity. Languages are not supposed to be rigid. It’s a good thing that unlike the Anglo-Saxon English writing market the Indian market (and I hope other English-writing markets) provides its own kind of freedom. Disclaimer: I don’t know much about rules of publishing in India so I’m treading on unchartered territory here but based on what I have read, the rules are very different. Thank God.

To come back to the topic of virtue (and vice?) and the moral of this story:

“Different isn’t mean worse, same isn’t better.”

Image credit: Photo by Sam Lion on on Pexels.com