So as I am working to finish my books and grow as a writer (a delightful labor that is never, ever done), I’m reading up on various ‘rules’ of writing. These rules, I find, seem to change and shift as to what makes ‘good writing’ from one minute to the next. Rules such as:

‘Cut out all words that end in -ly. Really, perilously, tragically, emphatically, probably, etc. Remove them all!’

‘Keep sentences short and simple! Keep words short and simple!’

‘Never use a verb other than ‘said’. Never use an adverb to modify ‘said’. ‘

And so on.

I love these rules. I also love breaking them.

Some I find extremely (look, an -ly word! Naughty me!) helpful and stick with them on a pretty consistent basis. Rules like ‘don’t repeat a key word too often’. Others, I stick with on a less consistent basis (see my -ly faux pas above). When it comes to dialogue, for example, I’m going to write how people speak, and people say ‘really’, ‘very’, an awful lot. They also tend to speak in rambling sentences with no passing concern to brevity, depending on the character.

Most times I will use the word ‘said’ as my verb, but on occasion a naughty ‘shouted’, ‘moaned’, or other ‘saidism’ will sneak its way in there. Sometimes, I’ll giggle in maniacal glee as I perform a double-should-never and have a character ‘shout happily’.

This highlights the one rule that I find has never let me down. It is one of my own realization and not stemming from the advice of others, experts or no.

When it comes to writing, as with most things, all in moderation.

Repeating words, putting in the occasional saidism, dropping an -ly word in the middle of non-dialogue like a mic that has gone red-hot – all can be quite useful tools in making an impact and controlling the way that impact hits the reader. Don’t limit your toolbox just because some ‘rule’ or other says to never do that thing. Look at what we consider great literary works, or even just popular ones, and see how often those rules become mere guidelines that didn’t make or break that work.

I mean, just take this single line from a poem by Dylan Thomas that everyone knows, whether they are a reader or not:

‘Rage, rage against the dying of the light.’

Not only did he repeat a key word too often, he did it back to back in a single sentence! Oh! The huge manatee!

A rule not only broken but shattered into a thousand pieces and sent off into the stars. And guess what? Every single one of those pieces embedded itself into someone’s mind. So much so that even if 90% of people couldn’t name the poem or the poet, that line is recognizable in an instant.

Follow the rules, but don’t be afraid to break them.

What inspired this post? Well, in my aforementioned reading I came across this line that, for me, perfectly encapsulates my mindset regarding them.

The writer must be able to feel words intimately, one at a time. He must also be able to step back, inside his head, and see the flowing sentence. But he starts with the single word. [They] report their vision in a language that reaches the rest of us. For the first quality the writer needs imagination; for the second he needs skill … Imagination without skill makes a lively chaos; skill without imagination, a deadly order.

Donald Hall

Go make a lively order.