This is going to be hard for some people to hear, but it is a lesson that even the most seasoned writers need to remember. I certainly need to remember it, on those occasions where I am feeling disheartened.

No one just starting out writes a masterpiece. Everyone thinks their first work is a masterpiece.

I did. It’s normal. But those starting out are the literary equivalent of a person picking up a guitar the very first time and then wondering why someone is telling them that their playing needs work and is not yet symphony quality.

It takes practice. A lot of practice. My first stories? I thought they were amazing. I read them now and cringe. You may be talented, you may even be skilled, but there is ALWAYS room for improvement.

It’s hard, I know. Offering up our writing is like offering up a piece of our soul, so much that any criticism of it feels like criticism of us as people. A lot of writers never get past this and quit after a story or two because people who read it never react like it’s prize winning gold – parents and family members aside – because it never is. Even Stephen King had hundreds of rejection letters before first publishing Carrie.

This is a hurdle you need to get past if you want to be a writer. No artist, writer, painter, musician, is ever gold out of the gate. Everyone has room to grow and improve. Everyone. Think of the most famous and acclaimed writer out there. That person got there by working very very hard and developing their skills and even they will admit they can always be better.

Learning destructive criticism from constructive is a big key. So is having a more realistic view of yourself and recognizing you are still learning and understanding that there being room to improve your skills does not actually reflect on your worth as a person. Trust me, every writer out there absolutely gets what you mean.

Some of my work has been praised to an almost embarrassing amount by some. And that’s great. That exact same work has been torn to shreds by others and you know what? That’s fine too. They don’t like the story, that’s fine. It’s not for them. If there’s actual constructive criticism in their comments that can be used to make me a better writer, I will use that and discard the rest of what they said. If there aren’t, I just throw the whole thing away (their comment, not the story) – it’s not for them, and some people just delight in being trolls.

You need to ask yourself some essential questions and keep some deep truths in mind:

Am I doing this to get praised for it, or because I love it and enjoy doing it, and want to get better at it?

Critique of your writing and even outright loathing hatred of it is not a reflection of you as a person – don’t take it as such. Take the good bits and use them to improve your skills, and discard the crap. It’s a reflection of them, not of you.

You are not going to please all of the people all of the time. It’s impossible. Even the most beloved authors on the planet have more people that hate or are even totally indifferent about their stuff than love it.

Be kind to yourself, forgive yourself for not being perfect. Realize now that you will never be perfect, and that’s ok. The rest of humanity will never be perfect either. You will likely never actually write a masterpiece. Neither will I. You may, but far, far more people don’t than do. And that’s also perfectly ok. It doesn’t need to be a masterpiece to be great, or to be worth it.

There is always room to grow.

If you have finished a story, even the first draft, that’s amazing right there. Believe it or not, that alone puts you above the vast majority of people out there who decide ‘hey, I think I’m going to write a book!’

Most never get that far. Be proud of yourself.

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.

I have completed my last read-through of Vhan, and am now doing my last final quick edit before going to beta readers, putting in the corrections that I noted, and throwing in a scattering of hints and changes that will tie it together with the (now planned) prequel. I expect to be done, with luck, before the middle of May. Honestly, I don’t think it will take even that long.

Again, if you have any interest in being a beta reader for Vhantalya, please email me at Melaradark@gmail.com with the subject ‘Vhan Beta Read’. I have beta readers lined up for Scarlett but only one or two for Vhan. I would like four, if possible, so there are a couple of slots available for anyone who feels they have the time, desire, or energy to read it cover to cover and answer a few questions.

Thank you!