What makes a good writer?

"Many books require no thought from those who read them. And for a very simple reason: they required no such effort from those who wrote them"

-Charles Caleb Colton

Where I have the wonderful opportunity to work, I hear and see a lot of conversation regarding "good writing".

I'm also positive that we have all had the experience of clicking and reading an article we see online only to make it a couple paragraphs and either:

1. Have no idea what we just read, or what the article was trying to say.

2. Have such a difficult time wanting to continue to the end that we don't finish reading at all, or simply skip to last paragraph to see if there is anything important we missed.

As we all know, there are three sides to every story: your side, my side, and the truth. And I can't remember a time when this has been more true than today. With such polarizing political, ethical, and moral parties vying for attention, all three versions of any story are resembling each other less and less. So reading both sides of what happened during a particular event is even more important, which is what got me thinking about "good writing" in the first place. All "sides" of any argument today are guilty of both "good" and bad writing. I've read articles and stories and opinions posted online from both sides of the aisle that really grab me and almost force me to read to the end. Not because I necessary care about the issue, or agree with the author's point of view, but because the flow and feel of the piece really makes me want to continue.

On the other hand I have also read my fair share of articles that compel me to zone out, or leave, and sometimes persuade me side with their opposition. Is it because their positions, facts, data, or ideas are wrong? No. (Well... sometimes, but that's a different argument) But rather its the way the writing makes me feel as I read.

I want to be clear. I understand that most of what we read (and see, and hear, and even say) today is blatantly skewed to illicit a specific response from the target audience. **Insert Marketing 101 reference here**  And I think that most of us are intelligent enough to recognize this device when we see it. What I mean is the reaction I have to the actual writing, the words, the flow, the connection with the writer.

Anybody can write "Today an orphanage burned down in upstate New York, the firefighters were too busy putting out the fire that the couldn't rescue a dog and her five puppies from drowning in a river outside of town." And make you feel sad. In fact, how often do we do that with news sites? (the search engine Bing does this a lot) We look just at the headline: "Orphanage burned, puppies drown" and feel sad, then move on.

But what will actually get you to read the rest of the article (if there is one, and not just the usual paragraph-and-a-half synopsis of the sad afternoon)? What will make you actually care about what is being said? What will inspire you to action? It's good writing that will do that.

We have graduated from self-help books to self-help Youtube tutorials, or quick-fix Quora articles written by someone who tries to hawk their get-rich-quick book at us. Yahoo Answers is a minefield of questionable advice. Is this bad? Not at all, but we do have to be careful (especially if we're getting cooking tips from Youtube comments!), but nowhere have I seen this behavior more prevalent than online writing.

One reason this is true, I believe, is because online writing is so accessible. You can't just decide one afternoon to bake a three-layer cake, or create a survivalist herbal garden in your living room. But finding a how-to guides on how to write effectively and throwing up a "how to solve world hunger" article takes all of five minutes. I don't know about you, but it is obvious to me when someone has just left the "how to write good and how to do other things good too" school.

It all comes down to our voice and not our skill. Which is something online writers miss when they think they've 'made it' as a writer, or a political blogger. It doesn't have to do with grammar or the size of the author's vocabulary, necessarily. What most "bad" writers I've seen online all have in common is that they've all abandoned their own voice and instead are trying to imitate the self-help guide they found. Good writers pour their heart into their work, and as a result we can connect with them. Bad writers fret over the best word choice, sentence composition, the balance of compound and simple sentences, even how the article "looks" online. Do all these things help? Of course, but I've noticed they are more often used to compensate for the fact the author has no voice of their own. They' have become one of the many, a clone of the guru.

I could be an expert in a certain topic, yet I will enjoy reading an article in a journal, magazine, or newspaper about that topic because the author has made the familiar, unfamiliar. By exploring a familiar topic from a new angle, with a new voice, with new colors, they make the article engaging and exciting. 'Bad' writers make the unfamiliar familiar by finding interesting topics, hard questions, or hot-button issues, instead of writing that about which they are passionate, and so they lose their voice.

I'm more than sure we have all heard the common complaints from those who fancy themselves "learned" or an "expert on literature" from time to time. For me, the most often complaints came when Harry Potter was introduced.

"JK Rowling is a terrible author. Have you even read her books?"

"She writes at a 4th-grade reading level!"

"So much of her work is copied form other authors, or blatantly plagiarized from myth, she's so unoriginal!"

(The same complaints can be attributed to so many other authors, directors, poets, etc. But I pick this one because I feel more people can relate)

And yet she's successful, she's a millionaire. They made movies of her books, and so on. People buy multiple copies of the same book because they love it so much. Why?

Surely it can't be because of her extensive vocabulary? Is it because of her experience in simile, exposition, prose, or sentence structure? It must be because of all the subtext, the intricately woven sub-plots?

I don't think so. (Correct me if I'm wrong)

It's because she has a voice. She put her dreams on paper and leads us by the hand into a world so lovingly created that we can't help but care for it, and wish we were a part of it. She made the familiar (witchcraft) unfamiliar in so many different ways.

This ties back to the quote at the top of this post: I think we check out of so many articles online because we can tell, intuitively, that they are almost copy-pasted from somewhere else, it doesn't engage our mind, and more importantly, our heart. On the other hand, others will draw us in and refuse to let us go because the author toiled and fretted over how to make the piece theirs.

Don't feel bad when someone criticized the books you like to read, or the articles you find entertaining or engaging. They are good for a reason, and that reason is not something you can quantify or measure. You relate to it, you invest in it. Don't judge the quality of an article, or a book, based on the skill of the author's writing, a few quotes I've found that help highlight this point:

"A multitude of words is no proof of a prudent mind."

-Thales

"The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words where one will do."

-Thomas Jefferson

"A designer knows he has achieved perfection, not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away"

-Antoine de Saint-Exupery

If you're reading an article that takes three paragraphs, and 4-syllable words to describe something simple, you've found an egotistical writer who just found a new how-to guide. On the other hand, if you find yourself five pages in when you only wanted to read the title an move on, you've found a good writer. One that says what they think, and not what they think others want to hear. They draw you into their world, and don't try to force themselves into yours.

Watching The Stars

A long time ago in not-so-distant lands
When the only things tweeting were birds
It was far more common to have calloused hands
And everyfolk paid mind of their words

Those who would journey to find something new
Would often look to the skies
To guide them and help them to not go askew
For the stars in the heavens never tell lies

They'd see something bigger, and greater, than them
To lighten the path far ahead
If they would only trust first, and not condemn
They'd wind up some place far happier instead

Back then a bad hair day was never a thing
And a perfect pie nary a care
No pictures to post, or comments that sting
Or the day-to-day issues of "perfection" laid bare

They looked up, and around, got lost and got found
And not just in filters and hip sizes
They were part of a whole, something glorious-bound
Not alone in a race of beauty without prizes

But today we look down, at a small little screen
Always, day in, and day out
We share the places we are, though hardly have seen
And everyone knows what we're thinking about

When a hair has gone awry, we put it back in it's place
For ours is the face we see the most
We stare at the floor, our palms; not the stars out in space
And worry all day about a stranger's post

Where can you hope to go, when you stare at yourself?
When the stars do not guide you?
Posting pictures of books, just to put them back on the shelf
And nothing greater than yourself anywhere in view?

Like a man in a desert, you walk in a round
Propelled by those you like
Ignoring the "nays" with your head in the ground
Forming your own private, egotistical, reich

It's no wonder to me, we have all lost our way
Chasing an unattainable goal
Believing we've always been right, 'til they days of our grey
And over those we disagree, we inevitably roll

It's no wonder to me, we have all lost our way
When we are the greatest there is
When we're guided by pride; forget why we kneel to pray
And say "This is my world, not his."

It's no wonder to me, we have all lost our way
And we no longer look to the stars
Just like it's no wonder, when we will all have to pay
For feigning outrage online, while ignoring these brothers of ours

Proactive Procrastination

            As a survivor of habitual procrastination, I can tell you from experience that it is only through the grace of many undeserved miracles that I made it through my high school and university career mostly in one piece. I have all semester to write a paper, you say? It will be written the weekend before, and I won't get any sleep the night before, I can guarantee you that.

So sure was I that everything I was assigned would be procrastinated that I eventually scheduled all my assignments on a "shifted" timeline. Essentially take a normal school workload and shift it forward in time by two weeks, and you get an idea of what I was managing. It almost took as much work to manage my procrastinated schedule as I believe it would to manage a normal schedule. In summary, I was PROACTIVELY PROCRASTINATING. If there is not a dictionary entry for that, I would like to volunteer to write it myself.

I like to believe that I have recovered from my bad habits. But now and then the natural, initial reaction to a lot of requests, issues, problems, or notices is to want to ignore it until the "due date". No matter what it is. Seeing as though it is tax season at the time of this post, I can tell you that my taxes are already "done", but I probably won't be submitting them until the week taxes are due. Why? Two reasons: 1. Stick it to the man. 2. Old habits die hard.

Those were the thoughts I had in mind when I got to this part of Annals of an Empire. During this part of the book, Big Jim (James Ferdinand) is starting to see his life go down paths he hadn't anticipated, and he's having a hard time adjusting and accepting these unexpected changes. It is in the middle of this time of flux that he meets Rick, and after some time the following conversation (as part of a larger whole, important plot-points having been removed as well) takes place.

            Rick was silent for a good while before he finally spoke again. And his voice sounded out of place in the silence that surrounded them, almost too loud, though he spoke softly.

            “You see the moons over there?” Jim looked to where Rick was pointing and saw the two small moons that were sinking slowly over the peaks in the distance.

            “Yes.”

            “If I sit here for fifteen minutes, the blue one will have sunk below the horizon. Another ten and the white one will follow.” He paused. “And yet, here I will be, sitting. Nothing will change except I might get a bit tired, maybe thirsty.” Another pause. “I have bills at home, rent for my house, talks to give to a group here or a meeting there. Maybe I have a court summons for an overdue parking ticket. If I sit here I would never know, and it would never affect me. The moons will continue to rise and sink, the people in the city will continue about their lives, yet I would have no idea; I might get a bit peckish and head into the city for a bite, but that’s it. Stay here long enough and Rick could become a bum, kicked out of his home. He could become a wanted criminal for tax evasion. But that is that Rick, not this one.” He gestured with his thumb to his chest. “This Rick lives a happy life of peace, the world moves forward, and the birds and the insects that sing tonight do not care what company they share.”

            Jim sat for a moment, he nodded in some parts while Rick spoke. But had no response ready when silence fell again. “You make it sound easy, just disappearing like that. Wish I could sometimes.”

            “It’s as easy as you make it, Jim.” Came Rick’s quick reply. “How many notifications have you received on your device since we sat down?”

            Jim pulled the small black device out of his coat pocket and checked, “looks like a couple dozen.”

            “And what would happen if you just ignored them?”

            “Probably a number of things.” Jim gave a half-hearted laugh.

            “But what would happen to you?” Rick looked at him this time.

            Jim thought quietly as he thought. There would probably be a short time before the crew panicked. Would they send a group to find him? Probably not, they would have thought he’d been arrested or killed in some alleyway. There would probably be some argument over who takes over the ship at first, and that would spread to other branches of the gang. Eventually the whole organization would probably destroy itself from the inside, ending with everyone dead in some bloody gunfight, or everyone getting booked by the ICE.

            “Probably nothing.” He realized.

            “Well that was easy.” Rick smiled, and turned back to the fire.

            It was Jim’s turn for a question now, “Then why don’t you do it? If it’s so easy?”

            “Because it takes a unique kind of person who wants to leave the world behind; to not affect it, and not be affected by it.” He took a last drink of what Jim had finally decided was hot chocolate, and set the cup on the ground. “Is it cowardice? Maybe selfishness? Either way, good people do not remove themselves from the world voluntarily. You may avoid a phone call, or delete an email, but eventually you face the consequences of that choice, you choose not to avoid it for long. Because, Jim, deep down you believe you have an impact on the world, whether for your own gain, or something greater. You want to steer the ship in some small way in the direction you would want it to go, and you in turn want it to change you.”

            Silence followed again, and Jim’s head was filled with noise, his thoughts competing for dominance in his head, which one to give voice? The air was dry and chapped his lips, but he was drowning in confusion.

             “So what are you telling me, Rick?”

            “Ha, I’m not telling you anything, really.” Rick held up his hands, to motion towards the horizon in the distance. “I’m just explaining to you how the universe works.”

            “Wha-“
“You may not like it, or even admit it.” Rick interrupted. “But there are laws that govern our lives, that govern the universe. Just as the speed of light is a constant in a vacuum, and that a bad tree can’t bring forth good fruit, a person with a good heart will naturally reach out to connect with humanity.”

           Jim sat in silence. He knew he had some kind of rebuttal to Rick's point, but he couldn't find the words. So he continued to sit, and watched the moons set.