In a mirror darkly – or writing tips to diss (carefully)

Is it only because my to-be-read-pile of books is getting low that I notice good writers -- or at least well-read authors -- breaking rules I’ve often been told to avoid? Some of these are derived from respected sources, for example, that late saint of writing, Elmore Leonard’s “10 Rules for Good Writing.” Others came from who knows where, parroted endlessly by writing critique groups. In the public interest, here are a few I’ve seen smashed to bits with good results. But before we all go out and do likewise, we’d better have some really, really (oops – excessive use of adverbs) good reasons to break them.

Here’s #1 from Leonard’s rules: Never open a book with weather. May I submit in evidence to the contrary Nancy Pickard’s The Virgin of Small Plains, which opens, yep, with weather. Not, however, any ordinary sunny day weather, but a blizzard in which a woman’s body is discovered.  So, caveat #1: Never open with weather -- unless it’s damned interesting weather.

image by Ria Sopala from Pixabay

While Elmore Leonard is spinning in his grave, let me pick on his rule #2: Avoid prologues. But what if they’re prologues that are essential to the story, such as exhibit #2, the opening chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone? I admit, J.K. Rowling – or possibly her editors -- didn’t label this “prologue,” but it has familiar marks of the dreaded “P” – a different point of view and several years’ distance in time from the main story. Is labeling what would otherwise be a prologue, “Chapter 1,” enough to avoid the dreaded prologue curse? Exercise caution!

Here’s a rule that’s not on Leonard’s list, but that I’ve encountered (and heard dissed) more times than I can remember: Never open with a dream. And its corollary, never open with a character waking up. These are what started my current rant, from Ruth Ware’s The Woman in Cabin 10, which opens both with what looks like a prologue – “In my dream. . .” followed by (and labeled Chapter 1) “The first inkling that something was wrong was waking in darkness. . .”

I’ll expand on these because Ware does such a masterful job with both. First, she lets readers know that the character is dreaming. Do I need to point out how much more honest this is than stringing readers along for paragraphs or pages before doing the dream reveal? Anybody old enough to remember the original Dallas TV series will understand the frustration of the “it was all a dream” formula which was revealed after an entire season. At least those writers had the excuse of believing one of their major actors was about to jump ship. Novel writers do not.

Second, when Ware’s protagonist wakes up, it isn’t her ordinary waking up episode or even because she’s such a ditz she couldn’t remember to set her alarm. No, it’s something very wrong that causes her wake up and foreshadows an even more devastating wake up later in the book. As with the “weather” opening, reserve “waking up” for the essential and interesting awakenings.

Here’s yet another rule-breaker from my recent reading -- #7 on Leonard’s list: Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly. To which I add, unless it’s absolutely necessary to the story, as in Joe R. Lansdale’s historical novel, Edge of Dark Water. Lansdale is from Texas, and as a regional writer, regional dialect is essential to his stories. However, he doesn’t fall into the 19^th century trap of writing dialect phonetically. (Seriously, do not!) (Hmmm – Leonard’s #5: Keep your exclamation points under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose.)

Or take a tip from another historical novel, Colson Whitehead’s Nickel Boys, and drop dialect in according to the “sparingly” part of Leonard’s dictum to add to the characters’ essence. And don’t forget that dialogue in dialect still needs to be interesting. And essential. (Have I used the word “essential” too often?)

I don’t remember reading this next rule but I’ve certainly been hit over the head with it enough during writing critiques: Don’t let your character describe her/himself by looking in a mirror. Maybe this comes from Leonard’s #8: Avoid detailed descriptions of characters. Or maybe it’s just lazy, as in 50 Shades of Grey, whose protagonist describes herself, yes, while looking at her reflection in a mirror. (Hey, I opened by stating that these rule-breaks can come from well-read writers, not just good writers. Did any other reader slam 50 Shades closed at that point? Probably not.)

But what about readers who feel a desperate need for a physical description of a character? It’s several decades too late for writers to go omniscient, as Margaret Mitchell did in the opening of Gone with the Wind, “Scarlett O’Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm. . .” with more to follow about Scarlett’s hair, eyes, freckles, waistline and, of course, clothes.

For more modern books with multiple point of view characters, it’s perfectly permissible to have one character describe another. A similar ploy I’ve seen used to good effect in recent years is to have a POV character describe herself with reference to another character as in, “she was my age, 35, but looked a decade older.” Or “about my height, build, hair color, etc.”

Ware, however, isn’t afraid to put her character in front of a mirror when she needs to describe something that isn’t that character’s usual appearance, for instance the ghastliness of her face after a string of sleepless nights and too much to drink. As always, use the mirror trick sparingly and with caution.

I’ll finish with a final Leonard dictum, #4: Never use an adverb to modify the verb “said,” and Ware’s break from it: “‘. . . it wasn’t me,’ Eva said, but quite kindly.” And continues, “There was no trace of the slightly tribal defensiveness the girls downstairs had betrayed.” (Just noticed that this quotation is a two-fer break with many critique group rants – modifying the “said” verb and multiple uses of adverbs. Sharp eyes may notice that “quite” is also an adverb, although critique readers usually only jump on adverbs ending in -ly. As always, use sparingly, wisely, and only when absolutely, positively essential!)

For more rules to abide by – or break wisely – check out Elmore Leonard’s full list at the Gotham Writers Workshop site. Read, write, and feel free to share some of your most- and best-broken rules.