About Enjoying Things

Post 1347:

It’s hard to talk about art. Really, if we’re being serious, it’s hard to talk about anything. That’s why so many people suck at communication. It can be a drag. Even when you know exactly what to convey, sometimes it comes out like sludge. Sometimes nothing comes out at all.

Over the past couple years I’ve gotten a bit caught up in theories of writing. Styles of writing. Advice on writing. Don’t do this, ever. Always do this. Tips and rules and how-to. That sort of thing.

It’s good to study. If you care, you’ll always want to be better and know more. On the other hand, don't get bogged down in analysis. Everything you do to make your writing better is great, except that it’s not writing.

Anyway, I’ve gone through this gauntlet recently. What matters most? Is it mastery of the language? Is it mechanical flow? Plot or character or style?

Presumably, you want to be perfect at all of it. Not very realistic, though. Keep striving. But in the meantime…

Enjoy the things you do well. And enjoy what others do well.

Example time.

I’m reading a short novel called The Promise about a strange family in South Africa. It revolves around a series of family funerals. Do I think it’s a masterclass in plot? Nah. Does it keep me on the edge of my seat? Nah. Then it must be a failure.

Nah.

It’s not a failure because the language is rich and insightful at almost every turn. It is simply well-written. I’ve written literally millions of words and sometimes that’s the only way to put it. Here’s a basic example from the text:

And then he’s gone. She can hear him walking away up the passage. His footsteps sound hesitant, but he doesn’t turn back. Nor will the moment return, which is true of all moments, though not equally.

It’s just a tiny little paragraph amongst hundreds very much like it. Simple, descriptive, insightful, lyrical.

Well-written. I don’t need to study it. But I can enjoy it. Cheers and see you after.