Are commercial bestsellers poorly written? John Grisham, Steven King, Elmore Leonard, Ruth Rendell, John Le Carre, Scott Turow–these folks can write like angels when they want to. But the way the average “franchise” bestseller is usually ground out…well, you have to think the author’s awareness of (or concern for) principles of good basic style is minimal or non-existent.
Read this email from a fiction writer and former workshop student of mine, Terri Arnold:
“We go to seminars, classes and critique groups and are told over and over how to write a good novel. We are told that editors and agents will toss a book the minute they see certain no-nos and you can only break those taboos if you’re really good or if used sparingly. Why then do I see countless books on the shelves – heavily promoted – that are filled with clichés, predictable (or unbelievable) characters and plots, inane dialog, repetition of plot points, “telling, not showing,” clumsy description?<
“I could go on, but you get the point. Why am I assured that these unprofessional tricks will only earn me rejection slips, when I see them flourishing in bookstores everywhere? I mean, even a crappy novel has to pass a certain level of skill, no? Or do these lousy successful writers have blackmail tapes hidden in their bottom drawers? Makes me wonder why I waste my sanity trying to do it right? Thanks for your insight.”<
Does this touch a nerve with you as a reader? Have you ever wished an author you wanted to like just WROTE BETTER? What about your own writing? Is it hard for you to apply the time and dedication to getting it just right when some of the biggest successes in your genre don’t seem to share that value–yet still hit the jackpot time after time?
I confess that sometimes I feel uncomfortable insisting on the highest writing standards, warning students that their work will live or die by how well they’ve learned to create unique, compelling images, demolish cliches, avoid grammar traps, shun adverbs, specify specify specify, and the thousand other things coaches shout from the bench.
I have a few thoughts I’ll share with you tomorrow. But today, I want to hear from you. Does this paradox bother you as much as it does Terri? If so, sound off. As a writer, as a reader…what do you think?
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
As a reader, I bypass just about all commercial fiction because I find it — competent storytelling, at best. If a book isn’t written artfully, in other words, if the story could be told just as well in another medium, like film, I’d just as soon watch a movie. Market demands have definitely forced a change in the books I find on the new fiction table — shorter books, short chapters, flaming corpses from the first paragraph, and at the risk of sounding like a pompous jackass, I prefer to take a more active role in my reading experience. I want to take my time and enjoy a beautifully written sentence. Not that I want to read William Gaddis, Marcel Proust and David Foster Wallace till my head explodes, but come on — show me something that can only be done using the written word.
As a novice writer, I only wish I could pull off what even the competent contemporary writers do. I can’t (yet), but it’s what I aspire to. As a novice, I also tend to shy away from reading most of the publishing industry/agent blogs because most of the prevailing creative leveling I typically find there. Although what sells probably has a lot of action, “hooks” right up front and no room to explore characters or setting, I guess even if it reduces my chances of ever seeing publication, I can only write in a style that is true to me.
I’m a patient reader and like to sink into a good book slowly, sort of like a hot bath. If most book buyers need to cannon ball off the high dive to be pulled into a book, I guess that’s just a reflection of taste our current culture of short attention span and the desire for instant gratification.
I don’t like it, but I accept that it’s the world we live in and publishing is a business. After all, the best literary fiction is usually published at a loss for the publisher, isn’t it?
I find this discussion fascinating. Currently, I am working with my high school students in AP Literature (seniors only) on a Critical Theories project. In the course of our discussions, particularly in regards to Structuralism and some aspects of Deconstruction, we came across an interesting quote by Gustav Flaubert — perhaps the most important of the early Modern novelists:
Here is a rough paraphrase:
“I’d like to write a novel that is judged by its style, regardless of the content. It seems to me that this is the future of novel writing: style rather than character development, plot, etc.”
The actual quote can be found in an essay which I have at school and will locate in the near future (and post here).
I believe that Flaubert DOESN’T subscribe to the notion that formulaic novels (like those written by Le Carre, Grisham, King, etc.), fit into this idea:
That STRUCTURE (a.k.a. style, design, language architecture, etc.) supersedes CONTENT (a.k.a. traditional fiction elements such as rising action, climax, denouement, etc.). To me, Flaubert suggests that the novelist who can rewrite or rethink how narratives are told is the one who can create a worthy work of art.
I just don’t read those bestselling authors. I can’t bear to–they depress me. I have zero tolerance for over- adverbed description, flimsy characters, exposition-packed dialogue. I’d rather read the installation manual for my plasma TV or about all the possible side effects in those pamplets you get with your meds. Sorry, I need literary fiction. There is too much to read and too little time to write to pay any attention to those big name bad writing authors. You are what you read. And you write what you like to read. So if my advance and my readership is small, fine. At least I don’t have to go to bed knowing I’ve left modifiers dangling.
I like to think of bestselling novels as the literary equivalent to Billboard’s Top 10. As a musician, rarely do I find a top 10 pop song worth my time. Bring on the classic rock and bluegrass or some out-of-the-box Indy tunes instead! Somehow these top 10 songs-in-a-box get heavy attention, and lots of people buy them — but you know as well as I do how countless music buffs scoff at pop music. Is it not the same for many writers and their feelings toward bestsellers? Consider this: a select few actually decide what gets played on mainstream radio, so they’re shaping what the public hears … and likes. Publishers are the same way with books. They can make a ton of money by promoting select books, starting a ripple effect with sales. Then poof, you suddenly have a bestseller. That’s not to say all bestsellers are bad (nor that all top 10 pop music is bad), but there’s a whole other world out there of great novels that don’t have press that avid readers and writers totally dig. So to answer the original question, I think writers have a shot either way, but you’re relying more on luck to have a publisher notice you when you resort to cliches and the “no-nos.”
What aspiring author doesn’t think about this??? I sometimes feel like getting published is liking trying to break into the Old Boys Network (however, women are included in this bunch). Whatever it takes to get in…luck, persistence, whom you know, whom your spouse knows, or whom you can bribe (just kidding). Notice I left out quality writing. Compare the Grisham’s, Turow’s, and Rowling’s first novels to their last and there is a big difference. I’m not suggesting that any of these authors write fine literature, nor do they claim to. But, once you’ve made it into the “network” then it seems you can lounge around and forget about comma splices, proper use of words, or whether a sentence actually reads well. And publishers have only one goal…to make money and as much of it on each book as possible and unfortunately quality literature will never or should I say rarely (only when Oprah likes it) appeal to the general public. A recent national poll cited that 40% of American’s didn’t even read 1 book last year, not one — more commonly known as the aliterate. According to the National Endowment for the Arts 25-34 year olds read less than 9 minutes per day and 35-44 year olds read only 12 minutes per day (these #’s were not averaged over a week). You (collectively) and I know that to sit and read quality fiction (or non-fiction) you have to sit for more than 9 minutes, yet in that time you can easily keep up with many of the latest crime thrillers (hence a good beach read). And did you know that the percentage of college graduates who are proficient in reading dropped from 40% in 1992 to only 31% in 2003. These are scary numbers and rest assured these are numbers that Harper Collins and Penguin and all the others are basing all their marketing and buying decisions on.
Nonetheless, I will strive…with Bill’s help, to write and hopefully one day publish a quality piece of fiction, and only hope that Oprah likes it.
Mark Twain once said, “The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them.
The question is not literary vs. mainstrean fiction. That’s a whole other discussion and when we have that one, I’ll proudly take the pro-mainstream side.
Not only is there is room in this world for both, but please dont make the mistake of thinking literary fiction is free from the same lopsided editing as mainstream.
Like it or not, writing is a business. Art is a fine thing and cudos to those who refuse to bend their pens to something as crass as money, but I want to quit my day job!
Ask any successful writer (good or bad) and they will tell you that if you ignore the business end of writing you’re only writing your journal.
The question is what are those of us who actually hope to earn a paycheck from our writing – rather than merely win some obscure award – to believe when what we are taught by professors and coaches is not what we see bringing in the green? Speaking to those who DO read and write mainstream, how do you toe that particular line?
Is it only connections that get these books printed? If so, I’m screwed! And these are not self-pubs or small houses, these are the Random Houses that promote these books. I assumed their editors were the plums of the industry.
In the meantime, I agree with Lindsey – write the best you can and hope for the best.
While I completely understand the frustration of seeing so many works somewhat lacking in literary merit climb the bestseller list, the real question for me is what qualities do they have that make people enjoy reading them. I want to stretch myself creatively. But I also want readers. I want to make money from my writing so I can do more of it. The bottom line is, publishing is a business. Editors and agents are looking — not for what they think is necessarily the best written work — but for what they think will make money. Think about it, there’s a lot more fast food eaten in this country than gourmet meals prepared by culinary artists. The challenge in my mind is not to ponder the mysterious nature of human appetite but to try to figure out how to harness it. For me, studying the craft of writing is all about learning how to meld my own artistic vision with the essential elements of a good story. I want my words to sing — not only to the choir and the congregation . . . but also to the old man walking his dog down by the railroad tracks. Two books that I think are worth checking out are “Writing the Breakout Novel” by Donald Maas (sp?) and “The Plot Thickens: Eight Ways to Bring Fiction to Life” by Noah Lukeman.
I once had a rejection that said – you attempt to insert too much style into your writing… that was in the 80s… I just got a rejection from Ralph Vicinanza saying – I cannot represent this: and I believe it is because I am doing something NOVEL an experiment in language and style; I have to kick that aside & get on with the work. You have to write for yourself or become, for the market, a writer you do not respect.
Why wont this let me indent! Listen… ass to seat & pen to paper: write for your own ghost & that ghost will haunt you if you compromise,
Sebastian
I’m afraid I have great respect for certain popular writers. The latest Harry Potter book was filled with dozens of horribly structured paragraphs, and there are some Stephen King books simply not worth reading, but I enjoy these authors. I appreicate what they can do with a character, how they can bring a story right up to the edge and somehow create a happy (and believable) ending.
At the same time, I have incredible respect for some of the literary short-story authors I’ve read lately. I can’t remember their names, and I only remember their stories from which magazine I found them in (e.g. Georgia Review or Ploughshares). But these are stories I could not have read six years ago. I hated them, dreaded them. In college, the complex literary stories made me avoid the serious literature classes (quite a feat for an English major). I wanted to study creative writing – I didn’t want to get bored out of my mind and then start pulling C’s. I didn’t understand story structure well enough then to appreciate what these stories accomplish. And what I understand now I learned from writing. Workshops taught me how to read stories in-depth, and I will never again enjoy my cherised “pop” novels which happen to be filled with run-on sentences and poor speech attribution.
Most readers, though, are like my mom – they don’t write. Hand her Ann Rice and she’ll pass the time; hand her Moby Dick and she’ll talk about the ex-cousin-in-law who dropped out of his Ph.D. program. Readers like my mom enjoy a good story, and they rarely notice adverbs or participles that dangle into space. If they’re good readers, they might feel queasy as the brooding superhero was saying his words darkly, but not always. To many readers, good writing is a product of deep thought. They think that “specificity of detail” means using phrases like “the fact that” and “he was verbed adverbly.” They use these phrases themselves, and then they tell people like us (their friends/neighbors/bartenders who claim to be writers) things like “oh, yeah, I’m working on a book, too. It’s about…”
Do I begrudge the bestsellers their fame? Not really. They tell stories that are fun and witty and enjoyable despite transgressions of style. Honestly, I despise awards committees who slap labels like “A Genre Essential Book” on novels that lack either plot or fully realized characters. I worry about the editor who let it go when dozens of poorly-worded paragraphs in Harry Potter 7 crossed the desk. I feel robbed of my time when the books are bad and robbed of an even better read when the books are good but flawed.
Is style important? To us, certainly. To the typical reader? I’m not sure. I feel like an elitist saying this, but I remember the days when I could read a book without critiquing the word order on every other page. When I was younger, I had no patience for many of the books we call “literary.” I read E.B. White because the book was about King Arthur, not because I understood the meaning of clean prose. Pride and Prejudice was a favorite because I thought Elizabeth Bennet was fun.
This, I think, is where the popular books excel – they develop characters who readers relate to. They provide compelling plots and exciting action to help readers quickly escape this world of work, taxes, and parking tickets. They reveal that it’s possible to write a compelling story despite structural mistakes. It’s the kind of trick I’m still trying to pull off.
In the meantime, though, I’ll keep working on the fundamentals of style. I’m already much better at sentence structure than conflict, but there’s always room for growth. When the day comes that I discover my compelling blockbuster story, I want the style to back me up all the way. I want the the story to read fast so the reader can dive in and forget that the images dancing through his mind are the product of black ink on white paper.
A. If being a writer seems like too painful and complex an experience, what’s the alternative? How about working at Dillards? B. Assuming you do (or don’t) strike it rich, what level of self respect do you want to achieve by the end of the decade, what kind of soul do you want to experience? How well you have written will make all the difference. And C. Forget about all the bullshit and ask if your writing is as authentic and as compelling as you can make it? Is that an ice berg I see on the horizon, said the woman to the captain? Yes it is, madam. Well, what if we get into a collision with it, she said. It will go on as if nothing had happened, he said.
I am the owner and chef of a small restaurant. We specialize in serving organic foods prepared simply and well in an unpretentious yet elegant setting. Down the street is a McDonald’s. Their drive-thru is always choked with cars. Diners waddle from the premises with grease on their chins and clogged arteries. I don’t see them in my restaurant, a fact which concerns me not in the least. You can guess the answer to this question: Do I plan to change my approach?