The Write Way

Fiction is fictional. Writing is quality. Writing is written. These are the foundational principles of writing--and they’re all wrong. Improving your writing means thinking about these so-called “foundational laws” and why they don’t work. Reaching your full writing potential means rebuilding what, why, and how you write.

The most deeply ingrained idea of writing is that fiction is fake. At first, that seems pretty undeniable: the basic definition of fiction is to invent stories. But viewing fiction as purely fictional prevents emotional connection with your writing. As stated in “Journal 50,” the best fiction comes from non-fiction: “Even though I call myself a fiction writer, all of my stories have been based on my own experience… Fiction, for me, is the most beautiful form of nonfiction” (Altman, “Journal 50”). Despite the usual separation between fact and fiction, excellent writing is a mix of both.

The benefits of a passion-first outlook are exemplified in Khaled Hosseini’s A Thousand Splendid Suns. Though Hosseini is extremely distanced from the characters in his novel (the book centers around Afghan women struggling against oppression), his work was based on emotional connection. Hosseini states, “Though no one woman that I met in Kabul inspired either Laila or Mariam [of A Thousand Splendid Suns]... a good part of my inspiration for this novel came from [witnessing Afghan women’s] collective spirit.” This emotional connection meant Hosseini could vividly describe situations unrelated to him. And it worked: A Thousand Splendid Suns was the number-one bestselling book in the United States for four consecutive weeks after publication, as well as remaining a New York Times bestseller for twenty-one weeks.

The message from Hosseini’s success, then, is that passion shows. From analytical essays to creative works, becoming a better writer means creating an emotional connection to your words--especially if there is no physical one.

Another common misconception about writing is final drafts: basically, the idea that writing must be amazing  before it’s shared. Curtis Sittenfeld, author of the novel Prep, tells young writers that “Pretty much anything you publish before you're 25... will embarrass you later” (Sittenfeld, “English 100 Questions”). Though she raises a valid point, Sittenfeld also represents the growing anxiety of a writing system insisting on perfection. The message to beginning writers, most often, is to hide. Until their work has reached a certain standard, young writers are told to keep their works to themselves. In most high school English classes, writing isn’t graded or commented until the final draft--an institutional support of this perfectionist mindset.

Ironically, hiding your work is a surefire way to lower your work. Receiving feedback throughout the entire writing process has clear results, the most obvious being that you can identify problems earlier. Critiques, while often painful to hear, mark a clear path to improving your works. Receiving those valuable critiques means sharing your writing, and sharing it often--especially when it’s horrible.

However, all of these tips are irrelevant unless you can gather an audience. And if you’re writing the way your English teacher has told you to (namely, plain text documents), you’re not going to get one. Writing on those unread Word documents is becoming a lost art--and for good reason. Instead, using multimedia (basically anything that transcends plain text), is the best way to increase the visibility of your writing.

The effectiveness of multimedia writing is evidenced in Mark Danielewski’s House of Leaves. Though Danielewski’s novel is, at heart, a horror story, its presentation has gathered a following far beyond horror junkies. As stated by Malcolm Jones, Danielewski’s formatting turns House of Leaves into a work “like no other novel you’ve ever read”: many pages feature text that’s sideways, encoded with hidden messages, or buried under page-long footnotes. Despite (or maybe because of) its unconventional presentation, House of Leaves has achieved near cult status, with readers claiming it “changed [their] life,” and tattooing its quotes onto themselves. The cause of this enthusiasm is simple: House of Leaves’s dynamic storytelling allows for interaction beyond text.

The implications of this success are groundbreaking: House of Leaves proves that writing must grow beyond plain text. Effective writing isn’t found in Word documents anymore; using multimedia and advanced formatting results in a full reading experience. In essence, mixed media expand the lifespan of a written work--not only in the minds of its audience, but also in its digital legacy.

Just as multimedia is the destruction of traditional writing, excellent writing is the death of all writing rules. Good writing, at its core, is broken writing. Not complicated ideas. Not traditional presentations. Improving your writing means destroying your writing--making the art more simple, more deeply felt, more likely to effect change.