Guidelines

How many times a day are you told what to do? Three? Five? More? Do you actively seek this? It is as if as children, we became predisposed to being instructed by others. And despite our many accomplishments ...or near-accomplishments, we still defer to the instructions of others. Perhaps this is source of the bias toward tall people, as they add to the illusion of being a child spoken to by an adult.

Other people’s instructives telling you what to do are unending: eat less, exercise more, plan for the future, spend your time wisely, keep your elbows off your partner’s junk. They stick in your head, insidious. Try to think of five “guidelines” right now. You can probably do so easily, just as you can also think of cases where each of those guidelines were wrong. Like hooking up in that cemetery. It seems the real lesson is that no matter what you are doing, there is something you should be doing differently.

Benefits to hooking up in a graveyard

• More spacious than a Corolla.
• Moaning and screaming too cliche to investigate.
• Excellent cosplay opportunities.
• Convenient “I’m a ghost” excuse for ending relationships.
• So many surfaces, so many positions.
• Prevalent jokes to break the tension.
• Attractive manicured landscaping.
• May forestall dead from rising -- a valuable public service.
• Inexpensive.

There is a similar litany of mental messages which shape my writing. “Limit that description, enhance that character’s role, write simpler!” Although it is often clear who is influencing my behavior (my parents, vice-principal, parole officer, and that nice exorcist) with writing, I’m not sure who is giving the orders. I am sure I don’t like it.

I enjoy writing because I’m supposed to be in charge. Very few people influence my writing. My teachers? (Maybe what I refuse to do.) My editor? (If you listen carefully, you can hear her laughing.) I write largely what I want, how I want. Whatever does influence how I write does so indirectly and is the result of mimicry: the study of patterns and nuances that one picks up while blatantly stealing from other authors.

This is where reading is fundamental. If you read broadly, you are influenced broadly and have the benefit of a myriad of voices to shape your own. (Whereas, if you skate through school, refuse to believe anything anyone tells you, and expose yourself to too many commercials, you get me.) The benefit of this idea is that you can screen the voices “who tell you what to do” when writing.

It is therefore perplexing how similar my writing is to that of other people. Take out the fancy words and the dependent clauses and it appears that regardless of whether you carefully curate your literary exposure or if you watch the Hallmark Channel, one’s grammar and syntax feels standardized. Pre-packaged. The language is used in a manner that is generally familiar and conveys meaning in a simple, direct fashion. Conveying meaning simply and directly is what people want.

(https://www.quickanddirtytips.com/education/grammar/grammar-enthusiast-june-casagrande-on-the-joy-of-syntax)

Why do we do that? Screw them! We should stretch creativity through creative phrasing, as well as ideas, acknowledging grammatical conventions and then ignoring them like a tween on a cell phone. 
This is not merely irreverence for the sake of irreverence. It is the selective moments of individual expression over comprehension within a text. Plain sentences are fine. Occasionally, if we are so inclined, we might choose to express ourselves to others – meaning those who themselves choose to read what we have expressed and join in the un-choreographed collaboration of thought of the author-audience relationship – a manner of writing that best conveys our emotional state; the loose approximation of language we use when discovering an idea; the pace at which our thoughts arrive, so that those others, favorably disposed, may obtain the best chance at understanding what the hell we’re thinking.

Before my editor calls the police, let me state that conveying ideas clearly is useful. This is a part of speaking the same “language” and aligns audiences for broader understanding. It feels overly conformist to accept that from a young age we are encouraged to write in a manner that takes no detours, that gets to the point, provides supporting evidence, and then, if necessary, summarizes our idea for our readers. Why should the million monkeys all write the same way?

My inclination, however idiotic, is to push the limits of language in an attempt to convey meaning; to exercise a reader’s imagination through a familiar medium presented in an unusual way. “I stood amid the pink-sweet-chalk-greendrop-quiver-quiet-beedust-firepollen” is challenging but far more interesting than “I stood amid the wildflowers.” Is that clearer? No. Is it more appealing? Or convey meaning better on in a more interesting fashion? Possibly, and sometimes I like that.

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by John Singer Sargent
(https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=13459122)

One of the instructives I find most helpful is “write for yourself.” My conclusion is that we are not necessarily letting ourselves fully do so. Too often we defer to the reader, the overtired-veneered-stressed-crusty-identityvacant-hopelessstretchedhamstrung. We place new ideas and frame them in the familiar-comfortable. Let’s do that, but let’s also find places to push ourselves, challenge the readers, and drive our collective editors insane.