It always perplexes me that many writers feel the need to establish rules for writing. Some of them are useful, like those from Kurt Vonnegut and Neil Gaiman. Others are ridiculous, and you can identify your own personal bugbear from the more ludicrous ones compiled by The Guardian here and here. I find it amazing that purists are still insisting that writing on a computer without internet access is the only path to tread. The internet is an indispensable tool when you use it wisely, just like a computer (not just a solitaire/minesweeper machine) or a thesaurus (not just a doorstop) or a pen (not just a nervous chew toy). Dollars to donuts, I’m sure there was a rule by some other esteemed writer who posited, “Never write on a typewriter, for only writing actual words on actual paper gives you the proper sense of rhythm.”
The truth of the matter is that if a writer imposes a set of rules for writing upon you, he or she is ignoring the beautiful, subtle mathematics behind the art, and trust me, they’re there. These subtle machinations are expressed within the language of relativity and dictate that each writer’s experience and writing experience is unique and unto itself. Do yourself a favor and remember that cribbing off another writer’s set of rules for creation is rather like borrowing someone else’s internal checklist for what s/he desires in a lifepartnersoulmate. A great part of writing is falling in love, be it with your story, your language, your catharsis, or whatever it is that brings you to put words down. You’ll never fall in love if you follow someone else’s rules, because try as you might, you’ll never be able to fool the gods of chemistry.
The best advice I’ve ever gotten was to read the first letter in Rainer Maria Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet. If any of it makes sense to you, then trust me when I say that it’s only a matter of time before you recognize and understand that there are no rules.
♥ EAB
P.S. Speaking of writing, I’ve got news coming over the next few days. Stay tuned.