BOOKISH: The Sin of Profanity

I swear. A lot. This is because I knock shins and elbows against doors and tables. A lot. And I search cabinets and computer files for critical info that is never found. A lot.

This leads to a lot of swearing, most of it silent.

Profanity is discrediting. It always has been. There’s something sloven about cursing, as with spitting or burping. I do a lot of spitting and burping, too. Again, outside the ears of others.

We live in a communal world, like monkeys. But there are elements that set us apart from monkeys, including respect for others. When it comes to habits and bodily functions, we keep these to ourselves. In the same way, we do our best to shape our thoughts, for the most part, without profanity.

Why is this? I mean, who cares? Turns out almost everyone does.

And when it comes to writing, swearing is understood to be a standard, Ten Commandments-type sin. The writer doesn’t have to go deep. Just don’t do it. Why then do so many who put pen to paper wantonly and excessively commit this sin?

The answer: They don’t know they’re committing a sin.

They think profanity makes them appear “real”. It doesn’t. Writing isn’t “real”. It’s a copy. Just like the painter doesn’t smear his canvas with actual excrement, or blood, or putrefying chicken guts to indicate offense, the writer doesn’t smear his pages with swearing to indicate offense. Art is a representation, and to pretend otherwise is… offensive.

Profanity is also an ineffective shortcut. Like exclamation points! Yes! That’s what it is! And because it’s a shortcut and fake, the reader sees through the canard. Swear words actually produce the opposite effect. By relying on a silly shortcut, it makes the writing less real, not more.

Profane writers, especially male writers, are quick to defend cussing. They like to intimidate, and it’s easier to splatter the page with swear words than mount an honest attack. Or develop an incisive, believable scene. They tell us look. I’m tough. Got it?

Puh-lease. You’re not a tough guy. You’re a podcast host. Or freelance book editor. Or college professor. College professor? Yeah, you’re a tough guy.

The same goes for dialog, if you’re a fiction writer. You can’t toughen up your characters with swear words. Or make them authentic. If you haven’t figured out that dialog is never a duplication of real speech, there’s not much I can do to help you. Suffice to say profanity doesn’t work for dialog for the same reasons it doesn’t work for narration. It destroys subtlety. It’s a cop-out.

As with all the rules of writing, there are exceptions. Swearing can be splendidly humorous, in the right hands, by those who know exactly what they’re doing. And do it rarely. How many knock-knock jokes can anyone stand? Not too many.

So writers, stop it. Just stop it. You’re not real, or tough, or funny. Even though you think you are. And that might be the worst part.