BOOKISH: The [Unnecessary] Elements of Style

Writing is illuminated by the author’s personality. Or should be. This is called style.

As simple as this sounds, theorists have made it complicated. But then they complicate everything. I have my own theory for this. The experts are just as confused as anyone, and hide their confusion through misdirection, mobile definitions, professor-speak, and imprecision.

Which is a fair style in itself. Fairly irritating.

Let’s cut to the chase. Style is personality. There, we’re done. Actually we’re not. We have to define personality, but this is simple. Are you persnickety? An extrovert? Are you bold? Skeptical? Exuberant or reticent? This is your personality.

If you can write the way you are, your writing will come alive. Or have a chance to come alive. You will be distinctive, unique, stylish.

And yet style is very rare.

There’s several reasons for this. First, no writer needs to be stylish to be successful. Just look at our best-selling authors. They all write a sort of bland journalese. A page of James Patterson looks exactly like a page of Dan Brown. A page of Liane Moriarty looks exactly like a page of Colleen Hoover. And so on.

Publishers know what they’re doing, and cater to what readers want. For most readers, it’s story first, second, and last. In fact, a writer would almost have to be a dope to put style over story. The industry will punish you. Who’s this nut? Where’s John Grisham?

Well, he ain’t here.

Another reason we see so few stylists: a lifetime of teaching works against us. Style is, by definition, evasion. It’s indirection. From the time we pick up a pencil we’re taught the exact opposite, to be accurate, efficient, focused. And keep your personality out of it. Unlearning such fundamentals is not easy.

A final reason may be the saddest of all. Writers are afraid. They don’t want to stand apart. It takes guts to defy the crowd, to go against the norm, and guts are in short supply in this world. ‘Tis sad but true.

So what’s in it for the stylist? Not much. Actually quite a bit. You have the pleasure of writing like you, not someone else. You can snag the discriminating reader, and there’s more of them than you think. You might even be seen not simply as a published writer, but as an artist. Someone who changes the way we see and feel. This is no small thing.

For all my crabbing about our industry, they probably want at least a few really splendid stylists. Over the long haul distinctive writers sell well, year in and year out. Vonnegut’s books are still flying off the shelf, while no one knows or cares about Michener.

Maybe I’m wrong about Michener. I just can’t read him. Or any of the McNovelists, past or present. I like personality. I like style, flair. When it’s not the story, but how it’s told, every page is a pleasure, every word. The book comes alive in your hands.