Paul P. Mealing

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Monday 7 September 2020

Secrets to good writing

I wrote this, because it came up on Quora as a question, What makes good writing?

I should say up front that there are a lot of much better writers than me, most of whom write for television, in various countries, but Europe, UK, America, Australia and New Zealand are the ones I’m most familiar with.

 

I should also point out that you can be ‘good’ at something without being ‘known’, so to speak. Not all ‘good’ cricketers play for Australia and not all ‘good’ footballers play in the national league. I have a friend who has won awards in theatre, yet she’s never made any money out of it; it’s strictly amateur theatre. She was even invited (as part of a group) to partake in a ‘theatre festival’ in Monaco a couple of years ago. Luckily, the group qualified for a government grant so they could participate.

 

Within this context, I call myself a good writer, based partly on feedback and partly on comparing myself to other writers I’ve read. I’ve written about this before, but I’ll keep it simple; almost dot points.

 

Firstly, good writing always tells the story from some character’s point of view (POV) and it doesn’t have to be the same character throughout the story. In fact, you can change POV even within the same scene or within dialogue, but it’s less confusing if you stay in one.

 

You take the reader inside a character’s mind, so they subconsciously become an actor. It’s why the reader is constantly putting themselves in the character’s situation and reacting accordingly.

 

Which brings me to the second point about identifying good writing. It can make the reader cry or laugh or feel angry or scared – in fact, feel any human emotion.

 

Thirdly, good writing makes the reader want to keep returning to the story. There are 2 ways you can do this. The most obvious and easiest way is to create suspense – put someone in jeopardy – which is why crime fiction is so popular.

 

The second way is to make the reader invest in the character(s)’ destiny. They like the characters so much that they keep returning to their journey. This is harder to do, but ultimately more satisfying. Sometimes, you can incorporate both into the same story.


A story should flow, and there is one way that virtually guarantees this. When I attended a screenwriting course (some decades ago), I was told that a scene should either provide information about the story or information about a character or move the story forward. In practice, I found that if I did the last one, the other 2 took care of themselves.


Another ‘trick’ from screenwriting is to write in ‘real time’ with minimal description, which effectively allows the story to unfold like a movie inside the reader’s head.

 

A story is like a journey, and a journey needs a map. A map is a sequence of plot points that are filled in with scenes that become the story.


None of the above are contentious, but my next point is. I contend that good writing is transparent or invisible. By this I mean that readers, by and large, don’t notice good writing, they only notice bad writing. If you watch a movie, the writing is completely invisible. No one consciously comments on good screenwriting; they always comment on the good acting or the good filmmaking, neither of which would exist without a good script.

 

How is this analogous to prose writing? The story takes place in the reader’s imagination, not on the page. Therefore, the writing should be easy-to-read and it should flow, following a subliminal rhythm; and most importantly, the reader should never be thrown out of the story. Writing that says, ‘look at me, see how clever I am’, is the antithesis of this. I concede, not everyone agrees.

 

I’ve said before that if we didn’t dream, stories wouldn’t work. Dream language is the language of stories, and they can both affect us the same way. I remember when I was a kid, movies could affect me just as dramatically as dreams. When reading a story, we inhabit its world in our imagination, conjuring up imagery without conscious effort.

 

 

Example:

 

The world got closer until it eventually took up almost all their vision. Their craft seemed to level out as if it was skimming the surface, but at an ultra-high altitude. As they got lower the dark overhead was replaced by a cobalt-blue and then they passed through clouds and they could see they were travelling across an ocean with waves tipped by froth, and then eventually they approached a shoreline and they seemed to slow down as a long beach stretched like a ribbon from horizon to horizon. Beyond the beach there were hills and mountains, which they accelerated over until they came to flat grassy plains, and in the distance they saw some dots on the ground, which became a village of people and horses and huts that poked into the air like upside down cones.


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