it’s not that they’re garbage, which isn’t what i said, just that they annoy me and even then what annoys me is not the “rules” themselves (because i do believe they can be useful depending on what you’re writing) but when some of them are put out as the only way to write something as if storytelling is a one-size fits all approach, as if you can reduce the millenia-long history of literature into a fail-proof formula that will work for all writing across all cultures with no room for experimentation.

i think there are as many ways to tell a story as there are stories and how you tell something and the kind of language you use will vary depending on what language actually means to you as a writer. hemingway and faulkner both famously took digs at each other for their styles (even though i think there was a lot of admiration between them) but they are also two very different writers with two completely different approaches to language and how they use that language to say the things they want to say: neither is inherently better, or more right, than the other–their approaches were just right for them; if faulkner wanted to write using the “older, simpler, better” words hemingway loved, he would have. if james joyce wanted to depict dublin the way dickens depicted london, he would have done so. but they didn’t.

someone once posted an excellent breakdown by jeff vandermeer of the different writing styles employed by different authors which i was silly enough not to save at the time, but in it he gives an overview of the structure of their sentences, and how complicated or “rich” the language is, without pitting one style against the other. and to be honest, i think writing advice that encourages you to examine and look at that relationship with language, and what it holds for you (and others) and why, is probably more helpful than blanket statements like “stay away from ambiguity” or “avoid long sentences” because neither of those actually mean anything–a sentence is a vessel but it’s also a tool, like a hoghair brush or a palette knife; the value of its impact is not an essence that exists in and of itself, but entirely dependent on how you use it, otherwise all literature would just read the same way.

strict adherence to a particular form or structure within a language does not automatically make for better writing, especially not when so much literature actually consists of, and is built from, works and authors actively rebelling against those same traditional forms and structures (but which is also not to say that those forms and structures are inherently useless, either). you can say that long sentences “risk distraction” or are “ineffective” but then where does that leave someone like laszlo krasznahorkai, whose prose runs on like some kind of breathless, hypnotic incantantion for 20, 30 pages without a single full stop in sight? or a book like solar bones by mike mccormack which is made up of a single sentence going on for 200 pages? i’m not saying long sentences can’t be boring or tedious, but in all honesty so can short sentences–so can any writing that follows the “rules” to the letter. if something is poorly written, the “rules” matter very little; if it’s well written, they matter even less.

all that said, telling people to “avoid long sentences” is not inherently a bad thing because i think the core of it is wanting to ensure your writing remains clear, which is a fair point–but it’s an issue, to me at least, when it turns into one of those dictums or pronouncements that actively narrows the potential range language can actually have. clarity is not always about length, or whether or not you cull all of your run-on lines–mihail sebastian drew a very nice distinction in one of his novels when he said “[is] there’s a single way of being clear? A notary can be clear, or a poet, but they don’t seem to me the same thing”. a long sentence can be clear, but its clarity exists on different terms to a sentence that is five words long, because its relationship to its content is different. and at the end of the day, that relationship is really what it’s about for me and it’s distinct to each work and its author.

writers use the language and form they use that best allows them to say what they want to say. no one in their right mind is going to dismiss zadie smith for not writing like angela carter or angela carter for not writing like hemingway or hemingway for not writing like beckett or beckett for not writing like mallarmé. robert frost and sara teasdale were no more correct than the beatniks were. i love pared down, beautifully concise prose, but i also adore books that relish in language and all the various, multi-coloured layers of it, books that eschew (traditional) plot and books that question their own form and the reality of that form, and books that tell a story as straightforwardly as possible.

to be honest i think one of the most formative things i came across, years ago now, was this piece by gary provost, which really sums up the whole notion of “writing rules” for me:

this is not about do’s or dont’s. it even breaks the first writing rule i learnt in school (“never begin a sentence with ‘And’”). but what it does is center an intimate understanding of language, where it can go and how it can get there, and what you want that to do. that’s where it’s at for me!