| Guidelines to Good Writing In 1975, with eight novels
published, I undertook a program of self-instruction. This was brought about by my mentor,
Jerrold Mundis, who convinced me that writing is a journey, not a destination.
I began an omnivorous reading course: classics, historical novels, mysteries and spy
thrillers and bestsellers. Many of these works, particularly those on the bestseller list
I had previously dismissed as commercial trash. Discovery followed discovery, and there
was a gradual dawning that "literature" was not my strong suit. What I enjoyed
reading most -- and writing – was a romping good story.
I ultimately arrived at a set of guidelines that turned me around as a writer.
There’s nothing philosophical in these guidelines and I suspect that every successful
writer follows something similar. But what I’ve taken as my personal yardstick
illustrates how a writer matures by getting back to the basics of his craft.
There are five guidelines in total. Throughout the book, I will cover three of them at
considerable length. To simply list them here would dilute their critical nature, for they
represent a summation of the rules of good writing. The fourth guideline requires no great
elaboration. While specific, it’s nonetheless a personal statement. A hard fact of
our trade.
Art is for painters and literature is a plateau achieved by perhaps one in a thousand
writers. The journeyman writer – the craftsman – must strive to engage the
reader with a solid story. Having achieved that with regularity, he can aspire to one day
writing the great American novel. Personally, I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that
I will never write a literary classic. I’m content instead to write novels that sell
in large numbers. Novels that attract wide readership.
Suffice it to say I’ve lived by these guidelines. With each passing
year—from1975 on—I became ever more conscious of how little I knew about the
craft of writing. Of greater significance, I realized that no one ever truly masters the
craft. We are instead lifelong students of an intricate process that defies absolute
comprehension.
Somewhere along this road of enlightenment, I began to see myself in a more realistic
vein. I discovered I was a craftsman, not an artist and never a literary oracle. In a
word, I was a storyteller, and like storytellers throughout the ages, my one imperative
was to cast a spell with words. To capture the reader’s interest, to occasionally
entrance him, and above all else, to entertain him.
All of which brings me to the fifth and final guideline that I’ve adopted for
myself. A good story, even when it’s told with modest talent, will be read and
remembered. A bad story, even when it is told with brilliance, will be appreciated by no
one but literary pretenders. In the final analysis, the craftsman knows that it is 90%
sweat and 10% inspiration. He labors to write a good story, and having done so, he takes
justifiable pride in his effort. The reward is Novels That $ell.
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