October 2, 2024

The world of heavy-handed editing, where “rules” are applied reflexively, uncritically, wants me to go along. Wants me to listen more for the voice of a mentor or teacher from long ago than for the music of language. Wants me to suck the life out of stories.

Nope.

It will probably cost me eventually. I don’t care. Language will find its way no matter how much we try to contain it. I’d rather people remember me for letting words and stories breathe than for robotically following every rule.

I keep trying to think of a rule in writing that I’ve never broken. I keep coming up empty. Every rule has exceptions, even if you can’t think of them. They are there, hidden inside a block of ice. An adventurous writer will come along and sculpt away until you see them.

If you automatically apply a “rule” without thinking, you are just closing the gap between that moment and the moment when you are replaced by an algorithm, a database, a machine.

That is something I do care about.

Let’s not freeze language in time. Let’s not try to encase it in amber. Let’s embrace the exception instead of fighting it.

Give me human storytellers and story shapers. Robots can vacuum my floors.

Photo of piano keyboard by MTrebbin via Shutterstock.