Just uncovered a cache of my old writings from high school, ages 12-16. Some good bits, but the prose was embarrassingly purple at times. And too much reliance on cheap thrills: sex and violence.
I could have used some guidance.
But I also noticed that, whenever there were markings in red from some teacher’s hand, they were wrong.
For example, I began one story:
“Mr. Bones watched the violent plaid socks silently follow each other down the stairs. He was in the habit of wearing socks to bed …”
And the teacher writes:
“opening is misleading at first reading – would be improved by changing the to his.” (Meaning the socks—“his violent plaid socks.”)
And that would 1) kill the little surprise or puzzle that lures the reader into the story; and 2) remove the introduction to the theme of the story--which is the protagonist’s detachment.
And wouldn’t anyone of average intelligence be able to grasp that I must have deliberately avoided “his”? And that there must be a reason?
And wouldn’t anyone of average intelligence have been able to work out what was actually happening by reading the second sentence? Did that really involve a great mental challenge?
Next teacher’s note: I had written
“He sat down in front of the window and placed his victim, a jar of pickles, on the counter before him.”
The teacher’s red hand had struck “victim” and inserted “target.”
That ought to do it—authors should always strive for the blander word, right? Avoid anything that might spark any mental images?
Exactly wrong, of course.
As a matter of accuracy of meaning, too, “target” is incorrect. You do not need to take aim to get a pickle in a jar. The image is absurdly wrong, like that of shooting fish in a barrel.
And “victim” foreshadows what happens next—looking through the pickle jar, Bones witnesses a rape outside the window—as if it were happening in the jar. So “victim” here conveys the idea that the rapist is treating his victim just as Bones does the pickle. “Target” breaks this careful thread.
All frustratingly lost on this reader.
I can only remember two teachers at any level who ever gave me useful guidance in writing. I adored both of them, perhaps for this reason.
Dr. Smith, in grad school, caught me mixing metaphors.
Mr. More, in grade 6, wrote “stop using big words just to show you know them.”
Great advice, which I have never forgotten, and which I still struggle to follow.
But there is obviously something fundamentally wrong here. We are hiring people to teach our children to write who instead mislead them. It is like hiring French teachers who cannot speak French.
But then again, come to think of it, I had that too.
This is a notorious problem among editors, who spend much of their careers fixing the result. There is a stock phrase among editors, also the title of a book, “Miss Thistlebottom’s Hobgoblins,” to describe the many writing “rules” people are taught in school that make their writing bad.
We need to do a better job at hiring teachers.
In the meantime, as the reader has perhaps also noticed, there is a huge market for remedial writing courses.
