Sans Fig Leaf
w
"Up to the job?"
13 September, 2007
I once got into a bit of
trouble on a discussion list for asserting that if an aspiring writer
isn't reading the equivalent of two novels a month (a dozen short
stories and a novella or two can substitute for a novel) then they
couldn't possibly be literate enough to write fiction of their own.
What I meant by that is that writing is a language, different from the
spoken version of the same language--there are sufficiently different
nuances and limitations to the two forms to require practice in both.
If you don't use a language regularly, you lose it.
The number I picked was completely arbitrary. I've known good writers
who don't read that much. But the one thing I found that they all had
in common was there was a period in their childhood when they read a
lot. Later on, someone pointed me to a neurological study that shows if
a person doesn't start reading for pleasure by an early age (eight
years old, I think it was) some language centers of the brain simply
never develop. Period. The person has extreme difficulty parsing a
compound-complex sentence.
Dorothy Sayers called people with this deficiency "formally literate."
They may be able to read and write at or above "grade level." They may
be extremely intelligent and able to carry on complex conversations
verbally, but they're constantly misconstruing or misunderstanding
written communication.
Unfortunately, I made this assertion on a discussion list which
included a number of people who were constantly misconstruing and
misunderstanding written communication. Which compounded the trouble.
One of the people who took exception to my comment went on a tirade
about my own typos and related mistakes in posting. Particularly
because my typos aren't limited to just transposing a few letters here
and there--I will type entirely wrong words (I will usually spell them
correctly, but they're the wrong word). I will change gears partway
through a sentence without realizing it. If I do realize, there's a
one-in-three chance that when I go back to fix it, I will miss part of
what I meant to change.
All of which irritates and embarrasses me far more than they bother
most of the readers. I try not to make the mistakes. I try to fix the
mistakes when I make them. But I also try not to become so
obsessive-compulsive about it that the o-c behaviours interfere with
what I'm trying to accomplish.
Some people get a chuckle out of pointing out my typos because I am or
have been an editor. Depending on the context of the conversation,
sometimes I explain the difference between developmental editing and
copy editing. A developmental edit entails analysing a story or article
for it's structure, effectiveness, accessibility, and efficiency. It's
mostly big picture stuff. Copy editing, by contrast, is about the
mechanics of
individual words and sentences.
One way of looking at it is to think about the difference between
design and construction. Bad design and bad construction can both lead
to failure, and so you want to get both as good as possible. But a
great architect may be horrible at operating a table saw or hammering
nails, whereas a great carpenter may be bad at designing.
In the original exchange that got me into hot water, my statement was
analagous to saying that before you can build a house, you have to be
familiar enough with how it all works so that you don't have to be
reminded that the foundation must be poured before you try to shingle
the roof. And the person who got upset was saying I didn't have the
right to say that because I can't always hammer a nail in perfectly
straight with only three swings of the hammer.
The specific criticism (I make a lot of typographical errors) was
correct, but didn't invalidate my original statement (you must remain
fluent with written language to write good fiction). There's also a
very big difference between not being able to do something exactly
right every time, and not even knowing the difference between doing it
right and doing it wrong.
Grammar and spelling are
important tools to the writer, but they aren't the only tools, and not
always the most important ones. If the writer is willing to accept a
little help--to spend the time necessary to get his or her work proofed
and to make the corrections--being less-than-perfect with those
particular tools isn't a major obstacle.
In other words, a house
with a few bent nails in the frame may be a cherished home that
protects its inhabitants for decades, sheltering them from the cold of
winter and standing up to many storms. But a house built without a
foundation, won't stand up to the job.
--Judy Blume
.