You thought you had a louzy job.

Because we all want to be writers, here's some advice.

Most people will tell you there are two kinds of writing advice: Good Advice and Bad Advice. I’m here to tell you they’re the same thing.

Allow me to explain.

Let’s start with that ol’ “Kill Your Adverbs” chestnut. This is Good Advice. Adverbs, more often than not, are redundant. You don’t need to tell me the monkey screamed loudly. Screaming is, by its very nature, loud. Just let the monkey scream. We’ll cover our ears. Adverbs also tend to be evidence of lazy writing. If your context doesn’t reveal the protagonist’s anxiety, simply stating that he’s “pacing anxiously” because that’s what you want readers to imagine him doing will invariably feel like a cheat. “Kill Your Adverbs” is also Bad Advice. Some adverbs are actually quite pleasant, mannered and eager to please. Some writers (maybe you?) know how to wield adverbs in smart, clever ways. If you indiscriminately cut every word ending in “ly” out of adverbial fear, you might just kill your writing voice along with them (not to mention unintentional victims, such as the appropriately ironic, “ally”).

Surely “Show, Don’t Tell” is Good Advice. Right? Absolutely. Showing gives the reader a role to play in the story. Showing makes detectives of readers, providing them with contextual clues that lead them to discovery. There’s nothing more satisfying to a reader than discovery. When you engage readers in the space between the words, you tease them into an intimate relationship with the story. This is a Very Good Thing. Telling, on the other hand, steals the process of discovery. And stealing is a Very Bad Thing. Then again, “Show, Don’t Tell” is also Bad Advice. Simply stated – sometimes telling is exactly what’s needed on the page. It may be a matter of style, or a matter of voice. Perhaps telling is the best way to bring readers up to speed with a character or plot element. Telling isn’t inherently evil, and if you suddenly believe it is because someone on a blog somewhere said so in ALL CAPS, your writing might just suffer.

Let’s talk about prologues. Ugh. “Prologues Are Totally Unnecessary.” They are. You don’t need to tell me what you’re going to say. You don’t need to tell me what happened a hundred years ago. Just get to it. Throw the reader into the middle of the action. (And you can forget the “Famous Author Uses Prologues” argument. Famous Author is already published. You’re not Famous Author.) Besides, we all know that most agents hate prologues. Why shoot yourself in the foot before you even get one in the door? “Prologues Are Totally Unnecessary” is also Bad Advice. Your novel may be ten times better because of a prologue. A prologue might provide exactly the sort of tease or historical context to make the rest of the story shine. If your novel suffers without it, you need one. Cutting it simply because someone told you prologues are bad is a bad idea.

I could go on (even “Love Your Readers” can be bad advice), but I’m sure you get the point. Sometimes good advice is good, sometimes good advice is bad. So how do you know the difference? Well, that’s the trick, isn’t it. Here’s a clue – if your primary goal is to be published, you’re in a precarious position. You’ll be tempted to follow any ALL CAPS advice that claims to increase your chances of publication, whether or not your writing benefits. However, if your primary goal is to become a better writer, you won’t feel quite so much pressure to follow that advice, because you’re still discovering your voice, you’re still sorting through who you are on the page. This takes time, by the way. There may be shortcuts to publication (hey, it happens), but there are no shortcuts to becoming a better writer. There is just writing.

I suppose I should close this post with some kind of summary. Fine. Let’s play with the original statement a bit. Feel free to put this on a t-shirt:

There are two kinds of writing advice: the kind that works for you and the kind that doesn’t. Listen to the former

Advice from:
http://www.noveldoctor.com/?p=3752
Posted by Steve P., ND on Jan 27, 2012 in My Thoughts,

Thanks for this Steve, noted + copied.

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OHLALA The new Lambretta, now available in the UK

Evan Gruzis

Skull & Univibe

Lux Interior on rock 'n' roll

It's a true kind of folk music, based on the blues.

It separates the squares from the cool people.

Pop music doesn't do that, pop music is for everyone.

Jayne and Joan

Love the lamp hate the fixture?

Here's a trick:

D I Y book page wall paper

I like Jayne. 

Look at the bruise on her leg.
But still, she's darn sexy.

Clumsy but sexy!

* NOTE:
I see this sometimes  in interior blogs and magezines but I think that
PEOPLE WHO CATEGORIZE THEIR BOOKS BY COLOUR ARE NUMBSKULLS

Work Cocoon

Crystal Renn being gorgeous as always

HAAAAATSJOE

"A Perfect Vacuum"
Artist Jeremy Geddes

The amazing Cai Guo-Qiang and his masterpiece "HEAD ON"

Artwork Identification
Head On, Cai Guo-Qiang, 2006. Installation consisting of 99 life-sized replicas of wolves and glass.

Introduction
Cai Guo-Qiang's installation of 99 lifelike replicas of wolves running Head On into a glass wall is a visual allegory for the human condition. Cai's pack of wolves, relentlessly charging forward towards a sudden end, represents the will to heroically press on. It is at the same time both tragic and beautiful.

Descriptive Analysis
99 realistic looking wolves (which are actually constructed from painted sheepskins stuffed with hay and metal wires) appear to be running in a pack through the length of an empty white room, only to crash headfirst into a glass wall and consequently fall to the ground. Outside of a white entryway, about six stray wolves look as though they are casually entering the room where they join more wolves heading in the same direction. Along the length of the wall, the wolves quickly gain momentum and rise in a tight pack into an arc of simulated movement. The wolves are packed closely together, creating the illusion of one long, moving "stream" of wolves. The "stream", suspended above the heads of the viewers, moves toward, and finally crashes forcefully, into a plexiglass wall at the opposite end of the room. The glass panel is only slightly wider than the width of the "stream" of wolves (which appears to be about four to five wolves wide). Their realistic faces are made of plastic, and they each possess marbles for their dark, lifelike eyes. The expressions on the faces of the wolves, as well as the tension in their bodies, contribute further to the illusion that the wolves are running towards something with deliberation; their ears are pressed back and many of the wolves' mouths are open with their teeth bared and tongues hanging out. The compacted, clean arc of wolves (their bodies elongated and stretching to reach the end) approaching the glass panel is juxtaposed with the disorderly wolf bodies that smash into the glass wall and lay beneath it on the floor, limbs and heads twisted (even broken) in unnatural positions, as they begin to pile on top of one another. The juxtaposition of the streamlined running wolves with the broken, crumpled, "lifeless" bodies of the wolves who have met the glass panel head on, is very abrupt.

And here's a picture of the master... 

Text + pictures came from this great website