Are Books on Writing Really Worth It?
No. But also, yes. Confused yet?
It feels like I’ve been venturing into “unpopular opinion” territory a lot lately. I promise it’s not an attempt to goose the algorithm (mostly). I’m not bribing some robot with digital chocolate chip cookies for views. I simply hold opinions that appear to differ from what I often see in The Discourse.
Granted, I haven’t seen a groundswell of support for books on writing, but I know there are authors–new and established alike–who are often overwhelmed by everything that goes into being a writer, and sometimes, I fear these books add to that stress.
All while not giving much in return. Unless you count confusion and heartburn and the realization that Book A completely contradicts Book B, and how the hell am I supposed to know which one’s right? Especially if they’re both written by big-name bestsellers.
(Unless you find one with James Patterson’s name on it. You can probably skip that one.)
Is it truly unpopular to argue against books on writing? I have no idea, but given how many of them there are on the market, it sometimes feels like everyone has something to say about how one should write, and it’s hard to tell in that cacophony of self importance what’s useful and what’s noise.
Sadly, I think there’s far more of the latter than of the former. Still, it should be noted: this is my opinion and mine alone.
You’ve Been Warned…
I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: for the most part, books on writing do nothing for me. The vast majority of them either bore me to tears or make the act of writing sound so intimidating that I never see another keyboard.
There are a few exceptions—Chuck Wendig’s Damn Fine Story and Stephen King’s On Writing are personal writing bibles, tomes I revisit every time I need a creative boost—but for the most part, this sub-genre of the ‘how-to’ is a waste of space.
In my experience, most books on writing suffer from the same flaw: they act as if whatever writing wisdom they’re imparting is gospel. As if whatever they have to say is the only real right way to do things.
Which… no.
Writing doesn’t work that way. No creative endeavor does.
You would never tell a painter there’s only one right way to paint. Same for a sculptor or an actor. The artist’s process is as personal as it is vital, and those who act like they know the one true way to create are, more often than not, trying to sell you something. Something you’re better off without.
On top of being an absolute slog to read, Christopher Vogler’s The Writer’s Journey is guilty of this. Same goes for Joseph Campbell and The Hero’s Journey. I don’t begrudge anyone who gained something of value from these books, but to me, they suffer from the same flaws.
One of the reasons I enjoyed Damn Fine Story so much was because Wendig made it clear (early and often): the vast majority of writing advice is bull. Even a lot of what he has to say. Wendig’s goal in Damn Fine Story was less telling you how to write and more getting the gears turning in your head.
Think less ‘how-to’ and more ‘make-you-want-to.’
On Writing is largely the same way. King has his hard-and-fast rules—no adverbs (I disagree) and writers need to also be readers (wholeheartedly agree)—but much of what he says about his own writing, he couches in terms of “this works for me, but it might not work for you, and that’s okay.”
The Cardinal Rule
The cardinal rule of writing is that there are no cardinal rules of writing. Aside from this:
Get the words on the page.
That’s it. It doesn’t matter how you do it. How often you do it. How well you do it. As long as you’re sitting in front of your manuscript, putting one word after another, your process doesn’t matter.
Writing isn’t a math equation. It’s not a paint-by-numbers or connect-the-dots exercise where you’re supposed to go from Point A to Point B to Point… you get the idea. There is no one-size-fits-all approach to writing, and too many of these books act like there is.
Whatever gets the words out of your head and onto the page (digital or paper), that’s what you should do. Because you can always go back and fix a bad page; you can edit flawed writing.
But you can’t fix what’s not there. You can’t edit what doesn’t exist.
There’s Always an Exception
All that said, I appreciate books that focus more on the nuts and bolts of writing. There is educational value in story structure, character creation, and the three-act format. It's worth brushing up on these facets of writing every now and then, but at the same time, I find most writers already know those things.
Sometimes, without even realizing they know it.
Whether it’s something we absorb in reading or watching TV shows and movies, most writers already have some deep-seated understanding of how stories are supposed to work.
Still, I think there’s something worth seeing those “rules” laid out (even if it feels occasionally intimidating). Especially if you’re one of those writers who likes to play with convention and subvert the reader’s expectations.
After all, you have to know what the rules are before you can break them, right?
What Say You in All This?
Ultimately, it’s up to you whether books on writing are worth the investment. Most of us are strapped for time, what with day jobs and writing and other interests… you should never waste your time with a book that doesn’t speak to you. Regardless of genre.
Your mileage may vary. You could read this entire essay and think I’m full of crap. That’s okay; I might very well be! But even if I’m not, I’m not going to criticize someone for finding value in a book I didn’t. That’s kind of how reading works.
Still, I feel these books are largely unnecessary, because the answer to the question “How do I write?” is deceptively simple:
You just do it.
(Apologies to Nike. Please don’t sue.)