Gritty or Glittery?

Posted on August 26, 2016 by Adam Stück

In the past few years, we’ve seen a lot of gritty media: books, films, and video games characterized by darkness, angst, violence, and square-jawed men brooding over inner conflicts. From Wolverine to Walter White, we’ve seen plenty of angsty characters on the large and small screens. Books—even young adult literature—feature people killing (and dying!) in all sorts of creative ways. The video game industry continues making games with guns, gore, and roughly one in every five words of dialogue being the f-bomb.

Angst! Darkness! Square jaws!

Why is gritty media popular? That’s a tough question to answer. I suppose there’s some truth to the darkness and violence in these media, and it resonates with people. We all feel sadness, discouragement, and anger. Some face depression, abuse, self-destructive impulses, or equally “gritty” problems.

Finally, gritty media often seems mature, sophisticated, or “grown-up.” All of this begs the question: Is it?

While gritty media has become more popular in past years, there are still plenty of lighthearted books, films, and video games: “glittery” media, so to speak.

Light! Smiles! Goofy braces!

Throughout history, comedy has nearly always taken a backseat to tragedy. Shakespeare’s most famous plays are his tragedies; Mark Twain’s cynical Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is celebrated over his cheerfuller books; P.G. Wodehouse’s clever comedies are largely eclipsed by the gloomy writings of his contemporaries. It seems humor and optimism can’t be taken seriously.

While there are certainly good things to say for gritty narratives, I don’t believe grittier is necessarily better. A purpose of art is to reflect or represent truth; the truth is that life isn’t always gloomy. A Farewell to Arms or The Things They Carried may be brilliant depictions of the horrors of war, but peace is no less real than violence. I think it’s absurd to suppose, say, Anne of Green Gables is necessarily an inferior book because it reflects joy and sentiment instead of pain and despair.

In the end, it’s a mistake to judge the quality of a thing by whether it’s gritty or glittery, tragic or comic, cynical or optimistic. That said, I would love to see people take glittery media more seriously. Can we study humorists like P.G. Wodehouse or James Thurber more widely in schools? I’m sure students wouldn’t mind putting down The Lord of the Flies. Can we have fewer gritty superhero movies and have more like Marvel’s quirky Guardians of the Galaxy? We could use a break from gloom and doom.

The world is an awfully dark place, but there’s a little light left. Some stories remember that, and I think they’re worth taking seriously.

This post was originally published on October 24, 2014. TMTF shall return with new posts on Monday, September 5!

368. Ten Steps to Being a Writer

Posted on June 26, 2015 by Adam Stück

I had planned to publish a longer post today, but unforeseen complications (read: typewriter monkeys) prevented me from writing one. Instead, here are ten essential steps to being a writer. (I originally shared them on Twitter some time ago.) I’ll do my best to publish a proper blog post next time. For now, dear reader, consider these steps, and write your way to success!

Step 1: Wear glasses. I’ve mastered this step.

Step 2: Acquire a computer, typewriter, pen, or Etch A Sketch pad.

Step 3: Obtain a comfortable chair. Nothing kills creativity like cramps.

Step 4: Write. This is the hardest step.

Step 5: Submit your writing, face rejections, weep, revise, repeat.

Step 6: Become dependent upon an addictive substance. Mine is coffee. (Disclaimer: Don’t really do this.)

Step 7: Be grateful to your readers. Don’t skip this step.

Step 8: Be jealous of better writers. If none are better than you, congratulations: You are P.G. Wodehouse.

Step 9: If you think your writing is never good enough, you’re probably doing it right.

Step 10: Profit. Unless you’re a religious writer, in which case: Prophet.

What are your best writing tips? Let us know in the comments!

312. Gritty or Glittery?

Posted on October 24, 2014 by Adam Stück

Angst! Darkness! Square jaws!

Finally, gritty media often seems mature, sophisticated, or “grown-up.” All of this begs the question: Is it?

While gritty media has become more popular in past years, there are still plenty of lighthearted books, films, and video games: “glittery” media, so to speak.

Light! Smiles! Goofy braces!

The world is an awfully dark place, but there’s a little light left. Some stories remember that, and I think they’re worth taking seriously.

291. TMTF’s Top Ten Books You Should Probably Read

Posted on August 8, 2014 by Adam Stück

I love recommending books. This temptation, common to bookish people, seizes me occasionally. I am tempted today beyond what I can bear; there is no way out of this temptation so that I can endure it. That said, here are ten books I think everyone in the world should read.

This list is a mix of great classics, personal favorites, and books with widespread cultural impact. This is not a definitive list of ten books everyone absolutely must read, nor is it a list of my ten all-time favorites. These are simply ten recommendations for the average reader.

Let’s get bookish, ladies and gentlemen, as TMTF presents…

The TMTF List of Top Ten Books You Should Probably Read!

10. The Man Who Was Thursday by G.K. Chesterton

The Man Who Was Thursday is either a gripping spy thriller set in Edwardian era London, or else an eloquent reflection upon the silence of God and the meaning of pain. Either way, it’s fantastic. The dialogue is clever, the plot has some astonishing twists, and the whole book is drenched in intrigue and melancholy romanticism. It’s Thursday himself who says, “Always be comic in a tragedy. What the deuce else can you do?” This desperate courage, along with brilliant surprises and unexpected philosophical depth, make The Man Who Was Thursday a classic.

9. The Cay by Theodore Taylor

This book made a strong impression on me as a child. On the surface, The Cay is an exciting tale of survival: the story of a privileged white boy and a poor black man stranded together on a deserted island. A closer look at The Cay reveals themes like bigotry, sacrifice, loss, and cultural differences, all handled with disarming frankness and simplicity. The Cay is a quick, easy read, and a book well worth reading.

8. The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle

Everyone should read this book because freaking Sherlock Holmes. He is the archetypical crime-solver and one of the most famous characters in fiction. The Holmes stories are worth reading if only to understand their cultural impact… and they’re also pretty fun to read. The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes is a collection of some of the best. While I personally prefer Chesterton’s Father Brown mysteries, there’s no denying the significance or excellence of Sherlock Holmes.

7. Living Poor by Moritz Thomsen

Living Poor is a memoir of Moritz Thomson, a man described as “the finest American writer you’ve never heard of.” After joining the Peace Corps, Thomson found himself living in a remote coastal village in Ecuador. His account of living poor is powerfully written, with jabs of wry humor punctuating a tone of bitter resignation. I grew up in Ecuador, so Thomson’s descriptions of its people and places strike a special chord with me. For all readers, whatever their circumstances, Living Poor is not only a heartrending glimpse of an impoverished community, but a look at the universal problems of poverty, depression, and helplessness.

6. The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson

Like The Cay, this children’s classic is disarming in its brevity and simplicity. The Best Christmas Pageant Ever is the delightfully funny story of the Herdmans, “the worst kids in the history of the world,” and their unexpected takeover of a church’s Christmas pageant. The book is hilarious. The Herdman kids respond to the Christmas story with suspicion, awe, and curiosity. Not only does this give readers plenty of laughs, but also a fresh, new perspective on an old, tired holiday. The Best Christmas Pageant Ever is two parts funny, one part poignant, and all parts wonderful.

5. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

I mentioned earlier that the Sherlock Holmes stories are worth reading for their cultural impact. The Lord of the Rings is important in exactly the same way. It didn’t invent the fantasy genre, but it sure as heck defined it. While The Lord of the Rings is an amazing work of fantasy, it’s also slow-paced and really long. The Hobbit is a much quicker read: a simpler adventure that shows off Tolkien’s remarkable world and sows the seeds for the bigger tale told in The Lord of the Rings. The story of Bilbo Baggins and his epic journey “there and back again” is a charming read. I can think of no better introduction to the fantasy genre.

4. Silence by Shūsaku Endō

Silence is the story of a Portuguese Jesuit sent to seventeenth-century Japan, and also one of the most heartbreaking books I’ve ever read. The novel deftly changes perspectives partway through as it follows Sebastião Rodrigues in his journey from religious zeal to anguished perplexity at God’s silence. Silence is not only an elegy on the silence of God, but also a fascinating look at how cultures and their values conflict—much like Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, another book I considered for this list. It’s not a fun or easy read, but Silence is a book to challenge the mind and the heart.

3. Carry On, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse

This is not a particularly deep book, and it doesn’t have to be. It’s a collection of Jeeves and Wooster stories by P.G. Wodehouse. Really, what higher praise can there be? The book introduces two of Wodehouse’s most enduring characters, bumbling Bertie Wooster and his nigh-omniscient valet Jeeves, in a series of stories penned with Wodehouse’s effortless humor, aplomb, and British wit. Wodehouse’s work belongs on any list of recommended books, and Carry On, Jeeves is a fine place to start.

2. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Many of my dear readers probably had to read this book for school, which is kind of a shame. Nothing sucks the fun out of books like being forced to read them. There’s a reason this one is read so widely in schools—it’s absolutely fantastic. Everything about the book is excellent, from the setting to the characters to its skillful handling of themes like racism, class divides, and the loss of innocence. Like Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, another novel that nearly made this list, To Kill a Mockingbird is one of the great classics of Western literature. If you’ve never read this book, read it. If you were forced to read it for school, give it another chance.

1. The Bible

Along with Greco-Roman mythology, the Bible is the foundation of Western literature. Its cultural and literary impact over two millennia is literally incalculable. The Bible is packed with history, poetry, and philosophy that have inspired people and shaped societies. As literature, the Bible is a little uneven—the Psalms are much better reading than, say, Leviticus—but the work as a whole is an incredible wealth of wisdom, truth, and beauty.

O people of the Internet, what are your top book recommendations? Let us know in the comments!

269. Why P.G. Wodehouse Is Absolutely Spiffing

Posted on May 5, 2014 by Adam Stück

This is a post I have long wanted to write for this blog, but have always put off. It will be difficult to write. How to put into words my appreciation and respect for the greatest humorist in all of literature? In one feeble post, how can this blog do justice to perhaps the wittiest human being ever to have graced God’s green earth?

This day has been long delayed, but no longer. Today we remember the man whose wit and humor have made our world a better, brighter place. Today we remember P.G. Wodehouse.

Michael J. Nelson, the comedian made famous by Mystery Science Theater 3000 and RiffTrax, declared, “I adore P.G. Wodehouse, could read him every single day and not get tired of it.” He also said, “Wodehouse is absolutely the gold standard. It’s almost unfair how good he was, how long he wrote, and how easy, generous and agreeable his prose is.”

Evelyn Waugh, the British author and journalist, said, “Mr. Wodehouse’s idyllic world can never stale. He will continue to release future generations from captivity that may be more irksome than our own. He has made a world for us to live in and delight in.”

Douglas Adams, who wrote The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, flatly stated, “Wodehouse is the greatest comic writer ever,” and left it at that.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the man whose gentle humor illuminated the twentieth century and still brightens our own dreary, postmodern age.

I give you P.G. Wodehouse, that overflowing fountain of goofy stories, witty jokes and shining optimism.

Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse was a British humorist who wrote nearly one hundred books. (Yes, he was knighted for being hilarious. It was the least his country could do for him.)

Wodehouse’s stories mostly feature upper-class gentlemen in early twentieth-century Britain. These idle eccentrics get themselves into dreadful predicaments: accused of crimes, for example, or engaged by mistake to the wrong people. Escaping these frightful troubles takes luck, pluck and the occasional spot of brilliance.

There is a profound irony about Wodehouse’s writing: it’s fairly easy to criticize, yet all but impossible to call anything less than inspired. For example, his novels and stories are rather repetitive, yet never stale or tedious. Unlike many writers, Wodehouse has no particular masterpiece. His books are all masterpieces.

Wodehouse himself cheerfully acknowledged the repetitive nature of his books:

A certain critic—for such men, I regret to say, do exist—made the nasty remark about my last novel that it contained ‘all the old Wodehouse characters under different names’. He has probably by now been eaten by bears, like the children who made mock of the prophet Elijah [sic]; but if he still survives he will not be able to make a similar charge against [my latest novel]. With my superior intelligence, I have outgeneralled the man this time by putting in all the old Wodehouse characters under the same names. Pretty silly it will make him feel, I rather fancy.

It must also be noted that Wodehouse’s work isn’t profound or meaningful. He doesn’t grapple with deep questions of morality or philosophy or faith in his books. He’s simply hilarious, and that’s all he ever needs to be. Wodehouse wrote fluff, but it was some of the best, cleverest, funniest fluff ever written.

Wodehouse mastered the English language and used it with cheerful abandon. Consider the following gem, in which Bertram “Bertie” Wooster drinks a spicy tonic to cure his hangover.

I loosed it down the hatch, and after undergoing the passing discomfort, unavoidable when you drink Jeeves’s patented morning revivers, of having the top of the skull fly up to the ceiling and the eyes shoot out of their sockets and rebound from the opposite wall like racquet balls, felt better. It would have been overstating it to say that even now Bertram was back again in mid-season form, but I had at least slid into the convalescent class and was equal to a spot of conversation. “Ha!” I said, retrieving the eyeballs and replacing them in position.

A final note about Wodehouse’s style: It’s very, very British, packed with colloquialisms, slang and misquoted fragments of Scripture, Shakespeare and other literary classics.

Here’s a typical Wodehouse exchange:

Bertie: Do you recall telling me once about someone who told somebody he could tell him something that would make him think a bit? Knitted socks and porcupines entered into it, I remember.

Jeeves: I think you may be referring to the ghost of the father of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, sir. Addressing his son, he said, “I could a tale unfold whose lightest word would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, thy knotted and combined locks to part and each particular hair to stand on end like quills upon the fretful porpentine.”

Bertie: That’s right. Locks, of course, not socks. Odd that he should have said porpentine when he meant porcupine. Slip of the tongue, no doubt, as so often happens with ghosts.

The speakers, by the way, are Wodehouse’s most famous duo: Jeeves and Wooster. Bertie Wooster is an idle, amiable and dimwitted gentleman. His good-natured innocence leads him into all kinds of social crises, from which only the brilliant schemes of Jeeves, his seemingly omniscient valet, can rescue him. It’s a wonderful yin-yang partnership, and it never fails to make me laugh.

This is the part in a Why [Insert Author Name] Is Awesome post at which I would recommend the author’s best books. In this post, I can’t. P.G. Wodehouse’s stuff is all superb. There would be no point in highlighting any of his books when they’re equally good. Just pick one of his novels at random, perhaps one starring Jeeves and Wooster, and you’ll be set.

In conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, P.G. Wodehouse is ~~awesome~~ absolutely spiffing.

176. Another Conversation with Myself

Posted on April 15, 2013 by Adam Stück

This post is the sequel to a previous conversation with myself. I just can’t seem to catch a break, can I? On a brighter note, check out this opportunity to win a free copy of my novel!

Hey, Adam!

For once, can I write a blog post without being interrupted? Is that too much to ask?

Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy. Blog post, eh? It must be for your amazing typewriter monkey blog.

Go away.

Your blog is great, and I love your novel. How many people are published authors? Not many. You’re really something special, dude. And your sideburns are fantastic. Way better than the Tenth Doctor’s.

Blasphemy! Nobody has better sideburns than the Tenth Doctor.

Except for you, Adam. You’re a good-looking guy, you know. And you’ve got a great sense of humor.

Thank you. Now would you kindly shut up and go away?

There’s no need to be so huffy, dude. I was just trying to be nice.

Really? I assumed you were trying to be a pest.

I’ve never tried to be a pest.

Well, I must say you’re doing dashed well for a beginner.

Ha! That was a brilliant comeback. You clever guy, you!

I was plagiarizing P.G. Wodehouse and you know it. Stop being a shameless sycophant.

Dude, I’m just trying to let you know you’re awesome. Totally awesome.

I’m also annoyed. Totally annoyed. Go away!

What’s the problem? You’re so down on yourself, and that other guy is always tearing you apart. He’s like an evil version of you—the Anti-Adam. I just want to build you up. Call me the Pro-Adam.

There’s a difference between building up someone’s confidence and puffing up someone’s ego. The Anti-Adam exaggerates my faults, but you exaggerate my virtues. You’re just as bad.

The Anti-Adam makes fun of you, dude! At least I’m trying to help.

You and the Anti-Adam have different stories, but you’re equally wrong. If you drive a car off the road and crash, it doesn’t matter much whether you’ve gone too far to the right or too far to the left—a wreck is still a wreck.

The Anti-Adam is wrong, but I’m totally legit. Seriously, you’re a great guy.

I don’t want to hear it. “A man who flatters his neighbor spreads a net for his feet.”

Quoting the Bible. That’s classy. I love how you quote people all the time, dude. You’re really smart.

Nah, I’m just really good at faking it.

There you go putting yourself down again! Listen, dude, you can’t deny you’ve got some mad skills. Like playing Mario Kart. Nobody beats you at Mario Kart.

I concede that.

And you’re generous with your money. And you spend forty freaking hours every week serving mentally handicapped men. That’s a tough job. And you’re good at it. You’re really patient—I’ve hardly ever seen you lose your temper. I could go on and on.

Leaving out all the unpleasant bits, of course. You haven’t mentioned that I’m selfish and insecure and sometimes kind of a jerk.

Everyone is, dude. It’s called being human. On the whole, I think you’re a really good person. Don’t pretend you’re not a good writer or a patient guy.

Do you think I should be congratulated for being a decent writer or having a patient temperament? These talents aren’t mine. They’re God’s. At the moment, they’re on loan.

You learned to be a good writer! You learned to be patient! Give yourself some credit!

My gifts and skills and things are like seeds. I didn’t make them grow. All I did was water them. God made them grow—and he was the one who planted them in the first place.

What about your virtues? You’re kind and respectful and honest.

Only because I’ve been conditioned to be. If I came from a background of abuse or neglect or poverty, I’d be a mess. That’s not what happened. I come from a background of kindness and faith and love, so that’s who I am. I’ve spent my life with good people. They’ve rubbed off on me.

You’re not just naturally a good person, dude. You’ve had to work at it.

I’ve built up some good things, sure, but the foundation was already there.

You’re being modest.

I’m being honest. Whatever goodness I have is borrowed. That’s really all there is to it. Now go away and let me work on my blog. It’s too late to write a new post… but that might not be a problem.

I love your blog, but, um, don’t post this conversation.

Why not? Now then, if you really want to be help, go heat up some water. I don’t know about you, but I could use a cup of tea.

55. TMTF Reviews: Joy in the Morning

Posted on January 6, 2012 by Adam Stück

A friend once told me the following story. Several of the most respected writers in the world were asked to compile a list of the one hundred best books ever written. One of these writers supposedly replied, “Well, P.G. Wodehouse wrote ninety-seven books in his lifetime, so it only remains to us to come up with three more books for the list.”

I’m not sure whether this story is true, but it definitely could be. P.G. Wodehouse is one of the funniest writers in the history of writers who are funny. Every time I read one of his books I feel deep admiration, almost reverence, for his effortless command of the English language. I also feel profound envy. I wish I had Wodehouse’s gift for writing.

Admiration and envy, however, are always my secondary responses to books by Wodehouse—my first reaction is invariably amusement, often manifested in raucous laughter.

I recently happened upon a copy of Joy in the Morning, a novel by P.G. Wodehouse. I decided to read it for two reasons. First, it had been a long time since TMTF reviewed a new book. Second, it was a novel by P.G. Wodehouse—’nuff said.

Joy in the Morning is vintage Wodehouse: a character gets into a sticky social situation that gets progressively stickier and stickier, only to be rescued at the last moment by a clever friend or a lucky turn of events.

The novel is the memoir of Bertram “Bertie” Wooster, a London resident who becomes engaged (entirely by mistake) to an domineering lady named Florence. Her previous fiancée views Bertie as a traitorous sneak and expresses a strong desire to pull out his insides and trample on them. A few other dreadful characters—Bertie’s short-tempered Uncle Percy and horrible cousin Edwin, for example—blunder onto the scene to complicate matters further. The whole crisis is overshadowed by the looming threat of Bertie’s Aunt Agatha, described by Bertie as “my tough aunt, the one who eats broken bottles and conducts human sacrifices by the light of the full moon.”

Bertie is trapped in a dreadful mess, and only one person has any hope of rescuing him: his valet, a dignified, philosophical gentleman known only as Jeeves.

Joy in the Morning is predictably Wodehousian. Bertie’s hopeless troubles are solved at the last instant by a clever plan from Jeeves, and happy endings are “distributed in heaping handfuls.” It’s the same old Jeeves-and-Wooster formula with few unexpected surprises—but that’s not a bad thing. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, as the saying goes, and Wodehouse’s traditional pattern certainly ain’t broke.

The novel has only one weakness. It would be misleading to call it a fault or defect; it’s more of a quirk or idiosyncrasy. Joy in the Morning is very, very British. Consider this quote from Bertie on the very first page: “I saw no ray of hope. It looked to me as if the blue bird had thrown in the towel and formally ceased to function. And yet here we are, all boomps-a-daisy. Makes one think a bit, that.” For some readers, British slang is delightfully quaint. For other readers, however, it may simply be confusing.

Though some American readers may be puzzled by its Britishness, Joy in the Morning is a superb comic novel, a classic work from one of the greatest humorists ever to have picked up a pen. Together with Sherlock Holmes, Ebenezer Scrooge and other legends of British literature, Jeeves and Wooster are among the best literary characters Britain has ever produced. I strongly recommend Joy in the Morning.

47. Literary Gems

Posted on December 12, 2011 by Adam Stück

Every now and then while reading I happen to stumble upon a literary gem—a phrase, sentence or paragraph of dazzling literary quality. These are the passages that make me laugh, shudder or simply sit gaping in amazement.

For example, I was reading Titus Groan a few months ago. It’s a pretentiously stylish and relentlessly bleak novel by Mervyn Peake about a gloomy castle called Gormengast and its equally gloomy inhabitants.

In reading about the crumbling maze of weathered stone that comprises Gormengast, I was stunned by this description of a castle tower:

This tower, patched unevenly with black ivy, arose like a mutilated finger from among the fists of knuckled masonry and pointed blasphemously at heaven. At night the owls made of it an echoing throat; by day it stood voiceless and cast its long shadow.

Everything about this literary jewel screams gloomy and depraved. The passage uses evocative words like unevenly, black, mutilated, blasphemously, echoing, voiceless and shadow to give the impression of something erratic, dark, evil, ominous and silent—which pretty much sums up the atmosphere of the novel and most of its characters.

Moving on to something more cheerful, P.G. Wodehouse is one of those rare authors who throw out literary gems with casual abandon—practically every page of Wodehouse’s writing sparkles with brilliant passages.

For example, at a moment when the terrified narrator is trying to act confident:

I laughed lightly. At least, I tried to. As a matter of fact, the thing came out more like a death rattle.

Whether bleak or uplifting, heartbreaking or hilarious, terrifying or comforting, literary gems fill my bookish heart with wonder.

What are your favorite literary gems? Let us know in the comments!

46. About Writing: Style

Posted on December 9, 2011 by Adam Stück

Jon Acuff tweeted something insightful the other day about literary style: “The only way to find your voice as a writer is to write. Fear says you need to find your voice BEFORE you write. Don’t listen.” A somewhat less positive opinion was once expressed about style by some writer or other: “Style is a terrible thing to happen to anybody.”

Literary style can be defined as the distinct voice of a writer. If the term voice is a little vague, it’s because it includes too many aspects to be covered in a single convenient word. An author’s voice consists of many elements: tone, the attitude of the writer; diction, the words the writer uses; syntax, the way the writer arranges those words; and more. Even basic elements like grammar and spelling make up a writer’s style—consider the immortal passage in Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn in which the narrator declares: “Aunt Sally she’s going to adopt me and sivilize me.”

So what exactly is this vague thing called style? The term voice isn’t very precise. Rather than try to pin down an exact definition, let’s get stylish and look at a few examples.

Let’s take a simple sentence: The boy ran around the corner and ran into his grandpa’s large stomach. Fairly bland, eh?

All right, let’s say the same thing as Huck Finn might: The young’un turned the corner and run slap into his grandpappy’s belly. The style is more colloquial, but the same basic information is conveyed.

What if our character is more sophisticated—say a butler like Jeeves from the stories by P.G. Wodehouse? Jeeves might express the situation thus: The lad careened round the corner and collided with the impressive bulk of his grandfather’s ample middle. Once again the sentence means more or less the same thing, but the style gives off a completely different vibe.

Style is a key component of storytelling. A mystery writer must describe complex situations in a way that keeps the reader engaged without becoming too confusing or hard to follow. A comedy writer must—obviously—be funny. A romance writer must convey the nuances of that most complicated of relationships, the romantic courtship, in a manner that’s vivid and believable. (I’m guessing about the romance writer, since most romances make my stomach hurt.) Apart from the unique, individual style of each writer, each literary genre demands a certain kind of writing.

What about that unique, individual style? If you’re a writer, how in blazes are you supposed to find your own voice?

You’ve probably guessed it if you’ve read my first post about writing, but the answer lies in reading and writing. Writers tend to imitate the styles they enjoy reading and refine their own style as they write.

An author isn’t limited to a single style, of course. Writers tailor their style to suit the sort of work they’re doing. For example, my style when I compose posts for TMTF tends to be conversational. My style when I write Solidarity reports, however, is plain and precise: a systematic, minimalist style I picked up from a couple of journalism classes in high school and college. Then there’s my style when I write fiction, which tends to be wry. I enjoy using dry humor, even in stories with melancholy events.

Style is often the thing that sets a writer apart and makes him or her truly memorable—or at the very least, fun to read.

What literary styles do you enjoy reading? Let us know in the comments!

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