by Anne R. Allen
Last month, I wrote a post with tips about how (not) to write a novel opener. Some readers complained that I was “dictating” how people should write. That wasn’t my intention. I only talked about what agents and editors think has been overdone, and what doesn’t work well in an opening chapter in contemporary fiction. But you can find bestsellers that break all the “writing rules” I wrote about. How can that be?
Because the “writing rules” are only guidelines.
Over the years, Ruth and I have offered tips and suggestions for writing fiction and creative nonfiction that contemporary readers will want to buy.
But we never intend for you to take our word as gospel.
We say “we made the mistakes so you don’t have to.”
But that doesn’t mean we know everything. Or that we’re never wrong. We’re still out here making mistakes. Making mistakes is how people learn, and creative people should always be learning.
You can come to us for pretty solid advice about what are accepted standards in writing contemporary prose.
If you follow basic guidelines, we think you’ll have a better chance of being successfully published than if you jump blindly onto the query-go-round or indie publishing with a manuscript full of head hopping, long, adverb-heavy descriptions, flashbacks within flashbacks, Tom Swifty dialogue tags, and other reader pet peeves.
Breakthrough Novels Break Writing Rules
But the truth is that one of the most successful novels of the decade broke pretty much all the “writing rules” we learned in Creative Writing 101. Delia Owens’ Where the Crawdads Sing is kind of a perfect example of “how not to write a novel.”
There’s head-hopping, long paragraphs of description, numerous flashbacks, and even a “Magical Negro” to save the day. Plus there are an abundance of clichés in story and characterization.
And guess what? Readers do not care.
It’s a great story full of fascinating information about habitat, plus a protagonist so compelling, readers can’t help feeling personally involved in what happens to her.
Clichés Exist for a Reason
People also like it because offers cozy, familiar tropes. As writing students, we were taught that nothing is worse than a tired old cliché. But clichéd stories are well-worn because people like them.
The truth is, most people prefer what’s familiar. There’s comfort in knowing where a story is going. We welcome each familiar twist with delight.
Think about how people prefer reading books in a series. That means there are lots of recurring characters. And the assumption is that the main characters won’t die in the middle of the book. Stephanie Plum may be in terrible danger, but we can be pretty sure she’s going to survive, because well, it’s a Stephanie Plum mystery and we know there are more to follow.
Does that take away from our enjoyment of Janet Evanovich’s books? Not one bit.
How many of us spend the Christmas season wallowing in those Hallmark Christmas movies that tell the story of a successful big-city career woman who returns to her hometown and falls in love with the gruff blue-collar guy with a heart of gold? And a dog. There must be a dog. And snow. They must have that first kiss in the snow.
We’d be disappointed if the film left out any of these tropes.
Familiar stories are like that box of Christmas ornaments from Grandma that you pull out every year and greet as old friends while you hang them on the tree. Each one has a story that’s old and worn, but still beloved.
The Most Popular Novels are a Mix of Old and New
I think Where the Crawdads Sing tapped into a place in the collective unconscious that pulls the reader in like a familiar voice or the scent of home.
As much as the book annoyed me as a writing teacher, after I’ve read dozens of other books since, scenes from Crawdads are still vivid in my memory. I think that’s because the story was a mix of familiar and new. I was reading a familiar story at the same time I was learning fascinating things about a particular ecosystem as well as getting to know a wonderfully plucky, clever character.
Is there a formula here a writer could follow to produce another blockbuster novel like Crawdads? Is there a template for the ideal novel that has the right mix of pulpy and literary writing, plus familiar and new storytelling?
Not likely.
And this is exactly why formulas and tips and writing rules are only useful up to a point. After that, it’s all alchemy. There’s some kind of “magic” that makes one book more compelling than all similar books, and nobody can explain it. Not even the author. Maybe especially the author.
Why Writing Rules Are Made to be Broken
Ruth and I give advice to writers that we’ve found helpful in our own careers. We try to help you write the best stories you can — ones that will reach readers with your message, and maybe even make some money. (Yes, publishing is a business, so filthy lucre is involved.)
But sometimes the rules get silly. People start following them for their own sake, forgetting that the main goal is to entertain the reader, not to please some writing teacher in your head.
As I’ve said before, rules sometimes don’t make sense.
Some of my unfavorite writing rules:
- All adverbs and adjectives needlessly overburden your deathless prose.
- When the passive voice is used, your writing is considered bad.
- There are no reasons to use the verb “to be.”
- Don’t use contractions.
- Sentence fragments: bad!
- Never use a preposition to end a sentence with.
Okay, I’m being a little silly here. But the point is, writing rules are never one-size-fits-all. And they are not carved in stone or issued by the Almighty. They are at best guidelines — tips to help you control your story, not laws to control you.
The truth is, we need to learn the rules so we can break them. What fun is it to break a rule if you don’t even know you’re doing it?
Great Storytelling Trumps Writing Rules
Somerset Maugham famously said, “There are three rules for writing. Unfortunately, nobody knows what they are.”
But pretty much everybody you meet in the publishing business will give you a list of them. (One is “never start a sentence with ‘there are’” — so watch yourself, Mr. Maugham.)
Some of the rules show up in any standard writing book or class, but others only seem to get circulated in critique groups, conference workshops, and forums.
And there are all the tricks for analyzing your work by beats and outlines and worksheets. You’re taught to make sure X happens on page 40 and Y happens on page 70.
I fear that if writers spend too much time with these, they’ll end up trying to shoehorn their story into a prescribed template that cripples their creativity.
Sometimes these worksheets and tips and tricks can work like magic to improve our writing. But sometimes they don’t.
Anything that organizes the passion out of your work is probably not going to catch the imagination of a huge number of readers.
Ruth told me a few years ago that she fears new writers can be confused and overloaded by too many how-to-write books, webinars, podcasts, and blogs — even ours.
She’s right. We live in an era where writers have an amazing amount of information available to us at no cost. I think there may be a temptation to search for more and more of this “insider information” instead of learning to write the old-fashioned way: writing a whole heckuva lot of bad prose until we start producing good stuff.
There’s a time when you need to shut down the Internet and just write. And remember that most of the tips and “rules” we offer are most useful during the revision and editing process, not when you’re writing your first draft.
Critique Groups and Beta Readers Are Great, but….
This is true of critiques and beta readers too. Remember what they offer is personal opinions.
As I have written in earlier posts, critique groups are a wonderful way to learn to write well. But they can also give us tons of bad advice. See more in my post “Critique Groups: 6 Ways they Can Hurt Your Writing…and 6 Ways They Can Help.”
I also talk about Stupid Writing Rules, and how they can derail a WIP. Some writing rules work for some people and some work for others. And some are just plain dumb. When writers start following writing rules for their own sake instead of because they help you produce readable prose, it’s time to forget the rules for a while.
Remember that in the end, it’s your story, your vision, and your book. You don’t want a book written by committee. You want your own ideas there on the page. Follow the rules as long as they’re helping you produce a better story, but once they start to squelch your passion, it’s time to let them go.
Yes, even if you use a preposition to end a sentence with. 🙂
If you look at agents’ blogs and interviews, they often say something like “I can’t tell you exactly what I’m looking for, but I’ll know it when I see it.”
Yeah. They’re not looking for a manuscript that fits a mold. They’re looking for something passionate and exciting. So don’t let any of these “rules” rob you of that passion. Let your crawdads sing!
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by Anne R. Allen (@annerallen and annerallen.bsky.social) October 19, 2025
What about you, scriveners? Do you feel that learning about writing rules has helped your prose? Do you ignore the rules most of the time? Has a critique group or beta reader ever derailed your book with bad or unkind advice? Do you ever feel overloaded with too much writing advice?
Book of the Week
Romance scams are even more plentiful than writing scams. In this Camilla Randall mystery, a romance scam leads to murder, and it’s up to Camilla, her cat Buckingham, and two ‘tween Nancy Drew wannabes to find the killer.
Book available in ebook and paperback at Amazon and Barnes and Noble
and your local indie bookstore can order it through Ingram
ebook also available at Kobo, B&N, Apple, and other online retailers
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featured image by Andrea Piacquadio for Pexels.
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