Poetry and Short Stories

Is there any right way to write?

I got to thinking about the question which is asked as the title of this piece, when I was reading an excerpt from a book today. The excerpt was two sentences long and the first sentence was a terrible run-on sentence. I immediately found myself wondering what sort of comments, ratings and reviews it would have gotten, had it been posted in someones portfolio rather than being in print.

The book in question is not an unknown work, or a self-published work. Its a work thats been required reading in schools and which most people seem to feel is an example of marvelous story telling. Im refering to The Catcher in the Rye.

I thought about this, I thought about other writing no-nos and then I thought I would compile this piece. In this piece Im going to present some excerpts from various written works. The excerpts will all be from well known, published works. They will be by authors who are highly respected. They will also be excerpts which, if posted by an unknown would have people jumping all over them and telling them just how wrong their writing is.

Lets begin.:

One of the things I get told over and over is that when there is dialogue between characters, the author is required to start a new paragraph as each speaks. This makes paragraphs that are sometimes only one line long. Unfortunately no one told Francis Hodgson Burnett this before she wrote The Secret Garden. Heres a bit of dialogue between two of her characters:

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"I dont know anything about him," snapped Mary.

"I know you dont," Basil answered. "You dont know anything. Girls never do. I heard father and mother talking about him. He lives in a great, big, desolate old house in the country and no one goes near him. Hes so cross he wont let them, and they wouldnt come if he would let them. Hes a hunchback, and hes horrid." "I dont believe you," said Mary; and she turned her back and stuck her fingers in her ears, because she would not listen any more.
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A common complaint voiced in reviews is that sentences shouldnt be long and wordiness should be avoided. That writing should be tightened up. Also, it is an absolute no-no to repeat a word in the same sentence or paragraph. Someone should have explained these things to Edwin Abbott before he wrote "Flatland". Heres a small excerpt from the start of his book:

But now, drawing back to the edge of the table, gradually lower
your eye (thus bringing yourself more and more into the condition
of the inhabitants of Flatland), and you will find the penny
becoming more and more oval to your view, and at last when you
have placed your eye exactly on the edge of the table
(so that you are, as it were, actually a Flatlander)
the penny will then have ceased to appear oval at all,
and will have become, so far as you can see, a straight line.

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Active vrs. Passive voice.

One of the current Fad Editing rules: Do not use passive voice. Only use active.

Unfortunately no one bothered to tell Rudyard Kipling about this rule when he wrote Captains Courageous. Heres a short excerpt:

Once more the door banged, and a slight, slim-built boy perhaps
fifteen years old, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from one corner
of his mouth, leaned in over the high footway. His pasty yellow
complexion did not show well on a person of his years, and his
look was a mixture of irresolution, bravado, and very cheap
smartness. He was dressed in a cherry-coloured blazer,
knickerbockers, red stockings, and bicycle shoes, with a red
flannel cap at the back of the head.
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Todays Fad Editors have a fit if the story rambles, if paragraphs are long or if dialog isnt short. They want things tight and concise. Unfortunately no one bothered to tell Sir Author Connan Doyle this. Here is an excerpt from one of his Sherlock Holmes stories. This is one paragraph:

"Sir Eustace retired about half-past ten. The servants had already gone to their quarters. Only my maid was up, and she had remained in her room at the top of the house until I needed her services. I sat until after eleven in this room, absorbed in a book. Then I walked round to see that all was right before I went upstairs. It was my custom to do this myself, for, as I have explained, Sir Eustace was not always to be trusted. I went into the kitchen, the butlers pantry, the gun-room, the billiard-room, the drawing-room, and finally the dining-room. As I approached the window, which is covered with thick curtains, I suddenly felt the wind blow upon my face and realized that it was open. I flung the curtain aside and found myself face to face with a broad-shouldered elderly man, who had just stepped into the room. The window is a long French one, which really forms a door leading to the lawn. I held my bedroom candle lit in my hand, and, by its light, behind the first man I saw two others, who were in the act of entering. I stepped back, but the fellow was on me in an instant. He caught me first by the wrist and then by the throat. I opened my mouth to scream, but he struck me a savage blow with his fist over the eye, and felled me to the ground. I must have been unconscious for a few minutes, for when I came to myself, I found that they had torn down the bell-rope, and had secured me tightly to the oaken chair which stands at the head of the dining-table. I was so firmly bound that I could not move, and a handkerchief round my mouth prevented me from uttering a sound. It was at this instant that my unfortu- nate husband entered the room. He had evidently heard some suspicious sounds, and he came prepared for such a scene as he found. He was dressed in nightshirt and trousers, with his fa- vourite blackthorn cudgel in his hand. He rushed at the burglars, but another -- it was an elderly man -- stooped, picked the poker out of the grate and struck him a horrible blow as he passed. He fell with a groan and never moved again. I fainted once more, but again it could only have been for a very few minutes during which I was insensible. When I opened my eyes I found that they had collected the silver from the sideboard, and they had drawn a bottle of wine which stood there. Each of them had a glass in his hand. I have already told you, have I not, that one was elderly, with a beard, and the others young, hairless lads. They might have been a father with his two sons. They talked together in whispers. Then they came over and made sure that I was securely bound. Finally they withdrew, closing the window after them. It was quite a quarter of an hour before I got my mouth free. When I did so, my sceams brought the maid to my assistance. The other servants were soon alarmed, and we sent for the local police, who instantly communicated with London. That is really all that I can tell you, gentlemen, and I trust that it will not be necessary for me to go over so painful a story again."