Writing tips come and go, much like the rules of writing. I learned how to write by the Chicago Manual of Style (CMS) while in high school, because that’s what my English teacher insisted would be used when we all went off to our future universities and colleges. By the time I graduated, I knew exactly what I needed to know.
Only, I didn’t.
There was this new device of torture presented to me called the American Psychological Association of Style (APA) that was, to put it nicely, pure living hell. I had to pay a fortune for the book for my very first class and it was just…hell. That’s the only way I can describe it.
I’ve since learned that psychologists are sick, twisted individuals when it comes to preparing writings style guides. They enjoy torturing the brains of students, and I think they might even be zombies, looking to mash up our brains for easy extraction later.
I think my brain still gets confused about which style I’m using, especially for fiction. I’m not writing academic papers for class anymore, but my brain still says…you need a citation for that. At which point I cringe and give my brain the finger. Mentally.
There are two examples of when I give both styles the finger.
When I’m reading dialogue my brain hates seeing:
“But you will forever remain the only boy I ever love, you sweet, chaotic blue-eyed devil.” she said with her heart in her eyes and dripping softly onto him from her sleeve.
The sentence has ended, as far as I’m concerned, and where’s the Oxford comma? A. Oxford commas are not optional as far as I’m concerned and the first ‘she’ should be capitalized. B. It’s a new sentence, I don’t care what the rules are. My brain saw a period, it wants a capital letter afterwards.
I’ve also come to the conclusion that I like to break the rules when it comes to writing styles. I’ll follow most of them, but there are some things that just bug me and I’m not such a fidgety grammar-nazi that I’ll wonder if I should put that comma before but or leave it alone.
Microsoft Word has come to amuse me greatly lately, as well. “This comma doesn’t belong here,” it tells me, so I take the comma out. “Oh, hold your horses now sweet-cheeks, you need a comma there.”
What? Why can’t you make up your mind?
So you move it over to Grammarly, which tells you something completely different.
Then, you try Reedsy, and guess what? They have their own rules on writing, too.
So, I’ve learned to say stuff them. If somebody wants to nitpick my writing so badly that the placement of a comma tweaks their melon into spasmodic agony then have at it. But I warn you now, I really won’t care.
And neither should you, not really. Writing is an art, poetry alone tells us that. We can be creative, we can all have our irks and loves, we can all capitalize words that shouldn’t be capitalized, all knowing that somewhere out there, someone’s brain just cramped up into a pre-meltdown fit of bad review leaving.
And that’s my writing tip: no matter how many rules you follow, somewhere out there, someone believes you’re wrong for what you chose to do. They can all go jump off a cliff. It’s not like they wrote your words for you.