What Makes Good Writing?

Why the seemingly philosophical question? I picked up Mary Karr's Lit from the library a few days ago for my weekend reading. I had wanted to read it for a while now and was expectantly waiting for it to be Friday so I could put the kids down for the night and read, read, read. Unfortunately, it seemed like the excitement was misplaced - I went to bed a little miffed because it all seemed like a big letdown.

It took me getting about a third of the way into the book to even begin to warm to it and, while I would like to say that she redeems herself in the end, I can't quite say that. Some parts of the book are truly poignant, heartbreaking and make me want to linger over the pages, but sadly, in the end, the book is only passable. Nothing that would make me want to grab the person next to me to say, Read this!


Now I'll admit Mary Carr is a much more accomplished writer (read "published" writer) than me, so she really should not care what I have to say and she's got a great readership following her. I also have not read her earlier works The Liar's Club or Cherry and after this memoir I don't know if I will, although readers have noted distinct voice differences, so I may venture that way, albeit with trepidation.

So, what makes good writing?

The short answer is very short: it's something I enjoy - emphasis on I. The long answer is that writers and readers have been wondering the very same thing for a long time and will probably never answer it. Nevertheless, here's my attempt.

Usually, good writing to me is writing that gets out of the way of experience of reading what's on the page. It's almost invisible. The only good metaphors are the ones that fit and don't remind me that I'm looking at the world through someone else's eyes.

When I first started writing, my husband would read my work. Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing with a degree in Fiction Writing since I seem to enjoy writing (and reading) non-fiction so much more. One of the things he mentioned was that the central character needs to do something other than write. In other words, there has to be a world somewhere in the book that is real. The main character needs to have hard edges, a body, a life outside of his mind. As a writer, this is sometimes hard to accomplish because we can only write what we know and if you've spent all your life in a college or at home or in a classroom having done little else you don't have life experience on which to base your writing. I see that as an insurmountable problem.

Also, writing about writing, unless it's adding to the plot in a meaningful way gets tiresome and self-indulgent. Ms. Karr does this in Lit so many times, I want to reach into the page and smack her. I don't care what you're reading, I want to say, just get on and tell me your story! Writing about writing weakens the author's voice and perhaps that is one thing I struggled with the most in this memoir. She is so careful not to offend her critics it seems that for all the liberal cursing employed in the book, the true bravado it takes to write about faith in God that she does begin to develop later is enveloped in the cotton wool of rationalizations. Look, I'm not really crazy, she seems to say to the unbelievers, I see your point. See, I believe you as well. Please don't stop reading. This tendency to explain too much, say too little, escape into too many worlds at once and showcase the writing instead of the experience comes across as over-thought, over-wrought and just plain tiring.

Truly good writing is brave, I think. Truly good writing leaps off the page and says, Here I am. No explanations, no one backing me up. This is the way it is. This is my truth, my reality. I am making no apologies. Here is my perspective - my story - in all its naked honesty. I revere writing like that. I devoured Augusten Burrough's Dry, a memoir that deals with alcohol addiction as well, because it made no apologies and offered few explanations, if any.

I can see how brave, good writing is hard. Just look what we did to the writers of the gospels. Look at what happened to Apostle Paul. And if we're talking about speaking courageously about faith and God, consider the earthly ministry of Jesus and how much He was reviled for what He said. Words have power. Not just because they're strung together to sound pretty or because someone else agrees with them. Although a well placed turn of phrase excites me when it's perfectly situated in a sentence, unless a writer is willing to be brave, I could care less about the beauty of his phraseology.

If you're writing non-fiction, tell me the truth. Tell it fully. Tell it bravely. And, for goodness' sakes, are publishers charging for quotation marks or are they still free?