I was reading The Elements of Style at the doctor's office yesterday. I had been told it was a must for every writer and, though I've owned the third edition for years, I had never picked it up.
Most of the book is comprised of rules. Rules for usage. Rules for grammar. Rules for spelling. As I read the whole thing over all I could think was, I'll never remember all this! I'll never be a real writer!
And then I got to the final chapter called "An Approach to Style." Here is part of the beginning paragraph:
Who can confidently say what ignites a certain combination of words, causing them to explode in the mind? Who knows why certain notes in music are capable of stirring the listener deeply, though the same notes slightly rearranged are impotent? These are high mysteries, and this chapter is a mystery story, thinly disguised. There is no satisfactory explanation of style, no infallible guide to good writing, no assurance that a person who thinks clearly will be able to write clearly, no key that unlocks the door, no inflexible rule by which the young writer may shape his [or her] course. He will often find himself steering by stars that are disturbingly in motion.
Wow, that's gorgeous. When I read it, I felt expansive. We had just been over sixty pages of rules and guidelines and now the author was telling us that for all those rules and guidelines there was no real way of knowing how language comes alive. I almost teared up a little in the waiting room thinking of how beautiful it all was and how much power words have.
Rules are awesome. They help us to write clearly and to be understood. But writing is Mystery.
I shall never doubt again.
If you've never read Misters Strunk and White, run out and do so now!
-- Lisa
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