The series of novels, A Song of Ice and Fire (beginning with
the fabulous Game of Thrones), sits on a few of those lists. And the New York Times (July
14, 2011) goes so far as to suggest that "it's high time we drove a stake through the heart of J. R. R. Tolkien and The Lord of the Rings." {GASP!} Did GRRM earn that praise by following the rules? Well, some of them certainly. But no matter how hard I try, I can't imagine him surfing for writing advice.
I can imagine some random brave soul—even in the 1970s when
he began writing for real—offering up some writing gospel (“Hey, you know what
would be better? If you…”).
I can imagine GRRM applying the blank stare.
We read and nearly weep at the pure genius of the 3 interweaving
stories. We marvel at the simple magic of the red comet—how the characters each
feel a personal connection to it. We’re jealous that we didn’t think of it
first. So what do we love about the series that we would think twice about before
writing? Which of these “rules” are given the finger by GRRM?
1.
Don’t kill
the main character. Valar Morghulis. Every man must die. And every
character can too (and uh, probably will). Even the main one, the best one, the
brightest one. This is risky if the rest of your book does not scream to be
read. Readers who are plunged into the cycle of grief are likely to plunge your
book off a moving bus (sorry, but hitting the [delete] key on an e-book does
not provide the same level of satisfaction). Yet, they tolerate it over and
over again in this series. At some point, it becomes a game of morbid
curiosity: “I hate this. I’m not reading it anymore. Who is going to bite it
next?”
2.
Every
sentence should work hard. Not every sentence contributes to the plot. Or
does it? How do I know until I get to the end then read it again? Answer: I
don’t. Say for instance that I get to the end and realize there were whole
sections that were disconnected to the outcome. Writing advice says to cut
those. Yet, now that I’ve finished, do I even care that those parts didn’t
contribute? Maybe I spend an afternoon at the pool pondering the odds that I’ve
been tricked. “They MUST have been part of the plot. I’m just not seeing it!
What am I missing?” GRRM has won, because I read the book(s), I enjoyed the
story and I’m at the pool still thinking about it.
3.
Write
satisfying, realistic characters. Non-conformance to gender roles or other
stereotypes runs rampant here! See? Even in a period piece, good guys don’t
have to be handsome or strong. Girls don’t have to have girly moments. Other
stories develop characters that might seem unique and non-conforming, but
somewhere in the text, somehow, they eventually meet reader requirements. For
instance, an ugly hero is eventually found beautiful by someone. A tomboy girl eventually brushes out her hair and feels
feminine. Nope. Doesn’t have to happen, according to GRRM. And we readers like that. Little girls can kill men.
And that’s okay.
4.
Don’t make
the reader wait too long. If your story is good enough, you can create a
cult following who will a) buy anything, and/or b) wait for a very long time for
it.
5.
Start with
a theme and keep it in mind. One of the more common themes out there is
good vs. evil. Try to pick just one in A Song of Ice and Fire. I dare you.
Power? Betrayal? Family? Justice and Judgment? Maybe this is like the red
comet: for each of us, we “see” the theme we prefer.
I do not stand on the side of anyone who desires to drive a
stake through the heart of J. R. R. Tolkien. Nor do I need to scour the
internet for the unbreakable rules of writing. I will deal with my problem in
my own way: by giving the finger to these rule creators and getting vaccinated
for dengue fever. Then I will read more novels that I shouldn’t.