If you were to attend a religious social gathering that
included Christians, Jews, Mormons, Muslims, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Wiccans,
Buddhists, and many other faiths under the same roof, you’d probably see a lot
of painted smiles and cordial handshakes. No bickering, no fighting. Such an
assembly would understand the expected etiquette of keeping one’s beliefs and
the accompanying sermons under wraps for the time being. They may share what
they believe, but shoving it down a listener’s throat in such a place is a
definite no-no. Otherwise, “it” would definitely hit the fan. I mean, can you
imagine what would happen if everyone suddenly decided that he or she were
placed there by a higher power to enlighten everyone in attendance? (For me,
“WWE Religious Smackdown” comes to mind.)
Unfortunately, when writers choose to congregate, many zealots
of composition decide to leave such etiquette at the door, and it turns into a
literary slugfest faster than you can say “Once upon a time.” There are
countless overbearing perpetrators, but let’s discuss the “writer religions”
with the most ardent followers.
One of the most dominant has been around for ages. They are
the “Canonites.” These writers will lay into any work that doesn’t mirror the
work of the dead writers of yesteryear, those found in the “literary canon.” If
your story doesn’t read as an attempt to emulate the likes of Hemmingway,
Austen, Faulkner or Woolf, you’re in for it. To please a Canonite, you must be
heavy with description and setting. Indeed, the more the better. There’s always
time for storytelling, but it’s important to make readers sift through globs of
description and setting to find it. At every turn, you must dwell on
landscapes, the weather, wardrobes, architecture, and other such
canvas-builders before you even think about painting a plot.
Not far from the disciples of the Canonite doctrine are the
Showist Monks. Their favorite scripture is “Show, don’t tell,” but it’s unclear
who said it first. Often, this scripture doubles as a commandment, but it’s
unclear who their Moses was that started it all. Nevertheless, Showist Monks
believe that showing everything whenever possible trumps story progression
every time.
Have you ever had anyone harp on your adverb usage to excess?
That person was probably an Adverbalitionist. These people can be as
threatening as a ruler-wielding nun, and they’re always ready to smack a writer
on the hand whenever he or she writes an adverb on the page. According to
Adverbalitionists, writing adverbs is the one sin that dooms your writing soul
(also known as a “muse”) to publishing purgatory for all eternity.
Distant cousins to the Abverbalitionists are the Good
Grammaritans. Legend has it that these people used to be Adverbalitionists, but
their founding writer discovered inadequacies in the Adverbalitionists’ Old
Testament. Therefore, he or she made necessary steps to broaden the scope of
what other writing sins can actually condemn a muse to publishing purgatory.
Still, even if your work satisfied those mentioned above, you’d
still have to contend with the POV Witnesses. These people travel from
paragraph to paragraph, ensuring that each paragraph keeps with the same point
of view. Only one person can tell the story at any given time. It doesn’t matter
if a story is stronger with multiple storytellers. The very notion is a sin,
and their mission is to save all heathen “head hoppers” from slush pile hell.
Finally, we have an interesting self-writeous group called
the Phraslims. These people will always try to convince others to write like
they write (even if they no longer write). Their suggestions are subtle, but
the intent is clear when they ask you to remove something from your writing
that is fine as is, but it’s also “unnecessary.” It could be a word, sentence
or paragraph. If they wouldn’t write it, it shouldn’t be there. What’s
interesting is that no two Phraslims are the same, and they don’t know of each
other’s existence.
These are just a few of the writing religions that are out
there, all preying on writers who either haven’t joined a congregation yet or writers
who never will—the “Atheist Artists.” It’s also important to note that these
writer religions typically share some of the same temples, depending on which
compliments their writing bibles best. The Temple of Past Tense is a massive
structure, and its pews are always packed, mostly by Canonites. For them, it’s
all about that old school religion. The Temple of Present Tense
