I’m not saying we should commit grand theft auto
Although it would be cool if we didn’t have worldly responsibilities to stick to.
Listen, I’m talking about your writing, not your neighbour’s Prius (though Mrs. Henderson really should stop parking in your spot.)
This is one of the truths a writing mentor of mine tried to spearhead into my frontal lobe.
I’ll paraphrase it cause I always like to spice things up. After all, that’s what writers do.
Most writers treat their work like a delicate orchid when it should be treated like a rabid wolverine. You need to let that beast loose and watch it tear through your self-imposed limitations.
There’s this odd tier list that I’ll use as an example to illustrate it…
Tier 1: “I write stories about people dealing with life.”
(Yawn. That’s like saying you breathe oxygen for fun.)
Tier 2: “I write about people who set their lives on fire just to feel the warmth.”
(Now we’re cooking with gas.)
Tier 3: “I write about people who torch their entire existence, dance in the ashes, and build monuments to their own destruction using the bones of their former selves.”
(Holy shit, pass the fire extinguisher.)
See the difference? Each level pushes further, digs deeper, bleeds more truth onto the page. Writing safe is like using a flamethrower to light a birthday candle. You’re missing the whole damn point.
Will you offend people? Fuck yes.
Will some readers clutch their pearls and write strongly worded emails? Count on it.
That’s the secret though: Those same pearl-clutchers will keep reading because you’re giving them something real, something raw, something that makes their safe little world tilt on its axis.
I’ve always said that a story that offends no one probably moves no one either.
I’m heavily inspired by the pulp novels from the 20s 30s etc.
The Pulp Jungle by Frank Gruber will get you thinking right. I’ve seen it on Amazon for for a few hundred bucks. eBay though, maybe 30 or 40.
Stephen Walker