Writing Classes

Who needs writing classes when virtually every book we pick up is a potential class in how, or how not, to write–if we look at them that way?  That was my motivation a few weeks ago behind picking up a copy of Toni Morrison's Home at the local public library.

A little history about my experience with Toni Morrison's writing. 

When Oprah selected several of Morrison's novels for her book club years ago, well, like everyone else, I bought them and started reading with every good intention.  Then, when the reading got tough–I mean really tough–the weak (that's me, and apparently many others) gave up.  What the hell is Morrison talking about?  I had no idea. 

And, while Morrison told Oprah, after several viewers criticized Oprah's book club choices because they were difficult to understand and took a lot of work, that that's called reading, I didn't agree.  There are too damn many good books out there to read, understand, and enjoy, without having to struggle unnecessarily with the odd one or two. 

Time to move on to the reading experience I'm looking for.   

After that little excursion, I didn't think I'd pick up another Morrison book.  Ever. 

And then I saw Home sitting on the library shelf.  And it was short, blessedly short–just 147 pages.  Surely, I told myself, I can get through that.  Surely, I can understand what goes on in 147 pages–if I break it all down, work through one section at a time before moving on to the next.  Even the laziest reader can do that.   

And let's not forget, to some people, Morrison is a great writer.  Very great.  Some readers await the release of her new books.  And there's that thing about her winning a Nobel Prize for Literature in 1993.  If I could just get through one of Morrison's books, admittedly, perhaps one of her less ambitious novels–maybe even one of her less popular ones–I might learn something as a writer.  I might learn something that helps me on the long and arduous journey of completing my own novel. 

Maybe.

I hoped so, anyway. 

So…I got through it.  All of it.  Yes, I did.  

And what did I learn?

Well, yes, I learned Morrison is a terrific storyteller.  Yes, she says a lot in a very short space.  And, yes, there are things about the African-American experience I didn't know about.  

But I also learned other things.

Like Morrison uses cliches. 

And she uses adverbs (sparingly). 

And she does a lot of telling instead of showing.

And she uses "was" all the time.

Morrison even used a current expression in a context I found both jarring and inappropriate.  For me, that expression broke the spell of the story, drawing attention to the writing itself.  Couldn't she have said it in another, better, way?    

In other words, Toni Morrison is a human being like anyone else.  And she's a writer like any other writer.   

Perhaps the greatest lesson I learned from reading Toni Morrison's Home is that it's okay to do some of the things we're told, as writers, we can't or shouldn't.  That, when it comes to writing, there really are no rules.  It's what works best for the story we're telling.         

I realize Toni Morrison is Toni Morrison; she can get away with a hell of a lot more than I can. 

But reading Home showed me I don't have to be as hard on myself as I have been, I can relax a bit.  Using the odd adverb isn't going to ruin my writing.  It really is okay to tell sometimes rather than to show.  The world isn't going to end because I broke a rule here and there.    

In other words, you really can go easier on yourself and still do a respectable job.  Toni Morrison proves that in Home.