It Doesn’t Matter When You Start

Photo credit: Nick-K (Nikos Koutoulas) on Flickr

So I saw this post floating around the internet last week in which some ill-informed person basically came out and said if you don’t start writing when you’re in high school, you’ll never be published/aren’t a real writer/something along those lines/blah.

I hope that anyone reading this blog knows that’s laughably inaccurate, but just in case: no, it’s not even close to true.

Here’s the thing: some people do start writing with the intention of being published in high school, or even before high school. And you know? That’s really cool. I give virtual high-fives and pats on the back to those teens because it takes more sacrifice than you might think to start pursuing a writing career that early on.

But those people are not the majority of writers. Not even close.

There are plenty of writers who don’t write their first book until college. Or until they’re in their thirties. Or until their kids have left for college. Or until they’ve retired.

None of them are wrong. None of them are lesser than those who started earlier in life. None of them are more or less “real” of a writer than the other, and believe it or not, their chances of getting published have absolutely nothing to do with their age.

I know I’m probably preaching to the choir, here, but generalizing, inaccurate statements put out to discourage people just make me really ragey.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: every writer has their own journey. Some writers indeed start in their early teen years and get published before they turn twenty—others start at the same time and don’t get published until they’ve graduated college. Some writers start in their twenties and get published a few years later. Some start after the birth of their first kid and get published five or ten years later. The possibilities are literally endless and how quickly someone gets published, or how successful they are after they’ve published has absolutely nothing to do with how old they were when they started writing.

You know what does matter? The writing.

That’s it.

If your dream is to be a published author, and you’re fifteen, or thirty-seven, or fifty-eight, or eighty-four, your age is irrelevant. What matters is that you’re dedicated, and work hard to improve your writing and your manuscript, and study the publishing industry, and read, read, read, and have patience. What matters is that you don’t stop until you’ve seen your dreams realized.

Age isn’t important. Your writing is.

What do you think? 

Twitter-sized bites: 

Writer @Ava_Jae says it doesn't matter how old you are when you start writing. What do you think? (Click to tweet)  

Writer @Ava_Jae says when it comes to getting published, age is irrelevant. Do you agree? (Click to tweet)

The Prologue War

Photo credit: tonyetone on Flickr

If you’ve been paying attention to the realm of writing for any lengthy amount of time, I’m sure you know about The Great Prologue Debate. It’s a war that’s been going on for ages and undoubtedly has many casualties.

To prologue or not to prologue, that is the question.

So before we start throwing punches and whipping out weapons of mass destruction, let’s take a look at the core of the matter: What is a prologue?

According to dictionary.com, the definition of a prologue is this:

Since we’re talking about writing, the definition I’m most interested in is number four: “an introductory scene, preceding the first act of a play, opera, etc.” (emphasis added)

The keyword there (as I’ve emphasized with certain slanty letters) is “preceding.” Prologues, by definition, happen before the action—before the story really starts.

So now you’re thinking, yes, ok Ava, we know what a prologue is—what’s your point? Well, my point is pretty simple: most of the time, the story should start where the story starts. You’d think that goes without saying, but prologues break that rule.

I’m not saying that they never work—in fact I'm guilty of writing a prologue myself (albeit, in my first ever WIP) and I've read prologues that I liked. But prologues are used and abused and oftentimes they aren’t necessary.

Sometimes they give the readers valuable background information or set the mood or a dozen other functions. And sometimes the only way to accomplish that goal effectively is indeed through a prologue.

However. If you have a prologue and there is any other way to get that information in, to set the mood, whatever you’re trying to achieve by writing a prologue, then you don’t need it. Could you conceivably tell the reader that your story's version of magic only works during the day and that faeries are actually fatally allergic to mushrooms within your prose? Yes? Then cut the prologue.

Maybe you need the prologue to slap some tension in the beginning of your novel because your first chapter starts off a bit slow. In that case, yes a prologue works, but it’d be even better if you inserted tension in your first chapter instead of relying on a prologue. Just a thought.

So, to prologue or not to prologue? Truthfully, it’s up to you. But if you must include a prologue, my advice to you is simple: make it snappy, make it interesting and make it important. Then finish writing the rest of your story.

Now it’s your turn to weigh in, my lovely readers. To prologue, or not to prologue?

Paragraphs: A Little Rant

Maybe it’s my short attention span or maybe it’s the high school AP English teacher trapped in my skull saying, “Guess what? You were lied to: all paragraphs do NOT have to be five sentences. In fact they better NOT all be the same length OR ELSE!” but I take issue with long paragraphs.

Now, you’re probably wondering what defines a long paragraph. Is it five sentences? Ten? Thirteen? TWENTY-FIVE?

With exception of that last one (because I pray you never write a paragraph with twenty-five sentences), I’d actually say that depends. Yes, yes I know, diplomatic answer, but hear me out.

If you write a paragraph with three ridiculously long sentences (as in thirty or—God help you—more words), then guess what? You have yourself a long paragraph.

If, on the other hand, you write a paragraph with five or six telegraphic sentences (one without any embellishments such as “The cat meowed.”), then my long paragraph alarm will probably remain silent.

The best and easiest way to tell if your paragraph is too long is simply by looking at it. Does it look like a brick sitting on the page? Yes? Then it’s probably just that—a brick on your page.

Now, that’s not to say that all long paragraphs are evil. I won’t completely discriminate here, I know the value of having a long paragraph or two, especially if the pace has slowed down and you’re giving the reader a bit of a breather. In that case yes, longer paragraphs are acceptable. Necessary, even.

But just as I would advise against having a page full of uniform short paragraphs, I strongly advise against the same with long ones.

Now again, I’m not claiming to be any expert because I’m not. But I’ve found that varying paragraph (and sentence) length not only helps set the pace and create a nice flow, but adds a little extra dynamic element to the writing. 

It might be a subconscious thing, or it might just be the all-too common ADD nature of readers like me nowadays, but when I see paragraph after paragraph of the same length (albeit long or short), my eyes tend to glaze over. It becomes monotonous. The voice in my head goes dull and flat and—zzz….

Varying paragraph and sentence length helps fight against that. Rather than a steady, flat reading experience a long paragraph followed by a short paragraph breaks up the page and harmonizes with each other. It acts like a chord in a song rather than the same single note over and over again.

It works. And it keeps us interested.

So what do you think? Does paragraph length make that much of a difference, or am I just crazy? J