I’ll never forget the first day of my first creative writing course. A different instructor had recommended me for the class because he’d noted my interest in writing and seemed to think I had potential as a storyteller. I didn’t walk into that classroom thinking I was an excellent writer, but I did have enough confidence to believe I might be one of the best in the room. I was not even close to being the best in the room (and I’m very grateful for that, even now).
When the seniors started reading their work aloud, I didn’t know what it was about it that was good. I just knew it (1) was way better than mine and (2) sounded as good as published books I’d read. Those writers had been working with our creative writing instructor for at least a few semesters before that. They knew what they were doing.
I eventually got to be the senior who read her work aloud and maybe impressed a freshman or two. But it took a lot of critiquing from my teachers and peers — and a lot of writing very bad prose — to get me there. Good writing, I learned, has plenty of moving parts. But it’s these three things that, for me, define a story as great.
Prose That Flows
When you’re writing your first story, or you’re working on the first draft of something new, the beauty of your words usually comes second to getting the words out to begin with. One of many reasons first drafts never sound “polished” is because they aren’t. They’re part of what moves your story forward, but you haven’t yet had the chance to go back and make them sparkle.
Excellent writing isn’t just interesting from a storytelling perspective. It’s also a legitimate joy to read. Expert prose almost feels like you’re holding something that should be on display for the world to see — a literal work of art created with the language of the human who wrote it. It takes a lot of practice to refine your writing to make it “sound” good. But it’s not impossible — as long as you also allow yourself to feel the meaning of your own words as well.
Heart Behind Each Page
There are plenty of reasons humans will always be better storytellers than robots, and that’s because humans have emotions and machines do not. If the story you’re telling is well-written and interesting, but it doesn’t have any heart behind it, it’s not going to resonate with a potential reader.
I’ve long believed that writers leave pieces of themselves in everything they write — whether they intend to do that or not. And that’s because good writing requires us to be vulnerable — emotionally; spiritually … it requires us to be human. To take the things about the human experience that make living universal and put them front and center in our narratives. But even if you’re good at that part, you still have to take things just one step further to truly be great.
A Story That Means Something Bigger
Anyone can write a story — and we all start out writing stories that are often simple and straightforward. In order to learn how to tell a more complex story, after all, you first have to practice the core foundations of storytelling. But what does a really good story look and feel like — one that maybe has layers, or ambiguous conclusions? And how do you write one?
The easiest and most honest way to answer this question is to say that a story with deep, universal meaning comes from experience — both in writing itself as well as outside of it. The older I’ve gotten, the “fuller” my stories have become. Not just because of skill, but because I’ve lived more life, I’ve met more people, I’ve seen and felt and learned more. I can tell more meaningful stories now as an adult than I could when I was younger because I have a better understanding of the things in life that are the most meaningful.
Every good writer has lived through a lot. It matters. It makes us better in more ways than one.
Meg Dowell Writes 