Style


Reader,

What are you wearing right now?

I'll start. As I write the first draft of this email, I'm wearing:

  • A Jimmy Eat World t-shirt, black, emblazoned with an orange outline of the cover of Surviving
  • A pair of green athletic shorts from Target that sport zipper pockets
  • A pair of dark blue Kanes with deliberately splotched soles

This outfit is mostly of my design. (If I had my druthers, the Kanes would be more colorful.) It captures my casual spirit. It declares my fandom for a band that many people write off as a one-hit wonder. And I'd like to think it's unique: I bet none of you are matching me right now.

If I step back, though, I have to admit that my outfit isn't particularly unique. I dress like a lot of other forty-something dads who love music and strive to keep things casual. In fact, there's a good chance that my aesthetic has been strongly informed by other men. They'll never be described as "chic" or "trendsetting," but their wardrobes clearly spoke to me, and now my wife has to deal with the consequences.

Like it or not, I'm an identifiable stereotype. And I have no doubt that the same thing is true of you. Imagine yourself through someone else's eyes: what do they see when they see you?

Everyone's choice of dress is strongly informed by other people's style, even down to things like socks and underwear. (Just because no one else is supposed to see them doesn't mean we don't care how we clothe our unmentionables.) And the same is true of our writing.

Some of you worship at the feet of Hemingway's typewriter. You want short sentences. Clipped sentences. Sentences that say nothing and yet tell everything that matters and more. Others live for purple prose, adorning every sentence with exquisite verbs, glamorous adjectives, and enough poignant similes to make your heart break open like a Kinkade sunset.

Where did these preferences come from? Everything you've read and listened to, of course. This is why Auden compared creative work to taking a poo:

All the arts derive from
This ur-act of making,
Private to the artist:
Makers' lives are spent
Striving in their chosen
Medium to produce a
De-narcissus-ized en-
During excrement.
(from "The Geography of the House")

We'd rather not think of our artistic efforts in these terms. We'd like it to be something far purer and more noble. But what do we have to offer the world if not for our digested take on things we've lived, seen, smelled, heard, touched, tasted, read, and otherwise experienced?

What we ingest matters. "People are worried about sounding like Claude just from reading too much of it," my friend Caroline recently wrote, "and they should be—try reading Jane Austen and not sounding like you're from the late 1800s for a few days. Style is contagious."

If you're not sure where your style is coming from, stop and write a little. Pay attention to the words that come out of you. Consider how your syntax and sentences flow across the page. And when you find things you don't like—things you wish you were different—let those observations guide your diet. Once you do, it won't take long before those new influences move through your system and show up in your pages.

Keep your stick on the ice.

Frank Ewert
Book Coach, Writer, Editor, & Proud Wearer of Band T-Shirts
Author of Embrace Your Writer's Block and Blue Ice

The Thrill of Writing

I am currently documenting the process of writing my next book. It's a behind-the-scenes look at the beautiful, messy adventure of transforming my short-form writing (emails, social media posts, random notes) into a cohesive, compelling manuscript. If you've ever wondered if you could turn your own short pieces into a full-length book, join my newsletter and learn how.

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