Rules-based versus organic writing

[Steerpike]

Continuing from the other thread:

1. Although the post title makes this sound like a binary issue, it isn't of course. There is a spectrum here.

2. As FifthView pointed out, the word "organic" is a bit fuzzy. As an attempt at clarification about what I mean, I'm thinking of almost an instinctual approach to any given story, based on the author's own vision of how the story can be told. I don't mean "instinctual" to imply that this is something one is born with or else lacks. It is certainly a learned skill. It's a process in which the story flows at some level apart from the formal analysis of much of the minutiae of the rules.

3. An organic process doesn't preclude application of rules-based methodology, because after an organic writing process the editing process can include such considerations, but whether at the point of writing or editing my question, below, is whether this is always a good idea.

4. The comments here are not an indictment of any approach to writing. I enjoy thrillers, for example, and that's the genre I identify most with many of the rules I read about writing, whether from books on how to write best-selling fiction, or the types of discussions writers have in forums. Those are good books, and the techniques can be very effective. I enjoy them. But I don't want all books to be like them.

The discussion has me thinking of three books as examples. I recently re-read The Savage Detectives, by Roberto Bolano. The other two examples are David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest and Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast books. I read the DFW novel some time ago, so if my memory is hazier on that one someone can correct me.

I don't think the books above, which are all well-received critically though none of them are what I would consider "commercial fiction" per se, adhere to a lot of the rules for writing or structuring novels that are often discussed among writers. Bolano's protagonist tends to get introspective, and the author engages in asides to indulge the character. Early on, these work to establish character, but as the book progresses they're really not much more than expressions of the author's individual style. I don't know that I'd say he uses microtensions on every page, for example (depending on how broadly one defines microtensions). He also "tells" a lot. DFW also engages in asides that don't really push the story itself forward much, if at all. They're witty and interesting asides, but they're very much the author pushing into the work and interrupting the story to some degree to inject a flavor of himself into the work. They're very much voice and style first, with other considerations secondary. And Peake, of course, is wordy and engages in indulgent descriptive paragraphs and other asides that contribute to the flavor and distinctiveness of the work. They're interesting. The writing is fascinating to read, in my view. But they're not the sorts of things that align themselves with a rules-based approach. I suspect if any of these authors were around today, as unknowns, and submitted their work for critique in a forum, they'd get a lot of "You can't do that because of rule X."

Each of the books above could be rewritten to conform with a lot of the rules that inform highly commercial fiction, but of course the works would be destroyed by this. They wouldn't exist--something else would be in their place.

Discussions of subject matter like MRUs, microtensions, and various other informal rules to writing fiction are valuable because they add tools to the writer's toolbox. But in the end they're just tools--the writer has to be able to determine when and if to use them, and those determinations seem to me to be based in large part on the author's artistic vision of the work, and on what the author considers the purpose of the work. If the authors is writing a fast, summertime beach read, it seems to me that the techniques discussed are a lot more relevant than if you're Mervyn Peake writing Titus Groan.

One question, then, is how such advice should be offered to new writers and in what sort of context, if any, should be built around the advice. I run into this with writers in my in-person critique group, where we have some writers in the very early stages of the craft. There are places where those writers appear to be trying to accomplish a result that I think would be helped by rule x, y, or z, and so I offer the advice as a possibility to consider for their next edit. We have one writer in particular who has a fairly distinctive style and is writing more in the vein of literary fiction. The problem he has right now is that his writing, voice, and approach to story is still quite rough, so that end product isn't nearly as effective as it could be. I would hate, however, to steer him heavily into rules-based thinking because the most promising core of what he's doing right now flies in the face of a lot of that, and if he edited his work to conform to such rules I think it would be the worse for it.

Finally, as clarification on the word "generic." I am using it simply in contract to an author with a distinctive voice and style. Much highly commercial fiction is generic in terms of voice. I like the books, but you could switch author X with author Y and no one would be the wiser. It seems to me the more individual authors are pushed toward utilizing the same rules, the same approaches, the same admonitions when it comes to revising their work and how sentences, scenes, and the like should be structured and worded, the more you push similarity as opposed to differences. It's unavoidable. The more authors adhere strictly to the same set of precepts, the more similar their work will be. Again, not necessarily a bad thing depending on what the authors are trying to accomplish, but not necessarily a good thing either, particularly when you consider the diversity of potential in fiction.

I think that covers the gist of my viewpoint. I'm sure I'll want to clarify or perhaps reconsider based on opposing viewpoints.

 

[Telcontar]

For myself, it is very much "write organic, edit by rule." Or some measure of that. I rarely think about "the rules" while I'm actually writing, but I literally have a list of things to watch out for when I edit. Some of these are personal quirks which I require personal rules to counteract, such as the abuse of dashes. Others are more standard, like "show, don't tell." Either way, trying to pay attention to these extra rules while writing initially would slow me down horrendously, and I'm already a fairly slow writer.

I also might argue that most initial writing is organic, as the rules people pay attention all the time are really just the ones they've internalized so thoroughly that they come naturally.

As you've said, all writing is judged subjectively and there are some very popular writers of not-too-long-ago that have a style which would be panned were it introduced today, and plenty of contemporary writers who have achieved fame in spite of what we might charitably call 'a dearth of style.' No writer is universally loved or hated. So in helping new writers, I myself would probably stress that they themselves need to know what they want out of a project, or no amount of critique will make it feel correct. Their own desires need to be the guiding star. If you can please 6 out of 10 readers but don't know which 6 you want to please you'll be pulled back and forth.

And if they don't know what they want yet? Keep reading, keep writing. Experiment until they find it. It's been awhile since I've actively critiqued other people's writing, so I'm rather rusty on the tutoring/mentoring side of it, though.

 

[Heliotrope]

For myself, it is very much "write organic, edit by rule." Or some measure of that. I rarely think about "the rules" while I'm actually writing, but I literally have a list of things to watch out for when I edit. Some of these are personal quirks which I require personal rules to counteract, such as the abuse of dashes. Others are more standard, like "show, don't tell." Either way, trying to pay attention to these extra rules while writing initially would slow me down horrendously, and I'm already a fairly slow writer.
.

This is my strategy as well. I write fast and furious until I get to "The End" and then I get really nit-picky for editing, usually to the point of rewriting chapters many times, using one "filter" or another, be it MRU's, microtension, characterization, setting, theme, etc, until I'm happy with them.

 

[Demesnedenoir]

Know the rules in order to break the rules... if they're even rules. I don't blame highly commercial mix and match author writing on any rules, there's the problem I see with the premise. Now, I can kind of blame the "short sentence" rule/suggestion, combined with "simple" which is something that irritates the crap out of me. But even then, I think this is more emulating the current writing of blockbuster writers than it is follwoing rules. Show don't tell is a literary rule created at the Iowa writer's workshop as I recall, or at lest highly promoted by.

MRUs and microtension specifically are not style "rules" and shouldn't contribute to generic.

 

[Devor]

I find myself reading through this and having an intense dislike for the underlying premise.

The thing is, if a "rule" works for you, then you internalize, and it becomes part of your "instinctual" writing process. The result is that my writing voice has it's own set of rules, a set of "learned instincts," which looks a bit like the official rules and a bit like its own thing.

What I mean is, a good part of your style comes from conscious decisions that you make about what you like and don't like about your writing, and also, constant efforts to discover these personalized rules. I find the idea that two are separate to be kind of poor perspective for understanding the learning process.

 

[Incanus]

Excellent post, Steerpike. I agree with the premise wholeheartedly and find this viewpoint aligns very much with my own. I can like ‘generic’ works, but for me to really love something, it needs to be distinctive and unique, an author staying true to their vision.

Of course, I want to know and understand all the ‘rules’, and I find most of them helpful most of the time. If nothing else, they might force me to make a decision I may not have thought I needed to make.

But ultimately I’m the ‘boss’ of the story, and I make my decisions based on how well they support it. The moment I deem a rule inappropriate in a given situation, I won’t hesitate to chuck it. If you make the rules the boss, then it seems to me you’ve deferred responsibility. For good or ill, my writing is going to have a good chunk of ‘me’ in it.

(Reading Mervyn Peake just blew my mind wide open. I’d never seen anything like it before, and am certain I never will again. A true original. I hope to make a few more such discoveries. I sometimes wonder what I would make of Infinite Jest.)

 

[Steerpike]

I find myself reading through this and having an intense dislike for the underlying premise.

The thing is, if a "rule" works for you, then you internalize, and it becomes part of your "instinctual" writing process. The result is that my writing voice has it's own set of rules, a set of "learned instincts," which looks a bit like the official rules and a bit like its own thing.

What I mean is, a good part of your style comes from conscious decisions that you make about what you like and don't like about your writing, and also, constant efforts to discover these personalized rules. I find the idea that two are separate to be kind of poor perspective for understanding the learning process.

I don't agree. At least, this doesn't reflect my process entirely, though there is some truth to it that applies just in terms of development as a writer. I suspect a lot of people approach the process differently than what you're suggesting here, which is why you see phrases like the old adage "Write drunk, edit sober." People are distinguishing between the artistic, flowing process of creation and going back with a more critical eye to make revisions. You see this same advice crop up from time to time in books on writing, or advice from writers, which is to simply write, get the words on the paper, and then go back after and do the editing (which includes applying the "rules" from one degree to another, not simply proofreading). If the rules process for a given writer were simply internalized and reflected in the organic creation process, none of the advice above would make much sense. The editing process would consist simply of proofreading the result of the organic writing, which already includes the internalized rules you're going to adopt as a writer, and maybe polishing some rough edges.

Not that this can't be how it works for some people, but it doesn't work that way for me and I don't believe I'm alone.

 

[Steerpike]

For myself, it is very much "write organic, edit by rule." Or some measure of that. I rarely think about "the rules" while I'm actually writing, but I literally have a list of things to watch out for when I edit. Some of these are personal quirks which I require personal rules to counteract, such as the abuse of dashes. Others are more standard, like "show, don't tell." Either way, trying to pay attention to these extra rules while writing initially would slow me down horrendously, and I'm already a fairly slow writer.

This is probably closer to my approach, if I'm correct in assuming that by "edit by rule" you mean edit with the rules in mind, and not the rote application of them to the work. I keep good writing advice (i.e. "rules") in mind when I'm editing. In some situations, I might decide that I'm better off disregarding a particular rule, but the important thing is that they've been brought up for consideration during the editing process.

I do a fair amount of critiquing in my in-person groups--probably 5 or 6 stories a month on average--and my focus with new writers is to make sure they understand the value, and pitfalls, of the supposed rules. I don't believe in hiding the ball, or we'll tell you they're rules now and when you get better explain that they're really not. I like to put it all out there from the beginning.

I also agree with the experimenting aspect of what you've said. It is often important for new writers. Many start off by emulating favorite authors, until after trying a few different approaches they settle into what is more naturally their own style.

 

[Steerpike]

This is my strategy as well. I write fast and furious until I get to "The End" and then I get really nit-picky for editing, usually to the point of rewriting chapters many times, using one "filter" or another, be it MRU's, microtension, characterization, setting, theme, etc, until I'm happy with them.

I do this as well, with the caveat that the edits have to fit my vision for the story. In other words, I'm not going to apply a rule to my writing just because it exists and some people advocate for it. I'll consider the rule and decide whether it should be applied. I think you're saying more or less the same here.

 

[Steerpike]

Excellent post, Steerpike. I agree with the premise wholeheartedly and find this viewpoint aligns very much with my own. I can like ‘generic’ works, but for me to really love something, it needs to be distinctive and unique, an author staying true to their vision.

Yes. I enjoy what I'm referring to a "generic" works, which is a comment on voice and not a knock on them. I read a lot of those books, and have great fun while I'm reading them. They're not books I think about weeks, months, or years later. The latter are occupied by authors that I feel have really differentiated themselves in terms of style, voice, something to say, etc.

I agree that we're not likely to see another Peake anytime soon. Infinite Jest is an interesting novel. It's dense, but interesting, and quite funny at times.

 

[Devor]

I don't agree. At least, this doesn't reflect my process entirely, though there is some truth to it that applies just in terms of development as a writer. I suspect a lot of people approach the process differently than what you're suggesting here, which is why you see phrases like the old adage "Write drunk, edit sober." People are distinguishing between the artistic, flowing process of creation and going back with a more critical eye to make revisions. You see this same advice crop up from time to time in books on writing, or advice from writers, which is to simply write, get the words on the paper, and then go back after and do the editing (which includes applying the "rules" from one degree to another, not simply proofreading). If the rules process for a given writer were simply internalized and reflected in the organic creation process, none of the advice above would make much sense. The editing process would consist simply of proofreading the result of the organic writing, which already includes the internalized rules you're going to adopt as a writer, and maybe polishing some rough edges.

Yeah, I knew I didn't explain it well and it wasn't going to sit right with people.

Let's assume for a second that you have the scene mapped out in your head, and you write a first draft of a scene or a chapter, and on the structural level it looks exactly the way you want it to. That is, let's shuffle the structural part of it aside as "other things equal."

Now there's a gap in the quality of the prose between what the first draft looks like, and what your final edit looks like. How big is that gap? As you get better and more experienced as a writer, the gap should close. Editing is part of the learning process for developing your voice. As you edit, you learn, you make decisions about what you like and don't like, and much of that should stick with you into your future writing.

That's because your voice is the end-goal of how you write your prose. You're not editing into a vacuum trying to get each little word tweaked and ironed into some kind of super-perfection. No, you're editing it into your style. It's all a part of developing that voice. And your voice can be translated, onto paper, if you had that special skill of being able to understand all the details of why you do the things you do - translated into a set of rules that work for you, and which you follow, by instinct when you write, and more consciously when you edit.

 

[skip.knox]

I think I get it, Devor. I'm not aiming for an external target, I'm aiming for an internal one. I don't quite know what that is, and maybe it will always keep shifting on me, but becoming experienced as a writer means learning to recognize those inner rules, more than it is learning to adopt external ones.

Or, to quote Don Marquis, who is always quotable here a hundred years later

My heart has followed all my days
Something I cannot name

 

[Penpilot]

When I first started writing, I pantsed everything. I was the classic case of many many hot starts trickling down to cold stops with very few stories finished. Then one day I decided to force myself to finish the damned novel I'd been working on since I was 20. Learned a lot but ended up pantsing a 275k bit of hot mess in many many ways.

While writing my first novel I was also reading every book on writing I could get my hands on and listening to every writing podcast religiously. But even then, it wasn't enough to save that book, or at least it wasn't worth spending the time to save it at that time.

For my 2nd book, I created a decently detailed outline applying all the rules I could remember, and I tried to do the same while writing the first draft. Better results structurally, but I had to throw out the last half of the book, and I kind of ended up half-pantsing the new second half. I found it helped a lot that I had a solid structure to work with, but it took me till the third draft till I felt like I was finding the heart of what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it.

This led me down the road to the way I do things now. I outline broadly, and I pants most of the things within those bounds. But the outline is fluid and can change with my whims.

I use the rules, mostly structure wise, to direct and bound my creativity. To me it's like the sketch a painter does before they start putting paint to canvas. It shows the general shape things need to be in in order to get the desire result, but otherwise, I'm free to do as I please. But because I have that sketch, I understand better the consequences of each story choice I make.

To me, I felt it was very helpful to go from one extreme to the other. It showed me pros and cons to each side of things and helped me find a method that felt right to me, which is still a work in progress.

For example, I use scene sequel format to bound and direct my sections. I know what I need to accomplish by the end of the section, but how I go about getting it done and what other things get explored while doing it is for the most part pantsed out.

 

[Gribba]

I recently figured out, or should I say accepted the fact that I am a discovery writer, I can not write with these rules in my head, not on a conscious level.
I attempted to plan my current story and use all the right tools and rules... it only got in my way, I just could not seem to get any writing done, I got stuck.

For me the tools are something to consider, when I go back to the story and rewrite my story. But what I do is, I read my story out loud to myself, that helps me to find areas that are problematic and need my attention, then I put the tools and rules on the table and see if I can use any of them.

I think we all have different ways to use the tools and how we see them benefiting or lessen the story we are working on and to me that is what makes each story unique, that I think, lets us keep our voice in our work.

 

[Russ]

This is always an interesting discussion and there have been many insightful comments already made in the thread. I will try not to duplicate any.

The first factor, to me, in how one approaches one's writing is what it the goal of what you are doing. If you are trying to write commercial genre fiction, you should try and write it like commercial genre fiction. If you are trying to write something else, approach it in the way the way that will get you to your goal. That is not to say that you cannot write amazing unique and original fiction that is commercially successful, you can, but you need to have a goal in mind to choose the tools and routes to get there.

I very much agree with the comment earlier that you need to understand the rules to know how and when to break them. And rules can mean so many different things. "Rules" can be rules for good writing in general (show don't tell, less passive work, strong voice, the use of psychic distance, etc) or rules can be accepted conventions for a genre. Both have their value.

Rules also give us a common language to help each other get better. When I am critiquing someone else's work and I find something that is not working to my mind, the rules give me the language to quickly express to the writer what I think the problem is, and that usually also leads to at least basic ideas on how to fix that problem. In that context the rules can be invaluable.

Now on a personal level I can tell you how the rules work for me. Firstly I do try to internalize a lot of them to save myself editing later. That tends to be on the "shorter is better", "no info dumps", "psychic distance" level. I try to construct my sentences, paragraphs and scenes in accord with what I feel are good writing habits.

On the story side I am completely different. Story, or plot, I write straight from my inspiration, in my belief of how to tell the story I want, and deliver on the theme I have chosen. I only turn to the rules when that fails me. So if I am writing along and hit a point in my book where I am not sure where the story should go, or what should happen next, etc, then I will turn to a rule (or my wife) to decide what should happen next. So a rule can be like a handrail I use to pull myself up when I have fallen, but that I ignore until I stumble.

So I do think there is good value in learning the generally accepted conventions of good writing, good plotting etc. After you have done that, what you do with those tools is premised on your goals and your personal style.

 

[Demesnedenoir]

If one looks at Titus Groan, all you have to do is look at the first paragraph to see microtension at work. Or at least, working within how I define it. Peake's word choice creates it. The mean houses swarm like an epidemic. This is an example of taking an inanimate, a house, and giving it "action" it swarms. There is more of this, plus, you add in the sense of aging and crumbling with irregular roofs falling now and again, then topped off with the Tower of Flint standing as if (maybe) flipping off God. Hello. Microtension in description and nicely done. Rottcodd and Flay are all about microtension and little questions, implicit and explicit. Rottcodd's whole routine builds on the ingrained reader expectation that when presented with the routine, it will be broken, and we the readers wait for how. And then, you got it, the unusual appearance of Flay. An heir is born. Why did Flay tell Rottcodd? We even see the word multiple times: Change! We know it's coming, it isn't tension as often used in modern fiction, it's microtension. The first chapter is littered with it.

Also, Peake is a great example of using a rule: specifc/strong verbs. This "rule" not only helps create his "voice" it is building the microtension.

 

[Steerpike]

Yeah, I knew I didn't explain it well and it wasn't going to sit right with people.

Let's assume for a second that you have the scene mapped out in your head, and you write a first draft of a scene or a chapter, and on the structural level it looks exactly the way you want it to. That is, let's shuffle the structural part of it aside as "other things equal."

Now there's a gap in the quality of the prose between what the first draft looks like, and what your final edit looks like. How big is that gap? As you get better and more experienced as a writer, the gap should close. Editing is part of the learning process for developing your voice. As you edit, you learn, you make decisions about what you like and don't like, and much of that should stick with you into your future writing.

That's because your voice is the end-goal of how you write your prose. You're not editing into a vacuum trying to get each little word tweaked and ironed into some kind of super-perfection. No, you're editing it into your style. It's all a part of developing that voice. And your voice can be translated, onto paper, if you had that special skill of being able to understand all the details of why you do the things you do - translated into a set of rules that work for you, and which you follow, by instinct when you write, and more consciously when you edit.

Thanks for the follow-up. Sounds like I misread your initial post, and I don't think we're at odds here. If you're editing in a way that is consistent with developing your voice, then you're not really applying rules by rote, you're evaluating rules and other tools of writing, and deciding which ones work for your style and voice and which ones don't. This determination could very well vary between different works. As you become more experienced, and your style is more ingrained, you have to do less of this consciously.

I agree with all of that, and I think it is an accurate description of my process. It is contrary to the notion that there are certain things one must do in terms of microtension, MRUs, show v. tell, or any of a number of other "rules" that one is often presented with. Each of these is a tool of writing, and as with any tool it is up to the wielder to know when to use it and when to forego it.

 

[Steerpike]

This is always an interesting discussion and there have been many insightful comments already made in the thread. I will try not to duplicate any.

The first factor, to me, in how one approaches one's writing is what it the goal of what you are doing. If you are trying to write commercial genre fiction, you should try and write it like commercial genre fiction. If you are trying to write something else, approach it in the way the way that will get you to your goal. That is not to say that you cannot write amazing unique and original fiction that is commercially successful, you can, but you need to have a goal in mind to choose the tools and routes to get there.

I very much agree with the comment earlier that you need to understand the rules to know how and when to break them. And rules can mean so many different things. "Rules" can be rules for good writing in general (show don't tell, less passive work, strong voice, the use of psychic distance, etc) or rules can be accepted conventions for a genre. Both have their value.

Yes. To the first point, it seems logical that the extent to which you apply "rules" for commercial genre fiction should depend on whether you are intending to write commercial genre fiction. Knowing the rules can only be helpful, so long as one understands their purpose and true nature (i.e. that they're not really rules). Then, as I said above, they become tools, and a larger selection of tools seems to me to be a positive thing. I've run across a few people who are rubbed the wrong way by people characterizing the "rules" as tools for consideration, however. I've seen critiques from such people filled with sentences like "you can't do that."

 

[FifthView]

Dwight V. Swain first presented the idea of MRUs in his book Techniques of the Selling Writer, and I think that word is better than rules or even guidelines.

Rules and guidelines might work somewhat if we use the meaning of a pattern, measurement, etc. that can help us create the shape of what we write, but the problem is that rules especially is being used in a squishy way to imply some kind of authoritative dictate. Guideline is only slightly less authoritative.

Techniques removes those connotations.

Here's what Swain says in the forward to that book:

Since they're primarily tools, these techniques have little bearing on literary quality or the lack of it. No writer uses all of them. No writer can avoid using some of them. How well they serve will depend on you yourself.​

I rather like the idea of thinking of those "rules" as techniques. One simply follows a rule, to the best of his or her ability—or, doesn't—but one can learn to use techniques.

I've been extremely skeptical of the way the concept "organic writing" is used, because I think that internalization of techniques happens before that instinctive writing can happen.

When are these internalized? Almost from birth. Children mimic and learn to watch a parent's reaction, eventually learning how to perform in a way that will elicit the desired result. When they're older, they may tell cute stories to please their parents—or lies woven to deceive. When they go off to school, they meet a great variety of other persons and learn new ways to achieve something desirable through communication. This is an ongoing process.

Growing up, in addition to the stories they themselves tell, they hear the stories others tell. They tell jokes and have jokes told to them. They also watch television and movies and, eventually, begin reading books. Why is this advice often given to new writers: read, read, read! The difference between this lifelong process and the kinds of threads that happen here is that there's no narrator standing by annotating the television show, movie, or book with "Microtension. Tension. MRU. Hook. Promise. Cliffhanger." (Any friend who did this during my first viewing of a movie in a theater might not be my friend for long, heh.)

When I read about the instinctive nature of "organic writing," I think it's what arises from all this unannotated learning. We've internalize these techniques, but often in a way that focuses on the results rather than the process. I remember an event in high school when this kid—term used loosely; we were the same age—learned I liked to write and insisted on showing me the sci-fi, action movie script he'd been working on. He was extremely excited by it. I read it, and it was 99.9% cliche, horrible. I didn't analyze it by thinking about all the techniques, I just recognized everything in it from all the movies I'd watched in the genre. He was reinventing the wheel. This is one result of learning techniques by only looking at the end results, imo.

A more recent example. I've been watching the first season of Supernatural, an extremely formulaic show I'd only watched a few times sporadically years ago. But it's entertaining, and I find myself somewhat hooked. In the prologue scene of one episode, we are shown how some stranger is yanked under a car by some apparently supernatural thing. Later, one of the two brothers (who are the MCs) is in a bar parking lot alone and hears something moving under cars. He sets his journal down, slowly bends down to look under the car, and I'm like, "OMG is this primary character going to fall victim, be taken?!" Usually, it's other people in these episodes who are the victims. When his eyes finally reach that level under the car, a cat hisses. And I jumped. Immediately afterward, I thought, "OMG that's the Cat"—seen it a hundred times—and immediately after that, I thought, "But hell, it got me!"

I think that the greater number of techniques learned, and understood, the more flexibility a new writer will have in finding/building her voice.

But the problem is that these techniques are devices that create specific effects, and they are extremely contextual. Each may be used in a multitude of ways. During that other discussion, I pondered suggesting that we make a list of all the ways microtension could be created—but then my mind rebelled because I thought there'd be too many, and any examples we gave would imply that only a handful of uses exist. This is the teen seeing a cat used under a car—or in a basement—who always after uses The Cat in that same, exact way, and even worse, always uses a cat for those scenes.

Icanus mentioned daytime soap operas in the other thread, I believe in relation to the use of microtension. I think that, yes, microtension can be used to create that kind of story delivery. But it can be used in other ways, too, for many types of story. Or for a single scene. I gave some examples of MRUs, but I don't think those examples are the sum total of types of sentences and paragraphs that create MRUs.

When new writers only catch a few "results" of these techniques and focus on a handful of examples, believing them to be the sum total of the usefulness, and then translate these into "rules"—I think you can guess the result. Maybe the advice to "write organically," or without a conscious focus on these things, might be better for such a writer. But on the other hand, we might end up with a script like that script my high school acquaintance handed me.

 

[Devor]

I've been extremely skeptical of the way the concept "organic writing" is used, because I think that internalization of techniques happens before that instinctive writing can happen.

I think that's the issue I had with the wording in the OP as well. Just like there's something off about the word rules, I think there's something about the word organic that isn't sitting right with me. It's true that while you write you might not be focusing too much effort into your prose. But you still have these techniques that you've developed that you should be using even if you're not thinking too much about them. It should be getting to be second nature to use some of your writing techniques during the first go around.

Organic, to me, feels like something's happening all on its own, without any deliberate input from you, like you're spitting out prose at random just to clean it up later. That's just not what's happening.

Of course, that's probably an extreme characterization of what Steerpike meant to imply. And it's true that some people might have a harder time finding their voice and adapting their techniques on the fly. And all the other disclaimers about finding what works for you apply here. But broadly speaking you should come to even your first drafts with some bundle of skills you've developed and techniques you're already employing from the outset.