I have just finished reading the preface of John Gardner's
Art of Fiction. I read most of his
On Becoming a Novelist while in university, but I was overwhelmed by studies, work, and my future career prospects, that little of it was taken seriously. I will revisit it at a later time.
The difference here is that
The Art of Fiction looks at writing on a more theoretical level, followed by a few practical applications. The other book looked at more of the bits and bites of what writers do in practice on the micro level. I figured starting at a different angle would help me think about these things more.
For those unfamiliar with Gardner, he's arguably the best teacher of the craft in recent history, and I'm sure I've taken a lot from him already. I just need to fill in some gaps and apply more of what I've learned. I hope this new approach will give me more confidence.
Anyway, the first paragraph of the first chapter (entitled Aesthetic Law and Artistic Mystery) in
The Art of Fiction contains this interesting bit, which I thought fits perfectly well with what we see in this thread:
Quote:
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[...] on the whole the search for aesthetic absolutes is a misapplication of the writer's energy. When one begins to be persuaded that certain things must never be done in fiction and certain other things must always be done, one has entered the first stage of aesthetic arthritis, the disease that ends up in pedantic rigidity and the atrophy of intuition. Every true work of art—and thus every attempt at art (since things meant to be similar must submit to one standard)—must be judged primarily, though not exclusively, by its own laws. If it has no laws, or if its laws are incoherent, it fails—usually—on that basis.
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