The Style of No Style

If it were up to me, I’d live and die in loose fitting jeans, a Pink Floyd tee-shirt, black hoodie and steel toe work boots. And yes, I have gone to the beach dressed like that. But this post isn’t about my complete and utter lack of fashion sense but about my lack of writing style. See what I did there? No? Me neither; it’s late and my foot hurts but follow me for a while.

My writing has always been off the cuff. Up until recently, I would write sans outline, typing by the seat of my pants, not knowing where I was headed or what I would find when I got there. It’s an exciting method but I would always write myself into a corner, get frustrated, scrap the whole bloody thing and start over. Thankfully, I’ve remedied this but my nomad system of writing has also informed my style or lack thereof.

The most accurate description of my style would be scatterbrain but I like to think of it as flowing. I like to move from place to place, weaving a tapestry. It’s probably an awful thing to read but there is just so much story to tell that I often go off on side tangents. It’s difficult for me to pin down if this hodgepodge of prose would really be that confusing since I haven’t written anything in this style to the end. For all I know, it might actually work.

I’ve been writing a couple serials to figure out if this drifting type of storytelling is as horrible as I imagine it to be. I’ve given myself free reign to experiment. I’ll be exploring my natural method, learning its tendencies, honing what works and overhauling what doesn’t. At the end of it, I hope to figure out what my style and voice actually are. It’s been an interesting process so far and it’s alleviated a lot of my perfectionism.

I’m not entirely sure what a “writing style” would be. I’ve read several books from the same author and each book felt different and unique. Anne Rice wrote both Memnoch The Devil and Christ The Lord Out of Egypt but I can tell you right here and now that each book has a vastly different style. Same with Mario Puzo. Mario wrote the masterwork The Godfather, which is one of my favorite books of all time. But he also wrote Omerta, which left a lot to be desired. Did Puzo lose his style? Or is style just some marketing term ascribe to the discernible patterns in an author’s writings? I think the subjective nature of storytelling is going to leave that one unanswerable.

So where does that leave me; the lowly aspiring writer? I don’t know. Maybe there’s no such thing as style and I’ve spent far too much time thinking about it. Or maybe my style will be whatever the hell it will be and that’s the end of it. No epiphany. No greater understanding of the method or how I came to the conclusion. Just one voice speaking clearly. And entertaining-ly.

Episode One of my first serial will be posted February, 15th, right after Valentine’s Day. So if you’re sick and tired of your sweetheart and want to jump in on a quick tale, drop on by.