The Five Basics of Writing You Need to Know

I recently started teaching a “Critical reading and effective writing” course at a university and it’s reminded me of some of the small details that make writing so much better. The use of these small details leads to ease of navigation whilst reading other peoples’ work; indeed it forms the basis of any piece of writing.

I think those of us who write, either for pleasure or work, are prone to look for ways to distinguish our writing, but this can have a negative effect on how others’ understand our work. We become blasé about the fundamental questions our language offers us, the wide variety that can be spun off a single, simple question. We get busy learning new words and meanings, forgetting that we can reuse our most humble of tools; if I’m not being clear enough, let me state it simply – never forget the basics.

When writing about any topic, it’s astounding to see how many people leave questions unanswered. Some articles leave us floundering about what the question may even be. What questions, you may ask? Those basic questions – Who? What? Where? When? How? and Why? In any format, these are the questions that need to be answered, whether you’re writing for fun or for a college paper.

In order to create conflict, you need to address these questions. By all means, leave us in anticipation of the answer for a while, particularly in terms of fiction writing; you can even build up to those answers in a term paper, but please, get us to the answer at some point, otherwise, we’ll lose interest in your main idea and I can promise you that.

There are some writers who I don’t really rate but I bet part of the reason for their popularity is their explicit exploration of those most rudimentary questions; I like to use Dan Brown as an example – great stories, terrific at creating and answering questions, but, on the whole, very poor writing. This didn’t affect his place on the bestseller lists and in fact, I envy his imagination.

People like to be told about things, and often people like to be told in the simplest way possible – this creates easy reading; this is why people buy beach-reads, and books that don’t tax their minds too much on holidays. When books leave us with unanswered questions, it frustrates us beyond belief. I recently read “The Fault in our stars,” where the two main characters spend much time obsessing about what happens to the characters in their favourite book, because the questions are left unanswered.

Also, consider that two of the most popular books in the past few years amongst readers of any age, have been the following: “Big Questions from Little People: and Simple Answers from Great Minds” and “Does my Goldfish know who I am?”.

Everyone is obsessed with knowledge, whether they think they are or not. They might not want to read about it, but on their favourite television show, they want to know the same things – “Who is dating who?” “What did she do that X is ignoring her for?” ”When did they have a baby?” ”Where was she night of the fire?” ”How did X get away with the murder of Y?” and “Why is she acting so out of character?” If it’s not TV, then you’re catching up with what Miley Cyrus said on Twitter, if not there, then you’re looking over your neighbours’ wall or eager to hear about friends’ lives; even Russell Brand has a YouTube programme, “The Trews” now, based on increasing peoples’ knowledge and awareness of a variety of issues around the world.

So, with all this in mind, how does anyone think they are not subjected to the same rules as the rest of us? Unless you’ve published a couple of abstract bestsellers and can offer me a concrete thesis as to why (note use of why?) this isn’t true, then you are like the rest of us, and need to apply the basics like everyone else.

Not the first time these words were uttered, no doubt, but the works of Thomas Wilson, although written almost half a millennium ago, still bears relevance today. In fact, he is credited with producing a comprehensive and fundamental work on the theory of literature “The Arte of Rhetorique” which, although dated, bears relevance and still encourages discussion today.

Sixteenth century writers were obsessed with their stories answering questions, providing new knowledge; in my opinion, not enough writers are as concerned with this today. Sometimes, we need to look back in order to move forward.

The beauty of these words is that they open up so many avenues; each of those words can create a myriad of possible questions, and therefore answers. Another group of people who seem to have forgotten about the basics are copywriters in advertising. In the quest for creativity, they are forgetting “Who” their market is, “What” they are selling (Don’t even get me started on how often the female anatomy is used to sell things which bear no relation to it – beer, cars, computers), “How” their product actually works? (Does anyone actually let us know about this anymore? One of the ads for the iPhone 6 tells us “It’s bigger than bigger” – ok, what does this even mean?), I’ll admit that they do consider “where” the advertisements will be shown and “where” the product will be sold, but only because the industry dictates this.

As writers, we should learn to love questions, as they inspire our creativity and lead us into dark alleyways and onto clouds, searching for the whys and who’s and what’s of our stories. Anyone writing anything should take a note from this. The goal is to make it interesting and accessible, to invite everyone in to join you on your quest to answer these questions. Use them wisely, but above all, don’t forget to use them.

Who am I? Caitriona McBride, book editor for The Expert Editor, author, playwright and sometime explorer of different industries on a quest for what interests me. What am I trying to do? Improve all of our writing by pointing out little things that help me.