Welcome to the first lesson in The Elements of Substack Style
From now through the end of summer, paid readers will receive at least one new writing lesson each month. (This post was open to all readers for the first 7 days, but is now tucked behind the paywall.) Together, we’ll explore how the tried-and-true pieces of writing guidance from The Elements of Style can be incorporated into authentic, honoring and compelling newsletter writing for today.
The purpose of writing—and, indeed, its “principle reward”—is breaking through the barriers that separate the minds of writers from their readers.
This sentiment planted years ago as a North Star in my own writing life, with many thanks to Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style.
When you imagine a barrier between you and readers, what immediately comes to mind?
For me, it is a large, fallen tree trunk. Not insurmountable, but in the way, nonetheless. It doesn’t block my entire view of the field from which I write. But if I weren’t watching for it, I would easily trip over my own two feet.
This is how I feel often when I write something that doesn’t seem to “lift” with readers. Like a barrier was in the way, and that perhaps there is also practical work to be done on the essays and poems I want to give to the world. In that spirit—of tripping over logs and relaxing with the desire to connect—we start the first “writing lesson” in The Elements of Substack Style.
We’re starting here
Today I’m drawing from Chapter V, An Approach to Style. I expect to hop around a bit, perhaps through practicals or even the meaning of language and its power in what we share. I hope to invite you—regardless of your writing age, as
so aptly puts it—to consider how traditional elements of writing style and guidance weave into our immediate experience as writers (on Substack and beyond).When should writing guidance change our approach? When should it rightly be ignored or reimagined? As an autistic editor, I’ll be taking the time to consider how writing guidance can be misconstrued if you’re neurodiverse, and offer some practical ways to consider its merits without losing track of your self-trust.
Today we’re going to start with the first “approach” in Chapter V:
Place yourself in the background.
Write in a way that draws the reader’s attention to the sense and substance of the writing, rather than to the mood and temper of the author. If the writing is solid and good, the mood and temper of the writer will eventually be revealed and not at the expense of the work. Therefore, the first piece of advice is this: to achieve style, begin by affecting none—that is, place yourself in the background. A careful and honest writer does not need to worry about style. As you become proficient in the use of language, your style will emerge, and when this happens you will find it increasingly easy to break through the barriers that separate you from other minds, other hearts—which is of course, the purpose of writing, as well as its principal reward. Fortunately, the act of composition, or creation, disciplines the mind; writing is one way to go about thinking, and the practice and habit of writing not only drain the mind but supply it, too.
OK, let’s look at this a little more closely.
Place yourself in the background
I picked this piece of advice because it shows up everywhere in writing circles. It shows up subtly in the “Who am I writing for?” debates and it helps us recenter on the value of being a writer who is eager to let all readers in. I think considering where we belong in the context of the stories that we’re entrusted with is also very wise. I appreciate the reminder that when we become proficient in how we use language, our “style will emerge.”
I also feel this piece of guidance is piping hot with ambiguity. The more I sit with it and try to apply it to how I see the world, I am filled with questions.
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