Friday’s post on mediocrity garnered a lot of responses, and I have to thank those people for helping me get some perspective on the subject. I was blown away by the depth and understanding you all provided, and I agreed with everybody (and I'm not just being nice!)
However, I still have to judge the entries to the contest, have to respond to those authors with written critiques, and I still can’t tell them precisely what it is they need to fix. Theirs isn’t bad writing, just adequate writing with mediocre results. As several people pointed out, mediocre is, well, medium. Not bad. If all of my samples are mediocre, that isn't surprising. On the Bell Curve that we teachers once followed, it is expected that the vast majority of whatever will lie in the middle of the curve, with the really bad and the really good taking smaller portions on either end. In the last contest I judged, I had one really good entry, one really bad one, and three that were mediocre. I guess that fit my teacher brain better than four with nothing wrong and nothing right, but statistically, both are possible in the overall picture.
Lest anyone think I’m too judgmental, let me stress that I was asked to judge, and I certainly don’t claim that I have found the secret to fresh writing, either. I’m judging as a reader, and I found the samples predictable, the characters much like a hundred other forgettable ones I’ve encountered. Would I read these books if I were stranded in the airport with no other diversion? Probably. Would I remember them the next day? Probably not. And as someone said, that's fine, because people read lots of books. They can't all be JUDE THE OBSCURE.
I spoke with a friend/book reviewer about it this weekend, and we tried to clarify the difference between writing something “different” and writing something “fresh.” Not easy. What we agreed on is that fresh writing isn’t achieved with a gimmick, like making your detective a retired lion tamer or giving her friends that used to be bouncers at a biker club. It isn’t always the hook, though that’s part of it in today’s instant gratification model. And we acknowledged that some established authors get away with mediocrity more easily than newbies do. Hence a practice we’ve all seen: (some) big name authors writing the same book a dozen times or more. Oddly enough, it sells every time. However, the reason they get away with this is because once upon a time, there was something fresh in their work. Now agents, editors, and readers buy their work habitually, getting what they got before and apparently happy with that. We’d all like to be there, so don’t knock it.
What fresh comes down to is the ability to make the reader want to read the next page. And the next. And so on. I read one this weekend like that, one of those late-for-lunch-and-maybe-supper books that you don't want to put down. If someone knew for certain how to do that, and how to teach other people to do it, that person would be a really, really popular guest at writers’ conferences. It’s precisely because it can’t be defined that freshness is such a precious commodity, like beauty, truth, and the appeal of certain celebrities. We want it, we work for it, but a large part of whether we get it or not is up to someone else to judge.
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