The Seduction of the Written Word

Don't try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It's the one and only thing you have to offer. ~ Barbara Kingsolver

I'm probably going out on a limb here, but I'd be willing to bet that anyone who enjoys putting their creative thoughts down on paper despised English class in high school and college, or at least certain aspects of it. Certainly in high school, the teacher's focus is to teach their students how to form the perfect sentence and the perfect paragraph. I can almost hear my old English teacher now: "Write your stories with perfect grammar, and you'll never have to worry about being misunderstood." I loved my teacher and her strict, unyielding ways, but of her ideas about perfect grammar and getting your point across to the reader I can say only one thing:

Bull Feathers.

In creative writing, I've always felt that the most important job a writer has is to use whatever tools she has at her disposal to make the reader understand what she is trying to tell them... but it is equally important to invite the reader in to whatever story they're reading. I don't believe for a second that the best way to accomplish this is to make sure my writing follows strict adherence to the latest English rules of literary politeness. I don't care if a sentence is a fragment, or if a paragraph follows the classic format we're all taught in school. What's important to me is to make my writing enjoyable by the reader. Otherwise, what's the point?

Let me share an example.

Kevin sat forlornly in the cold metal folding chair, looking glumly down at his hands. He was in trouble, that much he knew. The police don't take people in just to give them free soda. He glanced up at the man sitting across from him. Silent, stony stare, eyes boring into Kevin's, picking mental locks. Kevin quickly looked down again. No, this guy certainly wasn't his friend.
"Kevin." the man spoke in a monotone voice. "You know why we brought you in, right?"
Kevin didn't speak, didn't move. His heart raced. What did they know? They couldn't know anything, he'd covered his tracks way too well. He decided to play dumb. "No," he mumbled, "I don't. All I know is I was watching TV when -"

The cop's huge hands slammed down on the metal table. "You know damn well what I'm talking about!" he shouted.

In the above passage, you'll find a couple of fragmented sentences. I like writing this way when I'm trying to "Tense Up" a scene, but I also like to use it to break up the prose a bit. Formality breeds expectation. Expectation can be like a comforting blanket, but it can also bore the hell out of someone. I think I'd rather break up the monotony and give the readers' eyes something interesting to look at than write the expected and risk those same eyes falling asleep, or worse, looking elsewhere. In any case, try doing the same in your writing. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at the results!