ne in an old, multistory, rambling house in the dead of night. I ask you, which word conveys the impression I wanted to create: one of the two clinical names I mention, or the one which speaks of fear of shadows?

The editor objected to my "tenebraephobic" because he said there was no such word, that I had made it up, and, of course, he was right. There wasn't and I had. Damn it all, if a fiction wri

Style manuals are all well and good, and in fact, highly desirable for newspapers. The average reading level of newspaper readers is the sixth grade. Over the years it became imperative that newspaper writing be simple, consistent, and use basic punctuation, even when that violated some elementary rules. The end result has been that borderline idiots may now understand today's papers.

I feel that these manuals should not be taken as carved in stone for fiction writers. Imagine, if you will, someone dictating to Picasso, Dali, or the French impressionists which colors of paint they may use, which strokes, which perspective, etc. Unthinkable, yet there are many people who insist that fiction writers must abide by the (sometimes) arbitrary grammar and style rules in the popular style manuals.

There are certain rudimentary dictates we must all follow, otherwise our writing would be chaotic. However, fiction writers should, more than any other writers, be allowed enough freedom of expression to create a style that is special to them. In other words, a style that is peculiar (in the correct meaning of that word.) In the editing process of my book, TALES FROM THE WRECKTORY, I had an incident with the editor (He won, I lost.) over the use of the word, "tenebraephobic." (Tenebrae is the service used during Christian Holy Week, and the Latin word, "tenebrae" means shadows, hence darkness.) I wanted to use it to convey a particular kind of fear of the dark. Now, there is more than one word for this condition: nyctophobia and lygophobia, to name two. The individual I was writing about was afraid to be alone in an old, multistory, rambling house in the dead of night. I ask you, which word conveys the impression I wanted to create: one of the two clinical names I mention, or the one which speaks of fear of shadows?

The editor objected to my "tenebraephobic" because he said there was no such word, that I had made it up, and, of course, he was right. There wasn't and I had. Damn it all, if a fiction wri

ese manuals should not be taken as carved in stone for fiction writers. Imagine, if you will, someone dictating to Picasso, Dali, or the French impressionists which colors of paint they may use, which strokes, which perspective, etc. Unthinkable, yet there are many people who insist that fiction writers must abide by the (sometimes) arbitrary grammar and style rules in the popular style manuals.

There are certain rudimentary dictates we must all follow, otherwise our writing would be chaotic. However, fiction writers should, more than any other writers, be allowed enough freedom of expression to create a style that is special to them. In other words, a style that is peculiar (in the correct meaning of that word.) In the editing process of my book, TALES FROM THE WRECKTORY, I had an incident with the editor (He won, I lost.) over the use of the word, "tenebraephobic." (Tenebrae is the service used during Christian Holy Week, and the Latin word, "tenebrae" means shadows, hence darkness.) I wanted to use it to convey a particular kind of fear of the dark. Now, there is more than one word for this condition: nyctophobia and lygophobia, to name two. The individual I was writing about was afraid to be alone in an old, multistory, rambling house in the dead of night. I ask you, which word conveys the impression I wanted to create: one of the two clinical names I mention, or the one which speaks of fear of shadows?

The editor objected to my "tenebraephobic" because he said there was no such word, that I had made it up, and, of course, he was right. There wasn't and I had. Damn it all, if a fiction wri

re are certain rudimentary dictates we must all follow, otherwise our writing would be chaotic. However, fiction writers should, more than any other writers, be allowed enough freedom of expression to create a style that is special to them. In other words, a style that is peculiar (in the correct meaning of that word.) In the editing process of my book, TALES FROM THE WRECKTORY, I had an incident with the editor (He won, I lost.) over the use of the word, "tenebraephobic." (Tenebrae is the service used during Christian Holy Week, and the Latin word, "tenebrae" means shadows, hence darkness.) I wanted to use it to convey a particular kind of fear of the dark. Now, there is more than one word for this condition: nyctophobia and lygophobia, to name two. The individual I was writing about was afraid to be alone in an old, multistory, rambling house in the dead of night. I ask you, which word conveys the impression I wanted to create: one of the two clinical names I mention, or the one which speaks of fear of shadows?

The editor objected to my "tenebraephobic" because he said there was no such word, that I had made it up, and, of course, he was right. There wasn't and I had. Damn it all, if a fiction wri

editor (He won, I lost.) over the use of the word, "tenebraephobic." (Tenebrae is the service used during Christian Holy Week, and the Latin word, "tenebrae" means shadows, hence darkness.) I wanted to use it to convey a particular kind of fear of the dark. Now, there is more than one word for this condition: nyctophobia and lygophobia, to name two. The individual I was writing about was afraid to be alone in an old, multistory, rambling house in the dead of night. I ask you, which word conveys the impression I wanted to create: one of the two clinical names I mention, or the one which speaks of fear of shadows?

The editor objected to my "tenebraephobic" because he said there was no such word, that I had made it up, and, of course, he was right. There wasn't and I had. Damn it all, if a fiction wri

ne in an old, multistory, rambling house in the dead of night. I ask you, which word conveys the impression I wanted to create: one of the two clinical names I mention, or the one which speaks of fear of shadows?

The editor objected to my "tenebraephobic" because he said there was no such word, that I had made it up, and, of course, he was right. There wasn't and I had. Damn it all, if a fiction writer is not allowed to coin a word, who is? Political speech writers? Computer nerds? Or, as we see happen every day, the intelligentsia who, through ignorance or sloppiness, take a perfectly good word or phrase, misuse it, and give it a whole new meaning. Others follow the bad example and it suddenly jumps up the ranks in today's parlance. "Impact" is a perfect example of that.

The same editor then pointed out that most people would not know the meaning of the word, "tenebrae." My answer to that was: "Then, let them look it up. If they want simple words that won't strain their poor brains, they should stick to newspapers (or television) for their entertainment. Fiction should do more than entertain; it should also broaden the mind."

Another editor (I quickly changed this one) tried to correct my grammar and spelling in dialogues. Now, to me, dialogue is sacrosanct. Apart from obvious typos, no one fools around with it. Words in dialogue are, after all, not my words, not the editor's words. They belong to the character speaking. You wouldn't say, "Just between you and I" but one of your characters certainly would. You'd die rather than say, "Me and my friend did..." Would one of your characters? You betcha.

Years ago, I was responsible for training several would-be writers for an international corporation. It was hoped that what they wrote would convince those who read it to buy our products and services. These young writers soon became sick of hearing me say, "We don't write the way we speak, any more than we speak the way we write. Writing is a visual medium; speaking is an audible medi