Some level of suspension of disbelief is necessary for any fiction. Larger or lesser, but always necessary.
“Unbelievable” is hardly criteria for failure. In fact, it’s entirely immaterial, as long as the writer observes the only rule that matters about making sense: never pull the reader out of the vicarious experience.
Internal logic and consistency is important in helping readers stay in the vicarious experience.
I lean strongly toward the belief that readers want to believe, or at least suspend disbelief, and most will gloss over even glaring issues. I remember Michael Crichton’s translating earbuds in Timeline and after a moment of “Really?” I moved on and enjoyed the book immensely. (The movie, not so much.)
… more … “Suspension of Disbelief”
I wish I had a nickel for every time I’ve read this sentence:
The best way to learn writing is to write.
It comes mostly from pantsers who don’t want to learn story structure, who think it’s a straightjacket for producing formulaic pablum and they want no part of it.
When my middle daughter graduated from high school she wanted to write songs. We got her a small keyboard and I offered to give her lessons.
“No, that’s okay. I know what I’m doing.”
She was echoing what I’ve heard dozens of songwriters say: “Learning music theory will destroy my spontaneous creativity.”
Really? So you’re saying that me and Mozart and Dylan and Donald Fagen are drudges? I’m not the genius those three are, but I write better songs because I learned music theory, not in spite of it. Listen to Donald Fagen talk about composing the Steely Dan song Peg:
… more … “Some Really Bad Writing Advice”
I’ll state right up front that while I believe all art is a divine gift I do not believe in a literal Muse who is responsible for my (or your) art.
But sometimes, it certainly feels like what I create is coming, not from me but through me.
In those moments what arrives in my fingers is closer to the truths I feel than when I’m using my head, obviously and overtly making stuff up.
I once spent a week carefully crafting a complex 7-minute long Arabic trance instrumental. It’s all kinds of fun, and the Little One still loves to listen to it.
Most folks pay little or no attention to it. It has no real depth, no emotional tug.
On the other end of the spectrum is my song The Hillside which, once I realize what these three repeating chords meant, these dead simple chords anyone could play, the song flowed in minutes, all but one word which was supplied by Best Beloved. … more … “Does Your Writing Come From You or Through You?”