There are many generally accepted rules for writing these days. Don’t bog down your narrative with an Info Dump. Avoid ‘Saidisms’. Don’t reveal at the end that it was all a dream.

These are all good advice, but somewhere, at some time, they had to have been used, overused even, enough for them to stand out.

One common piece of advice found all over the interwebs, is to avoid saidism. These are words you can use instead of ‘said’. Said is the invisible word. Your mind does not even register it, you know what is going on, without being distracted. Shouted, argued, replied, whispered, etc are all saidism. They are fine, in moderation. But used too often, they distract the reader. Your reader should be able to tell from the context and dialogue if your characters are shouting or arguing or whispering, so they serve no real purpose.

The worst saidism of all, it is said, is ‘ejaculate’. Yup. This word makes it to the top of many lists as the worst saidism to use. And do you know where I just found it? Page 17 of Sherlock Holmes. In Pride and Prejudice, I came across ‘Hurry up!’ he said hurriedly’.

Avoid the info-dump? Another good piece of advice. If a reader must slog through fifteen pages of back-story to get to the actual story, they will likely get bored and stop reading. Start your story as close to the action as possible. Another good piece of advice, considering today’s reader’s short attention span. But have you ever read Hemingway? My god, the back story!

Perhaps the worst way to end a book, is with a character waking up to find out it was all a dream. This is called the ‘Tricked You’ ending. These are not satisfying to the reader, only to the writer who gets some sort of twisted pleasure out of dragging out the story, only to trick the reader at the end with information that was never given. H. P. Lovecraft, the father of modern Horror(and Weird), used the Ha Tricked You ending more than anyone. And you just cant get away with doing that to today’s reader.

You can’t write the classics anymore.

A few years ago, a frustrated writer transcribed an American classic, The Yearling, and submitted it to the original publisher. He was turned down. Repeatedly.

In another fifty years, will writers be looking back on what we write today, and shake their heads with dismay? Will there be Robert Jordanims? Will future writing courses tell how to avoid the Cherie Priestism or Brandon Sandersonism?

Oh well, at least people are still willing to read books.