Martial Wisdom For Writers: What is the Best Technique

 In a nutshell: There is no best technique. Only best techniques.

This is true in both the art of pen and combat. If this seems like a cop-out, it’s not. Neither fighting nor reading are situations with all the factors set so that a most advantageous move can be applied to all forms. Even in specific areas, there is much variance. Even on a personal level, what works for one person might simply not work for another.

In the end, the martial arts are about learning how to win in a fight. To this end, there are only 2 goals to account for 1) doing unto others and 2) not being done unto by others.

In the end, storytelling is about inspiring readers to feel something. To this end, there are only 2 goals to account for 1) remove obstacles to making them feel and 2) provide the necessary materials they need to feel.

The best martial technique is the one that brings you victory in the fight.

The best writing technique is the one that creates the desired reaction in the reader.

Now we get into the rub, because there’s always a rub. Good technique follows from good principles and sound mechanics. Unfortunately, principles and mechanics can only be mastered through specific manifestations and forms. A student of the martial arts may be able to recite George Silver’s Four Governors or Musashi’a various points in the Go Rin No Sho. They may even have a broad appreciation of something as simple as timing and structure, but without seeing them manifested in technique, it won’t matter.

A writer may be able to recite the idea of an opening hook, the three-act structure, or kishoutenketsu. But without looking specific versions of these in a story, whether their own or others, the ideas will be all but useless and impossible to master.

So practice, practice, and practice, right? Write until your hand is sore and punch trees until the environmentalists come for you?

Not quite.

Dirty little secret: Not all practice is created equal. Don’t believe me? Find a local martial arts class with a good (big key word and caveat here) instructor. Practice on your own before visiting, then try it under their eye.

Even on your own, mindless repletion will do you more harm than good. You need an idea of what you’re aiming for, to analyze what you are doing, and why.

“It’s not technique that begets technique, it’s understanding that begets technique.”- Silat Guru Stevan Plinck.

It’s easy to get lost in the details of technique, many have done it. Sometimes, entire schools and styles have done so. There’s an old karate joke: “How many karate instructors does it take to change a light-bulb? 100. 1 to do it. 99 to go ‘that’s not the way we do it in our school’.”

And what happens when writers lose sight of the purpose of a technique? Same thing as martial artists, they become style-fanatics. You might have heard one of these:

Never make a prologue.

Never start with a gerund.

Always do this.

That requires the other thing.

Ad infinitum, ad nauseam. Only writers and martial artists love to make up the most restrictive, specific ‘rules’ they can and proclaim them as gospel.

This is a departure from purpose and ultimately self-defeating. Perhaps even more so for writers, they have more wiggle room than a fighter. They have a wider and nicer audience. Few people try to kill an author because they disliked his book. They also aren’t working under the effects of extreme adrenaline, where the brain shifts gears to pure instinct and everything not burned into muscle memory may as well be a cloud in the sky. They can choose their audience, big or small.

Not to mention, the ‘rules of good writing’ are immensely more varied than those of good fighting. We’ve seen entire era’s fashions come and go that would never pass muster in this or that writer’s workshop. They’re simply not as well-defined as the martial arts. By their nature, they cannot be.

In the end, hitting a reader’s emotions is simply much less tangible than ‘do but don’t get done unto’. In both cases, the details are astronomical and varied. But in both cases, once you move away from the purpose of the techniques of either art, you’ve lost sight of the truth.

There is no best technique but the one that achieves your goal.

Understand why certain methods were done the way they were, what they accomplished, and the advantages and disadvantages of each option you have as a martial artist would study the advantages of different weapons and training regimes to incorporate them into his practice.

And if someone tells you have to change something because of a rule but breaking the rule is better for the story, you can safely ignore them. Keep the goal first in mind, and you shall not go astray.