The House of Grammar Part 7: In the Valley of the Shadow of The House of Grammar

I've been writing for a few years, obviously not in the professional sense, but long enough that I have a pretty solid grasp of how to manipulate the English language as I need to accomplish whatever purpose I have in mind. Does this make me an expert? No.
"You mean I've been listening to a crock of bull hockey from you for like a week and you're not an expert?" I hear you ask. Yep. That's what you get for reading a blog instead of a textbook.
However, what I lack in expertise I make up for significantly in practical application, and more significantly simply because I have the sort of mind that turns a problem over and over and over again until it finds a solution that works well enough to suit. It may be dirty, it may be cheap, it may be messy, but it usually gets the job done. Given that, I present to you: Why I Break the Rules.


When it comes to grammar, and its application, you have a tough choice to make. You can stick to the rules one hundred percent of the time, making sure every comma is in its place and every line of every sentence fits together with every other like gears in a clock. If you can do that, you're going to turn out some pretty beautiful stuff, work the likes of which could grace the cover of every literary magazine and book review website, and if it still existed, be the next Oprah's book club book.
Conversely, you could turn out something about as interesting as a pane of glass. Clean, clear, transparent, easy to look through, but just as easy to ignore.
I know what I'm about to say sort of flies in the face of most of my arguments, but fittingly enough it also supports its own argument: your second choice is to ignore the rules. Paint with your fingers. Get your hands in the dough.
This is the way I like to roll. (Except the finger paint. It wigs me out.)
I use commas like they're on sale, because as I'm writing I imagine what the words would sound like were I to read them out loud, and I mentally insert a comma wherever I would naturally pause. This means comma splices. Commas commas commas. Yes, mom, I just admitted it. Sit back down. It's not over yet. I use parentheses willy-nilly, whenever I disagree with myself about something I've written or want to emphasize a point that would otherwise interrupt the flow of the sentence (and still does) I'm trying to craft. I hyphenate where I shouldn't, use semi-colons instead of colons, and sometimes instead of periods, use periods where I should use commas because I suddenly think that a comma is unacceptable in that spot, and generally ignore or misuse punctuation whenever I come to a set of quotation marks. Flipping tenses means nothing to me if it helps me emphasize a point, or because the tense I started out in bores me to tears by the time I get to the end of the sentence. Run on sentences are also a thing. That was not an example.
I do all this because like anything, writing is art. The art I like is not precise. I like impressionism, expressionism, surrealism, even cubism to a point. If there was ismism I'd probably enjoy it. Art that is messy and visceral and full of passion and vulnerability is what really shines for me. The brushstrokes should be visible, the emotion in every straining thrust of the pen (euphemistic?) should be there for the naked eye to see. As much as I love attention to detail, I love it more when an artist knows when to fudge it.
Why? Because if it's done well there is no difference -in terms of the audience's ability to appreciate a piece of art, be it writing or paint or any other medium- whether it is made with absolute precision or with gut instinct. But what I think (and feel free to think differently) makes a piece of art stand out is when an artist can not only make you see themselves in the work, but when they can make you see a little bit of yourself as well. And I think that can only be done by stepping outside the bounds and breaking a couple rules here and there. Because, like in love, what we really fall for in human beings, and subsequently I would argue in the art they create, is their flaws and not their virtues.
However, this does not mean you do not need to KNOW the rules. Without understanding the rules you are breaking, without a conceptual grasp of how they work and when they should be used, you end up turning out something artless and soulless and about as hamfisted as a fist full of ham.  So learn the rules, read lots of books, and fill your head with the words of people who know this art better than you do.  Only then will you be prepared to truly attempt the creation of art, because only then will you be ready to play. And in the midst of that play I hope you find a method of creation that sings -even if only for you.