I recently blogged on passive voice and using too many clichés. A responder on Twitter wrote that, while what I said was true, it is entertainment and exposure that make bestsellers in the fiction genre. This response, while not all that uncommon, really got me to thinking. I believe there are few misconceptions in what we all believe regarding “the market”. We all use the term “bestseller” rather liberally, too, I think.

If 100 people buy my eBook on Amazon in one hour and drive it to the top of the charts for a day, is it a “bestseller”?

If my book is #5 in Fiction>Paranormal>Romance>Historical>Fly Fishing,  is it a “bestseller”?

If I top the charts in Hungary, am I a “bestselling” author?

I’d say ‘yes’ to all three, by the purest definition of the word. And if that gives me blurbs for my press releases, or tweets, or my next book jacket, then it’s not all bad. But let’s be honest: for most of us—particularly those of us who view our writing as our business—we are using that term to mean successful.

And highly so.

Therefore it is with that definition I proceed.

We all want to make a living, and fate, luck, exposure, marketing, trends, niches, and fickle, pickled editors notwithstanding, I want to talk about entertainment versus quality.

Here’s the rub: while marketing and exposure are dire necessities, writing weak prose is not.

I promise you that few beginning writers will become bestsellers writing prose littered with clichés and passive writing. And I disagree to an extent with the Twitter peep. Yes, some bestsellers have passive writing and clichés. I’d even agree that all of them likely do, at least at some point. Truth is, we all use them—that’s why they become clichés.

I was being critiqued by a woman who literally wanted every example of “passive writing” removed from a piece. Not possible. And not a good read, either. (I noticed once I passed a certain point, it was diminishing returns. The writing became clunky; it didn’t flow very well at all.)

In fairness to my previous post, however, I really was talking about writing littered in passive phrasing and obvious clichés. Can such writing sell a million copies? Sure. Anything’s possible. But as a businessperson (something every author should be, regardless of publishing mechanism), I won’t be building my foundation on the Amanda Hocking Principle.

(FYI: you can literally count the number of self-published phenoms on one hand—those are not exactly the kind of odds I am looking for).

I freely admit my point of view is arguable—as are all points of view.

That’s what makes them pointy.

Here’s an inarguable fact, though: it is completely possible to write an entertaining novel without too many bad clichés and with a minimum of passive writing.

And I submit it will be a much better read.

Here’s the other thing: discerning readers can tell. So can discerning editors. You try starting your book off with:

“Raul could run like the wind and had a heart as big as a whale.”

Then lace your first page with “hads” and “wases” and “thats”. See if you can squeeze several into one sentence. Let’s also have you misuse a few words (to/too; there/their; etc.). I mean, if it’s all about the entertainment value, certainly this poorly written first page won’t matter.

Oh, and one more addition to this experimental page one—my all-time favorite flow-killer:

Repeat a certain word or phrase 5-10 times in the first few paragraphs. Make it a really strong word, like “cream-colored” (okay, that’s hyphenated, but it’s also a CLICHÉ, so DOUBLE VALUE)!

Seriously, I don’t care if the rest of your novel is better than (fill in your favorite classic)—the editor will never know that, because she will stop reading. In fact, since your query letter was also probably poorly written, you are okay.

She won’t even read your horrendous first page.

But you can still self-publish, right?

Yep.

And you may make it to bestselling author someday. You really might.

Particularly if your story is about the ghost of an 1830’s Montana fly-fisherman who is lovesick for the living wife of his great-great-great grandson.

Hey, that doesn’t sound like a half-bad premise.

Tell you what, if you’ve read this far, it’s yours.

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The blank page is dead…long live the blank page.

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Special bonus tip for those who read below the tagline: I like to take clichés and bend them. Water off an ugly duckling’s back, or whatever. Of course that style can become cliché, too.

Damn.