Sometimes it just feels good to break a rule. Creating something the “right” way is rewarding, but the ability to flip “right” on its head and stand on the decision? That’s the first and most necessary step to evolution, and it’s happening in every art form you know and love.
Think: jazz improv, abstract Pollocks and Rothkos, Pulp Fiction-esque films that reject chronological storytelling, the so-bad-it’s-good singing style of punk rock. While every art form begins with a foundation rooted in technique, structure, and precision, the standard eventually becomes too predictable, and artists and consumers alike begin to crave something new.
That’s where rule-breaking comes into play: when you’ve mastered the essentials and are confident enough in your discipline to bring something fresh to life. But while your work might not fit the mold or follow the rules, why do people love it regardless? Why does it sometimes resonate much more powerfully than what’s tried and true?
Why we break the rules of art
Rapper and singer Doechii said it best in this interview—the best art comes from creativity with no bounds, no restrictions, no formula. It’s important to learn the fundamentals when you’re a beginner, but once you’ve mastered the basics, you’ve earned the confidence to branch off and forge your own path.
This works because confidence is both intuitive and attractive: it implies that you understand the formula, but respectfully chose to cook up a new one of your own. This, in turn, implies authority—you saw what was working, and realized something was still missing. So, you took it upon yourself to fill in that gap, and your audience is already listening.
Confidence is able to transcend what is true or right because it’s magnetic. It’s the reason the Real Housewives franchise is as addicting as it is nonsensical, or how this duct-taped banana was able to sell for $6.2 million (although this really was a bit of a stretch). The creators dared to sell something that shouldn’t make any sense at all, and that’s what we bought: not the product, but the confidence it came with and the inspiration it ignited in us.
Breaking the writing rules
Confidence is also what determines successful writing that lives outside of the predetermined “rules” of prose. Much of American Psycho is written in erratic fragments—a major sentence-structuring no-no. But Brett Easton Ellis did this for a reason: it distorts the reader’s perception of reality, forcing us to engage with the text in a more active and discerning manner. Ellis’s lack of clear transitions between thoughts, disturbing imagery, and the detachment of emotional engagement are all aspects of this unconventional approach.
Paul Murray’s The Bee Sting can be similarly confusing if you don’t take the time to understand what he’s doing by leaving out punctuation. While this choice doesn’t follow grammar rules, it works to create a frantic, jarring feeling that mirrors the mental states of the characters. The absence of punctuation enhances the disorienting tone of the novel, so that not only do we forgive this faux pas—we love it!
Of course, these writers didn’t start out by breaking the rules. They took the time to understand them and their function before making the powerful decision to pointedly reject them in the name of artistry. So, here are some of the most popular writing rules every writer should know—and the case for breaking each of them.
6 popular writing rules, and the case for breaking them
Show, don’t tell
Spoken feverishly in writer’s circles around the world, this rule is so common, it’s become its own cliché. And yes, stories are typically more exciting to read when the plot is shown rather than summarized. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stray from the formula.
The case for breaking the “show, don’t tell” rule: In The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald breaks the "show, don't tell" rule by directly telling us, "Gatsby believed in the green light," unveiling the futility of his dream. This could have been conveyed in more of a metaphorical manner, but his unequivocal telling conveyed a much deeper emotion for the reader.
Write what you know
You are the expert of your own experiences, and, in turn, the best person to write about them. But if every writer only wrote about what they know, how would we have sci-fi, fantasy, or something as random, beautiful, and utterly genre-defying as Piranesi? Some writers do their best work when they tap into the depths of their wild, inimitable imaginations, and we’d be at a societal loss if they’d decided to instead write about their morning trip to the grocery store. However, sometimes we just need that highly relatable grocery store saga that makes us feel connected to a collective.
The case for breaking the “write what you know” rule: “Writing what you know” depends largely on the genre you’re working with, but it can and should be deviated from if you have something much more fantastical in mind. That doesn’t mean you can’t still pull from or be inspired by your own experiences, but you don’t have to stick to them entirely.
Write for your market
Established writers struggle with being pigeonholed—but are we really just doing it to ourselves? It’s important to listen to your audience and understand what they’re looking for, but that doesn’t mean you always have to give it to them.
The case for breaking the “write for your market” rule: Haruki Murakami is known for his sharp, emotionally resonant style, but when it comes to genre, he never seems to meet one he doesn’t like. Norwegian Wood is a coming-of-age love story; 1Q84 is sprawling and dystopian; Dance Dance Dance and A Wild Sheep Chase are surreal thrillers; Kafka on the Shore is ripe with talking cats and maze-like storylines. Murakami writes for sci-fi lovers, fantasy fanatics, romantics, and existentialists, but although his stories span across all genres, they all grapple with the philosophical questions that keep us up at night.
TLDR: They’re true to Murakami, and that confidence in varied storytelling transcends the need for his work to fit in one, marketable box.
Maintain a consistent point of view
Another common thing to be harangued on at your next writer’s group is storytelling POV: if you’ve chosen to tell your story in third person, stick to it!
The case for breaking the “consistent POV” rule: Shifting perspectives can really enrich a story, like Game of Thrones or Homegoing. In Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin uses multiple points of view to weave a multi-layered tale that the world fell in love with. And in Homegoing, Yaa Gyasi uses shifting perspectives to explore generational trauma, identity, and the interconnectedness of history. Different viewpoints allow characters to be more deeply understood and for the reader to see the same events from different angles. Just be careful not to confuse your reader, and you’re golden.
Follow grammar and punctuation rules
This seems like an obvious must-follow—but you’d be surprised by the writers who’ve dared to color outside the lines.
The case for breaking the rules of grammar and punctuation: Remember American Psycho and The Bee Sting? Both pieces blatantly defy the rules of grammar and punctuation, and while this may be frustrating for some readers to try and follow, each writer made the decision with that in mind. And ultimately, they decided that it was more important to make a statement than to appease every type of reader.
Vary your sentence structure
Varying sentence structure keeps writing engaging and prevents it from feeling repetitive or monotonous. Short sentences can add impact and urgency, while longer ones create flow and depth. But sometimes, repetitive monotony is the stylistic choice you’re going for to accurately tell your story.
The case for repetitive sentence structures: Repetition is usually frowned upon, but sometimes, it’s just the tool you need to emphasize a theme, mirror a character’s obsessive thoughts, or create a hypnotic type of rhythm that really draws the reader in. For example, in Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea, the simple, repetitive style reflects the protagonist’s solitary struggle and determination. Similarly, in poetry or experimental prose, repetitive sentence structures can bring out powerful emotions or mimic the cadence of a chant. When used intentionally, repetition isn’t monotony—it’s a tool.
Ask yourself
Where there’s a rule, there’s a case for breaking it—but before doing so, I urge you to ask yourself why. Are you doing it just to do it, or is there an actual strategy behind your decision? Readers are groomed to accept the rules of writing, so are you ready and willing to challenge that and go to bat if needed?
If your answer is yes, I commend you, because it’s these sorts of decisions that continue to define art. If we all followed the same formulas, there would be no originality. At its core, writing is communication. So I guess the real question is: are you conveying your message in a way your audience will understand?
The learning doesn’t have to end here. I’ll be teaching a course on bending the rules of writing later this year—click here to subscribe to my monthly newsletter so you never miss an update.
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