When improving their craft, writers are bombarded with advice—with lists of what to do and what not to do, why such mistakes will ruin their book, and why it’s crucial you follow these rules. What they don’t tell you in these self help blogs for authors is that your favourite writers have made all these mistakes, and in their carefully edited books no less.

It’s important to remember that most of the writers you fawn over were traditionally published. This means they had, not only a tough barrier to entry, but a team of skilled editors—the industry’s best—parsing through each paragraph, phrase, and sentence. Yet they still make the mistakes we beat ourselves up over…and readers don’t seem to care.

Anne Rice is the undisputed champion of vampire literature. Even Buffy the Vampire references her, with one vampire accusing another vampire in one of the episodes of following the “Anne Rice routine.” Her name is practically synonymous with vampire books at this point, and deservedly so—Lestat, especially, is an engaging character, and her world building is as strange as it is interesting. The themes are universal, the descriptions are rich, and the world has a distinct atmosphere. What more could you want? Well, this reader could do with less adjectives.

If you’ve been studying the best writing practices, you’ve likely developed a fear of adjectives, a terror of past tense, and an embarrassment over your tendency to give your characters “I feel” statements.

To be clear, this isn’t an article to tear Anne Rice down. I’ve read Interview with a Vampire several times, as well as several of Rice’s other books, and she remains one of my favourite authors. Instead, this post is meant to highlight that even the most venerated authors commit these prose sins—either because the rules weren’t in place yet, or because readers don’t always care as much as we think they do.

The fact that so many authors make these mistakes is telling: the big players make them too and, as most of us would have grown up as avid readers, we emulated what we read—prose problems and all. These writers are supposed to be the best. Of course we’re going to emulate them. These mistakes are so common to new writers, because they’ve seen the bestsellers commit them.

Whether it be her use of adjectives, her descriptions, or her telling versus showing tendencies, even Anne Rice falls into bad habits.

Watch the video version below:

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1) Adjectives

If you’ve read enough writing articles, you’re probably frightened of adjectives. You shouldn’t be. Adjectives are a welcome tool authors should utilize. Most articles don’t tell you to avoid them; they tell you to use them in moderation. Adjectives are like chocolate. If you sprinkle a little on your ice cream, your dessert will be more interesting and you’ll feel good. If you add too much, though, you’ll feel bloated and the quality of the whole dessert suffers. It’s too sweet, too busy. Like chocolate, adjectives have to be taken in moderation.

Anne Rice loves adjectives. One sentence describes a vampire ghost (that’s a thing) as having “pale, withered, hollow cheeks.” In this sentence, she uses three adjectives. If you were to write that same sentence, your strict and appalled editor would tell you to pick one adjective and cut out the other two—this strengthens your sentence. Since Rice mentions in later paragraphs that this character is “pale” and “gaunt,” she should have left “withered” in. The sentence would then just say the character had “withered cheeks,” which is a powerful descriptor. The word isn’t often used in this context, while “pale” and “hollow” are used all the time. Of the three, it’s the strongest adjective.

Rice does this several times over, too, piling the adjectives on to her other mistake—the lengthy descriptions.

2) Long Descriptions

Writers, especially new ones, love descriptive paragraphs. When you’re just starting out, there’s something addicting about them. It’s incredibly satisfying to describe the summer day in July, because it engages with our senses, allows us to create a mood, and enables us to work out what our world looks like. However, if adjectives are the chocolate bits on your ice cream, descriptions are the syrup. They shouldn’t be overdone, or you risk throwing the pacing of your book off and making your reader restless.

Anne Rice describes everything. When a character enters a room, she tells you about the mahogany, the instrument in the corner, and the gleaming books. She loves smells too. Rooms in her books are often “redolent” with some smell or other, with flower scents and wood being popular ones. After giving you a picture of the furniture, you’ll be given an idea of the wallpaper and the carpets.

To be fair, the descriptions are woven throughout the dialogue and action sequences, something a writer should emulate, and nobody could ever accuse Rice of giving a reader “white room syndrome.” That said, the descriptions are on the longish side. She commits the other faux pas of telling you what her characters look like. You’ll know who’s gaunt, who has a long nose, and which person has white hair. You’ll have a vivid picture of what each person is wearing, as well, even if you never see that character again.

If you’ve grown up on Tolkien and Victor Hugo, her descriptions will seem concise. They’re not unmanageable, but would be considered on the long side in a modern context. The common advice is to share only what description is necessary, to create a visual or a sense of character, and then move on. Don’t put a character’s physical traits into a grocery list (unless you’re Rice and your character is Lestat, because he’s that awesome).

3) “I Feel” Statements

This ties into the “show, don’t tell” rule you’ve been hit over the head with. If you have a character state, “I feel” or “I felt,” in any context, you’re encouraged to cut the phrase out. If your character says, “I felt scared,” its best practice to cut this sentence and replace it with, “in a cold sweat, I trembled.” The latter sentence, rather then telling you what the character’s emotions are, shows you what he or she feels.

Despite this, Anne Rice uses this statement when sharing Lestat’s emotions, and it’s understandable on some level. After all, Lestat is one of those characters who’s in his own head. He asks questions, ponders the mysteries of life, and otherwise does more thinking than he would like to admit. He has an unusual amount of self awareness, which includes exploring his emotions or lack thereof. It’s a common condition for vampires. Despite their cold personas, they are surprisingly emotional beings. That said, in a sentence where Anne Rice describes Lestat as being “in a panic,” she might have shown this instead. Even if he’s the composed type who hides his emotions, his fingers could have twitched, he could have made an effort to stay near the door to be nearer to an escape route, or even outright confessed that he was uneasy to those he trusts. He could have paced the room, or sighed; there are plenty of ways to show fear, even if such gestures only scratch the surface of what the character actually feels. If he’s repressing his emotions, we can feel that too, with a tightening of the shoulders or a moment where he turns away to conceal his expression.

4) Telling What’s Not

Another mistake writers make is to tell the reader what isn’t happening. “He didn’t smile” or “he didn’t stand” are common and unnecessary phrases. If a character is in a chair, and the author doesn’t state that he stands, the reader is smart enough to know that the character is still sitting. Saying what isn’t happening just slows the story down.

In one scene, Anne Rice mentions that “he didn’t shake my hand,” and follows that statement with, “I didn’t shake his.” The unnerve of this moment could have been strengthened by having Lestat hold out a hand and drop it, or by having the other characters inch away. These actions would have not only conveyed Lestat’s usual expectations in regards to these characters, but reinforced the sense of distance Rice was trying to show in the group he meets.

The original sentence tells you there’s something off about the meeting, but this could have been shown instead—either by having Lestat take the odd step towards the characters while they withdrew, or by having them cross their arms or otherwise close themselves off somehow. Body language is a powerful way to show what’s not happening, without outright saying it.

5) Passive Voice

Anne Rice is but one of several authors caught in the notorious act of passive voice. J. K. Rowling has been caught at it too, along with other authors you know. For those not familiar with the term, passive voice refers to the way a sentence is written. If a sentence falls under the past tense umbrella, it will use the word “was.”

Anne Rice has several sentences which state this was happening, or that was happening. A past tense sentence would say, “My heart was racing.” In order to correct it, an author would change this to, “My heart raced.” This makes the action current, placing the reader in the moment. Using passive voice places a certain amount of distance between the reader and the story, while active voice gives you a sense of urgency. The action didn’t happen—it’s happening, each moment landing in real time.

In Conclusion

Anne Rice is one of the most famous and best loved authors out there. Despite this, she commits what the stringent editors of today would label as major prose faux pas. Despite this, readers continue to purchase her books and fall in love with her characters, and there’s a reason why.

These are minor mistakes. It should be noted that all of the problems listed have to do with sentence style and prose arrangement. Anne Rice doesn’t have a problem with the stories themselves or the development of her characters, which are the problems writers should take most seriously. The mistakes she commits are “small picture” mistakes, rather than “big picture,” ones.

If a few of these mistakes slip into your book, the average reader isn’t going to care. A writer like me, who’s brain has been trained to be overly analytical, will care, but only a little. After all, I’m still reading Anne Rice. If your story is strong, and your characters are intriguing, I’m going to continue the book.

This isn’t to say you should ignore these rules, unless you have a specific and justified reason for doing so. While the average reader isn’t going to care as much as you do, watching out for these common mistakes can make for a smoother experience for your audience—even if they can’t articulate why. Your pacing will improve, characters will feel more alive, and readers will be hooked.

Readers were still enamored with Rice, and rightfully so. She’s a strong storyteller, and remembering that even the greats commit these grammar sins is comforting. It reminds us that no book is perfect. All authors make mistakes, and we should go a little easier on ourselves—if Anne Rice fell into the trap of passive voice, we shouldn’t punish ourselves for doing the same. We are, after all, only emulating the best.

Which of these mistakes are you bad for? Have you noticed other big name authors making them? Share your thoughts!