Flowery Writing

I once had a professor tell me that my sentences were too flowery. I slumped in the wooden chair of his messy office, clutching my red-marked British Literature essay. I was ashamed, and I second-guessed whether I should continue with my English major.

Over a decade later, I now understand why he gave me that feedback. Though granted, he didn’t have to be an ass and chuckle as he called me out for my writing.

Good, effective writing is concise. It’s straightforward. Strunk & White even mentions this in their famous The Elements of Style. It does not require dressed-up sentences, descriptions, and embellishment to tell the truth. It shows up as it is. It reveals itself in raw, authentic form.

I’m not the best at it, but I’m working on it. Ironically, I find myself getting annoyed at reading “flowery” writing. Irritated at their forced attempt to seem overly poetic. Get to the point, I’m thinking, just be real, and tell the truth. Funny enough, I also feel this way in real life with other people. Impatient when people dance around what they really want to say, talking in circles and unclear in their own intentions. Or when their words don’t align with their behaviors. And when I think of the writers I most admire, Cheryl Strayed, Dani Shapiro, Roxane Gay, they write from truth, and they live with truth. One reflects the other.

Their writing, the type of writing I aspire to create, is not merely flowery, but rather, they are flowers that come with thorns. Beautiful, gritty, and true.