Breaking Rules

Don’t start with weather. I’ve heard some variation of that writing rule so many times over the years and from so many sources that I’ve lost count. So what am I doing in the book I’m working on right now? You guessed it. Starting with weather ‘cause I’m such a rebel. Yep, that’s how I roll.

Anyone who knows me is laughing hysterically right now because they know I’m a fairly rule bound person. I obey the laws. I don’t go in the out door. I always wait for the walk signal to cross at a light. Even if no one were around for miles, I’d have trouble crossing with no little man urging me on. It’s ingrained in my psyche.*

But every once in a while the rebel in me comes out from hiding and asserts herself.

As you might have guessed, I think rules are important. They bring order to chaos. But I also think it’s okay to break one now and then as long as there’s a good reason for it. And as long as you know what those rules are before deciding to ignore one of them.

The reason I started with weather is because the heat wave that’s hitting my fictional town of Vista Beach is critical to the story line. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. It might be partly because we're having our own heat wave here at the beach and I'm really tired of it. But I digress. I’ve barely begun this story so I have no idea if this the beginning that I’ll end up with in the version I turn over to my editor months from now or if I’ll start with something else. Time will tell.

So, dear readers, what writing rules have you broken? Do you think of writing rules more as guidelines and suggestions than actual rules? When you’re reading what someone else has written, do you care if a writer breaks a rule? Are there any rules that should never be broken?

In other news, I’m sharing the cover love in this post. The artwork pictured here is for my second book, Paint the Town Dead, which will be released on December 8th. Incidentally, this isn’t the book where I’m starting with weather. That one’s tentatively titled Trompe l’oeiled to Death.
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*This quirk is affectionately lampooned in the 1990s musical, Waiter, there’s a slug in my latte!, a spoof of Seattle fads and foibles. You guessed it. I grew up in the Seattle area.