As an art form, writing has not really grown much over the years. But that does not mean there is no room for change. There are rules to writing, rules that are stifling to being able to take the craft to the next level.

Concept of Written Effects

Take the # for example. If you’re a young reader, you probably read that as ‘hashtag’, even though it’s actually called a ‘hash’, ‘pound sign’, or ‘number sign’.

That’s because of how letters works. We assign connotations to letters, signs, and words as a way to identify them. Without actually thinking about it, we can evoke ideas, feelings, and messages.

Back to the #. In the past, to describe a feeling or an event, we’ve often had to write the entire sentence out. “This is the Olympics”, “I am feeling happy”. In today’s online culture, # has become a short hand for descriptions and expression. #Olympics and #Happy has the exact same connotation as writing out their corresponding full sentence.

Of course, that is not to say that you should be using #Proof in your graduation thesis or writing #Spaceship in an attempt to describe a space shuttle in a science fiction novel.

Evoking Ideas

However, using the same concept of connotation assignment, you can create special written effects invoke the imagination of your readers. A classic example of this is alliteration. Using similar sounding first or second letter in a series of words to convey a connected message. Let’s take Martin Luther King’s famous speech:

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

The alliteration of colour, content, and character creates an idea of connection, similar to how I just used ‘creates’ and ‘connection’ to alliterate the effects of the speech.

Also, while many have rules about italics in fiction, those rules holds back the ability to invoke its effect. For example, certain authors deems the use of italics as emphasis a negative thing. But it produces the desired effect of pushing the feeling of the word, as I did earlier in the last paragraph.

New Frontiers

The epilogue chapter of Tearha: Deck of Clover, takes full advantage of the research done by a team at the Institute of Neuroscience and Psychology – that shows how our brains can read jumbled up words – to show a character learning to read again.

The character of Lua, having recently learnt sign language and still not particularly adept, has a conversation with a mute character, Joachim.

She apologised to him. “Sorry. Got caught up.”

Joachim continued, “So? Waht hppaned wtih the knig?”

“You’d know if you had been there,” she answered saucily.

Without knowing anything else about the scene, you can feel the character’s difficulty in understanding sign language, while not detracting from the ability to read easily. It is a special effect, brought on by how it is written.

This is what change is. Uncomfortable and hard as it is to rewrite your understanding of a language, it is necessary to bring the art into the new century.