Why Writing Rules Don't Matter | Rules vs. Craft

Writing rules don’t matter once a writer understands craft well enough to choose techniques for the specific effect a scene needs. Rules—“do this, don’t do that”—are rigid shortcuts meant to prevent common beginner mistakes. Craft is the deeper skill: knowing what each element of storytelling and language can do (plot, structure, point of view, exposition, even punctuation and word choice) and applying it intentionally to produce the desired emotional or narrative impact.

That distinction matters because many writers who consume lots of advice start treating rules as if they were the same thing as good writing. When a draft “breaks” a rule—using a prologue, including exposition, or employing adverbs—it can feel like failure even when the underlying technique is working. The more useful question isn’t whether a guideline was followed, but whether the technique is serving a clear purpose in context. A prologue, for instance, isn’t automatically harmful; it can be valuable if it has a distinct function in the story. Likewise, adverbs aren’t inherently bad; craft is understanding what an adverb does in a sentence and deciding whether it strengthens the meaning, tone, or rhythm—or whether cutting it improves the line.

The video also reframes “breaking the rules” as something that should come from mastery rather than rebellion. Rules can be helpful training wheels early on, but they often exist to bypass predictable pitfalls—like novice writers leaning too heavily on exposition and producing distant, info-dump storytelling. As craft develops, writers learn how exposition works well, when it creates immediacy, and how to deploy it without turning scenes into lectures. At that point, rules stop being necessary because the writer can diagnose the root problem and select the appropriate tool.

Confidence is another reason rules can fall short. Following a checklist can create early certainty, but it doesn’t teach the deeper judgment needed when a story requires a different approach. Craft-based confidence comes from understanding how story mechanics and language choices interact, allowing a writer to control effects—such as the perceived distance of third-person point of view—rather than assuming a single label (like “third person is distant”) is destiny.

The takeaway is not that writing becomes a free-for-all. Craft still involves technical understanding and situational decision-making. The “next echelon” arrives when writers can apply techniques intuitively because they understand the theory behind them. That shift also reduces rule anxiety: when a story no longer fits neatly inside absolutes, it signals growth, not necessarily a mistake.

Finally, improvement depends on active engagement. Consuming craft advice can spark ideas, but real development comes from applying those concepts in one’s own writing and reading—spotting how techniques like symbolism are used, then testing those insights on the page. Rules may guide beginners, but craft is what ultimately builds the ability to write with intention, flexibility, and control.