I want to talk about music for a moment. I know this is a writing blog and all that crap, but music’s wired into who I am.

When I was thirteen, I heard Berlin by Lou Reed, and that was it. I was done for. A few years later, I joined a band. We toured the UK and Europe, put out a couple of singles, and dyed our hair every imaginable shade of black. It was chaotic, reckless, and wonderful.

Like most bands, we didn’t last. Too much booze, too many late nights, and far too many bad decisions. But even in the mess, there was one idea I clung to: music sounds worse when the edges are smoothed out.

Indulge me.

Imagine you’re at Music School. It’s exam time. They’re testing your singing ability. Leonard Cohen fails—obviously—and probably sleeps with the teacher’s wife for good measure. Meanwhile, Michael Bublé passes with flying colours.

Leonard and Michael—first name terms now—are both technically “singers.” But come on. Who would you rather listen to?

If you said Bublé, you’re welcome to smash that unfollow button right now.

Same deal with Neil Young and Steve Vai. Vai can shred like a machine, sure, but give me Neil Young’s fractured, discordant mess any day of the week. There’s life in it. There’s danger.

Roughness makes music exciting. And I believe the same is true of writing. (Yes, I just started a sentence with “And.” #dealwithit)

I’m not saying you should deliberately write crap or ignore craft. But if breaking a rule adds energy, if it makes your story breathe—break it.

No one’s going to send your novel back covered in red pen. And if they do, it probably says more about their need for control than the quality of your story.

Take The Rules of Attraction by Bret Easton Ellis. It starts in the middle of a sentence.

The middle of a fucking sentence.

It’s like stepping into a conversation at a party—disorienting, alive, completely engaging.

I could go on, but you’ve made it this far, and that makes you smarter than most people on the internet. So thank you.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to reread a first draft and convince myself it’s not entirely made of bin juice.

Wish me luck.