The Ugly Truth About Poetic Prose
Want to write better? Write intimately.
“There is nothing so difficult in the matter of love as to write what one does not feel.”
Powerful, right? I read Dangerous Liaisons by Choderlos de Laclos a few weeks ago, and while so much stood out to me in this book—mostly the fact that books are, in fact, usually better than the movie and their infinite adaptations—one observation hit me hard. The book spoke to the eternal struggle of myself and, I imagine, every writer: the impossibility of crafting something genuine without authenticity. Words, at the end of the day, are more than just vehicles for expression—they are mirrors of intent. Or at least, they should be.
I wrote a story not long ago that will never see the light of day. The work was hollow and soulless. I crafted it with the intent of “virality.” The order of the words was right, the vocabulary was stunning, and the subject matter was on brand. The piece would have resonated with some audience somewhere. But the problem was the meaning behind the story. The intent wasn’t true. Needless to say, virality is a weak purpose. My story didn’t come from the soul and, because of that, it lacked the emotional conviction necessary to be worth saying.
Have you ever written something that sounded so perfect in your head but rang false on the page? Dangerous Liaisons teaches us that the difference between a heartfelt confession and a contrived statement lies in the unseen thread of intent that holds your words all together. Let’s use this book to talk about how we can make sure that your story has meaning.
The Misconception: Pretty Words Are Enough
It’s really easy to fall into the trap of thinking that poetic prose and great vocabulary alone make impactful writing. I mean, who doesn’t love poetic language? I could write this:
“The silver moonlight draped itself over the whispering waves, each ripple a secret untold, a fragment of eternity dissolving into the abyss of the sea. The stars blinked, indifferent, their brilliance a cold facade for the void that lay beyond. A gentle breeze carried the scent of forgotten dreams, stirring the branches of a lone tree that reached skyward as if pleading for answers to questions never asked. Time, an unyielding specter, hovered in the stillness, its passage marked only by the soft rustle of leaves, a melody without meaning.”
Beautiful, right? But what the hell does these sentences mean? Where is the emotional grounding, the intent, the purpose? Where is the soul? Dangerous Liaisons reveals that even the most elegantly arranged words can fail if they lack purpose. Writing is not just about surface structure but about the spirit that animates it. As the text says, “You may use the same words, but you do not put them in the same order, and that is sufficient to damn you.”
Take the Vicomte de Valmont, one of the novel’s protagonists. He sends a letter in his mission to seduce Madame de Tourvel, a married woman of great conviction and a bit naive. But the Marquise de Merteuil, the other protagonist, points out that pretty words are not enough. Valmont writes beautifully, yet exposes himself as fake and disingenuous. This falsehood is the danger of relying solely on aesthetics.
A quick Google search for “how to write poetic prose” will show you just how many people promise to teach you how to write that way. Moving within the laws of supply and demand, this content exists because we, as storytellers, are looking for it. However, without passion and intent, your structure becomes a cage, trapping your insincerity for all your audience to see.
The Problem: Why This Thinking Falls Flat
Our audience is smart. Smarter than we’d like sometimes. But you are part of the audience, so this fact should be no surprise. Think about it: you can sense when something feels wrong about a story. You can tell when writing feels inauthentic. Likewise, your audience can see lifelessness through well-put-together writing.
The warning I found most interesting in Dangerous Liaisons was that when writers focus on arrangement without feeling, their work becomes a hollow shell, free of any real emotional connection. The Marquise de Merteuil says, “There is an order in it which exposes you at every sentence.” This sentence alone called me out, and I hated it. It sucks feeling like a fraud, and it’s even worse when others can see it, too…and let you know about it.
Intent is the heart of all writing. Words must not only look good, but also carry the weight of what the writer truly means. Without that weight, even the most sophisticated sentence falls flat, leaving the reader untouched and uninspired.
The Fix: Write with Intent
“Okay, Jared, so you’ve beaten the point to death—how the heck do I fix it?”
To write with intent is to make sure that every word, phrase, and sentence serves a purpose beyond aesthetic. Bake purpose into everything you write. Think about the person you want to write for. What do you want them to feel? What do you want them to take away from it? Keep these answers constantly in the forefront of your mind.
I drafted this article and, I won’t lie, it was nothing but hollow bullshit, wagging its finger at you for eight paragraphs. But when I stopped and thought about who this is for, I realized this article is for the new writer, or the old writer, so focused on being on BookTok and being remembered for their prose that they’ve forgotten to write something of value. I wanted to speak directly to them, hold their hand, and say,
“Tell me something that matters. Matters to you. Matters to someone else. Something that means something.”
So, I did battle with my backspace key and dug in to write a piece that was true.
Dangerous Liaisons shows us that true writing is not about WHAT is said, but WHY and HOW it’s said. “The author works himself into a passion, but it leaves the reader cold,” de Laclos warns. To ensure you’re not leaving your audience cold, focus on three key pillars:
Authenticity: What is the truth you are trying to convey?
Purpose: Who and what is it for? Are you trying to paint a world, expose societal issues, or inspire?
Alignment: How does the arrangement of your words amplify the truth and connect your authenticity to your purpose?
If you’ve never read Dangerous Liaisons, I suggest you do. It’s an epistolary novel, and the letters are an amazing lesson in saying what you mean with purpose and drive. Each word serves a purpose. Whether it’s manipulation, seduction, or destruction, the intention is clear. De Laclos’ conviction is felt on every page, transforming what could have been a shallow tale of rich French people into a profound lesson on how communication shapes worlds.
A New Way to Think
Writing without intent is like speaking gibberish to your audience’s heart. They may hear words, but they won’t feel them. If your audience doesn’t feel anything, why the hell would they continue to read?
Words are amazing. I am a storyteller—I joke that I’m married to words; my wife is merely my mistress. For me, I write to feel and because I hope to make you feel just as much. I want you to aim to do the same. You are one of the few, in the grand scheme of things, adding to the fabric of our civilization’s story. Make your contribution worthwhile by saying words that matter.
If these words or our mission at One Brilliant Arc resonates with you, please consider buying our team a coffee so we can continue helping creatives tell stories that can change the world!
Readers don’t crave perfect sentences—they crave genuine emotion. Stories that stick with you don’t stay because you found a way to get the phrase,
‘oceans of gold spun from the cosmic yarn’
into your story. They stay because they make you feel something. They piss you off, make you smile, make you laugh, or break your heart (this is the one that my editor says I’m taking years off her life with).
TL;DR: Your Mission (Should You Choose to Accept)
I pose a suggestion—a challenge, even. Forget perfection. Don’t even try to chase it. Write ugly. Write raw. Write filthy (no, not spice—but you can if that’s your thing). Focus only on these two questions:
What do I want to make my reader feel?
How do the words I’ve chosen serve the emotional purpose of this piece?
Prioritize connection over performance. Every draft doesn’t need to be flawless. Authenticity is often messy, raw, and unpolished. Let it be. Editing will refine that raw truth into something clearer and more impactful. Connection over perfection.
Let intent be the backbone of your work. The goal isn’t to inform but to transform. The next time you write, don’t just arrange words. Make them mean something. Write with conviction, precision, and, most importantly, passion. Do that, and your story will become more than a story—it will become gospel.
Do you know how to build a platform writing with your authentic voice? One Brilliant Arc’s workshop “Tell It Anyway” teaches you how to do just that. You’ll walk away from this 8-week online course with:
empowered clarity on your story, voice, and message to the world,
a trauma-informed community of inspiring storytellers,
and invaluable tools that will help you tell your story to a world that needs it.
Because if you want to build something that makes a real difference — a brand, a book, a business, a movement — your honest, human story is the key.