Pointless Plot Elements, Convenience, and Fantasy
I was reading something the other day and one of the things that I disliked about it was how the author had gone about plotting his or her novel. Each element to the plot (each action and reaction) seemed too convenient, as if the author had intentionally done those things just so he or she would have an excuse to put two characters together by chapter four. While this may occur quite often in fantasy or any sort of fiction with a discernible plot, what bothered me the most was how obvious the story was about its convenience. This seems like a problem that is very common in fantasy (and, to a lesser extent, science fiction). Too many writers seem to rely on convenience rather than logic or intelligent plotting. For the record, I do not profess to be an expert on how to plot, but am speaking here primarily as a reader; and, as a writer, it is making me very aware of my own novels and stories, so much so that I have started to wonder whether or not there are elements of convenience in my own work (there are). I can’t say I know how to deal with such issues, but it seems to me that the reasonable thing to do is to avoid moments where it is obvious that you are plotting by convenience. If you say “Oh, well if I just do this, then I can put these characters together, and then everything I want to do can be done,” then it seems to me that you’re dealing with convenience. Worst yet, it makes no sense to a reader why you wouldn’t just put those characters together in the first place if you wanted them there anyway. There are factors that make all this obvious; rapidity is one of them. The quicker you try to make your plot happen, the more clear it is to the reader that that is what you are trying to do. The nasty critical side of me wants to point out that this is amateurish; I’ve done it, and where I see it I know that I have done something terrible. Having said all of this, I have no advice whatsoever on how to avoid it. Like I said, I still do it from time to time. The only thing I can think to do is to ask yourself at every plot turn if you’re using convenience rather than logic. If you are, then you probably should think of something else. If you know that someone is going to say “this is terribly convenient,” then it doesn’t make sense to continue going in that direction. But, I want your opinions on this. How many of you have experience this either in your reading or your writing? Let me know in the comments!
Writer Problem: Genre “Bias” as Weakness?
Stay with me here. The other day I was thinking about my writing and wondering if one of my problems is that I always write the same genre (or genres, since I occasionally do fantasy, but mostly do science fiction, as far as short stories are concerned). I don’t know how many of you who read this blog are writers, but I’m curious how many of you attempt to write outside of your “comfort zone.” For me, my comfort zone is science fiction and fantasy, because those are the genres I tend to read and enjoy the most and the ones that fill my head more often than anything else. But can thinking only of those things hurt your writing? I don’t know. I’ve started to think that for someone like me, it can, because must of what I write seems to suffer from a lack of character and an excess of plot (something that has been identified by some people to be a male thing). The thing is, while I do read pretty much only science fiction and fantasy, I do occasionally venture outside of that and have, on occasion, enjoyed books so far outside my far outside of my chosen genres that the only thing that remains the same seems to be the language being used (that, of course, is because I can’t read any other languages, although I do have a knack for reading Spanish). For example, I really enjoyed The Dragons of Eden by Carl Sagan, a science book about the evolution of human intelligence. That might not be a great example, though, since science fiction and science often go hand in hand, even though the former tends to get the science very wrong. So, how about a “literary fiction” example: Fog of the Season’s End by … While you could consider this book a pulp-style novel, it is actually a character piece about people dealing with some of the darkest aspects of South Africa’s apartheid. It is one of my favorite books that I was forced to read while at UC Santa Cruz (in a class on South African literature, actually). Maybe I should write a novel like that (not about apartheid, per se, but something that looks at the world I live in, or something). I often feel like I am not educated enough to do that, though, as if I am not in-tune with the world in the way some of the best literary writers seem to be. My fingers aren’t on the world’s pulse. I don’t know where I’m going with all of this, except that I seriously wonder if my obsession with genre fiction might be hurting me. I even tried to break out of it on Saturday in an attempt to do something new, only to find myself resorting to the same science fiction things that dominate some of my most recent work (well, a little different, but I immediately found myself needing to go into the future in order to pull off what I wanted to do). Maybe I have a psychological condition that perpetually puts me in the future, or I just don’t care about the present enough to write about it, or I simply want to write stories that don’t work in the world we currently live in (give it twenty years and who knows). What do you all think about this?
Plots Are Not Copyrightable
(I am not directing this topic to any specific event, though I know some of you who read my blog will remember me making this statement in relation to a particular incident; here, I am not making the argument in that relation, but in a more general sense.) As much as writers might want to keep their plots and storylines safe from thieves, the reality is that short of never putting your work in print and keeping it locked in a volt and buried in your backyard forever, you cannot protect your plots anymore than someone can protect their children from experiencing bad things. No matter what you do, you’ll probably find that someone has “stolen” your plot already. Why? Well, because plots are not copyrightable. J. K. Rowling can no more protect the plot of Harry Potter than you can protect the plot of your yet unpublished novel. Rowling, however, can protect what amounts to her intellectual property, and there are instances where she has gone after people for what seem like clear acts of plagiarism (I don’t know enough about them to have judgment, except in the case of that encyclopedia thing that Rowling killed with the power of a lawyer). But Rowling has not won cases against plagiarism by arguing for plot; yes, she has made those arguments, but what has worked for you are a collection of factors (characters looking and acting remarkably like her own characters collected with plot, setting, etc.). If she were to argue that someone had stolen her plot, well, then you’d be opening up a can of worms in the writing community, with everyone suing everyone for supposed thefts. Personally, I think this assumption that one can protect his or her plot stems from an inability to acknowledge that originality is mostly dead. Outside of the “seven plots,” there are far too may near-exact plot replicas flooding the mainstream markets; there are enough Dan Brown rip-offs as there are Tolkien rip-offs (okay, so maybe that’s a bit much, but you get my point) all because of the fact that plots cannot be protected. Maybe they should, but then where would we get our literature from? It doesn’t take a genius to look at a few of the most popular fantasy novels and see where they overlap. Many arguments have been made that Eragon and Eldest by Christopher Paolini are directly taken from Star Wars, which, of course, stole directly from mythology with the help of a fellow who knew quite a bit about the stuff in the first place (Joseph Campbell). But George Lucas isn’t suing Paolini presumably because he’s smart enough to know a bad lawsuit when he sees one (and that might be one of the few things he gets credit for in the smart department, since his directing style, while not absolutely wretched, truly pulls away from the greatness that Star Wars once was—it’s still good, just not as good as it used to be). Plots, to be fair, are simply not original elements by a long shot. They certain can deviate and change little bits here and there, but, ultimately, plots are a constant mimic of themselves, like self-replicating mental machines drilling themselves into parts of our psyches where we have to really dig to be able to yank them out and see what they’re up to. The best kinds of stories are those that can take an overused plot and turn it into a powerhouse fantasy epic (or insert your favorite genre here). Nobody suggests that Tolkien or J. K. Rowling (except Orson Scott Card, who is obviously a very special brand of crazy) be brought up on charges of plagiarism, despite the fact that, if we assume plagiarism to include plot, these two are probably some of the most prominent plot plagiarizers of all time, from the very inclusion of prophecies and chosen ones to evil magic rings and fantastic unintentional allegories about real events. So, either we hold our favorites up to the guillotine just as we hold up the ones we dislike, or we let it all go and acknowledge that we don’t own plots, we just use them. The characters make the world go round, not the writer-as-god-directed storylines that pull them to and fro for no other purpose other than to get to the end (they’re more complicated than that, but that’s for another place and another time). And now I want your opinion. Leave a comment!
Rejections Are Good For You
Anyone with brains knows that if you intend to be a legitimately published writer, you’re going to get rejected not just once, but multiple times. It’s extremely rare for a writer to avoid rejection by publishers. But rejection isn’t such a bad thing. I’m not sure where anti-rejection discussions come from, but it seems to me that if you’re going to complain about rejections, you’re in the wrong business. It’s part of the writing life, whether you’re an amateur who has yet to be published, or a professional with two hundred novels under your belt. Everyone gets rejected and having the right attitude about them can lessen their effects and teach you a few things in the process, such as: –Having Thick SkinWhether it’s a rejection or someone telling you that you suck, thick skin is important to have. And it doesn’t come easily. Even I have the occasional issue with taking criticism, but ultimately getting better at taking good or bad criticism in the form of a rejection, critique, or review will make you a better writer in the long run. –Your Common Mistakes (or Mistakes You Didn’t Know About)Sometimes a rejection will come with a note from the editor. These are important. Why? Because sometimes those notes contain information you might need to make your writing better. Not all notes matter, though. Some will hint at an editor’s personal preference in fiction, and some will simply tell you that you made a few mistakes on the front page (I received a note on a rejection from Analog that pointed me to some formatting errors). And don’t forget that getting a rejection means you tried. How many wannabe writers out there never get that far? My guess is that most people who want to write, or say they do, never actually submit anything. What’s the saying? It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? The same thing is true of writing and rejections. You’ll never get anywhere without trying. So, to all those folks out there talking about why rejection sucks, think again. A rejection is certainly not ideal, but it’s better than nothing.
Or Maybe Don’t Pay the Writer
It seems that my post yesterday stirred a tad bit of understandable “negativity.” Perhaps I am naïve to think that simply expressing irritation on a blog about an issue I consider to be not only important to discuss, but important to resolve, will produce any sort of change in the writing industry. But, at the same time, I cannot possibly keep silent about this. More of us, whether amateur or professional, should be upset about the state of the industry. Why we have bent over and taken such lousy pay and treatment for so long without open revolt is astonishing. We’ve put up with it for decades. This is not an issue that began with the invention of Craigslist or the Internet; it has existed, in some capacity, since the dawn of modern publishing. The Internet has only created a fast-paced, flooded market that has little interest in what is good for writers—it is understandable that employers are interested in their bottom line and not in the ability of a writer to be able to eat. The endlessness of this issue, however, means that writers have not done enough to demand better, and perhaps now it is too late. True, there have been recent upsets in the industry, most notably the screenwriter’s strike that involved Harlan Ellison himself, a man who, while certainly angry and difficult to deal with, has earned his place as both a fantastic writer and a spokesman for writers everywhere. We should be so bold as to take up his mantle in all aspects of the industry. But, we’re not that bold. A handful of us will do what I am doing here: complain on blogs, websites, or even podcasts. That handful cannot possibly change things on their own. It requires greater action from movers and shakers in the industry. Don’t misunderstand me. I am not calling for a drastic adjustment of payment levels in the writing and editing world. I know this is impossible. The industry and writers themselves have developed a system that openly exploits writers who either don’t know any better or have subjected themselves to the mindset that doing a bit of “charity” work is what it takes to get anywhere in the industry. That mindset exists because it is now true. John Scalzi has waxed lyrical about the changes in publishing internships to highlight this mindset: the publisher isn’t going to pay if the writer/worker/editor/etc. is willing to take next to nothing for hard work. And yet, writing this, I get the sense that anything I say on this topic is pointless, just as anything Harlan Ellison might say, however articulate and true, will amount to nothing whatsoever—except, perhaps, resentment or hatred against him, wholly unearned. Writers and editors, it seems, must accept their fates. We have to scrounge at the bottom, some of us because we actually like it there (after all, sometimes there are jobs that you simply do because you like them, not because you want to be paid), and some of us because we have no other choice. We can’t possibly demand what we have not rightfully “earned.” Never mind that someone wanting to be a manager at any business, with rare exception, at least makes minimum wage by working at the bottom. I suppose “freelance” translates to “above the purview of the Federal Government.” I see a problem with that. Do you?
Pay the Frakking Writer
I’m one to agree with Harlan Ellison when he angrily complains about the state of professional writing. While I myself am not technically a professional writer, I do loathe the level of whoring oneself out present within the freelance and general writing communities. An entire generation of people have come to believe that they don’t deserve to get paid at a reasonable rate for the writing and editing work they do, a fact that continues to baffle me. Perhaps this has a lot to do with how the Internet functions, and how desperate amateur writers are to get a leg up in a fairly brutal industry. Whatever the reason, Harlan Ellison is right: pay the frakking writer. And not just that, but pay the frakking writer well. Professional quality deserves professional rates. There aren’t that many instances in which it is okay to not be paid for writing or editing work:–You’re doing it for charity. I can’t argue against writing a story to help raise money for cancer research.–You have a personal blog or website. Hard to hire yourself to write for your own blog.–Aliens have invaded your brain and forced you to write for free. Certainly a bad thing, and a good excuse, I think. There are probably other good instances, but, let’s face it, writers deserve to be paid, and well. The amount of money authors make for what amounts to a hell of a lot of work has been declining for decades. It used to be that one short story sale could pay your rent. Now? You’d be lucky if it paid your grocery bill. Novel sales aren’t any better, with an average advance making up a fourth of the income you’d need to be right on the poverty line. That’s not a lot of money at all, and I don’t fully understand why. Aren’t writers important members of society? Don’t they provide a valuable service? Or maybe I’m just an angry, bitter curmudgeon like Ellison, looking back to the glory days with longing. Maybe I want to see a world where writers demand and earn what they’re worth. But I doubt that will happen; not now, and not in the future. There are too many people willing to work for almost nothing thinking they’ll be like Stephen King if they just trudge at the bottom for a while, getting paid fifty cents for a 500-word article, or some other ridiculously low paying avenue. And now, with these folks, some not worth even the paltry sum they currently earn, flooding the market and selling themselves short, those who think writers should get more are put in a horrible position. We can join the ranks, or take fewer jobs. But, maybe the glory days never happened and any desire for a writer’s utopia is nothing short of a delusional fantasy. Give it a few years and we might be proclaiming the slow and agonizing death of the professional writer. And the world will suffer for it.