I recently finished reading a pretty depressing book. Not especially depressing, but enough so and in such a way that I was left disappointed. And that got me thinking about the “purpose” of books, especially fiction. Which, in turn, led me to thinking about my own writing pursuits, and especially my troubled history of flirting with The Novel. Today, I’d like to interweave all of these topics a little.
I respect the author behind this book, which I’ll call Dark for short, immensely. I’ve only read one other of his books so far, but I enjoyed it a great deal, and the range alone in feel between Dark and the other novel blows me away. But there’s one thing that just… felt like it was missing, when I finished Dark, and in turn I realized that it had been weak, nigh on missing, from the other. This missing element is a little difficult to pin down, but I feel it best summarized as Purpose. The author made great use of themes, tropes, foreshadowing, all the classic elements to bind the story together as a cohesive whole, and when the story wound to its end it both felt “complete” and left a great deal to the imagination for what happens after, which is a strong choice.
But the book didn’t say anything. It didn’t raise questions, it didn’t provide possible answers for them, and it didn’t challenge me to look within myself and recognize elements of this outlandish world or its peoples, nor learn something from the connection. It handled a lot of heavy concepts, and I kept waiting for them to be wrapped into some great statement, but the heated conclusion appeared to literally amount to: “Fuck it.”
Now, it’s true that not every story or body of writing has to have this element. Some stories are purely for entertainment, and you sympathize with the characters and their plights and escape the real world for a while. Such stories are written all the time, and nobody goes to jail.
But it feels like such a waste to me. I’m not saying you have to get preachy with it, but if you can entertain people and enrich them while they’re reading, how is that not always better than just entertaining? This has been a recurring theme in my work, and a point of pride on my part. Even when I’m literally just writing smut, just wrapping some story around people consummating their carnal desires, I explore the situation, and what it means. I connect it to concepts of morality, humanity, and various basic truths of the human condition and make them something one has to look at in just a slightly different way. I believe that the best thing a story can do is leave the reader just a little different than when they came to it.
This keys into another pet peeve of mine with writers, actually. There are some writers, including some very large names, that believe an ending isn’t necessary to a story– that leaving the ending as open to interpretation as possible can be the best conclusion. And to a degree, it’s good to leave potential, to give people something to think about. But there’s an element to the ending that I feel is massively important to the story as a whole: the change.
A story is a series of events, hopefully interesting ones. Having lots of “interesting” stuff happen makes for a nice read, but what gives the story a sense of significance? The change. What changes has this line of events wrought on the world? Big, compelling stories tend to be about “how this great thing started” or “how this huge thing came to an end.” The opening and closing of eras. Even small scale stories feel more substantial when they encircle a moment of personal growth, the forming or ending of a relationship, or some other significant change. What kind of story do you get when everything is the same at the end as when it started? Sitcoms. The definition of unsubstantial stories where nothing important happens, and you could practically watch them in any order and never know.
So I, personally, would say that any story worth reading should include two things: a change in the world it describes, and hopefully, something that impresses a change upon you. Something that makes you uncomfortable, or look at something a different way, and when you’ve finished the story, you’ve expanded your experience on a personal level. Some people say that they don’t like sci-fi or fantasy stories because it doesn’t relate to real life, but I find they can make the very best avenues for exploring the most difficult questions about who and what we are. Stories that retain both these qualities will leave an impression on you, and they’ll be the stories you remember for years to come.
Now, I mentioned my own troubled history with writing. I’ve been putting out erotic short stories on and off for rather a while now. But for a great deal longer, my ambition was to write novels of the scifi/fantasy bent. But… I haven’t. I’ve tried, certainly, but no matter how much I plot on it, or how many times I write an opening and just try to push myself into it, I feel… directionless. I’ve come to realize that when I’m writing an erotic story, I have a crutch: a clear objective. I may not know for certain when I go in just what the story will be like, who the characters will be, or any of that, but I’ll know for certain that there has to be a big, interesting sex scene. I can pull whatever fancy tricks with “meaning” and “changing situations” that I want, but the objective of the story is to deliver a powerful sex scene, and every word must be oriented on enhancing that experience, or it doesn’t belong in the story. So in this sense, my stories have another “purpose,” besides the elements of change mentioned above.
But what is the “purpose” of a story that basically amounts to “it’s crazy magic/technology land, anything could happen?” You can’t get much more open canvas than that, and as the adage goes, restrictions breed creativity. So when I go to spill a novel out, that’s two big challenges I don’t have to face otherwise– a lack of restrictions to form a starting point, and a lack of objectives to form an endpoint.
I know, you could always choose these arbitrarily. Make up a set of restrictions and an endpoint and roll with it. But it just doesn’t feel the same. It’s a soft, wobbly foundation. So I find myself looking at other novels and wondering to myself, what are they “going for?” What is the purpose toward which all their writing is focused, what part of the experience are they trying to enhance? The big, flashy action sequences? The mindbending implications of certain systems of magic or crazy technology? The emotional interactions of the characters in these bizarre yet almost relateable situations? Anything and everything to make it a big, something-for-everyone thrill ride?
Sometimes I worry that the way my mind works and that I approach writing a story is simply completely incompatible with large projects like a novel. I do tend to focus on making my narratives as tight and pointed as possible, and novels tend to be more about… I don’t know… giving you something you can read for a long time and enjoy? At least, the fat, multi-thousand-page tomes I tend to pick up go that way. Maybe this is just another instance where what I’m best suited to write isn’t actually the same type of thing I tend to read? It could make it harder to get proper inspiration and “pick up tricks” if I started angling for the novella or some such instead.
Well. I’ve already picked up another few books from the author behind Dark, so perhaps I’ll try and pay more attention to his “objectives” with the stories from here. I have to admit, this rant has been rather of a different flavor than those I’ve shared before– the others were things I’ve been stewing on and came to some sereious conclusions about, but this is more a big, loose bundle of thoughts that I’m still trying to stew down into something more conclusive. I’ve been happy to see some positive feedback on my other rants, and I hope this one might inspire some thoughts and suggestions from any and all of you that bother to read all this– both with your own thoughts on the subjects I’ve brought up, and any feedback you have on this looser, more “stream of thought” style of rant :p If anything, I feel like writing this out has helped solidify my thoughts on the subjects a little, which can be a fine way to write, but perhaps a little less satisfying for you readers out there.
Not that that would stop me from writing more of these, of course. Anything to fend off the possibility of poetry showing up on here xP
Lithier 
Liking the blog so far Lith! You have an easy flowing way of writing that is pleasant to read.
That said I’m not sure I agree 100% about how books should specifically aim to change a person. Its a very loose definition of whether someone has been “changed”. A book that was never intended to make a meaningful change in someone’s life easily could while one where the author set out to convince someone of something could fall flat both in enjoyment and of getting the message across (or convincing the reader of its merits). Maybe it was one too many English classes growing up where we’d have to spend months obsessing about what the author’s hidden meaning was, but the idea that a story being entertaining and imaginative isn’t enough doesn’t entirely sit well with me.
This isn’t to say that writing (or any media) managing to elevate one’s thinking to a new level is a bad thing (indeed being imaginative like I mentioned might literally be what you mean by this change if it makes them think in new ways). Who I am today is in large part thanks to the things I have read, watched, and learned so I don’t mean to take away from works that do enlighten people, just that it can be a hard metric to grade a novel on.
You did mention you believed that even when you were writing your erotic stories that you had succeeded (or intended to) in enacting this change, and that makes me wonder what exactly you mean by enriching them. This is in no way to disparage said stories, but I guess when you said the book lacked purpose and implied your erotic stories did, what exactly did you mean? You said stories should challenge the reader, should enrich them, should leave them different than they were before they started in some meaningful way. These are traits normally not associated with erotic fiction, do you think yours accomplishes this? That isn’t a put down by any means, I am genuinely asking.
Looking over this post it feels like I’m arguing and picking a fight more than I mean to, that isn’t my intent. It is easy to question or criticize a small part you disagree with and ignore the majority that you think is accurate and give the wrong impression. I thought it was overall very well thought out.
Hey, thanks for commenting, and for your kind words! I certainly agree that the success of a book in leaving a lasting impression on a reader can have a great deal more to do with the execution of the story and the nature of the reader than the writer’s intentions to “enlighten” at times, and I do believe that books that come out overly preachy and heavy handed in their messages are also undesirable. But I do believe there is nobility in the ambition to “make that impression.”
Let me try to clarify my definition for “leaving an impression” or “changing” the reader. Each one of us has a certain understanding of the world, the way it works, and the nature and workings of the many people in it as well as ourselves. We are forced to make a great deal of assumptions to “get things done,” and that’s perfectly natural. But sometimes, you meet someone new, you have a conversation with them, and you’re exposed to ideas or ways of thinking that are just so foreign, you have to adjust your understanding of the world to encompass them. You learn something from them, or you at least realize things may be a little more nuanced, more interconnected, or more varied than you’d originally thought. That is a precious, yet day-to-day moment, and having enough of those moments is crucial to becoming a wise and open-minded person. I believe that, in a similar sense, a good story can have a similar impact on you, by exposing you to concepts that you might not otherwise consider, or turning them and examining them from an angle you might never think to. In this sense, even though you’re reading about something that never happened and indeed probably never will, you learn just a little something about yourself, or the people around you, or the world as a whole. You see things just a little differently, if only for a little while. If a book gives you at least one of those moments, I believe that that makes the book a more rich and meaningful experience.
Of course, the chances of that happening depend largely on the combination of book and reader. It’s entirely possible that Dark is full of concepts that would blow another reader’s mind, but that I’ve simply read too many books covering similar concepts and it didn’t feel like there was anything “new” or “enriching” to be found in the work. I was most upset, perhaps, that the conclusion of the book seemed to be working itself up to some sort of somewhat heavy handed final message, but ultimately proved rather nihilistic.
As for my own work, the issue above actually gives me something of an advantage. In our society, sexual concepts get a great deal less attention and examination than others. Given that backdrop, I can explore concepts of sexuality surrounding any given sex scene and rather easily find ideas that, while not completely foreign to most, might give most folks pause to think about things like the nature and origin of affection and intimacy, the impact of gender roles on our sensuality, or the roles that sexuality can play in social interactions. It’s virtually a trove of ideas many of us may be quietly curious about, yet dare not explore too deeply compared to more culturally “acceptable” fare. And if I should branch out into questions of what qualifies a being as sentient, what roles we might play in situations where we were not the only sentient species in known existence, how far our rights as human beings should extend, or some such broader ideas, I think that I can offer a fair deal of “food for thought.” I try not to spell out great, arching questions, but to one degree or another, I try to bring interesting concepts more to the forefront than other writers in the genre might– as interwoven parts of the plot and the characters’ conflicts, of course. Honestly, I don’t go a great deal out of my way for it, I just enjoy thinking about “what could be” more than “what is most common,” and it seems that when I write about it, folks enjoy reading about these possibilities and their implications as well ^.^;
I consider all of this a pretty subtle part of my work, really, and I’d say it should be a fairly subtle element in most written works when done well. It’s just that when you’re reading something, especially about an unrealistic situation, it’s much more compelling personally if there’s some kind of connection you can make between yourself and the work– and if the story can give you something which you can turn and reflect upon in the framework of your own life, then it arguably accomplishes that goal in the most valuable way possible. I hope this has clarified my position on the “impression” I believe written works should strive to leave on their readers. Thanks for reading, and thanks again for stopping to talk back!
When I’m writing, my purpose is generally to provoke any number of large responses. The motivation comes from a need share the most intense feelings that I feel when I’m inspired by or in awe of something. The feelings that occur at my favorite part of any given scene in a video game, or piece of writing that causes me to slow down, squint and reread the line slowly 5 more times because I want to make sure I experience every part of the scene. I don’t mean to say that it isn’t important to try to consciously develop a greater meaning, but at the same time while I’m trying to develop these smaller yet significantly charged phrases and scenes that make up a larger piece of writing, the most complex part of the writing for me tends to simply develop by itself.
I think the reason for this is that any piece of prose is going to be indisputably pumped full of the writer’s personal values and beliefs in some way or another. The way an author strings events together in any deliberately written piece of writing will always make sense to that author, because that’s the only way they CAN deliberately string it together. The exception to this, would be if you’re intentionally trying to write a story based on the values of a different person. And I’m not talking about simple character traits and personality of a person. I mean trying to emulate their very understanding and though process when writing. I think a mistake that a lot of authors make is trying to write a book about something that they don’t exactly understand themselves. Which can be stressful, even. That method of writing generally comes out forced and inconsistent.
I think another thing that writers have a habit of doing is imagining themselves as the reader, which is partially why they might write the book about something that they don’t really understand. They want to make it complex, something that is difficult to fully understand. For them. A lot of times they forget that their reader isn’t them; that throughout their journey they’ve already reached a level of understanding for literature and psychology that exceeds the majority of the people who are going to be reading their book.
Some of the best and most effortlessly written themes that the author feels comfortable with may very well seem convoluted and even disgruntling to readers. So wouldn’t it be better to write about something deeply rooted and comfortable to the author?
Going back to your point about change, unless the reader is already extremely similar to the author, unnaturally so, I think they will be changed and influenced by the fluidity in which the author speaks about something that they already have an erudite understanding of. Which is why an author striving to create a profound change in someone doesn’t necessarily have to write about something so complicated that they would create a change in themselves. If its written well enough to cause an arousing and emotional reaction, then the reader will search within themselves for why they feel how they do, and when they find the answer, therein lies the change. Unless of course they’re thinking of a sitcoms ^^
I recently wrote a piece of satire, in which the theme was based on the statement “If you watch a movie and it goes exactly the way you expected it to in every aspect, that largely defeats the purpose of watching the movie.” That is to say, I agree with what you said about changing and enriching the reader.
I can’t help but wonder how many themes in critically acclaimed book, themes explained by some assembly of professional critics or agreed upon by some congregational fan-base were actually the original intention of the author. Maybe they’re just the most easily accepted themes by the most people who felt that rare and compelling emotional tie to whatever material it is that they’ve just finished experiencing.
I’m sure that rather than first creating a theme and tieing the events of a story to it, some authors might write the events first and then pinpoint a theme by the time they’re midway through or nearly done writing. A theme that they can choose to exploit for all its worth, or simply leave it be. I’m pretty sure that’s how I write. I can’t bring myself to believe that it’s honestly that uncommon. I guess it just depends on how the author’s mind works. It does feel a bit directionless at first but the beauty of a large novel is that earlier points can be explained much much MUCH later on and still turn out fantastic. You just might need to find a better crutch, or I should say, a better stimulus to spur you on to that point.
In any case, I doubt you’ll be unable to find a way to write a larger project whenever you feel you’re ready to pursue it.
I’d say I follow a similar method with my writing, really– I don’t go into it saying “I want to make this porn story force people to think about their mortality!” or something like that, so much as I simply make it a point to quietly explore the emotional space around my subjects instead of purely describing what’s going on. There are often important and interesting conflicts just under the surface that some authors might choose to ignore, but that can be used to enrich the experience and make it feel both more real and more worthwhile to read. A lot of my writing process is about making things flow naturally from a certain set of premises, and hopefully making those premises a sufficiently interesting starting point x3
Hmm, and I do have to agree on the issue of, as they say, “writing what you know.” Though I myself have been in a bit of a quandary on that count. A lot of science fiction writers –the good ones, at any rate– are very well informed about potential future technology. They’ll often have advanced degrees and/or spend a great deal of time researching the latest scientific theories. I find science fiction pretty awesome, and I’d like to write my own, but well… I don’t have any hard science education xP I know very little about it. So at the same time, I’d like to write about potential futures, but I feel like if I did, my work would always be looked down on for not being “hard” enough, which is especially crippling to me since I consider a lot of my work to be about what “makes sense” and is “right,” rather than just saying “hey, it’s a story, whatever I say goes” @_@; My style requires me to know rather a lot about the subject, in short, and a lot of “common sense” things about sci fi probably fall outside my general purview. In that sense playing with “fantasy” lets me cheat and use magic to cover everything xP Though even then, I fear at times my ignorance of old world technology, customs and the like may shine through at the worse of times @.@:
Well, in any case, thank you for the vote of confidence ^.^; You could say I’ve spent rather a long time “working up to it.” And thanks for commenting!