THE DEATH OF FICTION - December 1, 2023

In moments of déjà vu recently, I recalled the Mao Tse-tung era of authoritarianism which required citizens to gather in a meeting and engage in self-criticism, admitting to being guilty of various offenses to the Leader. However, it was as true then as it is now that a mea culpa that is extracted by force and public shaming is not a genuine act of repentance and serves only to repress those who might otherwise also dare to fail to tow the party line.

The moments that have triggered those memories have been coming with increasing frequency as writers and publishers continue to fall on their swords, turning themselves inside out in apologizing for their past, present and prospective sins. Their alleged transgressions center around the temerity of a writer to create a work of fiction that doesn’t reflect their own direct experience. Some books have been pulled before even being published. The chilling effect is causing an escalation in self-censorship that is the opposite of what literature is meant to provide. Freedom of written speech is being removed from what is left of our democracy.

This is not to say that discrimination hasn’t dominated the publishing world or that white men haven’t run the show for a very long time. The pendulum is long overdue for a swing. However, that swing has gone too far. What would the world of literature look like if all the books written by men with female protagonists throughout history were banned? Any publication with minority characters but without a member of that minority as the writer are now in danger of being pulled, removed or not published at all. Should we ban Isaac Asimov’s sci fi books because a robot is the only one who would have the right to create them?

Fiction is a product of the imagination. Writers have a responsibility to do their research and get it right. Readers are entitled to point out any errors, or just not read the book at all. Publishers would still have the right to reject a work, not because the writer doesn’t fit the demographic of the characters, but only because they got it wrong.

If we continue down this path, the only fiction that will survive will be that created by AI, an AI that isn’t programmed for self-flagellation.

A LOT IN COMMON - November 1, 2023

There are two “hobbies” that occupy a goodly portion of my retirement time. I used quotation marks around the word “hobbies” because I’m not certain where the line is drawn between pastimes and passions. The dictionary defines hobby as a regular activity that is done for enjoyment, typically during one’s leisure time. A passion, on the other hand, is a strong feeling of enthusiasm or excitement either for something or about doing something. The difference appears to be a matter of degree.

By that measure, I probably would say that weaving is my hobby but writing is my passion. I’ve been writing since I was a child, a very long time. Weaving came to me later when my best friend persuaded me to let her teach me how to weave. Weaving was her passion and became my pleasure, my hobby.

I think subconsciously I felt they had a lot in common. First, and most obvious, they both require tools. I could easily have typed “toys” instead of tools. Any hobby worth its salt has physical means to the ultimate ends. It helps that they bring tactile pleasure. A handmade wooden shuttle that weaves yarn through a warp on a loom brings a pleasure that is similar to a fountain pen leaving a trail of inked words on a dazzling white page.

Weaving is expressive in its materials, its colors, its designs, its textures. Writing, too, conveys emotion in its nouns and verbs and all those adjectives. They are both forms of art meant to communicate with the user. I feel lucky to have both weaving and writing in my life.

PLOTTER OR PANTSER - October 1, 2023

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the plotter or pantser conundrum (that means you, spellcheck), here is an explanation of the question every writer must answer at the start of a new writing project. Should you plot out the story before you begin to write? Or should you start with a blank page and perhaps an idea for a character or a setting and just begin to type?

When I was writing full-length novels, and hiding them away in a file cabinet drawer, the question never arose. No one in their right mind, I thought, would start on a 100,000 (or more) word epic without a road map. What would happen if, halfway through, you discovered there were irreparable holes in the plot that gradually evolved on the page? Could anyone bear to toss months, or even years, of work into the recycling bin under her desk, or the trash icon on her desktop? The question answered itself.

My outlines began the way I learned in school. Start with a roman numeral one and proceed to subheadings and sub-sub headings until “The End” was reached. Eventually, I discovered that too much detail in the outline led to writing that sounded as if I was painting by numbers. Too much preplanning, not enough room for spontaneity. If a character was telling me I was on the wrong track, I couldn’t listen. After all, that would mean changing everything that followed in my meticulously laid out plan.

With trial and error, I learned to change the nature of the outline. I thought of it as a series of connected scenes, briefly described to leave room to breathe and tweak. The writing itself became more creative, but I was comfortable because I knew where the path would end. I was still a committed plotter.

Then came the pandemic when I was unable to settle my mind enough to work through a full novel. Or even a novelette. When I came across the world of the mystery short story, it was a gift that arrived when I most needed it. In the beginning, I still outlined the story but my high school English teacher would have been appalled at the loosey goosey version of an outline I created. At that time, though, I still hadn’t let go of the Roman numerals.

In online discussions, I became aware that there were those who flew by the seat of their pants. Hence, my world opened to the possibility of pantsers. (Clever, eh?) Look at all the time they saved by not writing an outline. What could possibly go wrong?

I can answer that last question after trying the pantser route several times. My loose outline stopped short of a solution to the mystery. I assumed that by the time I got that far, I would know who committed the crime.

I was wrong.

So I became a plotser, combining what I thought was the best of both worlds. I strung a few notes of scenes together in a series of bubbles, being sure to include the solution to the mystery in the last of them. I’m not sure if it improved my writing, but at least I knew I’d be able to type “The End” when I was done.

NOTE: See above for the "outline" of my story, "Esme's Worst Nightmare," published in The Gargoylicon in 2022.