Monday, June 29, 2009

I see preachiness as a potential huge problem for me because I've spent so much time trying to come to unique understandings of human behavior and it is indeed the reason I bother wanting to be a writer. I've done this to a greater extent by far then most and it means that not only is there the possibility that others will disagree with my ideas but that I just recognize that I've got ...somewhat unique ideas that I want to make very clear.

The wanting to make them clear is a problem...

Hal Duncan: Emphyrio: Thanks. To be honest, “preachy” seems like a valid critique to me. I’d take it seriously if it was levelled at a work of fiction, mine or anyone else’s, in a way that I might not with a word like “pretentious”. I’d take it as translating to “didactic” and “instructional” with maybe a hint of “dogmatic” — i.e. so focused on a particular take on a particular theme that the narrative is warped to read like pure advocacy. Single-minded. Belaboured. To me it’s important that, however much I might hold to this or that idea, tackling a theme means exploring it from as many angles as possible, and that means giving the Devil his due, so to speak. If you can’t understand why the “villain” thinks he’s a good man, he’s not a well-written character. If you sort of think he might have a point, that’s better writing, to my mind. Ultimately, I’m not averse to making a point and making it forcefully, even having characters articulate it explicitly, but largely I’d be inclined to set things up so that they’re not just my mouthpiece. The character of Seamus Finnan in Vellum has some fairly preachy dialogue of a socialist-pacifist bent, and I am, it has to be said, fairly bolshie myself. But the character’s most preachy moment, where he gives a speech to Red Clydesiders during “Bloody Friday” (January 31st, 1919, George Square in Glasgow) is largely a set-up for exploring the collision of those two ideals when faced with the Spanish Civil War. Exploring a real dilemma is simply more interesting than finagling one so it can be “solved” by your philosophy — i.e. setting it up so you can have the characters finding the Obvious Solution and explaining to each other why the Solution is Obvious, thereby turning the story into polemic.

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To be honest, “preachy” seems like a valid critique to me. I’d take it seriously if it was levelled at a work of fiction, mine or anyone else’s, in a way that I might not with a word like “pretentious”. I’d take it as translating to “didactic” and “instructional” with maybe a hint of “dogmatic” — i.e. so focused on a particular take on a particular theme that the narrative is warped to read like pure advocacy. Single-minded. Belaboured.


Which is to say it's more busy giving a lecture than in actually being entertaining. Yes, this could be a real problem for me. If it's obvious that a given character is the bad guy then one can describe actions without worrying as much that people are missing his 'badness'. But I'd be so worried that I'm describing actions that have an essentially harmful nature that the reader is just missing... that I'd want to really make it clear... and just turn it into a lecture instead of something entertaining...

And "dogmatic" just meaning the lecture I'm giving happening to be wrong.

To me it’s important that, however much I might hold to this or that idea, tackling a theme means exploring it from as many angles as possible, and that means giving the Devil his due, so to speak. If you can’t understand why the “villain” thinks he’s a good man, he’s not a well-written character. If you sort of think he might have a point, that’s better writing, to my mind.


Not an issue. I definitely try to see all the angles.

Ultimately, I’m not averse to making a point and making it forcefully, even having characters articulate it explicitly, but largely I’d be inclined to set things up so that they’re not just my mouthpiece. The character of Seamus Finnan in Vellum has some fairly preachy dialogue of a socialist-pacifist bent, and I am, it has to be said, fairly bolshie myself. But the character’s most preachy moment, where he gives a speech to Red Clydesiders during “Bloody Friday” (January 31st, 1919, George Square in Glasgow) is largely a set-up for exploring the collision of those two ideals when faced with the Spanish Civil War. Exploring a real dilemma is simply more interesting than finagling one so it can be “solved” by your philosophy — i.e. setting it up so you can have the characters finding the Obvious Solution and explaining to each other why the Solution is Obvious, thereby turning the story into polemic.


1. To a greater extent than the norm I think I know what are harmful actions. In truth every single moment we are performing actions that result in more or less harm. (And that's all that morality/ethics is.) (For better or worse I haven't bothered making a distinction between the two words. Semantics.) I've spent more time trying to understand such things and thus I'll find myself wanting to point out so many things, the varying level of 'morality' of so many actions that it will get in the way of telling an entertaining story and turn into a lecture.

2. How intelligent does one assume their audience is? Do you take the chance that all kinds of meaning is probably getting missed? Or do you end up insulting their intelligent by talking down to them?

I suppose for one thing I just like polemics. I both liked Robert Tressel's The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists and Ayn Rand's propaganda, though I disagree with it.

...I'm still just not qutie wrapping my head around this properly. I want to write passionate stuff. What the hell can that mean other than having strong opinions about actions which cause harm? The more potentially passionate and worthwhile writing may be, the more potentially preachy.