Someone once said authors don't write for the astute. I forget who, but it's true. And that can be frustrating.
Why? Well, in the editing process, I want to remove as much unnecessary detail as possible, keep the prose lean, ensure every sentence is essential. If I deem something to be repetitive or otherwise meaningless, it goes. But sometimes, readers need that information, because they don't know how to think. Or, more accurately, they don't know how people behave.
One of the weirdest criticisms I got for Falling was Juli's behaviour. Someone remarked that she would have borrowed the money from Alezi rather than go back to dance at Sirens for one night. But she's stubborn to a fault. If she wasn't, she wouldn't have been in that position in the first place. As if to vindicate my point, I watched the exact same thing happen to Walter White in Breaking Bad. Okay, he made meth rather than dance at a club (that would have been... uncomfortable), but the consequences of his actions were very clear from the outset. He was offered money from very rich friends, and decided to make meth anyway. People do that sort of thing: they do not behave in a logical manner. We are not perfect, sensible beings.
My most recent criticism came via feedback for Nightfall, a short story set in one of the other S&S universe worlds. Not to give too much away, but some readers remarked that if there was an impending danger every night, people wouldn't ever be out in it. These people obviously haven't heard tales from World War II, when some people began ignoring the air raid sirens. There's only so long people will act with a sense of urgency. Once something becomes the norm, until something bad actually happens, people learn to ignore it.
Sometimes, criticism is levied at things that have simply been misunderstood, such as why my characters would be on foot. Some take this to mean they don't have a car, but when they live within walking distance of where they've been, and traffic is gridlocked, not taking the car out is the sensible thing to do.
I once said that I could explain everything that happens in my stories, but that would rob from t
he impact of those moments, and I want to leave people to interpret events their own way. That's meant to be the point of literature, after all. I expect the audience to possess enough intelligence to work at least some of these things out for themselves. I sometimes wonder if the problem lies with my execution, and maybe at times it does, but there are clearly times when the problem is with the reader.
And this raises an interesting conundrum. This isn't the first time my material has been greatly misinterpreted. I wrote a poem a while back about having more ideas than could be put on the page before some are inevitably forgotten, and someone thought I had written about writer's block. Uh... that would be the exact opposite.
The thing is, most people aren't all that smart. I forget that sometimes. Other people don't see things the way I do. I'm not trying to be bigheaded, I do have a high IQ, and it's easy to forget others don't. That can make me a bit Sherlocky from time to time -- "But why don't other people see it this way!?" levels of frustration.
And that sometimes makes me wonder whether it's even worth trying to tell these stories. I mostly write them for myself, but I have a few fans who eagerly devour everything I put out there, for which I am grateful. They don't question human behaviour, they just enjoy the story and accept it. Of course, it's possible that criticisms are being levied by other "authors" who have been taught how to write, rather than basing their work on the actions of those living in the world around them. People are fallible, not perfect machines. One of the truest criticisms of some TV shows and movies is that one person subjected to one horrible situation after another would eventually lose their mind. This would be true of Bond and most superheroes, but we ignore it and enjoy the spectacle. But should those tales that embrace more realism, like the excellent Fargo movie and TV series, then be ridiculed? Of course not. Just because I write science fantasy, it doesn't mean I have to leave the real world entirely. The point of fiction is to explore new ideas, not simply rehash everything that has gone before. But then, audiences have rarely been quick to warm to fresh interpretations.
Why? Well, in the editing process, I want to remove as much unnecessary detail as possible, keep the prose lean, ensure every sentence is essential. If I deem something to be repetitive or otherwise meaningless, it goes. But sometimes, readers need that information, because they don't know how to think. Or, more accurately, they don't know how people behave.
One of the weirdest criticisms I got for Falling was Juli's behaviour. Someone remarked that she would have borrowed the money from Alezi rather than go back to dance at Sirens for one night. But she's stubborn to a fault. If she wasn't, she wouldn't have been in that position in the first place. As if to vindicate my point, I watched the exact same thing happen to Walter White in Breaking Bad. Okay, he made meth rather than dance at a club (that would have been... uncomfortable), but the consequences of his actions were very clear from the outset. He was offered money from very rich friends, and decided to make meth anyway. People do that sort of thing: they do not behave in a logical manner. We are not perfect, sensible beings.
My most recent criticism came via feedback for Nightfall, a short story set in one of the other S&S universe worlds. Not to give too much away, but some readers remarked that if there was an impending danger every night, people wouldn't ever be out in it. These people obviously haven't heard tales from World War II, when some people began ignoring the air raid sirens. There's only so long people will act with a sense of urgency. Once something becomes the norm, until something bad actually happens, people learn to ignore it.
Sometimes, criticism is levied at things that have simply been misunderstood, such as why my characters would be on foot. Some take this to mean they don't have a car, but when they live within walking distance of where they've been, and traffic is gridlocked, not taking the car out is the sensible thing to do.
I once said that I could explain everything that happens in my stories, but that would rob from t
he impact of those moments, and I want to leave people to interpret events their own way. That's meant to be the point of literature, after all. I expect the audience to possess enough intelligence to work at least some of these things out for themselves. I sometimes wonder if the problem lies with my execution, and maybe at times it does, but there are clearly times when the problem is with the reader.
And this raises an interesting conundrum. This isn't the first time my material has been greatly misinterpreted. I wrote a poem a while back about having more ideas than could be put on the page before some are inevitably forgotten, and someone thought I had written about writer's block. Uh... that would be the exact opposite.
The thing is, most people aren't all that smart. I forget that sometimes. Other people don't see things the way I do. I'm not trying to be bigheaded, I do have a high IQ, and it's easy to forget others don't. That can make me a bit Sherlocky from time to time -- "But why don't other people see it this way!?" levels of frustration.
And that sometimes makes me wonder whether it's even worth trying to tell these stories. I mostly write them for myself, but I have a few fans who eagerly devour everything I put out there, for which I am grateful. They don't question human behaviour, they just enjoy the story and accept it. Of course, it's possible that criticisms are being levied by other "authors" who have been taught how to write, rather than basing their work on the actions of those living in the world around them. People are fallible, not perfect machines. One of the truest criticisms of some TV shows and movies is that one person subjected to one horrible situation after another would eventually lose their mind. This would be true of Bond and most superheroes, but we ignore it and enjoy the spectacle. But should those tales that embrace more realism, like the excellent Fargo movie and TV series, then be ridiculed? Of course not. Just because I write science fantasy, it doesn't mean I have to leave the real world entirely. The point of fiction is to explore new ideas, not simply rehash everything that has gone before. But then, audiences have rarely been quick to warm to fresh interpretations.