Welcome to Gaia! ::

I've had a few questions simmering for a while, and I figure it is about time to ask them. Some of them have been asked already, and some of them haven't. But I'll try to organize them coherently so that I might be able to get a more substantive response.



The Mary-Sue/Cliche Ordeal

Question One: Why bother pointing them out when it rarely helps?

Of course, I understand the desire to be original, and to avoid creating one-dimensional characters, but it seems to me that the terms generally confuse young writers, causing them to avoid using archetypes of any kind, and to create strange characters that are even less complex than the apparent "Sue".

Certain archetypes are very useful. People like them because they are a natural framework for a progression of events. It isn't distracting, and they lend themselves to complete, well-rounded story arcs. Of course, if everyone were to look up the eleven stages of the hero and follow it exactly, it would be pretty boring. But should writers be afraid that their story has elements of the archetypal heroic progression? I don't think so.

I can understand the avoidance of cliche sayings and precise cliche situations. But for the emerging writer, the alternatives often read awkwardly. Isn't it better to focus on adding depth to a story, rather than obsess on removing shallowness? I know that the distinction seems unclear, but it seems more rational than statements like "Vampire heroes are cliche, use {insert other slightly less popular hero type here} instead." That's a completely arbitrary change! Odds are, it won't improve your writing.

As for Mary-Sues, I understand the concept completely. Reading somebody's wish-fulfillment story or a story about someone that the author thinks is just "so cool" isn't always fun. (Sometimes it is, but that's a different question.) But to create a character for a serious novel or whathaveyou, you should probably be doing more to assure the multi-dimensional nature of your main character than rolling her up in a manner reminiscent of DnD character creation, with a stat bonus here and some arbitrary "weakness" somewhere else. Having a laundry list of "pros" and "cons" for your character doesn't make her any more complex. The complexity comes from the character's motivations and goals, not their personality traits and physical characteristics. Yes, personality traits and and quirky looks can be the delicious frosting on your character cupcake, but they're really not entirely useful by themselves. (But to ride out my own metaphor, the frosting can be tasty for a while, but a good number of people can only stand a spoonful before it gets too sweet.)

Yes, I know this subject is over-talked. But it still bothers me, and I hardly ever see anyone using the ideas, which are good ideas in essence, in an effective way. They usually just confuse the essential problem- which is that the author probably doesn't know how to create depth, or why.




The Literary Ideal

Question Two: C'mon guys, is there really just one perfect way to write?

For all that I've just spent forever jabbering about cliches and Sues, I have to now contradict myself and ask: Why are those bad? Who makes the rule that you can't follow old patterns, who says that the raven-haired girl who was raped by her uncle and discovers magic crime-fighting powers and thirteen is an entirely useless character?

Who says that descriptive dialogue needs to be concise? Who says that dialogue should be natural? Who says that characters should be perfect replications of actual people?

It seems that the only acceptable writing style here is naturalism, and occasionally, very occasionally, surrealism. Of course, people are never instructed toward surrealism, but if someone is doing it anyway, nobody complains.

I like naturalism. I like concise descriptions. I like word-economy.

Is that the only good way to write, as evidenced by the history of literature? No.

It just isn't.

Literature's murky definition and lack of a "one true way" is an irritating predicament, but does it remove all possibility of discussion? I don't think so. As readers and critics, we should do our best to understand the author's intentions and try to help them acheive something better within the boundaries of their own style.

But Arthy, what if their intentions are stupid?

Then don't waste your time. There are plenty of authors in the forums dying for some input, and you should help one of them instead of beating your head against an e-wall.

I really don't see anything wrong with advising whatever the hell you want to whoever the hell you want, because as a reader and a critiquer, it is your perogative to give your own subjective opinion and advice. But for goodness' sake, it gets pretty rediculous when your standards for literature condemn most of the historically famous and "good" authors to nothing more than inexplicaby popular trash. You might not like or agree with the standards for literature that other people hold, but you could at least acknowledge that they exist once in a while.

And by "you", I don't actually mean you. Necessarily.





Well, I guess I've condensed my questions into two categories and two questions. (And a lot of reading, my apologies.) If you disagree with me at all, please tell me. I might argue with you, but these two things are what frustrates me the most about the Writer's Forum, and I'd love to know someone else's take on them.

Yeah. But Mary Sue-ish Traits =/= A Mary Sue, typically. Almost every character has at least a couple aspects that a Sue would have; its natural.

seconded

So apparently these subjects don't warrant discussion.

Perhaps it is a matter of length.


Just read the section headlines then, and respond. whee

First off, I'd like to thank you for your detailed response. It is very refreshing!




As for the statement I made about motivation and goals, I suppose I could have elaborated. I'm a theater type, and when I think about what makes characters compelling in theater, or most modern theater, four things come to mind. Their goals or motivations, the degree to which they desire their goal, their obstacles, and the tactics they use to achieve their goal. I think that in general this can apply to a pen-and-paper character as well. Arbitrary (I sure like that word!) actions are meaningless without motivations and goals, and motivations and goals don't have a vehicle for expression without actions. It's a chicken/egg relationship, as far as I can tell. So I quite agree with you, actions matter, but to me they are "tactics" which evolve naturally when given a goal and an obstacle.


As for the idea that literature is solely what speaks to the human condition, well, as you acknowledged, that is a subjective statement. The novel is a relatively new idea, in terms of how long language has existed, and although a good portion of the "classics" pertain to the human condition, some only do by a stretch. Treasure Island? A Sherlock Holmes novel? Of course, you can judge things from your own perspective, but I find that while defining the human condition is a great, cool, and effective literary pursuit, I think that literature has the ability to be broader than that. Or, frankly, narrower.

And that's the important distinction, isn't it? Mary-Sues in the strictest sense of the term are rampant in all kinds of fiction, but they're only noticeable or annoying in fiction that is... Well, bad.

When a critic points out to a writer that her character is a Mary-Sue, he's pointing out that the entire story isn't very well-written. Mary-Sues surely exist in well-written prose, but they're rarely ever pointed out because they don't detract from the story.

What tips the balance on whether a character will be accepted or not is treating the character objectively. Not balancing every shining quality with a meaningless flaw, but being honest about the character's actions and intentions. Really, when you're honest to yourself and your reader about your character, then that character ceases to be a Mary-Sue, at least in the most offensive sense.

So, my point is that it can be important to point out to a writer that her character is a glaring Mary-Sue (if you explain yourself) because that leads to (or SHOULD lead to) digging into WHY the character is a Mary-Sue, and how the writer needs to treat both the character and the rest of the story differently.



As for the second issue, I think I'll just leave it because niece up there said it better than I could have.

Eh. I'm scared to get into the idea of "goals/tactics." I'd be at it a while. It's a problematic way of approaching things. For a lot of reasons. For me.



As for the second part. My admission of subjectivity is misleading, as I honestly feel that what I said is only subjective insofar as I can't expect everyone else to recognize it as truth. Great literature deals with the human condition. Period.

The problem with the term "classics" is that it's much too broad. Some "classic works" are considered classic because they're great literature, and others are considered as such for other reasons. Treasure Island and Sherlock Holmes books, since you mentioned those two, are fence-straddlers, in a lot of ways. They're obviously entertainment-driven, but, at the same time, they do speak to the human condition. The former deals with coming-of-age issues, as well as socioeconomic matters of its age, which lends a lot of weight to the case for its consideration as a "classic work." Doyle's books do speak to the human condition in ways, at times, but I think their status is largely derived from the fact that they represent a popular form of their era. They're far more valuable in terms of literary historicism than they are in terms of substance.

And it's not a matter of defining the human condition; it's a matter of speaking to it. Of dealing with it. Of employing it within a piece. Treasure Island is actually a great example, I think, of the way in which you can create an adventure-driven story that nonetheless faces the consequences of being human. Jim Hawkins makes choices in the story that are directly connected to the fabric of what it means to be human, and still it's an action-packed adventure (lulz). If more people were writing books that masterful, we'd be a lot better off.

That's where I think Stevenson separates himself from Doyle: The former simply does more with his characters than the latter does, and it's all based on Stevenson's addressing humanity within his work. Yeah, literature can be broader or narrower or whatever-er than dealing the human condition; but I don't think great literature can exclude it, and I think we should be aiming to be great.



By the by, thank you for a ******** topic that asks a little more of me than whether or not I carry a notebook.

SRSLY.