Thinking about spoilers, and my personal policy.
So a few days ago, I posted a relative rarity-a song about a Toby book-and stated that I don't write or post many of these, on account of the inevitability of spoilers. A lot of people commented on how much they enjoyed the lyrics, which was lovely. Several of them then told me either a) that the song wasn't what they would consider a spoiler, b) that the statute of limitations was up, or c) that they liked spoilers. These are all absolutely valid perspectives, and I was glad to hear them.
And yet, as is always the danger, they got me thinking.
My position on spoilers for my own work is that, as the author, I have to be scrupulously careful, both because it's not fair of me to take the experience of reading something for the first time away from someone, and because sometimes, I can spoil things which haven't happened yet, which means that sometimes, my spoilers can change. Merav was one of my first Machete Squad members. She and I have talked through at least three different iterations of the timeline, including characters who wound up never existing, and excluding characters who wound up being very important. So there are times when she'll say "but you can't do _____, it contradicts _____," and _____ is something that not only hasn't happened yet, it's never going to happen. I didn't mean to confuse her, it just happened.
There's also the question of authorial deceit. A few years ago, people in the fandom of a TV show I watched-and I honestly don't remember which show it was, that's sort of beside the point-were furious because, at the end of the season, what happened didn't match the spoilers they'd received from the showrunner at the start of the season. He had lied to them. He had intentionally deceived them. And oh, were they pissed. But as a writer, I can see where maybe he didn't lie. Stories twist and change. Characters I thought would be totally essential disappear, and new characters wander onto the scene. When I told Jennifer how Sparrow Hill Road was going to play out, I wasn't lying, even though things didn't end that way. The story changed in my hands. I don't ever want my readers to feel like I lied to them because of spoilers. I try to play fair, and that's important to me.
Some people find that spoilers enhance their enjoyment of the work. I know that sometimes, when I'm really excited about something, or really anxious about it, I'll seek out spoilers just to brace myself better. I'm currently looking for anything that can confirm certain upcoming X-Men storylines. There's a key phrase there: "seek out spoilers."
When I get accidentally spoiled for something, I am pissed, and depending on the magnitude of the spoiler, I may cross the work off my list of things to do. I've never seen The Sixth Sense because of a careless spoiler. I decided not to see Serenity when every major event and plot twist of the movie was spoiled by enthusiastic fans. I think you should absolutely have the freedom to choose to be spoiled, but I don't think I should be spoiling people without warning them, or without their consent.
Sometimes knowing a thing is coming really does enhance the story, or at least change it. Writing stories about Jonathan and Frances Healy is oddly bittersweet for me, because I know how they both die-and that isn't a spoiler, since they're Verity's great-grandparents, and cryptozoology isn't a career that comes with a guarantee of a long life. It's not a spoiler to say that Alice and Thomas will eventually get married, that Rose dies alone by the side of the road, or that science accidentally makes zombies. These are background statements, and even if I later go back and write stories set before those things happened, they don't turn into spoilers.
I wish I loved John and Fran a little less. It would make what's coming a lot less hard.
I guess what it comes down to is that I don't want to spoil the experience of the person who doesn't like spoilers, and that means maintaining a strict policy of self-censorship outside of venues where I've posted thorough spoiler warnings. It also means that occasionally, if something is very new or the spoiler is very large, I may screen or remove comments containing spoilers from posts that aren't marked "spoilers here." That way, everyone gets a little closer to what they want, and life is good.
Make sense?
And yet, as is always the danger, they got me thinking.
My position on spoilers for my own work is that, as the author, I have to be scrupulously careful, both because it's not fair of me to take the experience of reading something for the first time away from someone, and because sometimes, I can spoil things which haven't happened yet, which means that sometimes, my spoilers can change. Merav was one of my first Machete Squad members. She and I have talked through at least three different iterations of the timeline, including characters who wound up never existing, and excluding characters who wound up being very important. So there are times when she'll say "but you can't do _____, it contradicts _____," and _____ is something that not only hasn't happened yet, it's never going to happen. I didn't mean to confuse her, it just happened.
There's also the question of authorial deceit. A few years ago, people in the fandom of a TV show I watched-and I honestly don't remember which show it was, that's sort of beside the point-were furious because, at the end of the season, what happened didn't match the spoilers they'd received from the showrunner at the start of the season. He had lied to them. He had intentionally deceived them. And oh, were they pissed. But as a writer, I can see where maybe he didn't lie. Stories twist and change. Characters I thought would be totally essential disappear, and new characters wander onto the scene. When I told Jennifer how Sparrow Hill Road was going to play out, I wasn't lying, even though things didn't end that way. The story changed in my hands. I don't ever want my readers to feel like I lied to them because of spoilers. I try to play fair, and that's important to me.
Some people find that spoilers enhance their enjoyment of the work. I know that sometimes, when I'm really excited about something, or really anxious about it, I'll seek out spoilers just to brace myself better. I'm currently looking for anything that can confirm certain upcoming X-Men storylines. There's a key phrase there: "seek out spoilers."
When I get accidentally spoiled for something, I am pissed, and depending on the magnitude of the spoiler, I may cross the work off my list of things to do. I've never seen The Sixth Sense because of a careless spoiler. I decided not to see Serenity when every major event and plot twist of the movie was spoiled by enthusiastic fans. I think you should absolutely have the freedom to choose to be spoiled, but I don't think I should be spoiling people without warning them, or without their consent.
Sometimes knowing a thing is coming really does enhance the story, or at least change it. Writing stories about Jonathan and Frances Healy is oddly bittersweet for me, because I know how they both die-and that isn't a spoiler, since they're Verity's great-grandparents, and cryptozoology isn't a career that comes with a guarantee of a long life. It's not a spoiler to say that Alice and Thomas will eventually get married, that Rose dies alone by the side of the road, or that science accidentally makes zombies. These are background statements, and even if I later go back and write stories set before those things happened, they don't turn into spoilers.
I wish I loved John and Fran a little less. It would make what's coming a lot less hard.
I guess what it comes down to is that I don't want to spoil the experience of the person who doesn't like spoilers, and that means maintaining a strict policy of self-censorship outside of venues where I've posted thorough spoiler warnings. It also means that occasionally, if something is very new or the spoiler is very large, I may screen or remove comments containing spoilers from posts that aren't marked "spoilers here." That way, everyone gets a little closer to what they want, and life is good.
Make sense?