A ramble, because this is the place for it . . . right?
So, no, I don't post very often here. Which is too bad, since I actually pay for this blasted journal. Last year I tried to make a resolution that I'd actually post once a week, but ... that lasted until March? And then it became a simple, 'oh, hey, I posted a new story here' space.
But today I have something I want to talk about. I'm probably going to piss off a couple of people, and I suppose that's okay. I just . . . I don't know if I need answers so much? Or just to talk some stuff out.
It all started with a book on a friend's hotel bed at the Xena con. It was by an author I had heard of, and I'd read some of her older stuff online, and while it wasn't award worthy it wasn't horrid - just a little predictable and simple. So, I figured I'd take a look at the book and see what her published stuff was like. Now, I don't know if this is representative of the subject matter of her other published stuff? But it was totally different from her online stuff. It was basically something about a serial killer and the two people from totally different walks of life who hunt him down. Sounds okay so far, right? Until you realize that one of the people hunting him is from a government task force and the other is . . . a mob assassin? Did I get that right? And the serial killer is . . . an extreme example. He takes the skin from his victims and creates art pieces? Really? And he's being protected by a member of organized crime . . . in Vietnam??
Now, this is what I got from flipping through the book in just about ten minutes, and then hurriedly putting it down. I might have a few details messed up, but I think you get the gist of it. Yes, the two women hunting the serial killer fall in love, and yes they go through all kinds of horribly dangerous situations to get the guy, and yes, from what I could tell, they come out just fine on the other side. Realism, where art thou?
I've found that a lot of 'lesbian' fiction is like this. Whether it's a crime novel, or a romance, or just some basic mystery, you can guarantee that the two lead characters will a) go through dangerous situations that will involve hurt/comfort at some point, b) save the day against all the odds, c)fall in love, have fantastic sex during which they have simultaneous orgasms and end up with each other in the end, probably to live happily ever after . . . until the sequel when they do it all over again.
Occasionally a formula book is fun. I have indeed spent several afternoons or evenings reading such books (and I still read bad fan fic). But I don't remember any of them being quite as outlandish as this one. Yet, when I asked if I was being a snob because I didn't like the book, I was firmly told yes.
I think what bothers me most about 'lesbian' fiction isn't that it's formulaic or even that you can find the first sex scene on page 85, give or take ten or fifteen pages. What I object to is that it's overblown, completely unrealistic, and I can't get past page ten with any kind of suspension of disbelief. I mean -- seriously, a mob assassin after a serial killer who's being protected by foreign mafia? What?
Not only that, it tends to be badly written. I'm not talking punctuation and grammar; most editors can make the book readable, if not enjoyable. I'm talking about characters that are one dimensional, where everything about them is told rather than shown. I'm talking about stories that are pure narration and internal dialogue, or where there's so much 'character' that the plot suffers and stagnates. Or there's so much plot that the reader is soon lost and wondering just how anything is going to be resolved -- and then everything is quickly and easily resolved by a sudden twist that comes out of nowhere, which steals the opportunity for any growth in the main character and leaves the reader staring at the page much like a small boy stares at the hopscotch grid and wonders, 'what just happened here?'
I spent years learning how to craft a story. Literary analysis, creative writing classes, where my stuff was torn apart by other writers as well as the taskmasters that taught the class. Months spent learning each rule, struggling to set the scene through action rather than narration, to build a character and tell the reader about them without simply saying it. Show, not tell; actions speak louder than words. Years to learn the rules before I could use the final one: If it works break all the rules.
Even today, I'm not there. When I tell a story, I worry there's too much detail. I worry I'm letting too much narration sneak in. I'm no master. I have a beta reader that will work with me on occasion and I can't count the number of times she's highlighted something and left me the simple note: 'Nope. This doesn't work.' Or she's told me right out, 'I don't feel anything from this character, and I should. You need to work on this.' And I do. Because I want to learn, I want to get better. I want someone to tear my work apart so I can put it together better, tighter, and get it right.
And I don't see the writers in lesbian fiction doing anything like that. It bugs me. It really, really does. Because there are some good writers out there, but if they worked they could be so. much. better.
So, I'm a snob. I accept it. But here's the thing: what these writers produce is popular. People buy it; lesbians love it. They salivate to get it. Part of me understands why: lesbians have for years been starved for literature where they and their relationships are center stage. Within the vastness of the publishing industry, the fiction that's written for and about lesbians exists in the tiniest corner. Bigger than it used to be, growing every year, certainly. But tiny. So I get that lesbians still crave fiction where they're the stars.
Personally I think I'm a better writer than some of them. Not all; there are books out there that I read and just go, wow, great story, well written, excellent job. But I think I'm pretty okay most of the time. I'm just not popular. I tend to look for unique plots and situations rather than just using a formula.
Marion Zimmer Bradley (and I'm paraphrasing here) said that it's nice to be good but popular is what gets published, and most published fiction is based on a formula because that's what sells. It's just an economical fact. And I recognize that it's true.
Now, I've just told you I think I'm a decent writer. But lately my confidence in my own ability has been shaken. I gave two of my stories to a friend who'd never read my original work. She was in the middle of a very big project but said she would get back to me when she'd read them, and said she would let me know in no uncertain terms what she thought of them. I really wanted her opinion because, one, she's straight, and I have no idea how my stuff plays with a straight audience, and two, she's of a more literary bent than most people I know (even if she thinks Anne Bishop is a good writer. Again, popular vs. good? I don't know). So, I sent her the stories and waited.
That was like . . . three weeks ago. No word. Now, I'm fully aware that I'm probably being paranoid. She's like, super super busy. I know. I get that. But I'm beginning to think that she's just looking for a nice way to tell me she really hated the stories. I could take that, really, if she'd just tell me why so I can try to make them better. Because it's the only way I'm going to learn.
All I've ever wanted is to tell stories, and I can do that whether I get published or not. But it would be nice to hold a book in my hand again and say, 'that's mine. I did that'. So maybe I should try the formula, see what comes of it.
Anyone have an opinion?
But today I have something I want to talk about. I'm probably going to piss off a couple of people, and I suppose that's okay. I just . . . I don't know if I need answers so much? Or just to talk some stuff out.
It all started with a book on a friend's hotel bed at the Xena con. It was by an author I had heard of, and I'd read some of her older stuff online, and while it wasn't award worthy it wasn't horrid - just a little predictable and simple. So, I figured I'd take a look at the book and see what her published stuff was like. Now, I don't know if this is representative of the subject matter of her other published stuff? But it was totally different from her online stuff. It was basically something about a serial killer and the two people from totally different walks of life who hunt him down. Sounds okay so far, right? Until you realize that one of the people hunting him is from a government task force and the other is . . . a mob assassin? Did I get that right? And the serial killer is . . . an extreme example. He takes the skin from his victims and creates art pieces? Really? And he's being protected by a member of organized crime . . . in Vietnam??
Now, this is what I got from flipping through the book in just about ten minutes, and then hurriedly putting it down. I might have a few details messed up, but I think you get the gist of it. Yes, the two women hunting the serial killer fall in love, and yes they go through all kinds of horribly dangerous situations to get the guy, and yes, from what I could tell, they come out just fine on the other side. Realism, where art thou?
I've found that a lot of 'lesbian' fiction is like this. Whether it's a crime novel, or a romance, or just some basic mystery, you can guarantee that the two lead characters will a) go through dangerous situations that will involve hurt/comfort at some point, b) save the day against all the odds, c)fall in love, have fantastic sex during which they have simultaneous orgasms and end up with each other in the end, probably to live happily ever after . . . until the sequel when they do it all over again.
Occasionally a formula book is fun. I have indeed spent several afternoons or evenings reading such books (and I still read bad fan fic). But I don't remember any of them being quite as outlandish as this one. Yet, when I asked if I was being a snob because I didn't like the book, I was firmly told yes.
I think what bothers me most about 'lesbian' fiction isn't that it's formulaic or even that you can find the first sex scene on page 85, give or take ten or fifteen pages. What I object to is that it's overblown, completely unrealistic, and I can't get past page ten with any kind of suspension of disbelief. I mean -- seriously, a mob assassin after a serial killer who's being protected by foreign mafia? What?
Not only that, it tends to be badly written. I'm not talking punctuation and grammar; most editors can make the book readable, if not enjoyable. I'm talking about characters that are one dimensional, where everything about them is told rather than shown. I'm talking about stories that are pure narration and internal dialogue, or where there's so much 'character' that the plot suffers and stagnates. Or there's so much plot that the reader is soon lost and wondering just how anything is going to be resolved -- and then everything is quickly and easily resolved by a sudden twist that comes out of nowhere, which steals the opportunity for any growth in the main character and leaves the reader staring at the page much like a small boy stares at the hopscotch grid and wonders, 'what just happened here?'
I spent years learning how to craft a story. Literary analysis, creative writing classes, where my stuff was torn apart by other writers as well as the taskmasters that taught the class. Months spent learning each rule, struggling to set the scene through action rather than narration, to build a character and tell the reader about them without simply saying it. Show, not tell; actions speak louder than words. Years to learn the rules before I could use the final one: If it works break all the rules.
Even today, I'm not there. When I tell a story, I worry there's too much detail. I worry I'm letting too much narration sneak in. I'm no master. I have a beta reader that will work with me on occasion and I can't count the number of times she's highlighted something and left me the simple note: 'Nope. This doesn't work.' Or she's told me right out, 'I don't feel anything from this character, and I should. You need to work on this.' And I do. Because I want to learn, I want to get better. I want someone to tear my work apart so I can put it together better, tighter, and get it right.
And I don't see the writers in lesbian fiction doing anything like that. It bugs me. It really, really does. Because there are some good writers out there, but if they worked they could be so. much. better.
So, I'm a snob. I accept it. But here's the thing: what these writers produce is popular. People buy it; lesbians love it. They salivate to get it. Part of me understands why: lesbians have for years been starved for literature where they and their relationships are center stage. Within the vastness of the publishing industry, the fiction that's written for and about lesbians exists in the tiniest corner. Bigger than it used to be, growing every year, certainly. But tiny. So I get that lesbians still crave fiction where they're the stars.
Personally I think I'm a better writer than some of them. Not all; there are books out there that I read and just go, wow, great story, well written, excellent job. But I think I'm pretty okay most of the time. I'm just not popular. I tend to look for unique plots and situations rather than just using a formula.
Marion Zimmer Bradley (and I'm paraphrasing here) said that it's nice to be good but popular is what gets published, and most published fiction is based on a formula because that's what sells. It's just an economical fact. And I recognize that it's true.
Now, I've just told you I think I'm a decent writer. But lately my confidence in my own ability has been shaken. I gave two of my stories to a friend who'd never read my original work. She was in the middle of a very big project but said she would get back to me when she'd read them, and said she would let me know in no uncertain terms what she thought of them. I really wanted her opinion because, one, she's straight, and I have no idea how my stuff plays with a straight audience, and two, she's of a more literary bent than most people I know (even if she thinks Anne Bishop is a good writer. Again, popular vs. good? I don't know). So, I sent her the stories and waited.
That was like . . . three weeks ago. No word. Now, I'm fully aware that I'm probably being paranoid. She's like, super super busy. I know. I get that. But I'm beginning to think that she's just looking for a nice way to tell me she really hated the stories. I could take that, really, if she'd just tell me why so I can try to make them better. Because it's the only way I'm going to learn.
All I've ever wanted is to tell stories, and I can do that whether I get published or not. But it would be nice to hold a book in my hand again and say, 'that's mine. I did that'. So maybe I should try the formula, see what comes of it.
Anyone have an opinion?