WHY WRITE?: Literary Fiction

Gentle Readers, it’s finally time for the last installment of the WHY WRITE?^TM series!

Last but certainly not least, let’s discuss that lofty ideal of writerly circles, the prized gem of the literateur: the work of literary fiction. No one can quite define what it is. Agents and editors may tell you they can’t sell it. But, boy oh boy, do we in the book world ever lust after it anyway.

So, why write literary fiction?

For the glory. Let’s not kid ourselves: if you want a National Book Award or a Pulitzer Prize, you’re best off writing literary fiction. If you want to be read in classrooms long after your writing days are over, or to be immortalized between Sherman Alexie and Margaret Atwood in some ages-from-now edition of the Norton Anthology, you’re best off writing literary fiction. Writers of other genres may have avid, loyal fan-bases, but writers of lit. fic. tend to find followers in high places. There’s something about the genre that, when done well, demands respect. Those hungry for fame, or driven to find immortality through fiction (and let’s face it, who among us isn’t one of those people, to some extent?) seem to find themselves irresistibly drawn to literary fiction.

Because you are devoted to—nay, even obsessive about—the craft of writing. How does literary fiction earn that kind of respect? Though every writer labors over their craft, it’s the authors of literary fiction who seem to take it to a near-obsessive extreme. They make keen observations about even the most miniscule of events, then make an art form of expressing them. Writers of literary fiction, even when they rise to fame on the strength of their novels, are essentially poets and short story writers at heart. They excel at saying much in as few words as possible; at expressing complex thoughts in a single, clever turn of phrase or a precisely-chosen word; and at drawing lofty themes out of even the most deceptively simple texts.

Because you have something to say… Because of its complex nature, literary fiction begs analysis. Think of Hemingway’s spare dialogue, which nonetheless can spur hours of debate, or Tony Morrison’s lush language packed with Freudian metaphor and cultural significance. It’s nearly impossible to pick up a good work of literary fiction and not have to wonder what’s going on beneath the service. Well-crafted lit. fic. reveals more of itself as the reader delves deeper into its elements; thus, it’s a natural choice for a writer who wants to be considered in academic circles, to reveal universal truths about human nature, or to comment upon or critique society.

…And you want to be taken seriously about it. As you’ll know if you read the WHY WRITE?^TM episodes on science fiction and fantasy, YA, or historical fiction, I don’t believe that literary fiction is the only genre that tells universal truths or lends itself to disseminating meaning. However, it may be the genre in which we most expect it, and thus the genre that gets the majority of the credit for it. Maybe it’s because so many of those who judge the merits of texts earned their laurels primarily by studying the last several centuries’ authors writing in the same style, or maybe it’s because the lit. fic. genre more than any other allows an author to strip her text down to its most meaningful elements; whatever the reason, the literary world does seem to take literary fiction more seriously than any other genre. The credibility gained from writing well in such a respected genre can easily transfer to your message—so if you want to be heard, literary fiction may be the way to go.

What are your reasons for writing or reading literary fiction, if you do? What have I missed?

And on another note, what did you like about this series; what did you not?

Let me know in comments!

WHY WRITE?: Historical Fiction

I’m not going to lie—this week’s WHY WRITE?^TM installment was a real challenge for me. When I took a look at the voting for this series and saw how popular historical fiction was proving itself to be, my first thought was that I couldn’t possibly do the topic justice. What do I know about writing historical fiction? What do I even know about reading it?

To quell my anxiety I turned to research, seeking out authors’ accounts of how and why they write historical fiction in hopes of justifying my own speculation on the matter. The articles I found helped inform and guide my thinking about historical fiction.

And then I began to realize that I do know something about historical fiction. True, it’s not one of those genres that I instinctively seek out—more often, it finds me. And, in the way that truly successful historical fiction can, it made its way into my heart without ever striking me with the thought that I was enjoying history (something which would have horrified my sixteen-year-old self, and which surprises me even today). And in examining what made me, a somewhat forgetful young woman with an aversion to date-memorization and name-recitation, fall in love with books like Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner or Laurie Halse Anderson’s Chains, I think I’ve come up with some answers to the question of why you might want to write historical fiction:

Because you want to explore an unfamiliar world. In a way, your reasons for writing historical fiction might not be so different from another writer’s reasons for tackling speculative fiction. It gives writers and readers alike the chance to experience another way of life vicariously. With the speed at which technology advances, political power changes hands, and trends come and go, the past can sometimes seem even more remote and unimaginable than any sci-fi universe—so historical writers, like authors of speculative fiction, are in the business of introducing their readers to new worlds. That opportunity is alluring to writers and readers alike; as Katherine Paterson says of her historical fiction, “…If I wrote only about what I know, I would never write. I write to find out.”

Because you love to learn, and you love to teach. But, unlike speculative fiction, historical fiction is firmly grounded in the rules of the real world—perhaps more so than any other fictional genre, since the events of the past are already written. For those who love research, historical fiction offers a chance to put that passion to use. What’s more, it can offer writers a way of sharing that passion with others. Events that may never have piqued a reader’s interest when encountered in a history textbook come to life when presented in the form of a story. And once that story takes root in a reader’s mind, it can plant seeds of curiosity that drive the reader to explore history all on his or her own.

Because you want to get to know not only the “what” of history, but also the “who.” One of the most powerful strengths of historical fiction is the ability it has to put a human, relatable face to events that seem far-removed from us now. Historical fiction gives writers a chance to explore long-gone times and places and to meet characters they never could have confronted otherwise—characters with whom both readers and writers can connect, even across the boundaries of time and culture. It’s no coincidence that, despite the fact that I count some works of historical fiction among my favorite books, I couldn’t immediately call to mind any that I’d read. When I think about The Kite Runner, I think of it first as a story about people, and second as a story about the conflicts in Afghanistan. Nonetheless, the relationship that I built with the novel’s characters spurred my interest in that time periods and the conflicts that surrounded it, and I began to see the people I’d read about in the paper and in textbooks as individuals, each with their own story.

Because you want to give a voice to someone who hasn’t had it. I see a lot of subversive potential in that power to put a human face on history. Every society has, somewhere in its history, a group of people whose stories have not been heard. Sometimes social and economic factors (like the fact that slaves were not taught to write, or that the lower classes often lacked the leisure time required to do so) keep certain minorities from sharing their stories. In other cases, their stories are intentionally rewritten or overshadowed by the voices of the majority, significantly altering the way we learn and understand history. We’ve all heard that the “winners” in any conflict are the ones who get to write the history of it. However, a writer of historical fiction can subvert that trend. Laurie Halse Anderson managed it in Chains, a novel in which she featured an African-American slave girl (someone whose viewpoint, I’d argue, is thrice-suppressed—for her race, her gender, and her age). When done respectfully, empathetically, and often, imagining history from the perspectives of those who are or were historically oppressed can give a much-needed voice to their struggle.

Because you need to make sense of the world we live in. The statement that we must learn from our history or else be doomed to repeat it may be a cliché, but it’s nonetheless true that, as Katherine Paterson says, “History gives us a pair of powerful eyeglasses with which to examine our own Times.” Sometimes as writers and readers we aren’t yet ready to confront the horrors we experience within our lifetimes—whether that means terrorism, war, or the prejudice we witness in our own society. But we can understand them better, and we can comment upon them or experience much-needed catharsis from them, through the lens of history. Ron Rash says it best in Publishers Weekly: “That may be the best that any work of historical fiction has to offer—not just to its author, but, more importantly, to its readers—a chance to grapple with the mysteries and complexities of the past, in hopes of seeing the present a little clearer.”

Now it’s your turn to educate me. Readers and writers of historical fiction, what draws you to the genre? What are the strengths that I missed? Do you disagree with any of the ones I listed? Let me know in comments!

WHY WRITE?: Science Fiction, Fantasy and Speculative Fiction

Thanks for waiting patiently (more patiently than I did, that’s for sure) for me to get my computer back up and running so the Why Write?^TM series could return! I’m back in action now with a shiny new hard drive, and I can’t wait to hear all of your thoughts on speculative fiction.

You probably know that I love a good piece of speculative fiction, whether it’s a short story by Neil Gaiman, a novel by J.R.R. Tolkien, or a TV show like Battlestar Galactica. I’ve written and read my fair share of literary criticism on speculative fiction, and recently had my socks rocked off by the Sci-Fi Museum in Seattle (which I highly recommend, if ever you’re in the area). Recently The Rejectionist got us all psyched up with her awesome Feminist Science Fiction Week, and it seems the book world still hasn’t run out of things to say about fantasy since the last Harry Potter book was released more than three years ago. It’s clear that speculative fiction has made a huge impression on us in recent years, so this is an area I’m particularly excited to explore. So with no further adieu—why write science fiction and fantasy?

Because you want to be part of a community. From the Trekkie to the Renaissance Faire regular, fans of science fiction and fantasy are a breed of their own. They devour every piece of speculative fiction they can get their hands on, they gather in rock-concert-crowd numbers for conventions, signings, and midnight movie showings or marathons. As readers, they tend towards a religious devotion to the science fiction and fantasy section of the bookstore. They know the cover clichés and spine fonts to look for, and they’ll approach new and established authors alike with the same eager, open mind. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more devoted fan base.

Because you want to get away. It’s no surprise that science fiction and fantasy tend to see an uptick in sales during times of political unrest, war, or economic strife. To some extent, all reading is about escapism—the chance to experience the unknown through another’s eyes for a few hundred pages—but nowhere is this more true than in speculative fiction. In sci-fi and fantasy we find an escape from the monotony (or downright unpleasantness, in some time periods) of everyday life. I’d guess that, in large part, the genre gains such devoted fans because the worlds it imagines, with all their wondrous possibilities, are positively addictive.

Because you want to channel your other passions into your writing. J.R.R. Tolkien was a philologist and linguist whose first job was with the Oxford English Dictionary; C.S. Lewis was an influential lay theologist; and James Tiptree Jr. (whose real name was Alice B. Sheldon) was a photointelligence expert for the U.S. Army Air Force and a doctor of experimental psychology. Great science fiction and fantasy has been written by biologists, astronomers, physicists, psychologists, philosophers, mathematicians, political theorists and more, and for good reason. The challenge of inventing an entirely new world forces writers to draw upon all of their areas of expertise, and many writers take delight in the challenge. For many who write speculative fiction, part of what makes the genre so much fun is the chance to invent a new language for the world’s mythological creatures to speak; to describe the properties of an imagined world’s extraordinary flora and fauna; to accurately depict the physics of spacecraft motion; or to create an entirely new social structure, government and religion. Writers and readers of speculative fiction take delight in finding their other passions woven into the stories’ plots.

Because you want to take advantage of a blank slate. But there are more reasons to want to create a new society than simply to be able to weave your own passions into its structure. Every writer, regardless of his or her genre of choice, has to establish the rules that govern their story’s world. These rules can be as basic as gravity or as complex as socioeconomic class, and they often go unnoticed by the reader unless they are unexpectedly broken, but they are nonetheless crucial to a story’s believability. Most writers are stuck with the rules that govern the world that we live in—all except, of course, for writers of speculative fiction. Because they require the author to build a new world and society, science fiction and fantasy offer writers a chance to work from a clean slate and create whatever rules will best serve their story.

Because you have something to say… The chance to create their own worlds allows writers to critique the world we live in by calling rules we take for granted into question. In science fiction and fantasy, people of color can be in the majority; homosexuality can be typical while heterosexuals are considered unnatural; gender and sex can be fluid or altogether changeable; religion can be re-imagined or re-interpreted—the possibilities are endless. By presenting a different social structure as normal and fully functional, these stories call attention to the constructed nature of our own society and force us to confront our own learned prejudices. Writers like Ursula K. LeGuin, Philip Pullman, James Tiptree Jr., Octavia Butler, and more have created functional new societies in which the rules of our society are turned on their heads. In doing so, they have encouraged readers to question the beliefs they’ve inherited from the world around them, open their minds to all kinds of diversity, and imagine a more ideal world.

…And you can’t always just come out and say it. Because of their incredible potential for subversiveness, science fiction and fantasy are often highly political and relevant to social and political climates of the time and society in which they were written. Often, the best works of speculative fiction subtly satirize or comment upon contemporary events. George Orwell’s 1984 and Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World expressed fears about increasingly tyrannical leadership and the dehumanization of a society dependent upon modern technology; more recently, M.T. Anderson’s Feed expressed these same fears in a more updated form, featuring telepathic instant messaging and horrific pollution in a reflection of contemporary society’s obsessions. One of the things I love most about Battlestar Galactica is that it aired in the post-9/11 era and asked us to question issues of patriotism, fear, and our assumptions about or own humanity and that of those we treat as “others.” Episodes containing questionable election tactics or a character’s plea for a government that doesn’t make its decisions based on fear were startlingly relevant in the Bush era and remain so as the war in Iraq continues. In many ways the imagined-world context of science fiction and fantasy allows writers to make political statements that might otherwise be suppressed. And I think because there's a tendency in some lofty literary circles to write speculative fiction off as "too genre," it gets away with more than we give it credit for.

Do you agree? Disagree? Maybe there are other genres that do some of these things better. Maybe I missed a few good reasons. Let me know in comments!

WHY WRITE?: Young Adult Fiction

Thanks to everyone who voted on genres for the Why Write?^TM series last week! Voting is still open, so if you haven’t chimed in yet, head on over now to put in your two cents.

As for how the voting played out last week: literary fiction took the lead, followed by a tie between Young Adult fiction, sci-fi and fantasy (or speculative fiction), and historical fiction (who knew I had such history buffs among my readers?!). Romance followed that with just a few votes, and westerns and mysteries received a single vote each. I’m excited to dive in on those top four, and if you guys really like the Why Write?^TM series, let me know and I’ll tackle the extra challenge of dissecting romances as well.

I’m going to jump in at the middle here because today’s post flows pretty naturally from my recent post on why character transformation works so well in YA fiction. So—why write YA?

Because you want a welcoming audience. Teenagers who read do so voraciously. They read in school and out of it. They flock to blogs and message boards, they review the books they read on Amazon and in their own blogs, and they spend hours discussing their favorite books with their friends. From the droves of teens who dress up as characters from The Hunger Games or the Harry Potter series for Halloween, to those who flock to communities of writers and readers like John and Hank Green’s massive posse of Nerdfighters, to those who, hungry for more of their favorite characters, take to reading and writing fan fiction, I don’t know of any audience that more actively interacts with their books. Writers of YA, by and large, love to interact with their audiences—and how could they not, in the face of such devoted readers?

Because your readers need you. Middle school and high school can be nasty, and teens both yearn for connection and desperately fear putting themselves out there. I think that’s a big part of why so many teens become ardent readers. Like everyone, they want to open a book and see someone they recognize come to life on the pages. But even more than the adults who read, they need that character who’s just like them—to know they’re not alone, to know they’re not as strange as they feel, to know that if it’s bad, it can still get better. Affirmation and hope can be hard to find in the bitter wilderness of childhood, but a great YA author can give that to a teen.

Because you want to write something deep… Teens are smart and hungry to critique the world around them, including the books they read. Teens often get a bum rap for being addicted to video games, TV and Facebook, but the majority of teens I know are more tuned into the world than a lot of adults. Unlike so many tired nine-to-fivers, they can spend all day thinking at school and still not be ready to shut their brains off and veg when they get home. They’re not daunted by complex plot structures or layers of meaning, and they’re intelligent enough to understand and expand upon complex themes. If you have something serious to say, you might actually be more likely to be heard by a teenager than by an adult.

…But you also want to have fun with it. At the same time, teens are brutally honest and quick to call bullshit. They love to be blown away by a book’s deeper meaning, but they’re not as likely to put up with unnecessary frills. Books for teens are often more fun to read than adult books, without sacrificing the complex themes you find in literary fiction. Compare The Hunger Games or Feed to A Brave New World or 1984 and you’ve got similar themes being expressed in a more fast-paced, fun format. No one ever said that, just because you have something to say, you can’t have fun saying it.

Because you want to change the world. Teens are passionate, political and idealistic. Just as they’re eager to think critically about the world around them, they’re hungry for a cause to believe in—and, as Robyn pointed out a few weeks ago, they're quick to act on their ideals. If you’ve got a message, you might be better off imparting it on the young than on the old. Adults can be jaded or may have already decided exactly where they stand on an issue, but teenagers are still learning all they can, deciding what they think, and committing themselves to ideals. What’s more, teens are just a few years away from inheriting power. Given the right ideals, the next generation might be able to live better than we ever have.

Because you want to change a person. The books we read as teens are often the ones we remember best and love most fiercely, and for good reason. They determine the people we become, the ideals we adhere to, and the way we view the world. There’s a reason that the fight for people of color on book covers and for diversity of gender, sexuality and race in literature has been fought so much more loudly in the kid-lit community than in the world of adult fiction—we recognize that readers of YA are still forming their worldviews, and that books play a powerful role in that growth. The worlds teens experience when they read will help them, whether they are conscious of it or not, to decide what’s right or wrong and what’s normal or abnormal in the world around them. In some ways, picking up a pen to write for teens is (as one of the programmers in my office would say) your Spiderman moment: with great power comes great responsibility. When you write a book that hits home for a teenager, you help to form the belief system he or she will take into adulthood. You can literally have a hand in making that teen the person he or she is becoming.

Do you agree? Disagree? Maybe there are other genres that do some of these things better. Maybe I missed a few good reasons. Let me know in comments!

Introducing the 'Why Write?' Series!

So, a number of things in my life right now—from last week’s blog post (Why YA?) to a trip I made to the Science Fiction Museum (a.k.a. nerd paradise) in Seattle last month—have got me thinking a lot about why specific areas of fiction work, and when they work best. So I’m introducing a new feature on this blog for the next couple of weeks: the Why Write?^TM series!

In the series, I’ll explore a wide range of genres and try to dissect them to get at their inherent strengths. Of course I’ll talk about Young Adult fiction, Sci-Fi and Fantasy (how could I stop myself?), but I’m also interested in taking a look at some of the genres I’m not as quick to pick up. I hope this can be a chance for us to have a conversation about why you like the books you like, as well as an opportunity to learn about why writers choose their genres—because genre is a choice as much as it is story driven, and because the framework in which we set our plots does as much to determine their meaning as does any other element of writing.

In the interest of having the best conversations possible, I want to know what genres you most want to hear about. What genres do you love? Which ones are you curious about, or which ones have you thought of trying? Which ones puzzle you—which ones make you ask yourself who thought that up? If you want to vote for something you don’t see up here, hit me up with it in comments.

I don’t really feel like having rules tonight, so I’m just going to be honest and say I’ll pick the top however-many-I-feel-like to discuss. So get voting!