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alexandraerinI don't mean her books, though yes, those are awesome. I mean her blog. I've been aware of her as A Person On The Internet longer than I've been aware of her as a writer, because she's LJ-friends with people I'm LJ-friends with, and I have met her briefly in person and attended at least one panel she participated in, but I've never really read her blog.
I don't often sit and read other authors' blogs about writing, because writing is such a personal thing to me. Every once in a while I do come across a quote or something that I think is broadly applicable, but even then it seems too easy to get bogged down in One True Wayism and the fear of Doing It Wrong if one is paying too much attention to how others are doing it.
And while my writing methods are still not her writing methods and vice-versa, I find much to identify with and more to admire and emulate in how she deliberately navigates some of the thornier issues.
From Women, Warriors, and Gender Policing:
I've had so many shades of this conversation with/feedback from readers. As far as I can tell this is a big part of the "Mackenzie has a supernatural aura of attractiveness" theory: the story establishes that she's plain at best and possibly physically unattractive, yet people are attracted to her. Must be magic!
I think this comes down to the fact that we generally believe as a society that beauty and ugliness are objective absolutes. We can acknowledge that a person who's "not beautiful" might be "beautiful to someone", and we think that's nice for the two of them but ultimately it's a quirk or defect that exists in the beholder's eye that allows this happy occurrence and there's something sad about it if we're sure that the partner with the forgiving standards "could do better".
Even someone who doesn't actively believe this has grown up immersed in a society that does, and so when the writer--whose word the reader has tacitly agreed to take in lieu of the report of their own senses--signals or suggests that one character is not attractive, it's taken in the same way if the story establishes that a character is short or tall. If I characterized a character as short but then other characters kept asking her to get things off the high shelf, that would strike people as odd.
(This is a weird example to use, of course, because Mackenzie mentally codes herself as "short" when she is in fact pretty average height for a human woman.)
Why Is Oree Shoth Blind?, which I almost didn't read because it deals with the second book in a series of which I'm still on the first one.
The character I've gotten this sort of thing about the most is one of my favorite MUniverse characters, Marlot from MoarMU. Why is she fat? Why does she have a limp? Some people viciously hate on her for these things (yes, even the limp, though mostly the fat), and some people preface their comments by pointing out that they don't, "I really like Marlot as a character, but why did you make her fat?"
And then finally (though this probably won't be the final time I link to something from her blog), we have this from My Job Is To Break Your Heart:
I don't really have anything to add to that, except to say that I might just start linking people to it when they complain that the story I'm writing isn't the one they want to read and give me the laundry list of what needs to change to keep their interest.
I don't often sit and read other authors' blogs about writing, because writing is such a personal thing to me. Every once in a while I do come across a quote or something that I think is broadly applicable, but even then it seems too easy to get bogged down in One True Wayism and the fear of Doing It Wrong if one is paying too much attention to how others are doing it.
And while my writing methods are still not her writing methods and vice-versa, I find much to identify with and more to admire and emulate in how she deliberately navigates some of the thornier issues.
From Women, Warriors, and Gender Policing:
So when I think I’m doing something groundbreaking by making my protagonist a woman who’s not conventionally attractive, then making it clear that she is attractive to people who can see beyond society’s expectations, I still have to deal with reader complaints that she’s “ugly” or that it’s inexplicable why two men (well, a man and a god) would want her.
I've had so many shades of this conversation with/feedback from readers. As far as I can tell this is a big part of the "Mackenzie has a supernatural aura of attractiveness" theory: the story establishes that she's plain at best and possibly physically unattractive, yet people are attracted to her. Must be magic!
I think this comes down to the fact that we generally believe as a society that beauty and ugliness are objective absolutes. We can acknowledge that a person who's "not beautiful" might be "beautiful to someone", and we think that's nice for the two of them but ultimately it's a quirk or defect that exists in the beholder's eye that allows this happy occurrence and there's something sad about it if we're sure that the partner with the forgiving standards "could do better".
Even someone who doesn't actively believe this has grown up immersed in a society that does, and so when the writer--whose word the reader has tacitly agreed to take in lieu of the report of their own senses--signals or suggests that one character is not attractive, it's taken in the same way if the story establishes that a character is short or tall. If I characterized a character as short but then other characters kept asking her to get things off the high shelf, that would strike people as odd.
(This is a weird example to use, of course, because Mackenzie mentally codes herself as "short" when she is in fact pretty average height for a human woman.)
Why Is Oree Shoth Blind?, which I almost didn't read because it deals with the second book in a series of which I'm still on the first one.
On the perceptual level, the plain fact is that there aren’t a lot of stories written from the PoV of disabled people (at least not in English-language fiction), and most of us are still wrestling with understanding and addressing how ableism causes and impacts this. Think about it this way: nobody’s ever asked me, “Why did you make Yeine able to see?” That’s because the unspoken subtext of the “why’s Oree blind” question is Why is she different, why’s she strange, why didn’t you make her “normal” or like everyone else? The subtext is the same with other variations of this question that I’ve gotten, like “Why is your protagonist female?” or “Why did you make her black?” (or “why didn’t you make her black?”) and so on. Ultimately the real problem with all these questions is not the writer’s choice, but the reader’s assumptions about who “belongs” in epic fantasy. Or who’s “allowed” to write it.
...
I get that some people think I should have written The Broken Kingdoms as an intensive study of Blindness, Living With. Or Womanhood, Functioning Despite. Or Blackness, Existence Of, or whatever. Many of us have been trained, thanks to ham-handed efforts at diversity in the wider world, to expect that certain kinds of people will only show up in A Very Special Episode circumstances.
The character I've gotten this sort of thing about the most is one of my favorite MUniverse characters, Marlot from MoarMU. Why is she fat? Why does she have a limp? Some people viciously hate on her for these things (yes, even the limp, though mostly the fat), and some people preface their comments by pointing out that they don't, "I really like Marlot as a character, but why did you make her fat?"
And then finally (though this probably won't be the final time I link to something from her blog), we have this from My Job Is To Break Your Heart:
...I’ll just be my usual blunt self: I don’t really care what other people think about what I write. Oh, I care about improving my writing, so I listen to the critiques of others whose opinions I respect and/or who I know are just as committed to the craft as I am, if not more. But I don’t care how people react to the content of my work, or its execution beyond that craftsmanship level. I’m not sure any author can care about things like that and not go crazy. Some of the biggest critics of 100K dislike it because it’s not the book they wanted it to be, even as they acknowledge that it’s not badly-written. And while that’s a completely understandable response — after all, people pay quite a bit for novels these days; they expect a satisfying return on that investment — it’s also an ultimately irrelevant response, to me. What am I gonna do, suddenly start trying to write what those readers want? If I do, I’m going to disappoint those readers who like what I have written, which is a fast and magnificent way to torpedo my own career. And what if what those disgruntled readers want is something I don’t enjoy writing, or something contrary to the story that I want to tell? In that case I’ll only disappoint myself… but I won’t finish it, most likely. Writing a novel is tough even when I love the material; maintaining the necessary discipline for a book I don’t love is pretty much impossible.
So for those of you who are disappointed in me for not writing what you wanted to read: sorry. Kinda. I’m not a huge fan of fauxpologies, so I feel obliged to point out that this apology isn’t false, it’s just partial. I truly am sorry that you feel your money was wasted. Thanks for taking a chance on my book, and I wish that gamble had been rewarded. But before you write me to demand that I write what you want next time, please think about what would’ve made the experience more satisfying, and ask yourself if it’s realistic to expect that of me as an artist and an individual (as opposed to a factory deliberately trying to appeal to the greatest common denominator of tastes). And consider, as I think Patrick suggests, what you really want from your fiction. Is it formulas, something customized to your precise preferences, the same great experience you had last week? Do you want exactly $7.99 worth of happiness?
Or do you want to be surprised?
Because those surprises will not always be pleasant, if so. They won’t always be what you expect, or even what you want. That’s the risk inherent in art. Some of it will exalt you; some of it will frustrate and anger you. If it doesn’t do these things, or if some quality of how it’s crafted interferes with its effect, then I’m not doing my job, and you’re welcome to take me to task for that. But if you finish one of my books and think to yourself, “Why did she go in that direction?” or “I can’t believe she killed [character X]!” or “That wasn’t at all what I expected it to be”… Well, then, good. That’s how you’re supposed to feel. And I’m glad, not sorry, for that.
I don't really have anything to add to that, except to say that I might just start linking people to it when they complain that the story I'm writing isn't the one they want to read and give me the laundry list of what needs to change to keep their interest.