In the eyes of the enlightened, plot in fiction typically marks a work as “genre” and therefore neither “literary” nor intelligent.
DG Myers thinks not:
The most intelligent novels, I am almost tempted to claim, are those that are the most brilliantly plotted, in which every piece locks into place with an audible and satisfying click, and you are persuaded that no other ending is even possible. And that fewer and fewer novelists waste much thought on plot may explain the decline of intelligence in contemporary fiction.
I would argue that a plot “in which every piece locks into place with an audible and satisfying click” is as challenging as any other aspect of writing fiction.
I couldn’t agree more:
. . . [W]henever writing gets too painful, when each word and idea seems to be dragged from the mind like the limb of an aborted camel, reading offers a writer a lovely escape into a fantasy world where stories are revealed with simple ease and order on the page. Writing is often hell, but reading is almost always a pleasure if you are discerning.
Besides writing, the most important thing a writer can do is read. I average four hours a day, but even that feels too short.
I’ll never be able to thank my parents enough for making me a reader.
I’m not a big fan of rules—and rules about writing I find particularly egregious—but there are some entertaining nuggets scattered throughout the Guardian’s “Ten rules for writing fiction.”
Richard Ford wins for steering far away from the mechanics of writing. His No. 1 rule is also the most important:
Marry somebody you love and who thinks you being a writer’s a good idea.
Opposites may attract, but a successful marriage demands that insanity be equally proportioned among husband and wife.
It’s a good thing most writers don’t become writers out of some deep-seeded need for respect:
Walter Kirn, the author of the novel “Up in the Air,” may be watching the Oscars in his Montana living room. Although the movie has been nominated for six Academy Awards, including best picture and best adapted screenplay, Kirn hasn’t gotten an invite for writing the original work.
Of course, my first thought upon reading this was Cormac McCarthy’s brilliant response to John Jurgensen’s question about Hollywood’s fondness for collaborative writing:
JJ: But is there something compelling about the collaborative process compared to the solitary job of writing?
CM: Yes, it would compel you to avoid it at all costs.
My suggestion is that Kirn also avoids Hollywood’s annual festival of self-fellating at all costs.
It doesn’t matter where you live on this planet, you can’t escape scabships determined to interfere in your lives for the betterment of your lives.
From Israel, a proposed “law for the protection of literature and authors” which, of course, will simply lead to the destruction of literature and authors.
Haaretz rings in with its ringing non-endorsement of yet another goodist law:
The Knesset members behind this bill describe it as being of “prime social importance,” saying it will change literary life in Israel by setting fair financial compensation for authors, editors and translators and ensuring publishers’ and bookstores’ profits, while guaranteeing the reading public a variety of books at affordable prices.
All of this is of course impossible. Such centralized control didn’t even work in the Soviet Union. This bill will have the opposite effect of what it is setting out to do: It will lead to a collapse of the book market and harm the bookstore chains, publishers and the writers themselves.
Surely, there must be a promised land where goodists can be exiled to rule only themselves . . . It’d be the one thing goodists could actually do for the betterment of mankind.
(Link via The Literary Saloon)