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Jun. 5th, 2008 07:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Last night, while talking to a friend, about the fic that I started while Scott and Delia were out of town over Memorial Day weekend, I said, "I think my narrative kinks are showing." We talked then about whether or not that's necessarily a bad thing. The only conclusion was that it depends.
Narrative kinks become boring, clichéd and so on very easily because a writer can forget that there's more to the story and won't necessarily notice what's missing because what's there works so well-- for people who share that narrative kink. It's also easy to end up writing the same story over and over again. What was good the first time tends to be, at best, stale the fourth or fifth time (at worst, it's stinking, rotting, and decomposing).
On the other hand, a narrative kink is a story device, a theme, a setting that has power for the writer. That power can often translate into a stronger story, a deeper and richer story. Writing a story that doesn't appeal to the author's narrative kinks is often like trying to cook without a staple ingredient. It can be done. It can even be done well, but there's an absence at the heart of it.
For me as a writer*, it seems to be a fascination with poking at what particular characters will do when life is very nearly but not completely unbearable, when none of the choices are desirable. Who keeps going anyway? Who finds a new path? Who gives up and dies? Who shatters? What constitutes 'nearly but not completely unbearable' for each character? The pressures involved don't have to be cataclysmic or even unhappy. "Rustication" is a pretty gentle story compared to, say, "Rheotaxis," but both somehow fit the same narrative kink.
This extends to looking at the world building of AUs in fanfic because I can look at canon and say, 'What would it take to make this character do *that* instead of what he did? What would that mean for this other character? For those events?' Most canonical events have deep roots, at least in a well constructed narrative (which may be why there are many large fandoms built on rather mediocre canons) so that they're hard to shift without digging equally deeply into the characterization, setting and so on.
*I don't always follow this narrative kink when I read. I'm not always in the mood for the work involved or the character pain involved. I also generally can't tell from a blurb or worse a title and pairing whether a story will hit or miss the exact buttons I need. A near miss ends up worse than a distant one. Either I see how the story could be exactly what I want, or I end up smashing into a narrative squick-- I don't, for example, enjoy seeing characters destroyed for the sake of destruction. I prefer some hope in my stories.
***********************************'
As a side note, I think I finally figured out what's stalling me out on "Rheotaxis." I know I've said that before, so you can all take this with a largish grain of salt. I have no idea what to do about the issue in question (Yes,
dormouse_in_tea, I am thinking about your advice. It's just not simple for me). If I can decide what to do about the problem and then make myself do it, I can probably finish the cursed chapter. Once I'm through that, the problem should be done.
Narrative kinks become boring, clichéd and so on very easily because a writer can forget that there's more to the story and won't necessarily notice what's missing because what's there works so well-- for people who share that narrative kink. It's also easy to end up writing the same story over and over again. What was good the first time tends to be, at best, stale the fourth or fifth time (at worst, it's stinking, rotting, and decomposing).
On the other hand, a narrative kink is a story device, a theme, a setting that has power for the writer. That power can often translate into a stronger story, a deeper and richer story. Writing a story that doesn't appeal to the author's narrative kinks is often like trying to cook without a staple ingredient. It can be done. It can even be done well, but there's an absence at the heart of it.
For me as a writer*, it seems to be a fascination with poking at what particular characters will do when life is very nearly but not completely unbearable, when none of the choices are desirable. Who keeps going anyway? Who finds a new path? Who gives up and dies? Who shatters? What constitutes 'nearly but not completely unbearable' for each character? The pressures involved don't have to be cataclysmic or even unhappy. "Rustication" is a pretty gentle story compared to, say, "Rheotaxis," but both somehow fit the same narrative kink.
This extends to looking at the world building of AUs in fanfic because I can look at canon and say, 'What would it take to make this character do *that* instead of what he did? What would that mean for this other character? For those events?' Most canonical events have deep roots, at least in a well constructed narrative (which may be why there are many large fandoms built on rather mediocre canons) so that they're hard to shift without digging equally deeply into the characterization, setting and so on.
*I don't always follow this narrative kink when I read. I'm not always in the mood for the work involved or the character pain involved. I also generally can't tell from a blurb or worse a title and pairing whether a story will hit or miss the exact buttons I need. A near miss ends up worse than a distant one. Either I see how the story could be exactly what I want, or I end up smashing into a narrative squick-- I don't, for example, enjoy seeing characters destroyed for the sake of destruction. I prefer some hope in my stories.
***********************************'
As a side note, I think I finally figured out what's stalling me out on "Rheotaxis." I know I've said that before, so you can all take this with a largish grain of salt. I have no idea what to do about the issue in question (Yes,
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