Sometimes, I just can’t keep my mouth shut. Or my hands off the keyboard. Elitist Asshattery* is one of the things that do that to me.
So, you ask, what is Elitist Asshattery?
Well. You can find Elitist Asshats in most writers’ groups. They pretend to be normal people with a reasonable level of empathy and understanding for their fellow writer, but they aren’t. They’re douchebags with an unhealthy obsession with grammar, spelling, and punctuation. And they make no exception for people who haven’t had access to the same level of education as they have; nor for those who struggle with neurological challenges such as dyslexia.
Before you jump to conclusions about what I’m really saying, let’s be clear:
No, poorly edited books usually don’t sell very well. And yes, you want your finished product to be as perfect as can be.
The people I label Elitist Asshats don’t limit their criticism to the finished product. They attack writers who share their first, tentative efforts at a craft they’ve been told all their life they’ll never be good at. Elitist Asshats say – yes, I’ve recently come across people that actually do say this – that people with dyslexia have no business writing. They make comparisons to people with no legs running marathons. (Which, by the way, some people do.)
Elitist Asshats seem to look no further than to the surface – to what the writing looks like. If it’s riddled with spelling errors and missing punctuation, they theorise, the story must be awful.
But you know what?
There’s a difference between writing and storytelling. In my opinion, any fiction writer worth their salt should be aiming to be a storyteller first and foremost. And storytelling – though a craft that takes skill to do well – is not the same thing as putting letters on a page.
Storytellers have been around for ages. Storytellers gave us our folk tales. Storytellers built the foundations of most religions. You don’t have to read and write flawlessly to be able to tell a story.
Quite the contrary – through most of history, the knowledge of humankind has been preserved only in oral tradition. By storytellers, back when reading and writing were rare skills – sometimes even forbidden to the common people.
To think that people can’t tell good stories just because they lack the quality education the western world’s middle class take for granted, or because they have a brain that’s wired differently, is to ignore generations upon generations’ worth of folklore and tradition.
The brothers Grimm, for example, did in no way come up with the fairy tales we all grew up with. They merely recorded folk tales in their research about the German language. The Grimm brothers could read and write, but the people who told the tales they wrote down generally could not.
Refusing to see the deeper qualities in writing just because it may have spelling errors in it is narrow-minded and not just a little classist and/or ableist.
I’m in no way suggesting that people try to sell their books unedited, with all the typos still in there. But there are resources available to most writers that will even the playing field. Spell check software, beta readers, editors.
There is absolutely no valid reason a person with poor spelling skills cannot write books.
Besides, speaking as someone who’s always had an easy time learning theory, I find that sometimes I’m so stuck in my square, right angle thinking, I have a hard time coming up with anything new. I just regurgitate the same old tropes and settings I’ve been fed all my life.
I do believe there are those who get so caught up in how things ‘should be’ written, they forget how to write.
But be that as it may – I will always stand up for those of my writer friends who write despite challenges such as dyslexia or a lack of education.
Elitist Asshats, on the other hand, I will never endorse. In my opinion, story will always go before grammar.
* I’m mixing English accents here, and I do apologise, but it’s for the effect. ‘Ass’ is a decidedly American word: the British equivalent is ‘arse’. But ‘asshat’ has a ring to it that ‘arsehat’ ultimately lacks. So in the case of the word ‘asshat’, I’m afraid ‘arse’ will have to give way to its American sibling.
So it turns out I’ve found a soapbox. Some things are just too stupid not to address. *clears throat*
It’s interesting, really, what counts as political these days. Apparently, writing books* and making films about any other kind of human being than just one demographical group, is political. Seeing how this group is very small compared to the other one, which is comprised of all the other categories of humans on this planet, I find it more than odd.
The group in question? Oh, it’s the straight, white, fully abled, cis male. (Cis is a latin prefix meaning “on this side of”. Cis male means someone who was born with a male body and identifies as a man.) You may argue that heterosexuals are not a minority in the world, and neither are cisgender people, or males. And no, they aren’t. Heterosexual people are in a majority to homosexual, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, demisexual people and people of other sexual orientations. Transgender people, whether they are male-to-female, female-to-male, genderqueer, intersex or any other named or unnamed gender on the spectrum, are also a minority compared to cisgender people.
Regarding the male bit, the binary man is in a slight majority to the binary woman. The official statistics claim there are 101 men for every 100 women. These data aren’t likely to have taken gender spectrum factors into accountance, but they give a clue as to what the average ratio may be.
Also, we can probably agree that generally speaking, there are probably more fully abled people in the world, than there are disabled ones, even counting invisible disabilities like dyslexia, ADHD, anxiety disorders, and other neurological and/or mental health-related issues.
But then we arrive at the skin colour bit, and this is where things become interesting. White people only make up roughly 18% of the global human population. (Yeah, global. That includes countries like India and China and the whole African and South American continents. No, white people being a minority of the global population doesn’t mean white privilege doesn’t exist in your country.) From these 18% white people, now subtract [white] women, [white] transgender people, [white] non-straight men and [white] disabled men. I haven’t done the maths, lacking reliable data on several categories as well as the overlap between them, but just deducting the half that is — generally speaking — women, takes us down to approximately 9%.
Is is reasonable that writing about characters outside of this group is considered a political statement? Does it make sense that acknowledging the existence of more than 91% of the global human population counts as “promoting a political agenda”?
I think not. I will not buy into this “politicalness”. I’m writing diversity. I’m writing non-white characters and non-western cultures. I’m questioning and sometimes simply disregarding the binary, heteronormative templates. I’m writing disability and I’m writing mental health issues. This isn’t political — it’s plain, common decency.
*) I apologise for linking to a blog owned by a straight, white cis male, but maybe other straight, white cis males will listen to him, even though they won’t listen to the people he and I are talking about. I’m also guessing writers outside of this limited demographical group of straight, white cis men don’t receive this kind of shitstorm for writing diversity — simply because their work isn’t considered mainstream enough to be paid any attention. Which, again, is a symptom of this same old problem. Round and round we go.
I’ve read that as a writer with a blog, I should blog about content rather than the writing process itself, unless I’m aiming to provide support and directions for other writers.
Being a newly hatched and wide-eyed writer myself, I have no business telling other people how to do this stuff, so obviously I’m not going to provide much writerly advice, (she said, and wrote the post below. Hah.)
But here’s the thing.
I write mostly fantasy. Not urban fantasy, but imaginary world fantasy. And, frankly, my experience is that fantasy content and the writing process are closely entwined in this genre.
Content is world-building. World-building is a part of the writing process. Content is writing process.
So I’m occasionally going to write about the weird mix they create, starting with this post.
So. The box.
We’re all familiar with the box. ‘You gotta think outside the box.’ In writing terms, that doesn’t mean just thinking outside the box, but also writing outside the box, plotting outside the box, and — last but not least — worldbuilding outside the box.
To some people, thinking outside the box is easy. They seem to live and breathe outside boxes. Entrepreneurs and inventors, they are likely to call themselves. Sometimes they ‘just’ take an established concept and apply it in new ways. Other times, they come up with completely new ideas.
Some artists are incredibly good at leaving that box behind, too. I can, sort of, see the world from their point of view, but I’m not sure I like it where they are. Sponges and clothes hangers just don’t make the kind of art I like to surround myself with, and consequently, I prefer the familiar settings of the old plain box to the trippy journey offered in that direction.
To people who don’t identify as entrepreneurs or artists, this kind of thinking can be hard. I vaguely remember reading an article about how many uses grown-ups could come up with for a certain item, and how many uses children could come up with for the same thing. (Anybody knows of the study I’m referring to? I can’t find it now.) The data were quite saddening. Where the kids could find over a hundred uses for an everyday item like a colander, adults could only find ten to 15. As we grow up, we lose our ability to think outside the box.
In 1968 a man named George Land was building a test for NASA, designing it to measure creativity in order to help with the selection process of inventors and engineers. When developing the test, he found that 98% of five-year-olds scored as highly creative. In ten-year-olds, the number had gone down to an alarming 30%. Fifteen-year-olds, 12%, and adults, well — this isn’t even funny. In adults, the amount of participants who scored as highly creative was 2%.
The reason for this is debatable. Some would argue that we are taught not to be creative; that the educational system is designed to quell creativity and inhibit free thinking. Others believe it’s just the course of nature. Our brains develop, our experiences tell us what we could expect from the world around us, and together, they make our thought processes stay firmly in those tracks. My guess is, the truth is a combination of the two.
Hey, hey, hey, I don’t mean conspiracy theories now. I just mean that kids are taught to be quiet, sit still and listen, instead of run and play and build spaceships from wooden sticks, hula hoops and old underwear. If they get too creative with their homework, their book gets a taste of the red pen. I still remember being punished with red markings for my clever puns and funny illustrations drawn in the margins. Then, the next day in class, the kid gets a task that includes being creative on demand. “Be creative now, little one, or you will see the red pen in your book again.” But they are only ever allowed to be creative in the appropriate way, that adults have decided on. That way, they gradually forget how to build spaceships out of underwear, and learn that creativity only involves paper, crayons, scissors and glue.
As a person with an interest in language, I also believe in the theory that our words shape our ideas and our perception of the world around us. Studies of old manuscripts and other sources from ancient cultures suggest that people didn’t perceive the colour blue until three or four thousand years ago, and they also didn’t have a word for it. One of the theories is that they didn’t see it because they didn’t have a word for it. Because there was no word describing it, they simply didn’t notice its existence, but rather thought of it as a shade of green, lilac or just ‘no colour’.
But enough of that. Back to the box. Why do we want to get out of the box, and how do we do it?
Sometimes it seems that thinking outside the box is a goal in itself. As if it was a sign of a successful person and something that sifts the wheat from the chaff among the people in question. But just like strange clothes hanger art doesn’t interest me, the creative and unconventional thinking of people unconstrained by the limitations of habits, expectations and intended purposes, isn’t for everyone. So why do we want to break out of the box?
Well, there are many boxes in our lives. There are boxes for everything, really. For cooking, for socialising, for planning a garden, for dressing. And even though we might want to keep wearing our socks on our feet, we may occasionally enjoy a new combination of seasoning in our cooking, or even a whole new meal, the likes of which we have never dreamed of before.
When it comes to writing, the box is basically a collection of concepts so commonly used, they have become cliché. Cliché is familiar, it’s predictable, it’s boring. We’ve seen it too many times before, and we know how it’s going to end. Usually, we can even tell what the road there is going to look like.
Thinking outside of the box as a writer is essential if you want to interest your reader. Presenting clever solutions or unexpected situations will make the reader want to stay with the story and keep turning the pages to find out what will happen next. Even if they may guess how the book is going to end, they can’t know for sure how it’s going to get there, and they want to find out.
When it comes to fantasy, in particular, there are a few more things I think should be questioned, but we’ll get to that later.
To escape the box, we first have to establish what the box is. This is important whether you are an app developer, a problem-solving engineer, a clothes designer or a writer. What is the expected route? What has been done before? What old habits do we want to break free from?
The box isn’t always easy to sketch up. You think you have a notion, but the more you learn, the more you find that you were way off. You didn’t know the extent of what you didn’t know. So what we can deduce from this, is: we need a certain amount of knowledge about the subject in order to line up the shape of the box.
When we have done this, we have to break free from all those old ideas and habits. Yeah, it’s easier said than done.
The fantasy box
Let’s look at the common fantasy box. We can start with worldbuilding.
The box is:
- Days, months, years the same length as on Earth.
- Hours, minutes and seconds used for measuring time.
- One sun and one moon.
- Humans being one of the main races.
- Main character is human.
- Earth-like flora and fauna with added fantasy spice in the shape of—
- —typical mythological animals, like unicorns and dragons.
- Binary sex/gender types.
The reason I’m objecting to these standards is simply: they are getting old. Fantasy is fantastic. You are creating a whole new world, so why make it the same as the ones we already know? Sci-fi writers have no problems creating worlds with twin suns, different year lengths, or even inhabited moons. But most fantasy writers only ever stretch as far as adding more moons to the night sky.
You could have any animal you could ever conjure up in a fantasy world fauna, so why have horses, dogs, cats, sheep and cattle? I loved the movie Avatar, with the blue striped, tree-dwelling humanoids, not because it’s a realistic depiction of space colonisation (it’s not) or a likely guess at alien life forms (it’s not) or even because it isn’t problematic (it is problematic) — but — because it is a fantasy world with fantastic animals, plants and entities. They didn’t create an Earth #2, they came up with something different.
This is the reason that much of my fantasy isn’t pure fantasy, but rather a crossover between fantasy and sci-fi. Carbon-based life forms? Yes, maybe. Or they could be silicon-based. Should I have one sun, two suns, or maybe five suns in my next solar system? Is the main character a humanoid or an intelligent canine species? Why not an aquatic serpent with powerful magic? Hermaphrodites with no social gender roles, or a species with a reproductive system requiring three different individuals in order to combine an optimal genetic setup for its offspring?
When I can truly create anything I like, why stay with Earth’s old concepts — or even worse, standards specific to our current Western civilisation?
Anyway. If we dig deeper into the fantasy genre, we find storyline tropes. Some examples are:
- Main character is an orphan
- Main character is The Chosen One
- A prophecy foretells the fate of the world/the development of story
- Good and evil are black and white forces running the world
There are some other clichés and traps I could mention as well, like the bearded wizard mentor, the ‘medieval Europe’ setting (which is really not actual medieval Europe), the uniformity of whole races or species in both appearance and personality, unlimited magic systems, invincible knights or warriors taking on dozens of enemies without getting so much as a nosebleed…
I could go on, but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. All these things make up the core of the fantasy box. This is what we want to get away from.
So how can we avoid these old, worn defaults?
What have I done in my stories? Some examples are:
- Days, months, years different lengths than Earth’s.
- Other units for measuring time.
- Two or more suns, two or more moons.
- Main character is a humanoid, but not a human.
- Main character isn’t a humanoid.
- A flora and fauna foreign to us.
- Typical fantasy creatures tweaked and made different.
- Non-binary sex/gender types and non-binary reproduction methods.
Also, you could make your character blind, deaf, missing limbs, or otherwise disabled. Why not try your skills with portraying neurodiversity or mental health issues? A chronic illness that is not life-threatening and/or a plot focus point?
Is your character white, in a land populated by white people? Try just changing the colour or their skin, the shape of their eyes, nose, or mouth. It doesn’t change their personalities – I promise you. If you change different characters in different ways, you avoid the ‘homogenous race’ cliché as well, as a bonus. If you like, you could change the culture, too.
You could also give your character a loving family; make them just an ordinary person in extraordinary circumstances; make things happen the normal way instead of in a pre-destined way; and create characters — even antagonists — who are people, shaped by experiences, filled with memories and wishes and pain and bitterness and happiness and love.
Now, I don’t always step away from all of these clichés. My main character in one of my WIPs is an orphan. But she also has a loving adoptive father, who will support her no matter what, until the end of time. Sometimes you need to go with what you deem is best for your particular story, even if it means embracing a cliché. But when you do that, you might want to take a look at the rest of your story, and see if you can find a different place to break free of expectations, to make up for it.