Bad words

 

woman-510480_1280-266x300

Stolen from here; I don’t know if they’re the original creators but it’s a good image, don’t you think?

I want my little girl to have the best possible world and the widest opportunities. I want her to receive the same pay as any equivalent man in whatever field she moves into and to be able to choose the sexual (or asexual) partner of her choosing. I want this for everyone because I think it’s right. Pink is (not actually) banned in our house until she can make her own fashion blunders.

And yet I call her ‘sweetheart’. I call her ‘honey’. I tell her she’s pretty and cute and… and all the things that I wouldn’t say to a boy. These words slip out and they feel natural and I worry, I worry, I worry that I’m perpetuating gender stereotypes that are at best outdated and at worst harmful. That I’m damaging my own child in my ham-fisted attempts at love.

Words have power. Words create and corrupt. They’re also insidious little buggers and can ruin even the best-laid plans, displace the best of intentions and undermine the sweetest plans.

Through these subtle ways we define the world. By these choices we shall be known, and held up to society’s mirror. And yes, these things change. All we can do is the best we can by today’s standards. And yes, we can reject society’s values but then we will be judged.

Writers are especially vulnerable because words are how we communicate. Anyone can slip up and say the wrong thing, but writers choose. We think about what we say and how we say it. So writing a book with minimal female characterisation is a choice. We can’t claim that it was an accident: the best we can do is justify our decisions.

These choices aren’t always so clear. Do we include non-Caucasian characters in our mediaeval epics? Is realism an impenetrable barrier? A book without swearing is unrealistic, and yet we have apps that remove all swearing from our novels.

Arguments begin on the boundaries – and arguments, generally speaking, are good. They make us think, expose our unconscious biases.

That doesn’t stop me worrying. Because everything is political. I believe in conversation, not censorship, but that doesn’t stop me worrying about the subtle ways I’m influencing my daughter in her most formative years.

 

Advertisements

One man and his dog

Free-Printable-Dog-Coloring-Pages-For-Kids-1

A dog

What if he brought his dog?

Such a simple question. This is the sort of dangerous thought that occurs when an author’s lying in bed at night, running through her novel and thinking about tomorrow’s writing.

How would the other characters react?

Such a simple idea. A tiny, tiny change that has no real long-term consequences; is merely an in-character possibility. It doesn’t matter if the dog is there or not, certainly not in terms of long-term plottables. And yet… It’d be easy to add in, right? A few lines or two to give depth and to subtly reinforce a trait, to tell you a little more about the man and the situation and the world. So you settle at the computer and scroll back to make this one small addition…

An hour later and you’re still trying to deal with the consequences of the change. You’ve totally rewritten your scene. Other characters have been totally altered, their reactions taking you by surprise and leading you way off track. The function of the scene may remain unchanged, but the action has been ripped apart. Not only that but you’ve considerable downstream consequences to resolve.

What if I showed this scene from a different point of view?

Now you have to lose all the lovely internal contradictions that you’d created in the original draft. You’ve got to observe reactions rather than experience them. But it’s worth it, right? You got this great idea for a new perspective and it’ll all be worth it in the end.

Writing – and editing – is full of this sort of thing. Your worries and your search for perfection make you constantly question what you’ve already written. Your words aren’t set in stone: your scenes, even the big set-pieces, are mutable, improvable. But are you making things any better?

This is why I don’t trust ideas. Most of the time they’re simple pains in the backside. Any serious writer has more ‘ideas’ than he knows what to do with. The pressure on you is to choose the right ones. Because any origin has a multiple different outcomes, a multiverse of possibilities just waiting to be explored. So how do you chose? Is it worth going right through the story, ripping up your road as you go and relaying it on a totally different alignment? Buggered if I know.

Writing isn’t about ideas. Writing is about choices. Which idea? Which road? In Oneiromancer I’ve already dropped plans a sub-plot involving a general election. I’ve chosen my focus and don’t need any other complications, thank you very much. Some ideas can be saved for sequels; others will be jettisoned forever. Choices. Not easy.

For the record, I’m leaning against the dog. She’ll make an appearance later. But her presence earlier is in character and would add something plausible and potential-filled. I have made the POV change, though, adding yet another head-character to my already twisted tapestry.

As with everything else it’s a question of balance. Sometimes you need to just plough on and get the damn thing done. But inflexibility is not your friend. If, when sharing your hard-crafted words with others, they ask awkward questions and make perfect suggestions you have to at least be prepared to make these changes. Even if it means rewriting every scene in your novel. Even if it means another three months of blood, sweat and swearing.

No-one ever said writing was easy.