Copyright 2018 by Gary L. Pullman
Often, the one-star
reviews on Amazon are more informative than the other rankings. Those
who were disappointed by a novel expose a particular narrative's
faults, as the reviewers see them, but, at the same time, they
suggest faults to be avoided by all writers. A recent review of these
ratings for several novels produced this list of demerits:
- boring
- cardboard characters
- cliches
- deus ex machina ending
- expository
- flat characters
- formulaic
- making it up as he goes
- mundane characters
- over-long
- pointless sadism
- politically correct
- preachy
- predictable plot
- rambling
- recycled characters
- recycled endings
- rehash of familiar themes
- repetitive
- ridiculous situations
- self-indulgent (politically)
- shallow characters
- simplistic
- slow-paced
- sophomoric
- stalled action
- stock characters
- unanswered questions
- unbelievable characters
- unfocused and redundant
- unimaginative
- uninspiring characters
- unmotivated behavior
- unsympathetic characters
- washed-out characters
That's quite a list of
complaints, but many of them can be categorized into four groups,
most of which concern the so-called elements of fiction:
- characters
- plot
- technique
- structure
It may be surprising that
established writers continue to experience difficulty with such
basics of their craft, but, according to readers' complaints, they
do, sometimes so much so that readers vow never to waste another dime
on their once-favorite authors' dreck.
Part of the problem might
be that established writers are too comfortable. They've developed a
formula that works for them and which their fans more or less accept,
even expect. Getting published is difficult, and maintaining a spot
at the top of bestsellers' lists is next to impossible. When writers
have accomplished these feats, they are apt to be reluctant to try
something new. As a result, they employ the same formula over and
over again, cranking out the same tried-and-true tale, until, at
last, their faithful readers abandon them.
An occasional influx of
“new” readers (those who haven't tried the established writer's
work before, possibly because they were young when the writer was
well-established) keeps the dollars—and the formulaic
novels—coming. The number of readers appears to be declining,
perhaps rather sharply. If this is true, eventually, established
writers won't be able to rely on “new” readers. If enough of
their faithful followers stop following them, they could be in
trouble.
Since many established
writers have earned fortunes, they'll be able to live out their days
in comfort, although their reputations will suffer and there's not
likely to be, for them, a literary legacy (not that there would be
otherwise). Even the most literary of writers often vanish from the
bookstores and the public consciousness within a generation or two of
their deaths. Only the best of the best survive for centuries,
although with diminished sales.
What's the solution? The
only possible remedy that occurs to me is simple. Writers, whether of
horror fiction or another genre or of fiction of lasting literary
value, started because they had something to say. They had a fervent
desire to communicate a truth, a vision, a belief, and they cared
about the “people” (their characters) about whom they wrote. They need to return to these roots, the emotional, indeed, spiritual, roots of writing.
As time went by and
dollars accumulated in their bank accounts, many seem to have become
more interested in sales than in the stories themselves. We can
think, easily, of writers who continue to write not because they have
something worth saying, but despite the fact that they have nothing
to say anymore; they've communicated their truths, visions, and
beliefs long ago. Now, they simply rehash them.
They're not in the writing
business to convey a message that's important to them and perhaps to
society, but to see their names on yet another bestseller's list, to
add yet another million dollars to their bank accounts, to compose
yet another self-indulgent lecture on politics, and to inflate their
egos one more time. Just as politicians are loathe to give up their
power and the perks of their offices, writers don't want to forego
the pleasures of wealth and fame. In short, writing, for them, is no
longer a passion, but a business—a business and a means of stroking
their egos. As Stephen King said, in a relatively recent interview,
he plans to continue to write every day because he needs something to
do to fill up the hours.
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