From Passion to Profit

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.