Tropes, Pasta, and Self-Sabotage: A Reflection

It’s been a long time since my last post, but I’ve been easing back into writing fiction on the regular and have also had some interesting conversations with other creatives over the last few months, and all of that mixed together has given me some thoughts to share. Something I’m experiencing a major perspective shift about, as a writer, is the use of tropes.

In the past–and even at the beginning of this summer–I had a knee-jerk negative reaction to the mere mention of tropes. Part of the difficulty of discussing them stems from the fact that the literal definition of trope includes both the meaning cliché and common motif, device, or theme. It’s easy to conflate those definitions given the potential overlaps, but there’s a massive difference in the connotations, if nothing else. To be told your writing is cliché is a criticism at best, if not an insult. In my mind, at some point (possibly when I worked as an inventory supervisor at a big box bookstore) trope became a bad word.

The thing about major publishing companies, like all big companies, is that they chase market trends. You get some great original stuff sometimes that may or may not change the direction of a genre, but you also get a market that’s oversaturated with very similar stories all at the same time, with varying degrees of originality and quality. Some are excellent and others are frankly worn out and stale. I love spaghetti, but I don’t want bland, watery spaghetti, and I want other kinds of noodles, too: yakisoba or beef stroganoff or a pesto lasagna. Sometimes I want food that isn’t noodles, although, to be fair, I don’t think I’ve ever refused pasta. Same with books, at least for me. As a reader, I want quality and I want variety, and I had come to think of tropes as antithetical to that. So as a writer, I didn’t get why other writers often spoke of tropes in a positive light…because I thought they were talking about the cliché definition: bland, watery spaghetti.

Meanwhile, other writers have largely been talking about the other definition: common motifs, devices, and themes. The literary equivalent of ingredients, with a multitude of ways to prepare or combine them that may be predictable, surprising, or some balance between the two. For two years in a row, I was a speaker on a panel about tropes at InConjunction in Indianapolis, and it wasn’t until weeks after the second one this summer that I realized that what I thought we were discussing was not what we were actually discussing, because I was stuck on this idea about clichés. Well, that’s embarrassing. But I’m past the point in life where being embarrassed is more important than what I learned from it, so you get to hear about my goofy ass misunderstanding something for years at a time and what I’m now realizing has been a huge hangup in my own writing journey for decades.

To paraphrase something someone on the panel said this summer (apologies to my fellow panelists and the audience, because I can’t remember who said it), there’s nothing new under the sun, and the trick is not to come up with something that’s never been done, but to bring your own original voice and perspective. That advice is also not new, exactly, but in the context of rethinking what tropes represent to a writer and to their readers, it’s been sinking in for the first time that I have had such a hell of a time finishing things I start–even get hundreds of pages into–because I’m so inhibited about doing something predictable (with the negative association of the cliché) with a plot that I’ve made it so that there’s no path forward for myself. I can’t wrap up the story because you can’t have both a completely unpredictable and a completely emotionally satisfying conclusion to a story. If I’ve made a rule for myself, even subconsciously, that I can’t follow a story to an ending that feels natural because that would be “too obvious” or has “been done before”, then any ending I move toward will automatically feel wrong. To me. To my readers. That doesn’t mean there can’t be a twist or a surprise or an original take, but (1) the setup has to be in place for that to work and (2) twist endings are also (guess what?) a trope! I’ve had myself in a stalemate with endings for most of my writing life, and the few things I’ve managed to actually complete and publish have always been the result of me saying, often literally and out loud to my keyboard, “Fuck it! Let’s just do it!” to get over the logical fallacy I trapped myself in.

I can see where this is going. That pig is obviously going to throw a chamberpot over the wolf’s head and then the wolf will get cholera and all the pigs will be safe forever and this pig will be a hero and they will build statues of him in town squares for miles around.

There are two other things (aside from the tropes panel) that have shaken loose my trope-phobia and made me reconsider the role of tropes in the media I consume, as well as the differences I’m noticing between what I’m drawn to as a reader/viewer and my self-imposed rules for myself as a writer (which now seem very unreasonable). I’ll discuss them more in a later post, and you can laugh at me about them if you want, but I won’t care because (a) I won’t be able to hear you and (b) I’m too old to care if people on the internet laugh at me. Anyway, one of the things is SCIENCE and the other is K-dramas. Bet you’re curious now. If you’re not, (a) I can’t hear you and (b) I don’t care. Just kidding, I value all my readers and their perspectives, as long as you’re not rude.

InConjunction 2019

This past Friday-Sunday (July 5-7) I spent in Indianapolis at InConjunction Science Fiction and Fantasy Convention. As usual at these types of events, I was wearing the multiple hats of vendor, panelist, writer, reader, and partner/marketing director in the small press publishing house, Per Bastet Publications. This might seem like a lot of hats, but I’m used to it.

Although my panels were MANY, they were a lot of fun, and a nice mix of readings and discussions. I did two readings (one action scene from my novel The Life and Death (but mostly the death) of Erica Flynn and one fun scene from the opening of my short story “She Who Dines on Heavenly Food), swapped book recommendations at the Best Book I Read Since InConjunction 2018 panel, spoke on a panel on world-building, and spoke on a panel about balancing plot-driven and character-driven elements in writing.

I was also very excited and honored to be on two panels with the curator of the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library and the director of the Center for Ray Bradbury Studies at Indiana University (shout out to Doug Powers for the fantastic job he did as moderator)! The first was about science fiction in Vonnegut’s works, and my part was mainly to comment as a Vonnegut reader and as a writer of speculative fiction–although Vonnegut and I do have in common a degree in anthropology, which shows up in the way he writes about both our society and fictional societies in his work. The second panel was about censorship and banned books, which both apply to Vonnegut and Bradbury, but also to another little niche of mine: while I was getting that aforementioned anthropology degree, I did two projects on censorship: one on censorship in general, and one on Soviet subversive literature during the Stalin era. Here’s the thing about being on panels and attending panels: you come away really excited about things all over again. I’ve been away from academia since I graduated in 2015, but being on these two panels in particular reminded me of all the things I miss about it. Not that I don’t talk about ideas a lot, and not that I’m not constantly learning new things in my current capacity as a CRM archaeologist, but damn, school was fun.

It also made me realize that, hey, I have a blog that’s primarily about writing, and that I’ve said very little here about the brilliance, courage, and resourcefulness of subversive Russian writers. Also that I have a lot to say, and that I use my blog far too little for someone who’s as impassioned about as many topics as I am. So, dear readers, although my primary focus at the moment is finishing The Death and Times of Seth McCoy, methinks I’ll try to write a few posts here in the near future about two of my literary heroes, Yevgeny Zamyatin and Mikhail Bulgakov.

If you write, whether you’re published or trying to be or are just starting out, I can’t stress to you enough how good for you it is to attend conventions. Many writers are not people people, or are not good with crowds, or are not good with strangers, or are socially awkward, or all of the above. I don’t exclude myself from at least a few of these categories (one of my dreams is to own a coffee mug that says I’d rather be digging your grave) but there’s this gorgeous energy you only get from conventions, and you’re cheating yourself if you don’t tap into it. Everybody else there is just as nerdy as you are, after all. And once you step into it, you’re family. Seeing friends and welcoming newcomers is part of the joy, and one not absent for me this weekend!

For me personally, there is also always the benefit of sharing even the shittiest hotel room with my crime business partners, T. Lee Harris and Marian Allen a.k.a. Mom, who loves me so much she bought me a plague rat from one of the vendors this weekend. His name is Bubo.

Bubo the Plague Rat. Yes, that is a Wolfman figurine astride Ein from Cowboy Bebop in the background.