k-dramas

Tropes Part 3: K-Dramas, Culture, and Creativity

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Time to talk about the third thing that’s changed the way I view tropes this year. I’ve already mentioned discussions with other writers and my resulting redefinition of tropes from “cliché” to “theme or motif”, as well as neuroscience, so here’s No. 3: Korean TV shows (K-dramas). How K-dramas have altered my attitude toward tropes in storytelling ties into the previously-discussed neuroscience, but also anthropology, my love of cross-genre storytelling, and finding a new genre that surprises me just as often as it gives me something I could see coming a mile away (but wanted to see it play out anyway).

I’m a historical archaeologist, and in American terms, that means my training is in anthropology with archaeology as a subdiscipline and post-contact sites as a specialty. Aside from Marian Allen’s influence, what got me into K-dramas is that they are not, contrary to popular belief, just romances, and there are a whole slew of them that are historical fiction set in the Joseon Era (1392-1897). Yes, a love story is usually a central part of your balanced K-drama breakfast, but the ones we watch offer a pretty hefty variety of elements within a single show: action/adventure, comedy, culture, history, fantasy and/or the supernatural, horror, tragedy, and quite often food close-ups that put cookbooks to shame. A good K-drama can take you from one emotion to another on a dime, and do it in a way that feels absolutely right for the story, even when you wish it didn’t.

I’m soaking up these cool tidbits of a historical world I’ve read nothing about, running off to research the details, the folklore, the context and meaning behind a symbol on someone’s robe, and noting how the common threads between the different shows reflect cultural values and phobias. In turn, that makes me think about what the tropes I have been surrounded with from European and American authors for most of my life might be a reflection of. And that makes me think in new ways about why I’ve rejected tropes for so long. Am I just being contrary (not unlikely), am I striving to create something original, or am I rejecting cultural norms I disagree with? Or is it some of each of those things? If I find myself avoiding a trope lately, I ask myself a lot of questions about why, and honestly that’s because of watching K-dramas.

I also appreciate that K-dramas are deeply aware of their use of tropes, and often have a sense of humor about it–either with subtle tongue-in-cheek moments or blatantly over-the-top send-ups or inversions. Example: if a man catches a woman when she’s about to fall, at least one of them is going to fall in love with the other in that moment, often accompanied by cherry blossoms falling from the sky. In 100 Days My Prince, this occurred in the middle of a field with no cherry trees anywhere around, and immediately afterward the characters both realized the “petals” were flying insects and had to swat them away. Romance instantly sidelined, which is kinda typical for that particular couple, anyway–which made it funnier. Even though a lot of the plots have similar points, the execution, characters, twists, setups, relationships, and inclusion (or not) of other elements makes it fun to see a new take, which is the larger point in this blog series.

Some of the common tropes in my favorite Joseon-era K-dramas:

  • Left state councilor = of course he’s the villain
  • Crown prince = someone is going to kill him, or at least try
  • Gotta find a ledger
  • Incessant political intrigue
  • Separated siblings reunite
  • Peasants and/or servants save the day
  • EPICALLY tragic backstories, sometimes even for goofy side characters
  • Sincerity vs. deceptiveness more than good vs. evil
  • Best friends = ride or die, but will also definitely check each other on some bullshit
  • People falling in love because they have similar values or are fighting the same injustices, even if their approaches, personalities, and/or backgrounds are very different
Here there be drama!

So that’s how K-dramas helped me realize I don’t have to ditch a plot point just because it’s not brand-spanking-new. There are all kinds of ways to keep a trope from feeling stale, even if you don’t subvert it, and sometimes it’s a hell of a fun thing to see a left state councilor show up for the first time in a show and yell BOOOOOO!!!! because you already know he’s the villain. The first rule of writing, for me, really, is to have fun. Sometimes I forget that and try to be Very Serious, and it rarely goes well. It’s been good to explore both fun and serious reasons for relaxing about the use of tropes in my fiction, and thanks for coming along! I may post another time about pitfalls and successes.

Tropes Part 2: The Familiar and the Novel

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In my last post, I talked about how I’ve gone from seeing tropes as a pitfall to be avoided to seeing them in a whole new light this year. Three things have contributed to that shift, the first being conversations about tropes with other writers, as I said last time, and now it’s time to dig into the second and third: science and K-dramas.

I’ve been seeing a lot of posts online about the neuroscience involved in rewatching shows and movies (or re-reading books) and about how shows with repeated tropes (like K-dramas) can have similar effects: calming your nervous system during times of stress or overload, self-regulating and processing difficult emotions, empathy and connection with characters our brains react to as if they are real people, and more. Psychologist Jeanie Y. Chang (second link in the paragraph) notes that tropes simultaneously provide the brain with novelty and familiarity, a safe space to explore emotions, relationships, perspectives, alternative responses to challenges within a context where we have agency to decide if we will continue to engage at any moment. In her post, she notes that people aren’t really drawn to a particular trope, per se, but to an emotional experience. That’s a fascinating insight for me, as a writer.

I still want my work to feel fresh and unique, and I still love to subvert a trope for the surprise and the lols, but learning more about the science side of what an audience (be it readers or viewers) experiences makes me think differently about familiarity. It’s also humbling and funny to realize that I’ve always said I didn’t understand people wanting to read different versions of the same story over and over, when I have frequently reread and rewatched literally the same books, movies, and shows many times in my life. Things I have reread at least seven times: Crime and Punishment, Three Men in a Boat (to Say Nothing of the Dog), Something Wicked This Way Comes. Movies I have watched every day for a month (or once a week for multiple years) at some point: The Labyrinth, The Princess Bride, 12 Angry Men, The Pirates of Penzance. TV shows I’ve seen at least three times: Babylon 5, Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, the 1960s Dark Shadows, Cowboy Bebop (the animated version). There are others but I can’t think of them off the top of my head. Clearly, I’m no stranger to the impulse to revisit a familiar story world and fictional characters who register to my brain as real people I want to spend time with again.

I may not want to write a series of books with the same plot over and over and I don’t want to be complacent, but maybe it’s okay to stop banging my head on the keyboard anytime I get the sense that the audience might be able to see where my story is going? As a writer, I might lean harder into novelty than familiarity, but instead of seeing tropes as a problem to avoid, I can recognize that when they show up, they may be important elements that ground the story and characters and make them relatable. If, when I’m editing, I realize that they’re weakening the story instead, I can always rewrite them, subvert them, or take out things that were just my own mental shortcuts. I’m not trying to outsmart the reader, after all–I’m trying to take them on a journey they’ll enjoy, and that means they’ll want to know enough of the plan to know what to pack, even if some parts of the trip will be surprises.

“I didn’t even pack for an ocean voyage! You clearly saw me get on the tour bus with no hat and said nothing. And the insurance waiver said nothing about depressed sea monsters on this trip!”

Again, I think it’s important to distinguish between a trope as a cliché and a trope as a common theme or motif. An underdog winning the day is a trope, but there are a million ways to tell that story. The reluctant hero is a trope (you might also call that an archetype), but why they’re reluctant and what pushes them into heroism is the interesting part, and incredibly variable. The novelty is the exploration part of the story, but the reader chooses a story based on what familiar emotional experience they want to be the framework for that exploration. At least according to new science and any number of writers who’ve said it long before now. Aside from freeing us from a lot of writing hangups, this also tells us a lot about how to make book blurbs more effective!

And while I’ve already touched on K-dramas here, there’s a bit more to the story of how they’ve helped change my mind about tropes that I’ll discuss in my next post.