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Kurt Vonnegut’s famous list of 8 rules for creative writing appeared in the preface to his 1999 short story collection Bagombo Snuff Box.
Like many observations about life, these are general rules, and there are always exceptions.
Vonnegut pointed out that Flannery O'Connor, a prominent short story writer of his era, often disregarded these rules, except for the first one. He observed that "Great writers tend to do that."
Exceptional situations and people are stories in themselves, but for the sake of argument. I’ll talk in generalisms…
In the previous two Newsletters, I’ve covered rules 8 and 7. So, in reverse order, the next rule is…
Rule 6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them—in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
I kind of did that out of the gate with Arthur Raphael King. I take his friend, then his eyesight, and then his job, and make him think he’s probably losing his mind, because he’s still “seeing” things while being physically blind.
The Spectral Detective
Free to Read Prequel! : Into Darkness!
Then read!
Book 1: King in the Dark—
Part One: Duty Calls
Mr Vonnegut’s Rule 6. I think it is well written, and I feel it falls into the so obvious category; it needs to be said because, like common sense isn’t common, this rule isn’t so obvious.
Going with ‘be a sadist’ catches the eye; it’s harsh, stark, and a tad hyperbolic, which short, sharp, mind-engaging writing often is. It pays to advertise, and most advertisements declare this, or that is bestest-ever!
For me, I’d frame the sentiment as go Biblical, because I take comfort and inspiration from my faith and my culture, I can extend that to myth and fable too, from King Arthur to Heracles. Still, in the Bible, the main characters have a really hard time and yet win in the end because, in this story, heaven is real.
While often associated with fan fiction and countless arguments over whether this character in copyrighted media qualifies as a ‘Stu,’ for me, the defining characteristic is plot armour as much as it is unearned prowess. The ‘Stu’ not only has ‘super-powers’ from the outset, but they never suffer; the world can be ending around them, but the catastrophe never hurts them. Even in the improbable Western where the hero is shot in the arm or shoulder, and keeps on fighting only to wince when the lovely love interest washes the wound, it at least acknowledges it smarts.
It’s a critique of fantasy, pulp and comic book heroes, that these are all, in one way or another, examples of a ‘Stu.’ I think that’s fair, but not a bad thing. There is a good version of ‘Stu’. Having a character that a reader can root for, can imagine being, works, as the saying about James Bond goes, ‘you either want to be him or be with him.’ While a gross generalisation, the enduring popularity of these heroic archetypes shows they do indeed please most people, most of the time, and I’m one of them.
What insulates a hero from being one-dimensional is that they suffer physical and emotional loss. Mr Vonnegut’s concluding rule is summed up in the classic pop ballad, ‘When the going gets tough, the tough get going.’ ( Billy Ocean ‧ 1986)
So, forgive another general rule: people imagine that when things go wrong, they’ll do the right thing, but here’s the rub: doing the right thing is often hard, challenging, scary, and demands courage, and a great many people choose the easy way instead. Showing heroes wrestling with making the right choices, at personal cost to themselves or others, makes their heroism earned; it’s not just a case of showing how and why character grows their muscles and skills, it’s about how and why they use their earned prowess.
Heroism isn’t functional invulnerability, innate or earned—it’s choosing the hard right over the easy wrong, even when it costs you. As Jerry Siegel wrote in Superman #1, “This great strength…" “...you must use it to assist humanity.”