Partic(u)l(ar)e Suspension: Writing Genre Fiction and Implausibility

One of the best things about writing genre fiction is the ability to achieve impossible things. You can write about women who live forever, dogs that can swim through the earth like it was water, angels descending from heaven to give a protagonist a much needed slap upside the head or a fairy burrow beneath the subway lines of Toronto. One of the worst things about genre fiction is the sloppy, implausible writing that happens sometimes. It’s not just limited to writing – think of the fine arts, too. You can’t rig a gryphon or a dragon if you don’t understand the bones of an eagle or a lizard.

You can’t break the rules if you don’t know them. That includes the rules of a completely fabricated magic system or universe setting. Even in writing fairly standard vampire stuff, there’s a lot to be aware of: does sunlight kill them? (Yes.) Do they have to be invited in? (Not explicitly but they can be repulsed by a command to get out.) Can they eat human food? (Yes.) Do they have to kill to eat? (No.) And so on. There’s a reason why stereotypes are popular; breaking the rules is exhausting. Okay, so my vampires can eat human food – it’s a good way for them to camouflage themselves as humans because in this universe, vampires are not known to humans, a la True Blood universe. But where does the food go? Their organs don’t work, they don’t take nutrients from it, and they don’t pee or poop. This isn’t Casper where the food shoots right through them and comes out a perfectly formed pile of mushy cake. I could just choose not to address it at all, vamps eat food end of story. But why pass up a perfectly good opportunity to be hilarious? Why not have eating human food make them bloaty or gassy or bloaty and gassy? If it’s a camouflage instinct, the vampire now has to balance eating to look human with gaining a 7 month food baby if he’s not careful. Eventually it would just get broken down by the virulent blood of being a vampire. It doesn’t matter if something’s impossible, as long as its plausible. Anchor your wild ideas into the reality of the world you’re creating, and you’re good to go. Just be careful not to tip your hand too much – after all, when you’re looking at a piece of art or playing a video game, you’re not actually looking at the bones of the figure, are you? (Let’s pretend for the sake of argument, we’re not looking at Frida Kahlo’s art, or playing a Forsaken rogue in World of Warcraft.)

The bones don’t even have to be the tropes that bind genre up, either. They can be the bones of good writing. Let’s face it, when an idea seizes you in its wolf jaws, you’re not thinking about good grammar or sentence structure. That’s fine! It can come later, in the revising process. But if at some point the bones aren’t there, no amount of editing and beta reading are going to put the muscles on it. Good grammar, good sentence composition, strong ideas and voices will carry your story, no matter how impossible and make it shine. When you’ve got them down pat, the rule-breaking can begin.

I love writing fantasy, horror and supernatural stuff because it’s so mind-bendingly fun. Yeah, you’ve gotta learn the rules, but every writer has to at some point. And then you get to launch them into a black hole, twist them all up and yank them out again.

 

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