The Marketplace of Technique: Open to All

For authors and for everyone else, learning how some word was used in the past may help us to understand better even its present uses.

When a wolf is in a serious fight against a rival, or trying to overcome a prey animal which is capable of seriously fighting back, it will take a firm biting grip with its jaws, then shake itself side-to-side, causing the other animal's flesh to be torn by the deeply-set fangs. This action by a wolf (or dog) used to be described as "WORRYING."

That is what the word "worry" meant before it came to indicate an emotional state. The way it BEGAN to indicate an emotional state was as a metaphor. Even today, we may say that a problem is "gnawing" at us. "Worrying" in the sense of biting could work as a metaphor both ways: we could say that we were chewing on some cause of distress, or say that it was chewing on us. The same thing applies to our effect on other people: if we "worry" someone else in the sense of scaring or unsettling him, we are metaphorically biting him.

There you have an example of why old literature does not become worthless by being old. No matter what anyone says about "profound feelings beyond all words," humanity still does rely on language to convey thought. If we improve our use of language, this may even help us with ORGANIZING THE THOUGHTS which stand behind our words.
 
Some writers convince themselves that as long as they have clever technique, it doesn't matter if their CONTENT is foul and soul-sickening. I can't and won't let that attitude go unchallenged.

The notion that good and evil are only inventions which someone found convenient to fabricate is not new, no matter how often some people try to convince us that it’s a “daring new revelation.” Moral relativism has been ubiquitous in popular culture for the better part of a century, and can be found among skeptical philosophers reaching back far earlier than the birth of the pop culture we know. Its advocates deliberately keep up an endless chatter about clear morality being a device to enslave us…in order to prevent us from considering what a fine device for enslavement the LACK OF morality can be.

When the denial of objective ethical truth extends into the fantasy components of literature and media, an inevitable corollary (again, repeated endlessly) is the notion that humanity “creates” its gods BY believing in them. The skeptics, of course, either don’t want any real God to exist, or else have been snookered by earlier scoffers who didn’t want Him to exist and have authority over them. So they would never argue that living, walking, talking mythical deities were ever created as flesh and blood IN THE REAL WORLD by anyone’s belief in them; but if the skeptics undertake to write fantasy, they’ll enlarge the “man-creates-gods” concept to let fictional walking-talking supernatural beings get created (or at least empowered) in the story-world by people’s belief, because EVEN in fantasy, they prefer gods or elves or whatnot to be thus created rather than having any real, self-contained existence.

Now, I can guarantee that, no matter how stubbornly scoffers insist that there is no universal code of right and wrong which is binding on all of us, if those very scoffers are injured by someone, it will be very hard for them NOT to believe in their hearts that the offender in their case WAS VIOLATING a universal code of right and wrong that was binding on the offender. But even if they realize this, or especially if they realize it, they’ll strive to keep this realization out of their atheistic-existentialist writings. Accordingly-- what a surprise, not!-- they will write stories which offer no hope, no joy, no inspiration, and absolutely no spiritual insight.

Such stories can disguise their despair with a landscape of colorful plot details and superficial inventiveness, but the despair is no less despairing for this.

In the period from 1999 through 2002, Marvel Comics produced a long, intricate graphic novel titled “Earth X”: an alternate-history epic which, by existing outside the continuity of the monthly comic books, could freely poison the well as much as the story writer felt like doing. And the writer felt like poisoning everything: ideals were lost, relationships were destroyed, society was corrupted beyond remedy, love was ruined and mocked. No hope was offered to anyone, unless it were false hope for the sake of making failure more painful.

Everybody from Captain America to Doctor Strange was trampled into the mud; and the “man-creates-gods” theme was woven into a militantly non-theistic evolution scenario, just to make extra sure that the reader was not allowed to think there could be any redemptive meaning to anything.

Yet even in the act of denying all cosmic justice, the author couldn’t help talking now and then as if, how about that, he REALLY DID want some transcendent moral truths to be recognized. The catch was that what he considered moral truths had to conform to stylish political correctness.

Thus, in one stream-of-consciousness narrative, the writer made Captain America mimic neo-hippie talk which Captain America would never utter, because the original Captain America would not lie. The writer made the Captain say: “War makes us hate. It makes us hate everything including ourselves. And because we can’t live for long hating ourselves, we begin to hate others because of what they let us do to them.”

That supposedly profound speech is, in fact, nonsense. It is a lie, because it is a deliberate half-truth. Of course there is hatred in any war…but THERE IS ALSO LOVE. Bishop Fulton Sheen wrote, “Men do not fight because they hate, but because they love, and would defend what they love.” Sheen may have been over-optimistic in making his statement seem like an unvarying law; but it remains a fact, which countless war veterans can confirm, that hatred IS NOT ALL that is present in a war. Even a soldier who forgets patriotism will still feel love for at least some of those who fight beside him, and usually for those he left behind at home.

Another portion of the alien speech forcibly crammed into Captain America’s mouth is even more dishonest: “I believed that a soldier’s duty was to fight. I was wrong. Maybe that’s what some authorities and leaders would have us believe. But a soldier’s duty is to stop the war.”

I call this part MORE dishonest because, although many millions of human beings have mercifully escaped from being directly in a war and so are unfamiliar with the emotions that occur in soldiers, anyone above the age of six should be able to comprehend that not all OUTCOMES to a conflict are equally desirable. To say “Just stop the war” is to speak the obvious LIE that every possible ending to a war is as good as every other. And even a little knowledge of history wll show that it can make an ENORMOUS difference who wins a fight.

A mind so ignorant that it thinks saying "Stop the war" ends all discussion is the type of mind which can flatter itself that there’s great insight to be gained from treating Reed Richards as morally equivalent with Doctor Doom, as this graphic novel does.

Shallow sophistication can furnish entertainment; and for audiences who prefer dark, ugly stories of downfall and betrayal without any relief, “Earth X” was doubtless entertaining. But it’s junk food for the soul. Captain America was made to say that you can’t live for long hating yourself, but it is more relevant to say that you can’t live WELL if you hate TRUTH.

Accordingly, my copy of “Earth X” now rests in the trash, and will not be missed.

 
In science fiction which IS ROOTED in the real world, it is commonplace, and entirely valid, to depict an increasing frequency of character names which reflect ethnic intermarriage.

For instance, Karl Yoruba, Ingrid Boticelli, Tomisaburo MacDougall, or Lorraine Chang.

My very first recognition of the way this easy device helps create the feel of future-ness was when (in high school) I read Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World." It stuck in my mind when one character made a passing reference to a friend named "Benito Hoover." I still remember that name after half a century.
 
Here's another video about storytelling.

For those of you who HAVEN'T been reading my "SPACEBULLIES" serial, that belongs to the "If imaginary characters really existed" sub-category. The characters in my serial are imagined as genuinely existing, really having souls and free will, but still as being shadows of story characters "on Original Earth." I began with counterparts of the characters in Mel Brooks' "Spaceballs"-- who, of course, ALREADY WERE parody characters; and from there, the sky was the limit. For instance, I have my own versions (in some cases, more than one version each) of Batman, Catwoman, Aquaman, Paul Atreides, Dick Tracy, Superman, She-Hulk, Thor, Captain America, Black Widow, Harley Quinn, Mace Windu, Sailor Moon, He-Man, Fantine in "Les Miserables," and The Mandolorian.

What makes this new video pertinent for my own satirical multiverse is the fact that the video creator talks about authors BEING CRUEL TO THEIR CHARACTERS. Readers and viewers will get sick and tired of good guys NEVER being allowed to win. One of the main reasons I proceeded with my "SPACEBULLIES" was that I got sick and tired of Marvel Comics movies using Thor as a punching bag

If you write a story which involves good versus evil, PLEASE DO NOT say, "Happy endings are boring." Please do not imagine that it makes you "sophisticated" to let your likeable characters get endlessly trampled on and humiliated. Never think that it would be "selling out" if you give your audience likeable characters to follow and LET THE GOOD CHARACTERS SUCCEED in the end.

By the way, don't even try to tell me that Thor was allowed to succeed in "Ragnarok." No! He was forced to remain a punching bag to the end, and Hela had to be defeated BY ANOTHER DEMON. This absolutely does not constitute showing respect to goodness.

 
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The Ballad of the Great, Golden, Silk Road

In fair Cathay, in village small;
There lived three friends, so dear,
Not even brothers could be closer—
Their fellowship was pure.

On market day they met, by chance;
So greeting each embrace.
Hua Wan's two friends are dressed for travel.
He asks them, "Where the place?"

The elder friend, Lu Yun, responds,
"My mother took the road;
That silken pathway, great and golden.
We walk the path she showed."

The younger says, "Oh happy hour,
For surely won't you come?
We must make haste or lose the pathway
Upon the path few come."

"I will not come. I've bought a farm;
I will enjoy my own.
Some future day I'll take the pathway
And give up all I've known."

The years rolled past, and still he stayed;
Forgot about the way.
Until, at last, he did remember
That silken, golden ray.

The wealth, he'd earned, no pleasure brought
Because his friends were gone.
He gave away his lands and cattle;
With haste he left at dawn.

The road was long and laborious;
It seemed to never end.
It led up mountains, ever higher—
These heights he must ascend.

At first were many travelers,
Upon the road also;
But soon they all forsake the highway,
Too tedious and slow.

Sometimes he'd meet a passerby;
Who'd ask him why he stayed.
They offer worldly pleasures if he'll leave
And seek to him persuade.

But still he stays upon the path
And cares not what they said.
He trudges on, stumbling but steadfast,
And looks ever ahead.

The months did pass; he journeyed still,
Upon the road so long.
Until he reached a yawning chasm, with
No bridge however strong;

Although, the ribbon road procedes
Upon the other side.
In wrath he shouts, "Why? This deception
I never will abide!"

He turns to go (why should he stay?)
But pauses before he goes.
His friends he met not on the pathway;
Somehow, they crossed, he knows.

Where could one cross in vain he sought.
While thus he did seek,
He heard a voice past the sun, saying;
"You leap to yonder peak."

"But never could any jump this span!"
Then like an albatross,
He leaps into the yawning, deep chasm
And finds himself across.

He climbs the mountain's highest peak
And finds heaven's harbour.
So came he, to the night sea of heaven;
A ship he sought on shore.

That tempestuous, atrous sea;
What ship could ever sail?
But see, what sails that deadly ocean;
A craft, so small and frail.

The storms does toss the ship about
And, all its sails, rends.
The ship steers ever toward the east
To follow where path wends.

From palace heights beyond the sun,
The royal dragon roared;
Thus, rose the sun in crimson glory
From eastern sea unmoored.

Its heat increased as daylight grew.
In fear he gazes on;
He looks one way and then the other.
Nowhere to turn, Hua Wan.

The road grew brighter; drawing near
The source from whence it's spun.
One moment's hesitation, before
He leaps into the sun.

He thought the burning heat would sear;
Instead antalgic fire.
Its flames, no truer purifier,
To cleanse his heart's desire.

Upon the other side, he found
Great beauty all around.
Description would be impossible;
Not only sight, but sound.

His friends he met upon the shore;
So greeting each embrace.
Their joy was jubilant, to at last
Again meet face to face.

He's treated royally by all,
And many voices sing;
"Receive your beautiful kimono,
And live here with the king."
 
This was magnificent: a Chinese version of Pilgrim's Progress!

Yes, I know what the Silk Road was. But I've never before encountered the word "antalgic." I gather it means "not causing pain"?

I urge you to post another item here, so that YOUR username instead of mine will be on the latest-post list for this topic.
 
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*nothing* is as bad as that Classic Doctor Who fanfic in an old fanzine where the Roger Delgado incarnation of the Master turns out to have been Adolf Hitler. Though given that yesterday we found out that he had been Rasputin, maybe i shouldn't judge...
 
Writing is like running a three-legged race. If you want to take your partner to the finish line, you have to move together, at the same speed, and with the same intent. That's why the pace of your writing needs to match the way people's emotions cause them to experience the chemical effects of excitement and joy. You can't let your text outrun the audience's neurochemistry. Sorry if that sounds mechanical, but we are creatures of matter and spirit, and it is not enough to consider the spirit and ignore the body. In his best suspense thrillers, Hitchcock would have moments of emotional release after long periods of tension to keep the audience from physically wearing out. You are alone in a spooky room. You hear what sounds like the approach of the killer. Heart stopping! And in...in...SURPRISE! It's only a cat! Ha ha. Until the camera cuts away and you realize the axe murderer is ALREADY IN THE ROOM behind the curtain! Not confusing the physical aspects of watching and listening is why when two armies charge into battle, the good guys are always FACING ONE WAY and the bad guys are consistently facing THE OTHER WAY so you can keep straight what you're looking at. And since western readers always read from left to right, the good guys are usually running from left to right. There...you'll never see films the same way again.
 
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