Stories and Children

In my last post I discussed healthy romantic relationships in writing and in real life. As I write this post, I am holding one of the many wonderful results of such a relationship - a newborn baby. 

Naomi Reuveni made her grand entrance at 3 a.m. on January 24. She is 3 and a half kilograms (about 7 pounds) of absolute perfection, although I might be a little biased.  

The hormones seem to have put me in a very philosophical mood and I wanted to share with you a thought that's been rattling around in my brain. It has to do with the power of words. 

Stephen Sondheim's "Into the Woods" has always been one of my favorite musicals. I first saw it in a community theater when I was a teenager, and it's exploration of the power of stories had a profound effect on my worldview. Last week, as I held my daughter for the first time, the lyrics of the finale popped into my head.   

    

Suddenly, the words took on a new and terrifying meaning. This baby in my arms, this vulnerable little life, was my responsibility. I was entrusted not only with her physical safety, but also with her moral education. It was my job to make sure she grew up to be a good person who respected life and didn't, you know, rob banks and murder people. 

Fortunately my husband was there to rescue me from my moment of existential dread. He reminded me that we had our parents for role models, as evidenced by the fact that neither of us is a bank robber or a serial killer. We weren't expected to figure this parenting thing out all by ourselves. 

But of course, my brain being the strange place it is, the line of thought didn't stop there. I started thinking about the similarities between raising children and writing stories. I know that's a cliche, but it's a true one. Not just because of the emotional investment we put into our writing, but also because of the responsibility we have to our audience. 

I touched on this briefly in my last post, and this definitely won't be the last time you hear me say it. Writers have tremendous power. The power to shape people's opinions and philosophies in much the same way that parents shape their children. Fiction is as much a tool of social change as it is a form of entertainment. Rhetoric can change people's conscious beliefs, but stories get into their subconscious, slowly rewriting their basic code until what was once strange becomes normal.  

I can point to many terrifying examples of people abusing this power. In the 1930s, a German author named Julius Streicher published a children's book which depicted Jews as poisonous mushrooms infecting the world. This book and others like it fueled the campaign of hatred that nearly exterminated an entire race. But this power can also be used for great good. "A Little Princess" by Francis Hodgson Burnett has taught billions of children all over the world that it's not living in a palace that makes you royalty. It's how you treat other people. 

The point is that words are neither good nor evil. They're just a tool. It's up to us to use them responsibly, to tell stories that will make the world a better place for our children.  

So Naomi and I want to know, what stories do you think have changed the world for the better?  

I'm Not Your Damn Love Interest: Writing Healthy Romantic Relationships

I hate the term "love interest". Whether it's applied to a male or a female character, it is shallow and demeaning. It implies that this character is less than human, that his or her existence is defined purely by how well they fulfill the main character's needs and desires. Would you really want to be with someone who treated you like that? Sounds more than a little like slavery, doesn't it? But in fiction it's somehow supposed to come off as sweet and romantic. 

As you can tell, I feel very strongly about this. I believe that writers have tremendous power over how their readers view the world, even on a subconscious level, and we have a responsibility to use that power to promote healthy messages. So I've come up with some tips for writing healthy romances. 

1) Create The Lovers Separately

Eowyn and Faramir only meet in the last hundred pages of the third book, but before that they each play a fundamental role in the defeat of Mordor. 

Don't worry about who's going to end up with whom. Start by creating individual characters, and let them decide who they're going to fall in love with. This not only creates more multi-dimensional characters, it also creates deeper relationships. It can be difficult to relinquish control of your characters' feelings, but your story will be better for it.

2) Imagine a Story About Just One of Them

If the loss of her lover leaves your heroine catatonic until a new love interest shows up, she doesn't really deserve to be called a heroine.

It won't necessarily be a happy story. That's not important. The important question is, would it be interesting? Or would it bore you to death? If the answer is option b, you're in trouble. One or both of your characters is completely defined by the romance. Take that away, and their life is over. If you find yourself in this trap, go back to the drawing board. Give the undeveloped character something more to live for - a career, a family, other friends, a personality. 

3) Show, Don't Tell

 

This is actually a good thing to remember when having relationships as well as writing about them. I met my husband at a party. We talked, we danced, we exchanged phone numbers. But that's not how I fell in love with him. That happened about a month later when my car broke down in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. I called him, and he came and got me, no questions asked. Poetic declarations of love are very nice, but actions really do speak louder than words. Have your characters express their love for each other in real and meaningful ways. 

Agree? Disagree? Have other suggestions? Leave a comment below.